Lolotaru crossed the Octant hurriedly, his head down and brow furrowed. Ben sulked along beside him, his usually playful, curious hopping subdued per his master's mood. Styrmsthal hadn't returned to Joz's room until two days after they had parted at the Three Tales. He'd had too, too late a night and the sun spited his eyes all the next day. They'd made such good progress he figured a day off wouldn't do either of them too much harm. Weather round the southern tip of Vylbrand had delayed Lolo's own return by a day and so he was still unpacking when Styrm nearly knocked the door from its hinges. Hardly a restrained man, his worry still struck Lolo in the gut. And then he told him what he'd found.
Joz's room had been ransacked and Styrm had been unable to track her down. He immediately set about asking around her building and neighborhood, trying to trace back any bad deals or enemies, turning up only confused looks and foggy recollections as his interviewees struggled to place a Joz, any Joz at all. He didn't delay any longer in enlisting Lolo's aid, but even his connections had nothing of substance to offer. The next day, and the next, Styrm had moved through Barnacles' Reach, knocking on doors, knocking down anyone with too smart a smirk. Lolo patrolled the markets and Mealvaan's Gate. Worry wore at both as they desperately fended off the sinking sense of futility they had both already begun to feel.
So it was with a heavy exasperation that Lolo climbed up and sank into a chair in the corner of the Wench. He jerked to alertness with a start as the bellman from the Mizzenmast placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Lalataru," he whispered, "it would appear you've a visitor." Lolo turned his head deliberately to face the bellman. "She has been outside your door for some time now."
The bellman was almost knocked over by the sudden display of Dunesfolk celerity. Lolo stopped suddenly halfway up the stairs and turned on a heel. "Ben," he intoned with a wave of his hand, horizontal with palm down. The carbuncle chittered in affirmation and bounded back down to keep watch as Lolo resumed his quick ascent. As he breached the threshold at the top of the stairs and closed in on his room, his gait slowed, then stopped. Even there, nearly the whole of the hall between them, the wounded aspect of her piteous frame was clear to him. He hurriedly closed the distance between them and opened the door, casting only a quick look at her face.
"Inside," he hissed, his countenance all urgency and tension. He cast a long glance down to one end of the hall, then the other, his fingers deftly navigating the familiar pages of his grimoire. "Quick now, Miss Joz, please."
Joz's room had been ransacked and Styrm had been unable to track her down. He immediately set about asking around her building and neighborhood, trying to trace back any bad deals or enemies, turning up only confused looks and foggy recollections as his interviewees struggled to place a Joz, any Joz at all. He didn't delay any longer in enlisting Lolo's aid, but even his connections had nothing of substance to offer. The next day, and the next, Styrm had moved through Barnacles' Reach, knocking on doors, knocking down anyone with too smart a smirk. Lolo patrolled the markets and Mealvaan's Gate. Worry wore at both as they desperately fended off the sinking sense of futility they had both already begun to feel.
So it was with a heavy exasperation that Lolo climbed up and sank into a chair in the corner of the Wench. He jerked to alertness with a start as the bellman from the Mizzenmast placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Lalataru," he whispered, "it would appear you've a visitor." Lolo turned his head deliberately to face the bellman. "She has been outside your door for some time now."
The bellman was almost knocked over by the sudden display of Dunesfolk celerity. Lolo stopped suddenly halfway up the stairs and turned on a heel. "Ben," he intoned with a wave of his hand, horizontal with palm down. The carbuncle chittered in affirmation and bounded back down to keep watch as Lolo resumed his quick ascent. As he breached the threshold at the top of the stairs and closed in on his room, his gait slowed, then stopped. Even there, nearly the whole of the hall between them, the wounded aspect of her piteous frame was clear to him. He hurriedly closed the distance between them and opened the door, casting only a quick look at her face.
"Inside," he hissed, his countenance all urgency and tension. He cast a long glance down to one end of the hall, then the other, his fingers deftly navigating the familiar pages of his grimoire. "Quick now, Miss Joz, please."
