Rough Water Ahead

[Inoadar]

18th of Winter, 512

For all that this city was the seat of the god, Rhysol, said by some to be the 'god of chaos', things ran smoothly and in orderly fashion. It was a vast improvement over the four-way face-off of Nyka, Inoadar felt. Yes, there was the threat of slavery abductions if you were not a citizen, but it had been his understanding since childhood that this was a concern of transients in EVERY city. And he had his purloined identification, lifted from a dead citizen during the chaos of the Rising Dawn uprising last Fall. He had not really even had to use it yet. The "Nolan Parnell" persona had been effective thus far without it. If the time came where he HAD to back it up with the stolen citizenship papers, he would.

He had developed a friendship, of sorts, with a guard at the Southern Post under that name, and fortified it with a gift. A bribe, really, but what did it matter as long as the guards were now inclined to let him pass unhindered. He had tested it in town when asked to identify himself and found no apparent suspicion attached to the name. He had been advised by several people now to register for citizenship, and while the idea had merit, it also held risk.

The name was already on the books as a citizen, but he did not know what details may be in the file, that were not in his stolen papers, that might betray him. If he registered, it would have to be under a different name to avoid drawing attention to such details. As long as his assumed identity was working, it was foolish to rock the boat.

Besides, he had no real depth to the false histories of any of the other names he had tossed around. He did not think they would hold up under the kind of scrutiny he expected would take place for citizenship registry. And his real name was poison on the books here. He had found that out when the bounty hunter, Bojovnik Vybutit, had come to collect on a bounty put out on that name right here in Ravok last Summer. His faked death seemed to have satisfied that problem, but he certainly didn't want to stir up any reinvestigation.

His strategy NOW was to simply go about his life under the name "Nolan Parnell" until it became commonly associated with him, and THEN, if it became necessary, register as an immigrant from Sunberth. By then, with his shop paid off, he should be so well established as an accepted, contributing part of the population that the vagueness of his background will be shrugged off as unimportant. For now, lying and bluffing would have to do for a couple of years. And they were as second nature to him as breathing.

But anyway, all that aside, he was not just out for a stroll. With his new assistant, Marcus, watching the shop, he had an issue he needed to discuss with someone.

[Inoadar]

The docks were where they always were, but the spot where he was to place the indicator of a desired meeting was not. Or rather, it was covered. The vendor controlling this signal post approached him, nodding eagerly, "Good sir, your clothes are finished. Two scarves, two shirts, two hoods and one cloak, all of fine wool, for the special price of only three gold mizas."

Running a quick calculation, Inoadar confirmed that there was nothing special about this price. It was neither excessive nor generous. Nor had he placed any such order. There seemed one obvious purpose for this routine. He decided it was best to play along. "I will need the cost breakdowns for the books. Are the billing figures included?" he asked, trying to sound work-a-day and mundane.

"Of course they are sir, we always follow instructions." the man bowed and returned to his booth. Inoadar moved to a bench and nonchalantly gave the bundle the once over. On the expense list, certain letters were poorly aligned. The well-aligned letters following these letters spelled out "grndokthrtbel".

Inoadar stood up and stretched, twisting his head this way and that, as though working the kinks out. He spotted a platform for the ravosalamen two docks down that had a spot of spilled green paint still staining the side. He recalled the twelfth bell sometime ago and figured it couldn't be more than ten chimes to the thirteenth bell. He winced at the realization that he was getting predictable enough for the boatmen to prepare for his arrival to such an extent. It was likely, though, that the clothing vendor had a number of different receipts on hand to cover whatever schedule he kept.

The boatman arrived six chimes after he reached the platform. Inoadar stepped in and the ravosala pushed off into the canal. After they turned a corner, he spoke up. "Why the change of signal? Anything beyond just routine scheduled precautions? Maybe you have something for me?"

Without a movement out of place, the boatman responded. "Or maybe you have something for us. Information about your...death? We have stopped circulating the rumor of your value to the Ebonstryfe. We hear you have died and the bounty is collected. This is indeed a curious thing. I, for one, am glad to see you yet live, but it complicates things, yes?"

Inoadar scowled, "Perhaps a warning would have simplified these...things, yes?" he snapped back, making no effort to hide his mocking tone. "Then maybe I could have arranged to die in some way to benefit YOU and not some damned bounty hunter!"

The boatman rubbed his chin as though considering, "Hmmm...Yes, perhaps you're right. That would have been preferable." he said, pretending not to be aware of Inoadar's sarcasm.

"Very funny." Inoadar spat, "Why didn't you warn me that there was a bounty on me? It would be one thing if you didn't know about the bounty, or didn't know ME. But you knew about both, and didn't give me any warning at all!"

His angry glare had no impact whatsoever on the boatman, who calmly replied, "You never asked." Inoadar stood angrily, his hands forming fists. The boatman's voice rose in response.

"Why should we? Who are you that we owe you an opportunity to undermine our sources of income and reputation?" he warmed to his argument, his position completely righteous. "You have given us no reason to place you above the rights of others who pay us for information to collect on that information. Just because we know of you, you think you are somehow off-limits from pursuit? You are no better than the husband who cheats on his wife and is blackmailed for it. Should we deny you the chance to exploit his indiscretion just because we could have warned him?"

Inoadar stewed in impotent rage. He knew the boatman was right, but there was one legitimate point he could still make. "But I would have paid you for that information! Didn't you even think that I might BE willing to show appreciation for such information? My life IS worth a little bit to me!"

The boatman smiled. "How much?"

Inoadar stared stupidly until realization hit him. "You mean, to keep you from telling the Ebonstryfe that I'm alive?"

The smile grew colder. "That would be one benefit, yes. After all, we want you alive to pay. But no, I mean an arrangement where we actively inform you of anything we hear regarding you, whether good news or bad. You still have to come to us to GET this news, AND you still must pay us even when there is nothing to hear. Also, understand, this does not mean that we search out information. We just inform you of anything that comes to us by our normal means."

Inoadar had to hand it to them, he was in no position to refuse. Then they'd have no reason not to betray him to the Ebonstryfe right now. "I guess it's my turn to ask how much?"

"I think a seasonal payment of thirty gold mizas will be enough." The man offered calmly. It was not as much as Inoadar feared it might be. Of course, he still grit his teeth and protested as though it was outrageous. It was not an attempt to talk the man down, but rather to ensure he did not raise it.

After a few chimes of theatric frustration, he asked, "How long do I have to decide."

"I can not speak for how long we will wait before deciding you have declined our offer. But I CAN say it would be worth your while to pay now." The man's eyes were suddenly piercing. Inoadar waited one more chime and handed over thirty gold mizas, his face expectant.

"You are being followed." the boatman said, taking the bag.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar froze, stifling the urge to look around. This classic display of uneasiness was one of the first giveaways he looked for when tailing someone else. Instead, he leaned back and laughed. Then he sat down and waved to the boatman to set out for a ride.

"Is that all you know, or is it another 30 mizas for me to know who my shadow is?" he asked, with a hint of impatience. He lay back, a man without a care in the world.

"You will receive information as we get it. If I had more, so would you." the boatman muttered as he leaned over to pick up some debris, his hat brim hindering any attempt at lipreading by anyone who might be looking.

Inoadar sat back up, elbows on his knees. He steepled his hands in front of his mouth do likewise. "How will I know if you have more information? Am I supposed to come to the docks every day and ask?"

"I don't really need to tell you how suspicious THAT would look, do I?" the boatman said between feigned coughs. "A man of your alleged abilities shouldn't need more than the warning you have just received. Ply your OWN skills." The two men allowed several chimes between remarks to give the indication that they were not having an actual conversation, but only occasionally making casual, unconnected remarks.

"I do that every day. And I almost always find someone doing something that might be an indication of a tail. I usually just chalk it up to paranoia, lest I give myself away as someone with cause to worry. I've seen that used as justification for men to be accosted on the street by the Stryfe before." he countered.

The boatman chuckled unsympathetically, "As we all have. But at least now you know it's not just your guilty conscience." He chuckled a second time as Inoadar snorted with dismissive disdain over the thought that he possessed such a debilitating thing as a conscience.

"At any rate, do not come to us too often, for though we want you alive, so we can continue to collect, we don't want you incriminating us with overly frequent contacts." The boatman said, collecting some items from the floor of the boat, handing some to Inoadar, rearranging others. Inoadar stepped off onto the platform, with a courtesy bow to the boatman, and headed into the market to pick up some tobacco. Then he intended to speak with some of the vendors of fish to see if any had caught any Ravokian eels of late. Or if they knew any fishermen who had.

He stopped by a booth where a woman was selling glazed ceramic trays. He selected a particularly dark and shiny one. he lifted and turned it at various angles, searching for any spots where the glaze might be thin. It was also a convenient way of scanning the crowd behind him in the reflection. He saw too many that seemed to be ducking and hiding to tell anything. The crowd was heavy today and he found himself jostled frequently.

He worked his way through the throng and stopped by a man selling a variety of fish. He was already in discussion with another customer, so Inoadar waited. He absentmindedly slipped his hands in his pockets and felt a scrap of paper that he couldn't account for. He pulled it out and flattened it enough to read: 'You are being followed'

"Oh great..."

[Inoadar]

'So...' he puzzled silently, 'Two issues to see to. Who is following me, and who sent this second warning.' It naturally occurred to him that both warnings probably applied to the same tail, but it still meant two different people or organizations were watching him. Although, in truth, the Ravosalamen weren't technically 'watching' him, but only relaying overheard information. 'Were they both referring to the same agent of a third faction? Or had they simply noticed each other?'

Well, it was time to find out. He put the note back in his pocket, looking around directly, rather than watching in reflections from windows, mirrors, glass mugs and the like. He stiffened, as though realizing he might give himself away, and stepped away from the fish vendor with exaggerated nonchalance. The vendor called after him once, shrugged and turned his attention to the next customer.

Inoadar looked around as he left the market, taking note of three different men that might be tailing him. He took a couple of turns, shaking one of them loose as the man continued straight instead of turning to follow. Inoadar knew the man could turn up a few turns later, but instinct told him otherwise. If he was wrong, he would deal with it, but for now, he was down to two.

'Are they working together, or is one of them the one the other warned me of?' For now, he dismissed the possibility that they might not be any threat at all, either of them. Better an innocent's man anger, than an ignored assassin's blade. He saw through the front window of a shop that a man was about to emerge back out onto the walkway. He looked around as though he was lost, stalling until he heard the door open, then turned and walked full into the surprised citizen.

"OH!" he stammered, as the man lurched to regain his balance. "I'm so terribly sorry, It's my fault, I was not watching where I was going." he patted the man covertly, the way a pickpocket would, feigning the intent to aid him in holding onto his package and retaining his feet. "There you are, you have everything. Again, I'm very sorry." The man muttered something about being 'perfectly fine' and 'no bother', and continued on his way.

Conveniently, the direction this citizen headed was the same way Inoadar HAD been going. So when Inoadar NOW turned and started going back the other way, it added to the appearance that this had been some secret exchange between them. Inoadar now began to employ proper counter surveillance techniques to appear that his part was over, while still watching to see what the original two "tails" were doing.

One of them continued on his way, his stride never broken to even look back. But the other was clearly conflicted, his head switching back and forth, from Inoadar to the citizen he had bumped into. Eventually, he went after the citizen, hurrying his pace to gain on him as he turned right at the next corner, out of sight.

"Gotcha." Inoadar muttered through a wicked grin as he sprinted to the nearer end of the same block to watch them emerge down at the next intersection. They didn't show up when he thought they should.

"Perfect" he smiled as he walked up the block, stopping to peer around the corner to his left. There was no sign of either of them. There was, however, an alley halfway down.

[Inoadar]

The citizen was on his face, the 'tail' with a knife to his throat, running his hands through his target's pockets, hissing demands for information. The man on the ground insisting he didn't know anything.

Inoadar approached as quietly as he could, watching where he stepped. he didn't feel bad for setting up the citizen as a dupe. He needed to know if he was being followed and now he did. However, it wasn't his intent to get the poor man killed. What's more, he wanted information from the man with the knife.

The victim gave a strained groan and turned his face away from the repositioned blade, right at Inoadar, who froze in place. But it was to no avail. "YOU!" the man spat, recognizing Inoadar. He squirmed under his assailant. "That's him over there, ask him yourself." He motioned with his head in Inoadar's direction and sneered angrily, "I knew it was a set up. What did you plant on me, you bastard?"

"Not a thing," Inoadar responded calmly, "I just needed to see if this fool was following me, and you were convenient." he directed his look at the man with the knife, "You can let him up. I'm telling the truth. Why are you following me?"

The 'tail' put his weight into the knee he had in his victim's back, pivoting on it to face Inoadar as the man beneath him groaned with the movement. "The truth is it? Perhaps as far as this gentleman's predicament is concerned. But your predicament has just changed drastically from this so-called 'truth".

Inoadar was slightly surprised when the man suddenly slammed a brick into the prone man's head, knocking him senseless. "No need to share a bounty with him." the man said, rising, the knife dancing in his grip. "So you are not dead, after all, Trandino Adarius." Inoadar recognized the slight accent as of Vanthan origin, common enough in Nyka. His past had returned to haunt him again.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar snorted once in amused disdain. "My name is 'Parnell', and I have the citizenship papers to prove it." He didn't truly expect the Nykan to believe him, but it was best to establish his grounds for contention immediately.

His adversary's answering snort of disdain held no amusement. "I don't care what you are calling yourself, but I confess I'd like to see your papers." He added a note of additional contempt to the word. "Throw them on the ground and I may just settle for blackmail instead of execution."

Now Inoadar laughed outright. "Fat petching chance, Idiot. You turn around right now and return to that shyke-hole, Nyka, and I may just settle for letting you get there with all your appendages."

The man's expression hardened. "Brave talk for a man in your position. Do you think that the information that led me here didn't include details about the bounty that was on your head HERE as well? I suspected that you faked your death, and now I know. What do you think your Ebonstryfe will say when they find out you're alive?"

Inoadar's demeanor changed slightly, but not in the way the man anticipated. Where he had looked for anxiety and a desperate need to find a solution, what he saw instead was an eager grin indicating that the solution was all too easily attained. "Well, I have to hand it to you, you have definitely gotten right to the crux of the issue." He slipped his hand into his pocket.

The man took this as his cue and lunged, but spun to bring the knife from an unexpected angle. Inoadar dodged back, hitting the wall, but avoiding the knife. His respite was short-lived though, as the man whirled again, switching hands and catching Inoadar on the hip as he responded to parry the wrong hand.

He let a look of worry encourage his assailant to rush in again, managing to get hold of the knife hand this time. "My offer still stands, murderer." the Nykan grunted as Inoadar used both hands to wrench the knife down and away, only to feel a hot slice of pain slash across his shoulder. The man had a knife in both hands now.

Inoadar staggered back, coming up hard against the alley wall again, a look of trapped fury on his face. As he expected, his attacker took this to be the sign that his target knew he was going to lose. Inoadar's hands were pressed against the wall, his right hand closed into a loose fist.

The Nykan gloated one last time, "Now, Trandino Parnell," his contempt was withering, "you pay...and I collect." he lunged one last time, both hands flashing knives. Inoadar braced himself against the wall as he kicked up and out, fully extending his body in a two foot kick to the man's stomach.

The man stumbled back, doubling over, wheezing. Inoadar hit the ground and spun towards him, ignoring the slashes he now sported on each thigh. His right hand shot out to spray a green mist from a small bladder concealed there. The cloud hit the man full in the face as he gasped, inhaling almost the full dose.

Inoadar knew how soon the effects would show and tumbled away, getting to his feet and bolting for the street, shouting for help. He could hear the Nykan's footsteps charging after him. He could hear the effects of the Lost Tongue poison as well, as the man cursed and threatened him. "You won't gedda wah wiffis, hoo baffab! Ah kiwoo!"

Inoadar could hear the man gasping as he tried to draw breath around his swelling tongue. He turned a pair of corners and found what he was looking for. A pair of Ebonstryfe guards were on patrol, heading his way, having heard the shouting.

Inoadar made a point of exposing his knife wounds as he ran to the soldiers. "He attacked me! I'm a citizen and he attacked me! Stop him, help me! Oh my gods, I'm bleeding. He's crazy! Accused me of poisoning him. get him away from me!"

[Inoadar]

The Nykan babbled some burbled gibberish, trying to clarify Inoadar's comments and add the omitted details, but he was driven to the ground, sword pressed to the back of his ribcage. For his part, Inoadar was shoved hard against the wall. He did not resist and held his hands up while his officer searched him for verification. The guard with the sword blew a small horn and, within a few moments, another pair of Ebonstryfe arrived.

As the guardsman pulled out the wallet, Inoadar gasped in relief, "Nolan Parnell, I'm a crafter of antidotes and antitoxins. This DOES require that I work with poisons. I suppose that's why this lunatic suspects me, but he just up and attacked me! My shop is nowhere NEAR here!"

The Nykan babbled more incoherent blather, until the guard kicked him told him to 'shut up'. There was a tense few chimes while the guards pondered the situation. Having confirmed Inoadar's "citizenship", and the obvious wounds and pursuit he had sustained, the one guard wanted to simply dispatch the afflicted Nykan and be done with it.

Inoadar added to the scenario by agreeing that the Nykan appeared to truly BE poisoned, going on to say that his tongue was becoming lethally septic and needed to be removed to save his life. The guard with the sword to the man's back grinned and offered to perform the operation 'here and now'.

The two newly arrived guards stood patiently, awaiting instructions from the one examining Inoadar's papers, who apparently outranked them. Inoadar began to grow uneasy with how long the man was taking to decide. His eyes bore into Inoadar as though trying to see through him. He finally closed up the wallet, handing it back to Inoadar and nodded to the other three, "Bring them." he said tonelessly and turned towards the City's center and the governmental district.

The Nykan, gurgling in protest moments before, now grinned viciously as Inoadar made a supreme effort not to display his shock at how far wrong his intent had gone. "But this man will DIE! WE can't take the time to process this. He needs an immediate operation! It's too late for an anti-"

The squad leader whirled on him, not needing to draw blade. "You were silent enough when you thought we were going to execute this man in the street. What do you truly care if he dies? Something about this isn't right. And citizen or not, I intend to find out what it is." He turned with precision on his heel and resumed marching, his steps punctuated by the gurgling laughter of the Nykan.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar could only make his best guess how long the Nykan's speech would be blocked by the effects of the poison. Two bells, give or take a few chimes. It was not so much that he was worried about what the man might say after such a time. It was more that he had stated the man was "dying" and needed immediate amputation of his tongue to survive.

After twenty chimes of walking, they reached the gates to the walled outer courtyard of The Vitrax, manned by ground-level guards and archers high in massive watchtowers. The Nykan was showing no sign of any debilitating poison-related symptoms. His malicious grin was all too healthy as well. Inoadar's apprehension grew to almost unmanageable levels. At best, he would come off as a fairly incompetent antidote crafter, at worst, he would have lied to the Ebonstryfe. Citizen or not, that spelled serious trouble.

He began to wonder if the City of Ravok would pay his adversary for exposing him. The bounty was technically discharged, but only due to his deception. He found the thought that this grinning baboon might gain financially as well was worse than the thought of dying. Images of pulling the lead guardsman's sword and plunging it into the Nykan's chest before he was cut down tempted him again and again.

But no, all was not lost, not yet. The more the fool grinned and sneered the more he came off as the nutcase Inoadar claimed him to be. And Inoadar would be the very picture of loyal, cooperative citizenry. He decided that if things went irrevocably wrong, he would incriminate the Nykan. He had a few names of Rising Dawn personnel. He would name him as one, and when the Ebonstryfe checked out the others and found them legitimate, at least he would take this smirking bastard with him. He found it easier to remain calm with this line of thinking.

They proceeded through the courtyard, past the fountain with the statue of the supreme Ebonlord Gru'tral. On an inspiration, Inoadar made a clumsy halt to give a respectful bow to the statue. It brought the squad to a colliding halt. The Nykan spit and shoved Inoadar, making no show of respect whatsoever. Two of the guards hammered the man with mailed fists and shoved him to his face, while onlooking trainees laughed unsympathetically.

"Perfect" Inoadar grinned inwardly as the other guard lifted him back up with a look bordering on appreciation. The leader looked on skeptically and Inoadar found, to his surprise, that he felt a twinge of resentment that his gesture was assumed by this man to be false. Even though he knew he had no loyalty, he had always considered the Ebonstryfe to be professional, efficient and well-disciplined. Why should they assume his show of respect to be insincere?

He caught himself suddenly, 'where the petch is this coming from?' It had been years since he had felt anything remotely resembling respect for the lackeys of gods. Thick-headed, unimaginative, stooges for the most part. Ever since he'd left Nyka, he'd felt the follower of gods to be fools, bent on devotion to the exclusion of all else, including the competent running of the city's government. Though, as he recalled thinking earlier, this was not the case here in Ravok.

He decided to try clinging to this frame of mind, rather than giving in to his natural inclination to shrug off any obligation to think well of things. It could give him an edge if there was to be an interrogation.

[Inoadar]

He was made to sit on a bench in a common waiting room, with guards in every corner and at every door. Some of the other detainees were in manacles. He suspected these were non-citizens. He had been stripped of all he'd been carrying save his clothes. He hadn't been carrying his cane/blowgun/stiletto, or his Tamo daggers, luckily, but his boots were of a design common enough to conceal hidden spring blades in the toes of the sole. He doubted they had escaped notice.

Plus, his leather bracer, which carried poison darts, tended to leave callouses and slight discoloration on his arms. He recalled one of the guards pausing to examine these as he was first being detained. They would find one of the knives he'd looted from the two deserters recently, but they were a common enough thing, and his explanation would probably hold up. But they would find his knuckleduster, his garrotte and his sighting lens. His mind raced for reasons he would carry such things.

He could say he 'found' the knuckles...He could say that certain herbs are often found in the preying grounds of some dangerous beasts and he needs the lens to scout out areas before entering and gathering...but the garrotte.....'Damn'...

He wondered if he was sweating as much as some of the others. There were muffled screams sounding in dark distances whenever the doors would open briefly. He noted that none of the men who'd been taken into the back had been brought back out. One of the detainees began to protest anew and got a staff across his shins for the trouble. He hadn't noticed how much murmuring had been going on until it all immediately stopped.

He thought he could actually hear hearts pounding. Perhaps it was just his own. 'How long has it been? One full Bell? More? Has the poison keeping the Nykan from talking worn off yet? Are they coming for me even now to drag me off to some traitor's fate? What kind of torture will they subject me to?' his own imagination was getting a head start on the interrogation.

He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the tension. 'I don't know anything. I am a loyal citizen. Anything incriminating among my stuff must have been...planted there...by the Nykan!' He felt reborn! 'Yes! THAT was it! A desperate attempt, by a foul outsider, to earn dishonorable blood money by making a vile attempt to discredit the loyalty of a citizen! The bastard! he deserved a traitor's death!'

He would show his understanding of the Ebonstryfe's need to put him to the question. He would claim that his knowledge of the righteousness of Rhysol's cause would give him the strength to endure long enough to prove his loyalty. His Second Edict training would give him the edge he needed. Confidence began to surge through him again.

It fell right out the seat of his pants when the door opened and a voice growled, "PARNELL!"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar rose with a somewhat renewed sense of calm. "I'm Mr. Parnell" he said, doing his best to keep the unsteadiness from his voice as he approached the soldier.

"Follow me." the mail-clad man said, releasing the door and turning to tread slowly and ominously into a steadily darkening stone hallway. The door closed behind Inoadar as he followed after, relegating the sounds of begging and screaming into the mental category of 'background ambiance'.

They descended several levels and came to a dead-end hallway. Inoadar made an effort to set his mind in the attitude of a shocked and outraged citizen, newly informed of incriminating circumstances that could have only been the result of a plot maliciously perpetrated by his Nykan foe. The soldier stopped at a door halfway down on the right and nodded to indicate the door.

Inoadar opened it and walked into a well lit room, with an uncluttered desk and several fine wooden cabinets. A tree stand held an impressive fur-lined cloak and decorative-but-functional helm. The man sitting at the desk was the military ideal of the up-from-the-ranks commanding officer, stone-hard in body and expression. Not a fold or pleat out of place. What would be stubble on a hard worker's chin, was the wiry covering for his otherwise tanned head. He looked as though he could have scoured rust from armor plate with his scalp.

No boots on the desk for THIS man. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, looking as though he ached to be on his feet. Inoadar's attention was riveted on this specimen of leadership. It wasn't until the officer looked a question into a corner behind him, that Inoadar realized the leader of the squad that had brought him in was present.

The soldier in the corner stepped forth with a smart salute, "Parnell...Nolan, sir. Victim of attack by foreigner. Wounds present in support, sir. Claimed complete lack of knowledge regarding possible motivations. Cited vocation of "crafter of antidotes and antitoxins". Displayed inconsistencies in his responses to questions and displayed nervousness in the presence of the city guard, sir."

"Thank you, Commander. That will be all." the man at the desk did not even nod at the door, but the other immediately exited without hesitation. There was a long pause while Inoadar speculated on when the torture would begin. The officer made eye contact with him and then flashed his gaze to a chair opposite the door. Inoadar sat obediently.

The officer closed his eyes for a moment. Inoadar was unsure if he was listening to something or just resting his eyes. He didn't seem like the kind of man that would tolerate rest. Inoadar was having difficulty suppressing the urge to begin crying his innocence after just a few chimes. There was an indefinably oppressive scrutiny that seemed to emanate from the very walls.

Inoadar made a startled jump when he suddenly realized the officer was staring at him. Through him, more like, it seemed. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Parnell?"

Inoadar cleared his throat. Not so much to clear his voice, but more to prime it, so it wouldn't shake or crack. He somehow felt it of paramount import to show no weakness. "Which do you mean, my Lord? This room, or this facility?"

"Start with the facility." The officer replied, giving no indication that there was cause to sit back and relax for Inoadar's answer. He listened as Inoadar recounted his version of the attack. There was very little to separate it from the other soldier's version, and the officer gave no indication that he discounted or disbelieved any of it, though the reverse was equally true.

When it became time to account for the alleged nervousness he'd displayed, Inoadar decided it was time to inject a bit of the 'shocked citizen' approach he'd decided to adapt. "Frankly, My Lord, I was nervous because the guard leader was inexplicably slow to follow what I thought was standard policy regarding attacks against citizens by outsiders. I didn't know why he didn't at least press the offender into irons, on behalf of this loyal citizen, as he should have."

"He is in irons as we speak, Mr. Parnell. Can you think of any reason why we might wish it so?" The officer asked pointedly.

"To question him, of course." Inoadar responded automatically, concealing his trepidation. He suspected he would be made to wait for the interrogation to be completed. Then the Nykan's testimony would incriminate him, and it would be all over. "But why, My Lord," he ventured carefully, "am I here also?"

For the first time, a hint of a smile graced the man's face. A reptilian smile that fell short of his eyes. "Which do you mean, Mr. Parnell? This room, or this facility?"