Quest Parched Throats

[Chameleon]

86th Winter 517

It had been hard to miss the performance from the Speakers. Every street in the city had eventually led its way towards the temporary stage, refusing to let anyone stray from the path of seeing the Speakers. Even those who chose not to travel anywhere found themselves hearing about it from their neighbours, from strangers, from whoever the city drove in their direction.

The protestors that morning, who had been complaining about the queues that took bells to die down at the wells, about the dryness that caused most to flock to the select few wells that weren’t dry, had had their demands answered. The Speakers had announced, through their extravagant methods, that they were planning an expedition for those interested in going. Any able-bodied men and women had been asked to volunteer themselves to solve the problem. There hadn’t been offers of rewards, but surely, the fact they were serving themselves as well as the rest would be enough to convince them.

Or at least, the Speakers hoped.



There was a cart waiting for those who had been inspired by the performance the day before. Those whose parched throats were dry enough to know they had no other choice. Those who were willing to do something for the sake of the city, and not just for their own interests, too. It was at the city gates, as they had all been told. Inside the cart sat a young man who worked as hunter, who knew the grounds outside the city. Beside him was another man, this one sent as a representative of the Speakers. He wasn’t a Listener, or anything important. He had just been hired for an odd job, like always, only this one was to report back everything he saw to those who ran the city.

Inside the cart, other than the two men, were three barrels, empty but designed to carry back some water once they had found it, a collection of axes and bows to defend themselves and a few spades and other tools that they had decided could be useful. A donkey was attached to the front of the cart, a weak thing with a tail that had been dipped in paint. It wasn’t even strong enough to pull the cart with the men inside - everyone who came along would have to walk.

The hunter introduced himself as Mogens. He had long muddy hair and muddy hands, which held a battered looking bow. His face was thin, as was the rest of his body - sinewy muscles clung to his bones, strengthened only by the activity he did all day, every day. There was a full bottle of water across his back. He looked as if he would guard it with his life.

The man who was there to report to the Speakers called himself Tobin. He was older, a few grey hairs beginning to speckle the more cropped hairstyle he sported. Unlike Mogens, he had actual muscle, although it was hidden behind worn and faded clothing. He spoke with a slight accent - Syliran - and it made Mogens suspicious, at least, about why the Speakers had chosen a foreigner to travel with them to find water. After all, he was the only one who had actually been selected for the task. Everyone else had volunteered.

Once they had gathered, and it had reached the tenth bell - when they had set the deadline to - Mogens gave quick instructions, explaining their plan: they would head out of Alvadas and north, as up as they can go. There was a river that Mogens had hunted near often, that was large enough to not have dried up completely. They didn’t know what they’d do when they got there, but for a plan it was good enough for him.

“We need to sort out jobs, though, going there. Someone needs to help me navigate. Another person needs to keep an eye out for any sort of danger. And a third can look after the cart. That would be enough, would it not? So, who wants to do what?”

Once the roles had been divvied up as best as possible, they emerged from the city. At once, the change was obvious. From snow covered streets and the chill in the air, the scenery shifted suddenly. There was a warmth they hadn’t felt for almost season now. The sun was brightly shining in the sky. The grass was slightly dead, crunching beneath their feet.

There was little wildlife around. But Mogens was on guard. “Careful where you step. We want to get there without any distractions. Remember - all your friends, family and neighbours are waiting for you.” As if they weren’t already aware that they weren’t the only ones thirsty.

[Avela]

It wasn't normally in Avela's nature to go out and do something like this. Not normally in her nature to volunteer. Any other day, any other season, she might have gone back home after the Speakers' performance, might have curled up in her bed and closed the windows, rubbed at her gills and mourned the lack of water, and spoken some half-sincere prayer for the right people to go out there and solve the situation. Any other day.

But Nerea had started crying.

Four years old, and red-faced, and crying and crying and crying. Crying without tears, in a way that Avela's stepmother couldn't even calm her, crying because she was thirsty and she didn't have any water. And Kairen hadn't even said anything. He had just handed her his own water, without a word. Avela had looked at the two of them, her half-siblings, and had felt sick to her stomach. She'd gone home, to the small cottage that she lived in, by herself for the first time, and hadn't even been able to muster up the energy to study, to try to translate her mother's journal. The Kontinese words swam in front of her face. All she could see was her mother, and how brave she must have been, and what her mother would have done.

Tears were a waste of water. Avela tried to keep them in.

The next day, she found herself answering the Speakers' call, making her way out to the wagons. She hadn't been sure what to bring to a trip out of the city, having never left Alvadas before, but she'd bought a knife on her way out. Nothing special, nothing she really knew how to use. Just a little knife, just in case. Carrying it made her feel silly, but she brought it with her anyway. She studied the cart as she approached it nervously. The hunter looked like he knew what he was doing, and she wasn't sure what the other man was there for, but he had to have a purpose. The barrels were for water, and...oh, Avalis, oh, Ionu, was she really doing this?

Yes. Yes she was. There was no point in second-guessing herself now. She stepped forward, gathering with the others, and listening to the men who introduced themselves as Mogens and Tobin.

The plan seemed easy enough. They were going out to find a river. Avela shifted nervously when they asked for jobs, looking at the people around her, both of whom seemed more capable than she was. But there had to be a job for everyone, so..."I can keep an eye out," she said. She could try to be observant, if nothing else.

As they made their way out of the city, Avela stayed close to the wagon, holding her breath. She'd never left the gates before. Stepping past the threshold, stepping into the warmth and the sunshine felt...strange. Exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. And oddly warm. She fiddled with the buttons of her coat, starting to undo it with one hand as she walked, trying to keep an eye out on the world around them as grass crunched beneath her feet.

PurchasesKnife - 5sm

Template by Gomer Caitiff

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira couldn't quite believe she had showed up. She stood next to the wagon that would lead them out of town, trying not to look nervous as she twisted her many heavy rings endlessly around her fingers. The Craven was not given to bouts of charity, and adventure was something she actively avoided. Even to look at her in her dark pants and crisp white blouse, with her hair elegantly tied back, it was obvious she did not revolve in the same world as Mogens and Tobin. Even the one handed crossbow in her arms looked like some showy confection of ebony and steel next to the axes, shovels and rough hewn weapons in the cart.

Though all she wanted to do was take her inadequacies and run for it, she merely had to think of Allister to remember why she must stay. Her bondmate had suffered dehydration before, back when the summer plague ripped through the city on the back of insects. She had seen the way his lips cracked and bled, heard how his voice crackled like tinder on his dry tongue, and felt the way his skin grew rough and damaged under her hands. She would not let that happen again.

The Speaker's play had put the fear back in her bones, but perhaps not in the way they intended. The city could burn to the ground around them, but Madeira had to make sure she took care of what was hers.

Luckily she was not the only one there way out of her depth. A little Konti girl with anxious feet and big blue eyes volunteered to keep an eye out for danger. Madeira licked her dry lips in sympathy. The lack of water was probably affecting her kind the most of anybody.

"I'll help navigate", Madeira announced, stepping forward after the Konti. Not that she had ever so much as held a map before. And growing up in Alvadas, her sense of direction was probably worst than most. But the need for the ounce of control that could be found in leading the way reared its ugly head.

When the jobs had been properly divided out, they were on their way. The land around the city was dry and brittle, washed in the browns and golds of starvation. The air was warm and seemed to pull the moisture from their breath. Kalea's mountains looked strangely naked without their caps of snow.

Mogens was probably expecting the woman who unwisely volunteered to help him navigate, but Madeira hung back a moment to introduce herself to the little Konti that had caught her eye earlier.

"I'm Madeira Craven. Pleased to meet you", she offered her hand to the Konti and smiled kindly. "Well, I wish the circumstances were different, but..." she waved away the unsaid words with a flick of her hand, and they were replaced with the crunching of dead grass beneath their feet. "Lets just hope we find what we are looking for."

[Chameleon]

Parched Throats

Tobin moved next to Avela. "It's a little warm, isn't it?" he commented, noticing how she fiddled with the buttons of her coat. He was about to comment again, but Madeira's approached made him shut his mouth. There was money behind that blouse and crossbow, and he wasn't interested in messing with it, not even if she was barely a part of it.

Instead, he moved away, letting her speak to the Konti. The man's presence was replaced with the hunter's, who shoved a worn map into her hands. "Here," he pointed roughly to where they were were, before tracing a over a faint line that was the river he was hoping to reach, "Watch where we go. Let me know if you think we're going wrong."

The map was a incoherent mess, one Madeira would not be able to understand. But it was too late to say anything, for he was off, bursting ahead. At times, it was almost impossible to see him, but then he'd slow and allow the group to catch up with their cart.

Whoever looked out for danger, whether that was Avela or Madeira or Tobin who cared for the cart, found nothing. Wildlife that they encountered - few and far between, scared off by their noisy travel - was peaceful and hesitant to approach if it hadn't fled already. At the base of the mountains, a dense forest sprung up. In there, it was even harder for them to keep an eye out for anything. Tobin moved ahead to ensure a clear path for the cart, leaving the girl's behind.

Then they came across a clearing. Even if Madeira could read maps as well as she could deal with ghosts, she wouldn't be able to find it on the map, no matter how hard she looked. The map, with its faded sheet that let the sunlight shine through against the twisting trails and rivers marked on it, didn't have the clearing marked. The clearing, tucked away like a forgotten gem at the bottom of the valley, was newer than the rest of the features of the natural landscape. After all, it was not, by any means, natural.

At one edge of the clearing lay a cave. Its darkened entrance crept forward out of the hillside, jutting out awkwardly against the few spindly birches that remained from a previous dense forest. Their silvery trunks seemed as if they should be gleaming in the light, but their bases rose with blackening ash. As the party approached, the wind settled, leaving a stillness in the air that was amplified by the lack of wildlife in the area. The previous backdrop of bird calls and rabbits rustling through the undergrowth was deadened to a few distance screeches and their own footsteps.

The ground was dry, sparse with grass where you'd expect more. Not desolate by any means, but patches of dirt still scarred the green carpet that crunched beneath their feet. They weren't in any patterns. Here, the ground was empty of all but a few dandelion sprouts. There, a wild crop of golden smoke flowers shone out, thriving in the warmer heat and open clearing. No patterns in the plants and the nothing. No trails or runs in this clearing to define anything.

The hunter looked anyway. While others' attention could be stolen by the scorched tree stumps, flecked with tan and silver between the ashy black, or the enticing secrets of what could lie in the cave, Mogens kept his eyes down, searching for signs of life on the ground - the human-shaped, sentient kind of life.

Tobin was the one who took charge now, speaking with that Syliran accent. "We can't spend long here. We have water to find. Come on, Mogens. This place isn't right."

The hunter raised an unsteady finger. Slowly, he buried his fingers into the dust, pulling up dry dirt then a small grubby little thing between his fingers. He rubbed it onto his shirt, before holding it up towards the light. A coin glinted. "No, we should look around. Someone was here. I want to know why this clearing's here." Mogens looked expectantly at the two women. "Help me look for something."

It was clear that he hadn't meant to bring them here. Some slip in the journey, uncorrected by the map reader, had resulted their path from straying. There was no water here - Tobin showed impatience, hoping to encourage them to be quick.

[Avela]

There was only one other person with their group, a slender young woman in a blouse and dark pants. She carried a crossbow and looked like she might know how to use it, which was certainly more than Avela could say about her own little knife. The woman had an air of elegance and poise around her, and next to her, Avela felt somewhat sloppy and redundant. She tugged uncertainly at her silver hair, wondering, not for the first time, what she was doing out here.

It was too late to turn back, though. And Avela had no intention of turning back now.

She smiled at Tobin as he approached her, opening her mouth to respond. Before she could, however, the woman with the crossbow stepped towards her, and Tobin moved away as if she had pushed him. Avela blinked at her as she introduced herself, surprise in her light blue eyes. Did the woman just say 'Craven'?

She recovered quickly from her surprise, taking Madeira's hand. "Um, nice to meet you," she said. "I'm Avela Sallis." At Madeira's casual comment about finding what they were looking for, Avela relaxed, finding it easier to talk to Madeira with the other woman treating her as an equal. She managed a hesitant smile, rubbing at her dry throat. "I really hope so too."

Avela fell silent as they walked, looking out for danger. Those who knew her knew that silent wasn't always her natural state, but with how dry her throat was, she didn't feel much like talking. She kept her attention focused nervously at the world around her, but there was nothing there, and eventually, Avela relaxed, although she stayed close to the wagon.

And then they reached the clearing.

Avela looked around at the place, shivering at the sudden silence. Her eyes moved over the ground, at the scorched tree stumps and the patches of empty ground surrounded by scattered patches of flowers. She hugged her arms close to herself despite the warmth, looking around. A fire, perhaps? But could any natural fire touch some portions of the ground and not others.

"What happened here...?" she muttered, more to herself than to anyone, although Madeira would be able to hear her.

She looked up at Mogens' words, her eyes falling on the coin in his hand. Avela honestly didn't want to stay here for longer than they had to. The silence was unsettling, and the steadiness, the lack of the illusions she had grown up with her whole life, was disturbing. But she couldn't help but admit a sort of morbid curiosity--something had happened here, and she wanted to know what it was.

She told herself that the faster she helped search, the more that she found, the quicker they could get away.

Avela walked into the clearing hesitantly, moving lightly over the ground as if she was afraid it was going to rise up and swallow her. Still, she crouched down, searching in the dust for anything that could be found.

"Common" "Kontinese"

Template by Gomer Caitiff

[Madeira Dusk]

The party had begun moving, and Madeira was still trying to figure out which way was 'up' on the map. The thin, beaten piece of parchment Mogen had shoved into her hands had no pictures or words on it. Wasn’t a map suppose to have pictures, at the very least? Instead incomprehensible squiggles of faded ink chased each other across the map, and the lightest suggestion of faded blotches of colour filled the spaces in between. She was spuriously twisting the thing in the hands as she walked beside the decrepit donkey, trying not to let the party see just how out of her depth she was.

There was a blue swath on the map, she noticed. It ran in a big crescent curve on one end. She knew that if an artist were to depict water, they always painted it blue. Perhaps Mapmakers were under the same delusion as artists, and thought water was blue. Madeira spun the map around so that the blue bit faced the ocean, which lined the squiggly brown shapes with the Kalea mountain range. There! That must be the right way up.

Of course, this discovery in no way helped figure out where they were. Madeira was left to follow their guides and try her best to decipher the map as she did, until they came across the clearing.

Unable to locate the clearing on her map, Madeira made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and tucked the thing into her pocket. Tobin seemed to share in her ire, though for different reasons.

"Come on, Mogens. This place isn't right." he said, clearly itching to move. But when Mogens held up the coin he found, a sign of humanity in this disturbed earth, Madeira found herself sided with the hunter. They should investigate what had caused this. If for no other reason than to know what happened to the people there, and avoid their mistakes.

It looked like Avela agreed. The Konti wondered aloud what had happened there as she poked around in the scorched earth. Madeira picked her way across the clearing to join her and Mogen, but her eyes kept straying to the awkwardly extended cave. It was the only covered area, so perhaps whoever dropped the coin took shelter inside. Not that she would be willing to poke around a dark cave to find out. Luckily a Spiritist needn't put herself in harms way to investigate dark and scary things when there were plenty of dead things to do it for her.

"I'm not sure" Madeira answered the Konti's rhetorical question, rolling up her sleeve as she did. "Say, can I borrow your knife? Just really quick."

Taking the knife from Avela she sliced a jagged line across her own wrist. Once she got enough blood flowing she wiped the blade clean on her trouser leg and handed it back to the Konti with a word of thanks. Dipping her finger into the macabre paint, she drew the familiar symbol of the sixteen point star on the palm of her hand.

This wasn't the first time she had summoned a ghost to poke around in dangerous situations. Jomi and Hurik had proved themselves invaluable in that flaming ruin that was the underground earlier in the season. Yet as she closed her palm into a fist, and her gaudy rings blinked in the sunlight, she wondered how wise it would be to summon them again. They were her strongest servants, but also antagonistic and hard to control. Perhaps she should prioritize obedience over prowess on this quest for water.

As Madeira approached the cave, she closed her eyes and breathed evenly through her nose. She focused on the glittering opal in its silver nest, and the piece of soulmist that swirled inside. With her soul she resonated with the mist, and encouraged it to find the ghost it belonged to. Once connected, she used the energy of her living soul to drag the ghost across the space separating it from it's detached mist like a magnet. Once she had a proper hold on the girl, she invoked her by name.

"Emma Chamelle!"

The young ghost blinked into existence behind her. In direct sunlight the girl was no more substantial than the steam over a cup of coffee. Brown curls and a faded nightdress flicked in and out a view, but an air of bafflement that always accompanied a surprise teleportation lingered about her.

"Maddy?" the ghost phrased the name like a question as she look around the strange meadow. Madeira smiled for her.

"Hey sweetheart. Remember how I was going outside the walls today? Well, I need your help." She crouched and pointed to the dark mouth of the cave as the ghost drifted to her side. "See that? Do you think you could look around in there and tell me what you find?"

The ghost looked at the shadowy maw, then back at Madeira, clearly horrified. Madeira supposed this might be the only ghost in the world who was afraid of the dark.

"Theres nothing in there that can hurt you. You are what goes bump in the night, remember?" she persuaded gently. "And if you get scared, just use your scary face like Raj does. See?" She contorted her face into a snarl. Emma giggled and snarled back, complete with sound effects. The crusted sores in the corners of her mouth cracked and wept as she pulled her lips over her teeth.

"Gah!" Madeira wobbled and put her hand over her heart in mock fright. "Nothing would dare mess with a scary thing like you! Now go ahead, and make sure you check every corner. When we get home I'll be sure to tell Raj what a brave girl you are."

Thus mollified, Emma set her eyebrows in a determined line and drifted through the dark opening and out of sight. Once she was gone Madeira stood in the stirrup of her crossbow and notched a bolt. For while she would coach her ghostly charge not to be afraid, she herself was feeling a slow curl of anxiety in the strange clearing.

[Chameleon]

Parched Throats

The dust was light and rose quickly with Avela's search. Despite the foliage, the larger roots that were meant to pack the dirt and keep it planted couldn't be found in this area, so with the dryness of the entire area, it was like talcum powder to the touch. Soon enough her hands were brown with dirt, as were her pants from knees downwards. But her search resulted in a find, so the dirt was not for nothing.

It was a pile of ash that she stumbled across. Not the burnt remains of a tree or bush, either, but a structured piece of land. There wasn't much ash to show for, actually. The ground was stained with the greyness, but that was enough. That, and the stones. In a circular shape, perhaps a larger pace across, a collection of stones, about fist sized, were arranged in a circle. Scattered about here and there were a few charred logs and other remains of a fire. It was hard to tell how old exactly - it was possible it dated back a season, but the fact it was still fairly clear to what it was alluded to a more recent fire.

Tucked away under one of the logs, partly visible from a certain angle, lay a scorched piece of parchment, about as big as the palm of Avela's hand. It was torn and the words were hard to make out on the burnt paper. It didn't help that they were written in the same darkened colour like the burns. Although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you had experience with the method, the words were written in lemon juice, heated in the fire to become visible. In their tiny cursive script, it was a chore to make anything out from the tiny scrap.

If she took a few chimes over it, she'd be able to read something. - vino rozas-abases heatlas. Vasat dalatlas, djas kasait. Ruwe irst- Being able to read it, however, and understand it, were vastly different things.

Meanwhile, Madeira was summoning a ghost. There wasn't even a proper warning to the two men with them, although they probably should have guessed, her being a Craven. Still, the sudden appearance forced Tobin to double back, losing the impatience stance for one of shock. It took him a few moments to realise, making the connection. "She better not come near us," he warned Madeira, his words alerting Mogens to the change too. The hunter, preoccupied with looking for tracks, only just caught the tail end of the ghost disappearing into the shadows.

In the cave, it would be very hard to see anything. The walls extended fairly far, with no light to illuminate the place. With the darkness growing firmer and firmer the further Emma ventured into the cave, it was likely she'd find her fear rising too. But towards the back, there started to be signs of life - or life that may have been, at least.

One major point of interest was a pile of blankets, gathered up as if someone had once slept there. They were crusted with something dark, stained in several places and a thick, putrid scent rolled from them. There were lumps in the pile, where it wasn't just how it had folded. Apart from the blankets, it was very hard to see anything else, but perhaps further investigation into the cave with some sort of light source would yield better results.

"We should be off. This wasn't why we came here," came Tobin's voice, although it had changed from the restlessness of before. There was a deeper desperation behind it now, but it was uncertain why exactly it had come. Mogens looked up, still too deeply examining the ground to notice much else. He seemed to be lost in his own discovery and not ready to share it, not quite yet.

[Avela]

"My knife?" Avela asked, frowning as she fumbled the small blade from its sheath. "Sure, but why do you want it?" She handed the blade to Madeira, hilt-first, without waiting for an answer.

As it turned out, Avela wouldn't have believed the answer even if Madeira had given one. She watched in astonishment and growing horror as the Craven sliced a line open on her own wrist, wiping the blade off before handing it to Avela like she had done nothing more than patch a shirt. Avela took the blade with numb fingers, staring at Madeira with wide eyes. "What are you--?" she stammered. "Why did you--?"

Madeira didn't wait for her to get the words out, drawing something on the palm of her hand and walking towards the mouth of the cave. Avela watched in horrified fascination as Madeira summoned a spirit in front of her. That of a young girl, flickering through the air in front of her. For a while, Avela wasn't sure what she was seeing, but as it dawned on her, she felt a wave of cold wash over her.

A Spiritist, she thought, feeling almost giddy with the shock. She'd heard rumors about the Craven family, of course, but...

Madeira was a mage. A Spiritist.

Avela had been born in Alvadas, had spent all of the life that she could remember within its walls. And she could honestly say that this was the strangest thing she had ever seen.

A Spiritist.

She stared at Madeira for a moment longer, swallowing past the dryness in her throat, then remembered what they had come out here to do. Avela quickly sheathed her knife and tore her eyes away, going back to searching.

The ground was ash and dirt, making her think more and more of a fire. But if it was a fire, than it hadn't been a natural fire. Not that natural meant anything, she thought, looking back at Madeira with some nervousness. Magic. A Spiritist. She looked back down at the dirt, and it was while she was searching, running the fine soil and ash between her hands, that she came up with the sheet of paper. Avela pulled it out from under the log, noticing the scorch marks on the sheet, her brow furrowing as she tried to read what it said.

The unfamiliar words swam in front of her vision, and they were written so small that it took her a while to make out anything at all, but as she sat there, poring over the scrap, the words started to take form. Not that that made them make any sense.

...vino rozas-abases heatlas. Vasat dalatlas, djas kasait. Ruwe irst-

She started to read it aloud, her lips forming the words, but she stopped herself after the first 'vi'. If it was an incantation, she didn't want to accidentally cast anything. And if it wasn't...if it was a code or another language, it wasn't one that Avela understood. But it occurred to her that if it was magic, there was someone here who would know better than she.

Wetting her dry lips with a tongue that wasn't much wetter, Avela got to her feet. She made some attempt at brushing the dust off of her pant legs, but succeeded only in smearing it around and gave up. Nervously, she approached Madeira, holding the piece of paper in both hands.

"Um...Madeira," she said, holding the scrap out. "I found this. Does it...mean anything to you?"

"Common" "Kontinese"

Template by Gomer Caitiff

[Madeira Dusk]

"She better not come near us," Tobin warned from across the clearing. Madeira waved his worry away with an impatient shushing gesture. She was listening hard for sounds within the cave, while keeping safely back, lest a grumpy bear or cloud of bats are disturbed by the little ghost.

"What do you see?" Madeira called, when the silence stretched on too long.

"It's dark", the ghost whimpered, "I can't see."

"Try really hard, sweetheart." Madeira urged, mentally kicking herself for not considering how deep the cave went. "Do you hear any animals?"

"No..."

"Ok, that's good. Is there maybe... wood in there? Or ashes?"

"I don't think so."

"How about anything man-made. Like cups or cooking pots."

"... There's a blanket. It looks like a bed. It's all... crusted and sticky."

So people did shelter inside! She smiled grimly, feeling vindicated.

"Can I come out now? I can't see!" Emma's voice was tight with anxiety.

"Yes of course." Madeira snapped back to herself. "You did very well, sweetheart, I'm proud of you."

The ghost blinked to her side, materializing with a wash of cold and a palpable feeling of relief. At that moment Avela approached, the Konti having appeared to have absorbed all Emma's nervousness. She held out a scrap of paper in both hands and asked if it meant anything to the Spiritist.

Emma, too shy to suffer the equally nervous Konti's attention, immediately hid her face bashfully in her hands. Bright brown eyes peeked at the older girl from between her fingers, but she seemed incapable of looking her in the eye for long. Instead her attentions roamed the opalescent scales across the Konti’s neck and forehead with a kind of wide-eyed wondered as the Spiritist took the brittle parchment from Avela.

At once the Spiritist’s brows contracted and she bit her cracked lips as she turned the wounded paper around in her hands.

"...Well, I don't recognize the language." she finally said. "Do you think this could be a cypher? Why else would you go through the trouble of writing with lemon?" She turned the paper over, held it up so Syna could shine through it, tried to read the text backwards, and gave herself a headache trying to find any anagrams until, defeated, she handed it back to Avela with a huff. "I have no idea what it could be. But this is getting even more suspicious. These people were carrying gold and secret messages in the wilds outside the city. I can’t imagine they were up to anything wholesome.”

She pondered this development, cradling her disarmed crossbow in her arms. Behind Avela's shoulder Mogen was engrossed with something on the ground. His face was impassive, and he hadn't announced that he had found anything, but his absorption was telling.

"We should be off. This wasn't why we came here," they heard their Syliran guide say. The frustration in his voice was crumbling, and a deeper desperation shone through the cracks. Madeira narrowed her eyes at both of them.

"Avela, do you trust our guides?" she asked, her voice low.

"Emma found something in that cave." she began again, still talking in conspiratorial tones. "A camp or bed of some kind. I'm going to see if I can find a lamp or torch and find what's deeper inside." she nodded at the Konti. "Come with me if you'd like, or maybe there’s something out here to find. But please... be careful. Show me everything you find. I'll do the same. You can trust me."

The words tripped from her lips as the young Spiritist clumsily pulled dijed from the root of her tongue. From that rarely tapped essence in her soul she strained to pull enough power to hypnotize the Konti with a simple suggestion. Yet still the magic wobbled and fell short. Madeira could only hope some tiny sliver of the hypnotism had taken root in the girl's mind.

Madeira smiled for her and turned away to regard the two men, completely blind to the irony of her using underhand techniques to foster trustworthiness. As far as she was concerned, since she had no ulterior motives she had done nothing wrong. It was a magical shortcut to something that would otherwise take too much time to grow organically.

Now, who should she talk to? She looked back and forth between the Mogen and Tobin, weighing her options. Tobin probably had a lamp in that cart, and Mogen would for sure be able to whip her up a torch. But more than that, who would be the most beneficial to speak to?

At last she chose Tobin, the Speaker's representative. She told Emma to wait there for her and picked her way back to the cart where he waited. Fine little puffs of dust and ash rose with her feet. It clung to her shoes and the creases of her pants until she looked to be dissolving into the earth.

"I know you're anxious, Tobin" she soothed in as calm a voice as she could manage as she approached. "But we must stay at least a little longer. We should to know the facts of who was here and what happened to them. At the very least we need to make sure whatever cataclysm went off here won't happen to us or the city." she pointed out reasonably. "The Speakers would want us to investigate. Don't you agree?", she dropped the name of his employers and watched for his reaction.

“Speaking of, do you have lantern in this wagon?" she asked. “My ghost found something in that cave, and I'm going in for a better look. But I’d feel much safer if someone big and strong like you would come with me.” she wheedled.

[Chameleon]

Parched Throats

Tobin hated standing around and waiting for someone to decide that it was about time to leave. But despite his urging, no one seemed to be doing anything. Now the Konti was running around with a scrap of paper and there was a ghost in their midst. His nervousness about that was still showing in the way he eyed it carefully. Perhaps Madeira was used to the company of the dead, but she couldn't forget that most were terrified by it.

"We shouldn't stay," he stated clearly, keeping his stance firm. His focus wobbled between the spiritist and her pet ghost, though. "We have a task to do. If we don't stay here, we don't have to worry about what might have happened." He was adamant about it. Not to mention, thirsty, he thought, licking his lips and wondering if any of their rations could be spared while he waited for them to get a move on. The man was ready to climb into the cart and drive it away, the rest of the party with or without. In fact, the thought was definitely on his mind, until she dropped the Speakers into the conversation.

At once he froze, a new fear flashing in his eyes. Not one of the unknown, with which he had been regarding Emma, but fear of the very known, not that he was about to share it. He blinked it away, shaking his head again but this time more hesitantly. When he spoke again, the Syliran was much thicker than before. "The Speakers sent us out... to find water. Not investigate clearings. I don't see how... This can't have anything to do with what we want."

Still, the uncertainty that had flooded to his features stayed with him as she asked for a lantern and he gave her one, after a lot of struggle. Then she asked for him to accompany her and he almost drew the line there. But, perhaps, if he came with her, he could quicken the pace a little. "We'll be quick then." Then, bearing an axe, he followed her towards the cave entrance.

It hadn't been the compliments that convinced him. The mention of the Speakers had forced him into it.

While Madeira had been bothering Tobin, Mogens had finally risen, hiding something in his hand as he approached Avela. His inquisitive eyes watched her closely, focusing on the piece of paper he had heard her show to Madeira. "What have you found?" he questioned, before extending what he hid in his fist. It was another coin, but this one was disfigured, something different etched into the face. It was a strange symbol, full of spiralling arms. A glyph, if one knew what that was. This one, however, seemed to have no purpose, at least from an ordinary perspective. "This isn't coinage I've seen before." Once again, he looked at the paper Avela had in her hand. He even tried to make a grab for it. Not aggressive, but she'd have to actually react to not have it taken.

Ticks later, not giving Mogens much chance to read the paper yet if he had managed to grab it, Tobin arrived at the mouth of the cave. It took one look at what the hunter held in his hand, open for him to see, for the man to stop suddenly. "I don't think we should go into the cave. It's safer if we leave now." He stepped back, although hesitantly. If they wanted to enter the cave, he wouldn't stop them. But he wasn't going to be the first one in there.

Neither, at this rate, was Mogens, who was lost in the rune-marked coin.