[Flashback] A Liar and a Thief (Avari)

[Crismento Miren]

12th of Summer, 509 AV Kelp Bar didn’t have a lot to offer its clients and what little it had available wasn’t something that most taverns in other towns of Mizahar would have been very proud of. But in Zeltiva it was enough and it was good, so the inn had no shortage of patrons who came there to enjoy or poison themselves with the famous kelp beer of arguable taste. Sailors and dock workers constituted the majority of the regulars so peace and quiet was an unaffordable luxury. Luxury of any other sort seemed not to be within the tavern’s budget either as even those least experienced in carpentry could tell that the shabby chairs and tables didn’t fall apart only because they had given their word not to. The loud and often quite drunk customers didn’t mind that seeing as they were more preoccupied with putting their ability to handle the foul drink to a test and banishing the end of the day into oblivion. Of course not the whole clientele consisted of immoderate beer tasters. Some came because of an often misguided search for entertainment, others, who had arrived from foreign lands, did not know where else to go, and yet others were there on business, however vague of a word it was to describe the activity. One such pair of businessmen was sitting by the bar and passionately discussing their matters. The younger of the two had taken control of the conversation by doing most of the talking, often resorting to hand gestures to better express his points, but his stout companion freely entered the monologue whenever he wanted something clarified or had a thought of his own. Eventually the pace of what could have been assumed to be some sort of presentation slowed down as it seemed that the time for the quieter of the two to fully express his opinion. ”To tell you the truth, Jal, I’m not sure,” the man began to ponder loudly while stroking his dark beard. His tone and inflection was that of a simple and genuine man, despite that his rumbling voice might have wanted to indicate otherwise. ”It sound very nice, that’s for sure, but it’s just… just…” he exhaled loudly as if that could help find the words he was looking for. It didn’t, so the sailor resorted to the plainer ones to convey his thoughts. ”My dad said that money doesn’t fall out of the sky and, being honest with my heart here, it sound like that’s what you’re offering me. It just doesn’t happen that way…” "Oh, but my friend, that was very wise of your father to say and he was absolutely correct in that regard, I am certain,” the blue eyed lad responded with a smile, seemingly unfazed by the doubt in the words of his acquaintance. ”Money does not come from nothing; it can only disappear in there. But the brilliance of what I have presented you lies in a simple detail that it does not require for more money to actually appear out of thin air and fly in to your pocket, oh no. The key, as I have mentioned, is that money is sometimes worth more in one place than the other. Or even more at one moment than the one that will soon follow. In our case, dear Chaz, the place is Syliras and the moment is the very current one. Catching an opportunity by its feathered tail is what in most cases create the winners in life and the bird we are after, my friend, is a very fast one.” ”I know, I know… I understand, Jal,” Chaz nodded his big head a couple of times to support his brief and uncertain statement. He took a sip of kelp beer from his mug while his thoughts tried to find a way through the maze that his companion had built in his mind. ”But I’m happy with my life. I have a beautiful wife, a strong and healthy son and a paying job to support them quite well. Why change so much just to show that I am still greedy for more happiness?” ”You cannot imagine how glad I am to know that you are happy, but let’s just stop to think of your lovely wife and growing son for a little while,” Crismento had his azure gentle gaze set upon the sailor’s eyes the whole time he was speaking. ”Are they truly happy? Your work takes you away from them for seasons. How much time do you spend on catching up on the events that transpired during the long days that should have been spent together once you get back? My friend, the first time we have met, you were drowning your sorrow in beer because you had an exhausting and depressing fight with your beloved spouse, an argument that was ignited by this very reason that has become a painful splinter in your shared life. Now tell me, Chaz, is life in Syliras with your family that would never have to be separated for long periods of time isn’t worth facing the feared change?” The man wanted to turn his dismayed face away for a while, but he didn’t. Instead he was looking back at Cris while trying to gather his thoughts that were scattered every time the con artist spoke.

[Avari]

As darkness fell over Zeltiva, a steady rain was pattering down upon the rooftops with a gentle, rhythmic murmur and slicking the city streets to a silvery shimmer. Avari would have found it soothing, were it not for the runnels that kept forming along the broad brim of her hat seemingly for the express purpose of channeling rainwater down onto her face and clothes. She dared a quick glance skyward at the thick, mottled grey and black clouds that hung low over the horizon, and a fat raindrop promptly landed on her left eyelid. Blinking rapidly from reflex, she hurriedly brushed it away and wiped her damp finger on her sodden cloak, which accomplished nothing except to make both things still wetter.

A sigh escaped the Konti as she surveyed the nearly empty streets. Evidently, she wasn't alone in not wishing to get wet, for the rain had driven many of the city's inhabitants indoors. Occasionally, a lone figure would venture outside with head ducked and coat drawn close, pick their steps carefully across the slippery cobbles, and disappear inside a building as quickly as possible. Cargo wagons lurched past, with water pouring off the sides and the hapless driver hunched miserably against the downpour. No one lingered outside any longer than they had to, which meant Avari was unlikely to find a pocket worth picking, no matter how long she watched and waited.

Muttering discontentedly to herself, she pulled her hat tighter over her head, spilling a quantity of water from her hat-brim onto her hands in the process, and stalked through the quiet, rain-soaked streets with an air of resignation. Her stomach growled plaintively, providing an unwelcome reminder of how long it had been since her scant breakfast in the morning. At this point, Avari was willing to forgo the possibility of ill-gotten gains and just find someplace warm and dry, where she could wait out the rain and then head home to a supper of salted fish and oat-cakes.

As if in answer to her thoughts, a door opened only a few steps in front of her, causing sputtering, feeble lamplight and snatches of conversations to spill outside. The patchy light illuminated the rough sign above the door: The Kelp Bar. A man staggered out the door and, with only a second's hesitation, Avari hurried inside before it could close behind him.

The rank, all-too-familiar odor of kelp bar overwhelmed her senses for a moment, and she wrinkled her nose. Since she had first managed to steal the hoarded riches of a drunken sailor, whom she had met in this very bar, Avari had visited the Kelp Bar religiously in the spring in search of similarly easily-robbed drunkards. The warmth of summer, however, had lured her outdoors with the promise of pleasanter scents, easy pickings picking tourists' pockets during the longer daylight hours while they wandered the city, and greater anonymity. Now, Avari regarded the Kelp Bar's dilapidated interior with wry gratitude. She was glad to be blessedly dry and safe indoors, even if it had to be inside this noisy, unprepossessing bar.

One of the few seats left in the place was a rickety stool by the bar; Avari hurried quickly toward it and plopped herself down before anyone else could claim it. After walking in the rain, the warmth of the bar was most welcome as it seeped into her bones. She occupied herself with removing her sodden cloak and hat and unobtrusively wringing out the edges in an attempt to dry them out. Under her hat, her too-fair hair had been inexpertly pinned into a tight bun, the better to be concealed beneath the hat, and now it started to fall loose, the pale-blond strands spilling to her shoulders as she gently twisted the hem of her cloak above the floor.

Like every good thief should, though, Avari kept an eye and ear on her surroundings even as she focused on drying her outer garments, scanning the bar for particularly drunken patrons, possible easy targets for thievery, potential dangers, and visible exits for making a quick getaway. The bar was especially crowded this evening, she noticed, no doubt due to the rain outside. There was the usual assortment of laborers and sailors, as well as travelers trying their first taste of kelp beer. In her peripheral vision, she noticed two men sitting beside her at the bar: one a handsome young man with blue eyes and dark hair, whose words and hands seemed to flow with expressive grace, and the other a stout older man with a troubled, thoughtful expression on his sturdy features. The younger man's voice was smooth and suave, subtly projecting confidence and trustworthiness with every word.

Avari concentrated on their conversation, listening as closely as she could without visibly leaning toward them and betraying her interest. It seemed the young man was trying to persuade the older one of something, from the last few words she was able to catch. Something to do with Syliras? And the man's family? Whatever it was, the young man seemed to have the older one almost spellbound by his patient, self-confident manner and seeming effortless eloquence.

Almost...but not quite. Every now and then, the older man blinked and shook his head minutely. As Avari watched raptly, he answered the younger man's question in a voice tinged with doubt.

"You're right, I haven't been completely happy with my family, and I know it's because of my work," he grumbled. "I know my wife would be pleased to have me more often, and I can't tell you how much I'd thank you if you could make it so that I could see my son growing up day by day. It's not easy for us, me being gone all the time on voyages. But I just...I still don't see why I need to move to Syliras to do all that. What's there in Syliras that I can't do here?"

As the question hung in the air, Avari risked a glance toward the blue-eyed young man, wondering what silver-tongued words he would utter in response.

[Crismento Miren]

The man’s seemingly intentional refusal to comprehend what was being said to him slightly irritated Crismento but not even a single muscle twitched on his face to reflect that. It was possible that the sailor was simply too dim to clearly understand the value of possibilities and opportunities, however, it was also likely that he was smart enough to be unable to find sense in the deal offered. The whole scheme was complicated at its core and when wrapped in words by someone like Cris, the mess behind the curtains was difficult to see. Difficult, but not impossible. The swindler always relied on inherent greed of men to obscure their vision. Alcohol, of course, was also a great help with that, but it was the blinding desire to acquire something they could not that entangled them in Crismento’s ruse and occasionally in a loop of rope as well. The con man turned his gaze away from Chaz for a moment trying to find a way to say what he had already said differently and more convincingly. His eyes were caught by pretty lass that had just entered the tavern and sat down just behind the sailor. The glance lasted just a couple of short breaths but despite not pinning down the cause immediately Cris could tell that there was something inhuman about the girl. 'A peculiar way to describe someone', a brief thought passed through his mind laughing at his observation, but all that was soon forgotten as he turned his attention back to the mark. ”My dear Chaz,” the swindler’s voice remained that of calm and pleasant patience as he tried to repeat himself without repetitions. ”If there was such opportunity in Zeltiva I would not hesitate a single moment before offering it to you. But, alas, there is none. None at the present time, at least, and present time is of great importance in the decision we make. We are no seers, my friend, we don’t know the traps and gifts that the future has prepared for us. We reach them one by one as we progress towards our death and try to deal with them as best as we can. What I offer you today, Chaz, is the treasure that you have come across in your life journey. Please do not discard it because of poisonous self-doubt.” ”Still, Jal, you don’t tell me how is it that there is this golden opportunity up in Syliras while all I can get here is salted fish, kelp beer and season-long voyages to pay for those,” the increased skepticism in the man’s voice did not go by Crismento’s ears unnoticed. It was always a greater challenge to enfold marks in a convincing cape of deception without relying on his art, one that cost so much upon each and every indulgence. ”My friend, you know I have always been honest with you, so I will be so now, too,” Cris lowered his head looking at the bar desk and smiled. His eyes wandered back up before speaking. ”I don’t know. I do not know why world sometimes acts one way and not the other. Perhaps it is because Syliras is such big city that it was simply more likely for this investment opportunity to arise there and not somewhere else. Perhaps it grew great enough for such prospect faster than Zeltiva. Perhaps, as you say, all Zeltiva has is salty fish and beer out of kelp. I don’t know, my friend. But what I know, is that I can make your gold buy something vastly more valuable than it is asked for, all because without those mizas it would not reach that level of worth.” ”Sound very simple,” Chaz turned away from his drink and looked at the con artist. His eyes were not hinting but rather yelling that the sailor was not convinced. ”It is so strange, though. I want to believe you, Jal, very much, but the thought that I have never heard anything similar during my visits to Syliras keeps bothering me more and more…” ”I must say, it’s a quite new i-…” sensing how his citadel of lies was beginning to collapse like a sand castle being eaten away at its base by small barely reaching waves that were threatening to soon overflow and completely destroy it, Cris jumped to correct the situation but was not given a chance as the sailor continued speaking in his silently booming voice. ”And if I step away to think about it… Your story is not unlike that from the gossips of some sailors. In fact…” ”Chaz, my friend, you’re being confused,” this time it was Crismento who interrupted. His heart began beating faster as everything was about to fall apart, but his face and tone remained the same as five chimes ago. ”Calm down and listen to me. You’re likening a genuine business proposal to rants of seamen. It is just wrong to do so, you no doubt must be aware of this,” the djed infected words were waving around the sailor’s mind trying to sooth his growing passionate anger and return him to the state that would more susceptible to persuasion and manipulation. ”You’re a bloody liar, Jal,” the man’s voice was rising signaling that Cris was failing on every level and even his art was smothered completely, leaving no effect on the mark. ”Aren’t you? There’s no businessmen waiting for investment to acquire these great deals you speak of that would get me and my family a great place to stay and work. There’s no escape to the paradise, right? You’re just after my money, you scum!” As the sailor turned his torso to Cris, the con artist slid back away a little with his stool. ”Chaz, relax and think clearly,” hints of anxiety were breaking through the calm mask of his voice. ”You are misguidedly flying down the road of wrong assumptions. I am offering you an opportunity that will present itself to you just once in your lifetime and you allow beer to make the decision. A painfully incorrect one, at that.” Looking straight into the bearded man’s eyes as if staring him down was the only way he could win him back over, the swindler knew there was no chance hold his own should the situation escalated into a fight, so the con artist set his mind on a task to find a way to prevent this or come up with a quick plan of escape.

[Avari]

Shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation taking place adjacent to her at the bar, Avari winced as she listened to the rising crescendo of the burly sailor's angry, outraged words and the younger man's increasing peril. Even when the young man's voice took on the soothing cadence and gentle, murmurous harmonics clearly intended to subtly mollify his interlocutor, the sailor seemed to realize he was being manipulated and just grew more upset. The Konti flinched slightly as the sailor's voice climbed several decibels as he accused the younger, blue-eyed man of lying to him about a paradise waiting for him in Syliras and trying to trick him out of his money.

Even though she had only been sitting at the bar for the last few minutes, Avari thought she could piece together the situation well enough, without even needing to gaze into the Chavena or touch anyone's hand. The sailor's shouts made it clear that the younger man had promised him some kind of enticing opportunity in Syliras in exchange for money. Evidently, those promises were only a pretext for stealing his money, or so the sailor believed. Avari dared a quick peek over her shoulder and caught the young man's eye. Instead of the panicked look she was expecting, she found herself meeting the firm, steady, and unblinking gaze of a true liar.

If she hadn't already removed her hat, Avari would have taken it off right there. Even lacking the hyper-sensitive empathy of her sisters, the Konti could sense the younger man's charisma and presence from where she was sitting. She thought she had learned to lie pretty well, but even faced with a disgruntled mark, he projected such suave confidence that Avari suspected he could sell vision water to the Konti. As the younger man implored his friend to relax and think clearly, Avari glanced at the sailor. Heavyset, weather-beaten, and honest-looking -- he looked like the perfect mark. She would've chosen him too, though she would have preferred to rob him with sticky fingers instead of facile words.

She peeked again at the young man -- Jal, was that his name? -- as he finished his reassurances. He had such style, she thought wistfully. She could learn a thing or two from him about remaining so calm and composed in the middle of a lie that he appeared genuine, for all that his art looked totally lost on this current hulk of a sailor. And he was so handsome, too! Those blue eyes, that dazzling smile…

I wouldn't mind if he owed me a favor or two, she thought.

And from the looks of it, he might need a favor very soon. The sailor was a big man, quite drunk, and growing angrier by the moment. Avari had seen many men in that condition before, and they could be surprisingly accurate with their fists right before they fell over.

What could she do to distract the disgruntled mark, though? She looked down helplessly at her hands. How slender, how fragile they were, especially compared to the sailor's meaty paws.

But then, Avari realized suddenly, she didn't need strength to overpower the man. She had something else that she could use, something that could help the young blue-eyed man convince the sailor that he could get everything he ever wanted.

As the sailor drew breath to fuel another irate tirade, Avari deliberately scraped her stool around and leaned forward into the lamplight, so that it shone fully on her pale face and fair hair and caught the pearl-grey iridescence of the scales on her neck. On a sudden inspiration, she hunched her shoulders and made herself look as small and bedraggled as possible, an easy feat given her wet, wrinkled clothing. She cleared her throat loudly.

"Excuse me, kind sirs," she called out as beseechingly as she could manage, holding out her hands. "A little silver for a fortune-telling? Please? I can read your palms if you cross my hand with silver. Wouldn't you like to know a little about your future?"

Avari turned to the big sailor beside her, as if seeing him for the first time. He gaped back at her, looking a little caught off-guard by her announcement. "Please, sir? Would you like me to read your fortune?"

[Crismento Miren]

The sailor opened his mouth to respond and that was when their discussion got interrupted. Cris was thankful for that as he saw no possible way how this could have made the situation any worse but his eyebrows rose slightly in curiosity when he saw the perpetrator. It was the same lass that sat behind Chaz just a few moments ago but looked very differently then, both in attitude and appearance. Now he could clearly see what made her so inhuman even at a glance. The eye-soothing beauty despite the mask, the light scales… ”A Konti?” the sailor boomed in surprise unable to adjust his tone from the recent passionate argument. ”What are you doing so far from your isle, girl?” Before the swindler could determine how genuine the motivations of this fortune teller were, he jumped on the opportunity to tip the unbalanced scales of the sailor’s mood to his favor. ”But this is excellent, my friend! Who could be better suited than an oracle to solve our dispute?” Crismento’s words were poisoned with magic again, cautiously dancing around the big man’s mind and pushing him towards the woman in gentle yet determined prompts. ”The songs are sung about the gifts to see the future that the Konti possess. It’s a talent that both of us so desperately lack and for that we are constantly buried deep into anxious ambiguity about the times yet to come. Pay the girl, my friend; let’s free ourselves from these shackles for tonight. After all, it is the most important decision in your life that you are betting to make.” Unlike before, the sailor’s stubbornness and anger did not smother the smooth messages that were enthralling him. The swindler’s words were wrapping around the mark’s thoughts like orphaned children cling to the rays of love. Still when Chaz turned to him Cris saw that some doubt emerged over the confusion on his face. ”You’re trying to sell me everything, aren't you? Squeeze the last bit of copper out if me if you could, wouldn’t you?” Now the liar’s mask of confidence slipped, not to give up, but rather to make room for another, one of upset and disappointment. ”Your words wound me, my friend. I wish nothing but the very best for you and yet you take me for a despicable crook.” He turned to the Konti and a smile, although weaker this time, reappeared on his face. ”Let the maiden speak of your future, Chaz. Let us hear whether it is fortune or betrayal lying there. Whether you should be a decisive man of action or a fearful one in doubt.” Crismento’s eyes wandered across the woman’s face trying to see anything in there that could be helpful for his cause. Was she simply an opportunist or did she come to his aid, or perhaps even both? That would be lucky, because if not, he would have to try and manipulate them both; a rather demanding task, perhaps even too much so. With his lips still closed hard Chaz grabbed his pouch and the fat fingers fished out a few silver coins that he reluctantly handed to the Konti. ”Alright, fortune-teller, speak. Let us hear.”

[Avari]

Avari had to suppress a smile when the blue-eyed swindler responded perfectly to her cue and began orating about the prophetic capabilities of the Konti in the most poetic fashion. His very voice took on a musical, singsong quality that soon had the heavyset sailor bobbing his head to its rhythms. If it hadn't been for his smooth, persuasive urgings nudging the sailor toward getting his fortune read, Avari wasn't sure the sailor would have ever agreed to do it. But now, his ears filled with the swindler's reassuring voice exhorting the gifts of the Konti and subtly identifying Avari as an impartial third party who could resolve his doubts, the sailor reluctantly dropped a few silver-rimmed mizas in her hand and presented his palm to her. Alertly, she watched where the man had drawn his coins and filed it away for near-future reference.

She truly had to admire the blue-eyed man's quick thinking and flair with words. Facing an angry mark hadn't fazed him a bit, and he had reacted with aplomb when he received help, or at least distraction, from an unexpected source. In short, he'd given her no reason not to help him, considering he seemed so capable of helping himself. It made her gamble more interesting.

Now, it was her turn. Avari slipped off her ever-present canvas gloves and gritted her teeth. The Konti race might be reputed to be able to see the future, but this particular Konti had no way to foretell even something as simple as when it would stop raining outside. Briefly, she considered the man's thick features, wondering what sort of love he held dear and what kind of fortune he'd want to hear. She thought about muddling her way through the fortune-telling the old-fashioned way, making it up from whole cloth and giving him tales of endless wealth, beautiful women, and eternal youth, but the man looked too disgruntled for anything but true desires to penetrate his churning roil of emotions. And for the truth, Avari had only one way of finding that out.

With a gesture like that of plunging her hand into boiling water, she reached out and took the sailor's outstretched hand in both of hers. Avari bent over the sailor's broad, square palm and fought to keep her eyes open and staring, while visions of his deepest love surged through her mind in vivid, detailed images.

Avari saw a young boy, perhaps six or seven years old, wreathed in golden veils of sunlight as he ran laughing toward the sailor with arms outstretched. The sailor embraced him tightly and swung him up onto his strong shoulders. Then, the images flickering faster, she saw the boy growing up, attending school, smiling as he began working at a steady and respectable trade that never took him near the sea, never forced him to swab decks, struggle against the wind and waves, or pray for his life when a pirate's brigantine bombarded his ship with heavy stone cannon balls…

With a gasp, Avari let go of the man's palm and clenched her hands tightly in her lap. The images were so intense, they had stung.

"Your son," she announced. "I mean, I see you taking your son and your wife to a new home, far away from the perils and hardships of the sea. Your," she paused to glance quickly at the man's weathered palm, "uh, your lifeline indicates you will meet with much happiness in your new home. It branches out here, which means someone powerful will take an interest in your son and take him as an apprentice, or a student, or perhaps even a squire. Yes, perhaps as a squire, for this small branching line representing your offspring ends here in a point as straight and true as a knight's lance."

She lifted her head and forced herself to smile up at the sailor, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I see much prosperity and fortune for you in a new home far from Zeltiva, sir. For you, and your family, and especially," and here she laid a subtle emphasis on her words, "your son."

[Crismento Miren]

Cris watched the Konti’s performance with genuine curiosity. He had never observed a real fortune-telling that wasn’t performed by frauds and wondered if the woman’s show had any truth beneath pretense. In any case, the swindler admired her initial act, but was even more impressed when she began talking. The words were accurate as arrows of a sharpshooter, and went straight for the heart of the sailor. Crismento glanced at the man and saw his tough expression waver a little and lighten up at the mention of his son and the bright future. Just another step towards the cliff… Or the loop… Whichever one preferred. Cris never took away the choice. Not that one. The con artist returned his eyes on his newly met accomplice. An examining gaze was hidden behind a warm and innocently curious mask as he tried to determine who this unexpected friend was. She was certainly not a fortune-teller not a virtuous or truthful one at least. No, Cris would classify her as someone closer to himself – an opportunist. He could not tell whether she simply jumped at the chance to do this or followed a career of deceit. He could not even be sure if the mark was the sailor or himself. And while his face did not show concern, it was suppressing excitement as well, for where there were risks, there were also promises of rewards. Soon the Konti was finished, appearing to be somehow affected, perhaps slightly exhausted, by the ordeal. Was it another piece of her performance or did she truly indulge in some mysterious magic, now suffering from mild overgiving? Another worry… But she was not the priority; the priorities haven’t changed. ”We are most grateful, my dear,” he smiled to the woman. ”Your words were of tremendous help to my friend and also me, and we remain envious of your gifts and talents.” Cris turned to Chaz, who was still processing the information not being able to decide the appropriate reaction and thus remaining oddly stuck between delight and bewilderment. ”My fortunate friend, it is my belief that the news call for another round of drinks to celebrate.” The sailor looked at the con man as if he had just returned from the distant dreamscapes, before shaking away the concern and turning around to the bar. While the big man was cheerfully shouting the order, Crismento turned back to the Konti and just for the briefest moment let his mask slip revealing calm and cold satisfaction beneath. He gave her a barely noticeable nod and eight quiet words escaped his lips: ”Leave in 10 chimes. Wait and then follow.” His soft voice was overwhelmed by the noises in the tavern almost as he spoke and Cris couldn’t be sure whether the woman understood or even heard that. That, however, was the only chance he was willing to take and without any hesitation returned to his mark, transforming back into Jal, the friend of the gullible. ”I suppose I have to apologise, mate,” Chaz began as he passed a mug of what was generously called “beer” to Cris. ”I probably got too drunk there… I thought you were telling me tales and got mad, but you’ve never given me a real reason to doubt you and that was confirmed. I-…” The con artist interrupted him with a relaxed hand wave. ”Please, my friend, there’s no need for that. You are too wise not to question what people tell you and that is a highly admirable trait, one that will not let you fall into any risky pitfalls when enjoying your success in Syliras,” Crismento smiled in his mind when he saw small glimmers of light flash in the sailor’s eyes. ”And as for being too drunk… I’ve heard the simplest solution is drinking oneself sober.” Chaz roared with laughter and raised his mug up. "Cheers!"

[Avari]

So fascinated was Avari with the sight of the smiling, warmly friendly mask dropping from the blue-eyed man's face to reveal the cold calmness beneath that she almost missed hearing the low, brief words he murmured to her under cover of the bar's commotion. What struck Avari most was that, even when the first mask had been lowered, she couldn't help feeling that the young man's blue eyes were staring out at her from behind yet another mask. There was something about his eyes, some veiled and secretive quality that made her think he was still hiding part of himself. Perhaps, she mused, men like that always wore several layers of masks over their true selves, each one more convincing than the last.

With a start, Avari realized the man was speaking to her while the sailor was away at the bar. His voice was so soft that she had to lean forward to catch his last few words. "...ten chimes...and then follow," she heard. Before Avari could ask what he meant, he had turned back toward the big sailor, who was returning with two mugs full of foul-smelling green beer.

A small, pleased glow warmed her heart. Somehow, the blue-eyed man had recognized her for the trickster she was, just as she had guessed him to be a swindler as soon as she'd looked in his face. He'd understood what she had done just now; he had seen through her sham fortune-telling and, far from raising a fuss or shouting for the authorities, was quietly acknowledging her help. Avari congratulated herself on gambling on this canny liar of a man and winning.

Now, what had he meant by those barely audible words? She glanced over at the two men, who were bantering and carousing at the end of the bar, and flashed them a smile that she hoped conveyed to them something like, It was a great honor to read your fortune, which will most surely come true, because I was telling you the truth and you can trust every word I said. Then she busied herself by drying off the last damp patches of her cloak, while furiously trying to figure out what exactly the blue-eyed man had just told her.

Surely he wasn't asking Avari to follow him out of the bar in ten chimes? That would be too much of a giveaway that they had somehow been working together, which wouldn't sit well with that big oaf of a sailor at all. No, by all means they mustn't threaten the illusion that Avari was a neutral third party whose fortune-telling was unbiased by either man's agenda. On the other hand, if she remained in the bar for a reasonably innocuous length of time...say, ten chimes...and then sauntered outside to wait for the young man there, no one could possibly believe they were associated with each other.

Thinking of how to pass the next ten chimes, the Konti's eyes roved around the weather-beaten bar. She noticed a small group of tired-looking laborers who would have heard her advertising her fortune-telling abilities and seen her "read" the sailor's palm. She slid off her bar stool and moved casually toward them.

"Would any of you gentlemen like to have your fortunes read?" she asked. She added, entreatingly, "Please?"

Most of the laborers eyed her warily, but one or two of them shrugged their shoulders. "Eh, sure, why not? Looks interesting." A few of them presented their palms for reading.

For the next few minutes, the Konti spent her time holding the hardened, weathered hands of various working-class men, gazing into their hearts, and using what she saw to tell them stories promising them exactly what they wanted most. It was more akin to storytelling than true fortune-telling, in truth. Avari knew her Konti elders back on Mura would no doubt denounce her for using Avalis' gift for profit like this, which made the exercise more pleasurable for her. A few smiles appeared on the men's worn-looking faces as she promised them the ship they had always dreamed of sailing, the woman they most desired, or the profession they secretly wished they could pursue. They were all fictional, of course, but the few golden or silver mizas they gave her in exchange were satisfyingly real and solid.

Avari tried to keep track of the time, but it wasn't until the big sailor with the beloved young son gave a loud laugh that she remembered the blue-eyed man's whispered message. She glanced toward the end of the bar and gathered her cloak around her.

"I'm sorry, but it's getting late, and I should be going," she told the group of men. She tried to think of something appropriately pious and mystical-sounding to bleat. "May the visions of your future light your way to fortune and happiness."

The men responded with grunts and a few raised tankards. None of the other patron paid any attention to her.

Not daring to look behind her to see if the blue-eyed man was still drinking with his sailor or if he had already left, Avari headed toward the door.

[Crismento Miren]

Behind the sailor’s shoulder Crismento could see the Konti join a group of men and carrying on with her act. If it was just an act. Letting her slip away from his mind he concentrated on his obliviously unfortunate mark. The liar spun nice and pleasant words as a thread of a story and weaved it into a persuasive web of illusion that Chaz might have found to be harder and harder to escape from. But he didn’t feel that way. On the contrary, the sailor enjoyed being entangled in the smooth web and finally pacified by a reassuring lullaby of the con artist. Listening to Crismento’s words he felt that the venomous cloth of lies around his shoulders was the smooth silks of the promised fortune caressing his hardened skin. And so he listened, listened and listened. The sailor’s mug was drying up fast and Chaz didn’t even notice when he began emptying the swindler’s untouched glass. His buzzing head filled with dreams of Syliras and better life was defenceless against the sharp blue eyes and glib tongue guided by an unclouded mind of a liar. When the sailor decided it was high time to go on a tirade of cursing his current life, Zeltiva and the kelp while singing drunk praises for Syliras and declaring himself the future Syliran Knight of Gold and Beer, Cris noticed the Konti leaving the tavern. There was one final thing he had to do to finish his hunt before going after her, and so the swindler decided to let Chaz talk some more. He had already done everything needed to accomplish his goal and now only the sailor himself could add any self-convincing and reassuring that it was the right choice. Cris smiled and listened how the man’s fantasies grew bigger, no longer restricted by rational thought. He laughed along with the sailor at his increasingly odd jokes and patted him on the shoulder when the sailor got teary-eyed talking about his son and how much he loved him. Eventually it was time to finish it. ”Well, my friend, it is getting late already and I’m afraid we must part for now,” Crismento spoke in a regretful tone. ”Mphf,” the man nodded. ”Just one more round, huh, mate?” ”I fear not, Chaz,” the swindler shook his head with a smile. ”The meeting with the envoy is quite early tomorrow and I believe we wouldn’t want to sacrifice your new life for a hangover.” The sailor laughed before finishing his drink with one large gulp. ”Well, suit yourself, Jal. I know I’ll be staying here for a while longer.” ”By all means, continue, my dear friend. If tonight is not the night deserving celebration, than which night is? But with all that said, we need to finalize our matters before I leave.” ”You mean the coin?” Cris just nodded in response and the sailor dramatically pulled out his pouch of gold from under the table and dropped it in front of the swindler, all while his wide opened lips demonstrated a smile consisting of less than presentable teeth. ”Well, here’s the pouch. You turn it into a bag, mate!” ”I will, Chaz, I will,” Crismento loosened the knot around the pouch and spilled around the third of the coins from it on the table. ”Don’t tell me you’re counting it, mate, that would be just bloody ridiculous,” the man protested in somewhat surprised and hurt voice. ”It most certainly would,” an amused smile found its way on the con artist’s lips. He took his own pouch of money from under his belt and swept the part of Chaz’s coins into it. ”I just don’t like having a lot of nilos in a single place. Some mockingly call it paranoia, but I claim it is just being careful. One loses less when he errs on the count of cautiousness.” Crismento returned his pouch back to its place, securing the newly acquired one by his other side and hiding them both beneath his coat as he was standing up. The two men said their goodbyes, exchanging the final thanks for congratulations and then Cris turned away to leave the inn with hopes to never meet the soon to be miserable sailor again. It was still raining outside and already much darker than the swindler had expected it to be, but his eyes still managed to find the Konti waiting. He flashed a brief victorious smile to her and then hid his head beneath the hood before turning to his right. Because of the rain Cris kept a slightly hurried pace, but still slow enough to be easily followed. As he navigated through the streets towards his home, which was just a very humble apartment he was renting, which could be more accurately called a room, since it wasn’t much more than that, his mind was trying to work out what the next stage of the game was going to be. It was a strange and unfamiliar territory, and even though Crismento usually tried to show aversion for such things, it slightly excited him. He could already see the door to his residence when one of the many questions about this creature, who had unexpectedly come to his aid, rang the bells of slight alarm, calling him to wake up and wonder what he was doing at this current moment. How well he could trust her? It was not a question Cris asked himself often, since he always knew the answer, and the answer never changed. And yet he was leading her back to his place. The con artist did not pause even for a moment as he passed his door and several feet further down the street he stopped to wait for the Konti to catch up to him. ”I believe we are now far away enough not to run into somebody from the bar by chance,” he turned and spoke to her when she came closer. ”The unfriendly weather doesn’t really allow for a nice and pleasant time outside and my apartment is across town from here. Perhaps you know a place closer where we could comfortably divide the spoils? Aside from that, I truly desire to talk to you, fair fortune-teller” His gentle smile grew a little wider and he gave her a small bow. ”And of course, thank you.”

[Avari]

"Y-you're welcome," Avari stammered, evidently flustered by the blue-eyed man's question. She had assumed that when he had asked her to follow him, the man had had some place in mind to take her. Now, suddenly, it was apparently her responsibility to lead them to a safe, private refuge where they could do business. Hastily, she looked around at their surroundings to figure out where exactly they were in the city and marshaled her wits, her mind scrambling to think of a suitable place quickly.

Now that they were alone, the blue-eyed man wasn't the only one who was starting to have misgivings about their impromptu alliance. Back in the Kelp Bar, there had been safety in the brightness and bustle of the tavern, where no one could bare steel, let alone commit any overt acts of aggression. Here, amid the silvery rustle of the rain, though, Avari's dazzlement with the man had worn off somewhat, to be replaced with wariness and caution. Just because the man was handsome did not mean he meant well toward her. And here, alone and outside, with no one else around and only two old throwing knives from Mura to protect herself...who knew what he might intend to do?

Avari did her best to shake off the troubling thought, comforting herself by thinking of his courteous manner and the money he had made thanks to her help instead. Venturing another look at the vicinity, the Konti gathered her cloak tighter around her shoulders and thought furiously. Finally, she spoke up.

"I-if I am not mistaken," and she couldn't resist adding impishly, "and I so rarely am, it looks to me like we are very close to the warehouses section of the city. I just so happen to know a ship captain on the Mura route who rents one of the smaller units. He seems to leave early every summer for a voyage, so his warehouse should be quiet and empty now. No one will bother us if we stay inside there and have our...discussion."

She grinned up at him, inwardly marveling and grumbling at once at how much the man towered over her. "Don't get excited, though. There's never anything much to take inside the warehouse when the captain's gone on his route. But at least it's a dry place indoors, out of the rain. Come with me."

Motioning for the man to follow her, Avari proceeded to find her way toward one of the many clumps of stolid grey warehouses that studded the vibrant mercantile city of Zeltiva. As it happened, the captain that she claimed to know was the one whose ship had brought her to Zeltiva in the first place, and she had only discovered his warehouse by carefully following his cargo wagons there once they landed. It had been a great disappointment for her to discover that the captain only stored things in there that were too large or unwieldy to carry off: Konti paintings and sculpture, bulky vats of Sahovan flora, and the like. Now, Avari walked briskly between the rows of large, nondescript buildings, always keeping one hand on a dagger hilt in case of trouble, either from footpads ambushing them in an alley or from the man behind her. Only her eyes peeked out between her hat's drooping brim and the collar of her cloak, watching alertly for warehouse no. 801.

"There!" the Konti exclaimed at last, turning toward a squat little warehouse with a heavy wooden door marked "801." With perfect unconcern, she strode up to examine the sturdy padlock fastening the door closed. Clearly, she viewed it as a tiny deterrent, hardly something to worry anyone.

In an instant, she pulled out the small black roll full of lock-picks and tools that had been one of her first purchases in Zeltiva. She selected a hook pick and a tension tool and slid both into the lock, wedging the hook pick to manipulate the padlock's old, rusty pins. The padlock might have looked sturdy, but it was ancient and not too well-made to begin with. With a few minutes of prodding and picking, the padlock's mechanisms sprang open and Avari turned the tension tool, opening the lock and nudging open the big wooden door.

Inside, the warehouse smelled musty and stale, with hints of sawdust. Stumbling toward a corner, Avari bent over and retrieved her trusty flint-and-steel kit, striking a spark and lighting one elderly lantern. It flared into life, casting a warm glow within the rather cramped warehouse, and she was grateful to see that it at least had plenty of oil left. In its tremulous yellow light, she straightened and ventured a small smile at the blue-eyed man.

"Not the finest accommodations, I know," Avari admitted, sweeping her arm at the solitary lantern and the handful of empty crates scattered about the floor. "But you can be sure no one will bother us here."

Shedding her wet cloak and hat once more, she dropped them on the floor and sat down in the center, nimbly crossing her legs. "Now," she said, her smile broadening, "tell me. What clever little trick were you playing on that fellow at the bar, and how much did you get out of him for it?"