[Flashback] Escaping Karma (Solo)

by **Crismento Miren** on March 11th, 2011, 8:50 pm

24th Fall of 510 AV

Crismento was on yet another hunt for a victim. He was sitting at The Kelp Bar, taking another sip of the dreadful kelp beer, the only offering on the menu. Two years of usually responsible tasting of the substance, and the flavour was still as hideous as the first time. Cris was in a cheerful mood for the past few weeks. The reason behind that was a recent success – a less-than-bright man leaving him a respectable pile of Nilos before travelling out of town. It was relatively easy job that did not require very elaborate lies, or extensive use of hypnosis. Now, however, the delight was slowly leaving him, since the new opportunity was yet to reveal itself. The effort spent looking for something interesting was fruitless, and last couple of days were rather tiring as Cris was pushing himself harder and harder to find something, anything.

It was late afternoon and the number of customers the bar had to welcome was increasing. The patrons were mostly sailors and those who worked at the docks, but there were some other Zeltivans, too. Occasionally someone would give Cris a nod of recognition. This was not good. He was coming here too often. It was very difficult to be outstanding and not to stand out at the same time, and Cris was failing at that, apparently. Friends may not be a terrible thing to have, but he did not want to build up a reputation of any kind, and in this line of work one could not trust anyone. Crismento turned his head a little and glanced over the room from his bar seat. He wasn’t too fond of this place, but it served as a decent starting point and earned him enough money for him to ignore his preferences. Today, however, the bar did not look promising. The clientele was predominantly male humans who were split into those who came there do drown the sad and exhaustive day into oblivion and those who celebrated the end of it. Soon after Cris turned back to his mug he heard a loud plonk that was followed by roaring laughter in many voices and extensive cursing in one. Chairs here were not reliable.

Cris took a sip from the mug and winced. It seemed that today was not to be a good day. Although it was quite noisy in the bar, his ears picked up a conversation from a nearby table. ”… and they only got here today to tell that. Who knows how long those poor bastards have lain there. It’s a miracle that no predators or any kind of creatures have eaten them, or we might have never found out about it.” ”Terrible… Just terrible…” another man intervened in an agreeing tone. ”The food and money were gone, so they say it was probably bandits or raiders of sorts rather than monsters. Stole everything, killed everyone…” ”Men ambushing fellow men… And you’d think that the road would be somewhat safe at least to Syliras…” a third, low-pitched voice expressed his dismay. ”Well, I always said that Deln Blison was a foolish man. Or, perhaps, too stingy. You’d think with the money he had he would allow himself to travel with more than just a couple of mercenaries and an assistant! And yet I did not wish him such fate… I believe nobody would,” the man ended on a silent tone and Cris could not catch the last sentence. ”Has somebody brought the terrible news to his wife already?” Crismento’s interest in the conversation suddenly peaked. He was now like a shark that smelled blood in the water. Fresh widows were always good news. Cris nonchalantly took a quick look at the table. None of the three men were familiar. At least they didn’t appear familiar. And, fortunately, they weren’t the ones who greeted him with a nod. They looked slightly comedic: one thin and tall, one short and plump and one sturdy with a big beard. ”Of course. If the news has reached us, it has certainly reached her as well,” the bearded man said. It was time to make a move.

Cris rose from his seat at the bar and approached the table. ”Gentlemen! I apologize, but I could not help overhearing you speak about the unfortunate and horrible demise of a merchant by the name of Deln Blison. The news saddens me greatly, since as it happens to be I had met this man on several occasions during my stay at Syliras and shared some wonderful experiences with him. Would you mind if I join you for this sorrowful moment?” The man who had spoken the most nodded approvingly and invitingly motioned towards the one empty seat at their table. As Cris sat down on the chair, it expressed its protest in a form of a threatening creak, but eventually agreed to let him sit there and spare the humiliation. ”An appalling event, indeed…” He turned back at the bar an signaled the barmaid for four more servings of what passed for a beer in Zeltiva. Of course, the word “maid” was a generous one, since her young maidenhood days have passed seasons ago, but even in his mind Cris could spare it. Smiles on the faces of the three men gave away their appreciation for the gesture.

”So you knew Blison, huh? the bearded man asked, making a genuine attempt to include Cris in their conversation. ”We were acquaintances, yes. We would meet for a drink during his visits to Syliras and talk, usually about business and trade. See, my father used to be a merchant, too, so I was actually interested in how the commerce was doing nowadays.” The thin man shook his head: ”Never had a chance to meet him myself.” The chubby man laughed. ”And why would a merchant meet you? What would you have to say to him?” The tall man shrugged. ”I was just expressing my thoughts. I think it would have been nice to meet the man, you know? The stout man sniffed. Four mugs of kelp beer appeared on the table. “So what brings you to Zeltiva, uhm…” the man looked at Cris inquiringly, expecting for a name. ”Samiir,” Crismento introduced himself and extended his hand for a shake. ”I’m Zovar. And this is Caras and Riko,” the bearded man said shaking Cris’s hand. ”It is a great pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.” ”So what brings you here?” Time spent for introductions was enough for Cris to come up with an answer. ”An old friend invited me for a visit. I was captured by the beauty of the old architecture and I’m thinking of prolonging my stay here.” It was time to move back to the topic that was of interest. ”I had hoped to meet Deln, too, but, alas, the miserable news has found me here first. His poor wife must be devastated.” The men nodded in agreement. ”His son, though, probably hasn’t heard about it yet,” Caras spoke. ’A son? That’s bad news.’ ”But when he does, at least the poor woman will have someone to support her .” ”True. But once he leaves, he leaves for seasons. Who knows when that boy is coming back? A researcher of some sorts.” Cris tried to suppress his smile. ’Good news again!’ ”You seem to know the family well, Zovar. Would you happen to be a friend, perhaps? Zovar turned in his chair uncomfortably. ”Well… Ah, never mind,” he waved his hand aside. ”I am sorry," when Cris spoke his voice changed, if only a little, unnoticeable to someone not paying very close attention. And if someone was, they would notice that his voice was somewhat calmer and yet more forceful. "I didn’t mean to intrude into your personal life.” Those were the words that the men heard. However, when Zovar’s ears caught the sound and translated the message to his mind, it had another, slightly different meaning that read: ’It’s all right to share it with me’. The message was left there somewhere to float among hundreds Zovar’s thoughts. ”Ah, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… Ah, who gives a crap anymore... I was a friend of Deln’s once, but our pursuits in life parted ways, and then he got rich and I didn’t, so our lives parted even more.” ’Not to close then. Good,’ Cris thought to himself. ’Risk of potential future awkward encounter is low.’ ”But he wasn’t a bad man, and certainly did not deserve such horrible fate. All that’s left now, I guess, is just to drink in memory of him.” All four men raised their mugs and took a gulp of beer.

Subject of the conversation soon changed and Cris could not come up with a way he could reverse it back to the dead merchant and his widow that would not arouse some sort of suspicion or just annoy the three men. He did not want to waste his energy and djed on hypnosis. Besides, it would probably take to persuade at least two of them, so it was too taxing in comparison to the benefits. There probably wasn’t much more left to learn from them, anyway. So he was subjected to listening of the useless tales, experiences and complaints of these men, and sharing the details of his life that he have not lived. After more than one bell and when Cris was certain that the conversation would not produce anything interesting, he decided it was time to leave. ”Well, gentlemen, it was truly a pleasure to meet you, but I’m afraid I have to leave you now. I am meeting my friend early tomorrow and I believe that I might miss it should I stay in such a wonderful company any longer. Later tomorrow, however, I would like to visit Deln’s widow to offer my condolences. Unfortunately, I’m not aware of where she lives and was wondering that, perhaps, you could enlighten me on the small detail.” Zovar nodded in approval. ”Indeed, this is probably a nice thing to do. Her residence is close to the Old Quarters, but I’m not too sure of exact location. You’ll have to ask around there.” That will do. ”Again, gentlemen, it was wonderful to meet you. Take care!” After the short goodbyes Cris left the bar.

Cheerful mood returned to him in full force.

by **Crismento Miren** on March 16th, 2011, 10:50 pm

Of course Cris wasn’t going home. There was no meeting the next morning. There was no friend at all. He was pacing towards the Old Quarters. The daylight was already about to give way for darkness and long shadows were covering the streets. It would be rude to turn up at dark. Not over the top rude, though. Might even work to his advantage, too. Thoughts, plans, stories, all were rushing through his mind. Perhaps spending the night in preparations wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but Crismento felt that he needed to get there early. The son might be away, but what about any other family, friends? Were they alienated like Zovar? Or were they already there, comforting the widow? Maybe with a bit of luck the news was yet to reach any other interested parties, whatever motivations they may have, or at least they would be further away than Cris was. To know that for sure, however, he had to get there soon.

The house was supposed to be close to the Old Quarters, not within it. Was it a house, though? A cottage or perhaps just a room? Cris forgot to ask and it was probably a mistake. On the other hand, probing for more details might have probably seemed like some sort of serious investigation to the three man and needlessly remain in their mind for too long. The sooner they forget the better. Cris needed some further, more specific directions anyway. He began asking around, but apparently not that many people who were roaming the streets at that time held knowledge of the deceased merchant’s home. And the few who did gave contradicting information. Cris had no choice but to visit all the possible locations he was pointed to.

Three places proved to be false and Crismento had only one more location to visit before he would have to turn to knocking on every door in Zeltiva or hope to meet at least a single soul who would know where the poor Blison’s widow lived, if he wanted to meet her today. With the last hints of sun in the sky, he finally reached the doors of a modest two storey cottage. Cris took a chime to compose himself and let the frustration about the longer than expected search for the right house fade away from his face. He closed the eyes trying to figure out the character he had to be now. A charming, confident young chap would be wrong. At least for now. At the moment Crismento had to be a devastated and mournful man, who has lost a friend. And even though not a close friend, but still a very dear one. Cris opened his eyes trying to cover them in sadness and concern. His lips were not formed in a smile so natural to them, but instead contributed to the expression of grief. Samiir Jafa had just heard the terrible news.

The mask knocked on the door. It took a few chimes before the door slowly opened and an old woman appeared. The woman herself may not have been old, but she certainly looked that way. Crismento’s poor acting skills could not compete with the genuine sorrow that was engraved in her face. Eyes were red from tears and tired of crying and many wrinkles could not have been older than a day. And those that were, were probably at least twice as deep as they had been yesterday. Before her world changed so cruelly. This time Cris got it right for sure. ”Can I help you?” a husky voice, exhausted from wailing, inquired.

”Excuse me for disturbing you at such a grieving time, madam,” Cris began. ”I’m but a man named Samiir Jafa who knew your husband and had a privilege to call him a friend and hopefully an even greater privilege of being called one by him.” Crismento tried to make his face become even gloomier. ”Just now by pure chance I became a recipient of truly dreadful news. How terrible! I couldn’t help myself but immediately hurry here and express my deepest condolences to you, madam. I greatly admired and respected your husband and I only feel obliged to offer any kind of support and assistance that you may require.”

A brief pause followed his introduction, but Cris wasn’t wasting the time. His eyes found widow’s eyes. Both pairs had sadness about them, but only one genuine. Behind the façade of the other one was a great level of concentration. Crismento’s blue eyes weren’t looking at the brown eyes of the widow, but rather past them. His gaze was entering her mind, sneaking past her defenses and escorting a not fully formed thought that was meant to integrate with the rest of the inhabitants of Mrs. Bilson’s head and carry out an important task.

”You knew my husband?” the widow asked carefully, though the doubt in her voice was not strong.

”I did,” Cris reassured her. ”Perhaps not as much as I would have wanted to, but, alas, we were not given enough time. I’ve met him a few times in Syliras where we shared some drinks and stories,” Crismento was keeping with the tale he started at the bar for now. ”I had plans to visit Deln during my visit to Zeltiva, but how unfortunate it is that I won’t be able to fulfill them.” He looked down for a brief moment in a pretend regret, and then looked back up at the woman. ”Perhaps, I could offer you to share your burden of sorrow with me, in an attempt to repay for the similar kindness your husband once did to me.” This last sentence echoed the idea Cris recently left behind in the widow’s mind. Should he have been successful, the scales of woman’s hesitation would have been tipped in his favor. Crismento waited for a while resisting the urge to do anything else. ’Patience…’ Joy filled him up when the widow nodded, but he did his very best not to let it show. ”Please come in, Samiir.”