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[The Trail - Part 2 - The Scales Part Five]
She leaned her back against the rough cut stone wall. She swallowed between heavy breaths. The moon had crossed nearly half of the night sky, but still cast its perilous pale shine on the city below. The air was chill, hanging heavy with the looming threat of frost. She forced her breathing to slow. She swallowed again. Slow.. slow... calm..
The meditative practice took hold. Her pulse steadied. Her breathing slowed. Her body began to relax as she stood up from the wall. The walk had been harrowing: how much had been due to a furtive imagination she would never be sure. She couldn't shake the sight of threatening shadows, muffled whispers, and the sensation of leering eyes -but she had made it.
Black Smoke alley had been named for the forges and furnaces that once kept it humming with industrial activity. Housing has been inexpensive, and with the arrival of the Ala Mhigans it had been overrun with those unable to afford to live elsewhere. One by one the forges were left extinguished, and the neighborhood descended into just the sort of idleness that allowed crime to thrive. The Brass Blades rarely patrolled the streets during daylight, and those that ventured forth during the night were certainly under the payroll of one crime lord or another.Â
She closed her eyes again, the imagined sight of a terrified and helpless Verad reminded her of just why she was here. Sometimes nightmares crossed paths with the real thing. She took one more deep calming breath before drawing a small pocket mirror from a pouch. She took a moment to check her makeup and hair in the light of one of the few functional streetlights; showing up a disheveled mess would undermine her purpose.Â
She had cloaked herself for the journey and now carefully loosed it around her waist. As it hung more freely it exposed long, bare legs covered only by a mini-skirt, and her heeled shoes which had begun to grow uncomfortable as the night grew late. With a name like Talamarito he was a Lalafel no, doubt, and they always seemed to appreciate the view afforded by such a skirt.
She stepped back into the avenue, and then down Black Smoke alley. She was watched from both sides as she went, though she successfully fought the urge to look side-to-side for any sign of potential danger. The sound of whispering voices encouraged her feet to move more quickly, eyes boring straight ahead toward her goal. In the near distance, just a few blocks ahead, she could make out the sight of what appeared to be a busy tavern.Â
Before she knew what was happening she had turned and barged through the door of the Pale Sands, barely having taken in the sign above the door: an hourglass filled with pale granular sand. It gave off the distinct impression of bone dust.Â
Dozens of eyes turned upon her immediately. More followed as others became aware of the strange sight at the door. The place was not altogether unfamiliar, filled to the brim with Highlanders: laborers, criminals, beggars, and ne'er-do-wells with nothing better to do. Barmaids went about their rounds, and an altogether genial raucous saturated the establishment.
Aya stood there for a moment, transfixed by the sudden realization that she had exited the alley. The very real sense of danger had not yet passed. She scanned the place, resisting the temptation to remove her hood amidst the sudden rush of warm air that flushed her skin. She finally laid eyes upon the barkeeper. She remembered her purpose; found her composure. She approached him with steps slow and confident. The dozens of eyes, pair by pair, turned back to what they had been doing, casting only curious glances toward the newcomer.
She leaned across the bar, sliding a 10 gil coin beneath her palm. "Talamarito." she said, in her soft, light voice. The barkeeper, a mustachioed middle aged Hyur gave her a suspicious look up and down, before reaching under her hand to retrieve the coin. With a second glance he nodded, and motioned her toward a doorway off to the side of the bar.
She nodded, with a smile of appreciation, and with another deep, but quiet breath for courage, she pushed the door open and stepped through. She found herself in a smoke-filled room, with four figures seated around a round table littered with coin, glasses and mugs both empty and full. Two men, a Lalafel fellow, and a woman were playing at a game of cards. One of the men looked up at once, "Whadda you want?" he asked curtly.
"Talamarito." she replied.
"Oh yeah? Who says he'd talk to you?"
She tilted her head slightly, a smile spreading over her lips. "Huzan sent me."
"Harumph!" grunted the other Hyur as the Lalafel glanced over his cards at her, brandishing a grin. "You had better make it worth his time, if you know what I mean girly.
The first Hyur nodded to his cohorts, before standing with a resigned shrug. He took a moment to collect his coin from the table. "Come with me." He lead her into a hallway amidst jeering from the others. As they walked down the hallway he added emphasis to what his companion had said, "You had better make it worth his time."
He managed the sort of quiet bellowing tone so useful in muscle, "Girl here to see you boss." With this greeting she was ushered into the well appointed room: rich, heavy carpets adorned the floor, a fire roared comfortably in the fireplace. The seated Lalafel within looked unassuming by comparison to his surroundings. Dressed in the same style of practical and un-ostentatious clothing as his minions. A carefully maintained mustache stretched from one side of his face to the other, and seemed to balance precariously upon his upper lip. It was grey, and his hair was greying: middle age often a sign of unusual success among criminals.
"What can I do for you?" he asked in a calm, pleasant voice. He canted his head slightly, his expression unexpectedly welcoming.
For the moment she had mastered the fear of the past hour. A sense of foreboding trepidation still clung beneath the surface of her emotions, but her expression was one of confident calm. Her voice steady,"Huzan sent me." she repeated with sensual Ishgardian tones.
He nodded, raising long thin eyebrows and offering a slight shrug of the shoulders. "She can stay," he motioned to his guard, waving him off. With a thunk the door closed behind her as the Hyur slipped back into the hallway. Talamarito tilted his head toward her, without saying another word. Fingers lay folded together, flat upon his desk.
She waited for a moment as his expression grew impatient. She strode into the room, letting her long toned legs slide from her opened coat, tempting eyes to draw upon their full length. She thought she could hear him taking in a quick breath, but his expression seemed unaffected. She approached the desk, red lips smiled toward him.
"Yesssss?" intoned Talamarito, with a look now mixing inquisitiveness with impatience.
"I am looking for something that Huzan cannot provide. He suggested that I try a man of greater resources, and so here I am." She held her smile as she spoke, cocking her hips to the side.
"Of course." he said, nearly purring with a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. He knew the sound of flattery, but who didn't appreciate a compliment from such a lovely young woman. "Hozan is a good man, but he cannot acquire everything a woman may desire." He folded his hands together upon his desk, tilting his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, "So... How may I be of service?"
"Dravanian artifacts." she smiled again.
He raised both eyebrows, not quite an expression of surprise, but one of recognition. He raised a finger, "You know, I have heard that you people have been about looking for these relics. But I am afraid you're too late, what stock we had is long gone, by moons I'm afraid." he offered a carefree shrug.Â
"You people?" she asked.
"Yes, Ishgadrians." he nodded, "You're not exactly quiet and subtle, you know. I'm surprised the city hasn't thrown you a welcome parade by now."
She let out a soft, amused laugh. "Just a coincidence, I fear. My employer is most assuredly not Ishgardian." She tilted her still hooded head toward him.
His expression was incredulous. "Oh, of course, of course! — Not that it matters to me." he said with bemusement and a dismissive wave of his hand.Â
"I am quite serious. It is just a coincidence." She repeated, amusement still lingering in her voice.
He screwed up his lips, "Coincidence is not something I believe in!" he said, before looking her up and down once more, nearly standing up behind his desk to do so. "Especially not when Ishgardians are involved!"
"Then again..." he hopped from his chair and walked around the edge of his desk with that infections grin that only Lalafel at their most disarming are capable of. "None of those knights know how to show off their legs like that." he gestured with a nod. Reaching up to his desk for a pipe, he used it to point toward her, "If you are with Ishgardians I at least approve of their change in messenger."
Pulling it to his lips he used an expensive-looking sparker to light the the bowl, while drawing through the stem. "Of course, that doesn't change that I don't have the goods any more," he said, through half his mouth. The pipe lit; a wisp of fragrant smoke rose from the bowl.
She nodded, "Maybe so. But you could point me in the direction of the buyers? Perhaps one of them would be willing to part with a piece for the right price?"
He furrowed his brow, taking a few puffs on his pipe as smoke as a thin cloud began to cling the ceiling. "Perhaps I could." he said with an agreeable nod, "But I fail to see whats in it for me."
As he looked up to her she reached a gloved, feminine hand into her cloak. Concern flashed across his features, the pipe suddenly lifting up, squeezed between tightened lips: had his men searched her? Was she drawing a weapon? When she instead drew out a stack of platinum coin the expression quickly faded, replaced with a look of self-assured smugness; it was as if he could dispel her memory of that moment of weakness with a sudden display of confidence.
He nodded, gesturing nonchalantly toward his desk as he smacked his lips and cleared his throat, "Ah, I remember now. Besides the Ishgardians most of the relics we dealt with went to one particular buyer." He began to amble about the room, casting long glances back toward her as if studying her from a number of angles.
"A Hyur with an eyepatch. He wore all black."  Talamarito tapped the bowl of his pipe against his palm, as if thinking about how to describe the fellow. "He acted like an adventure. And I mean, acted. Something about him never felt right. He did not seem like someone capable of acquiring the vast sum of gil he was prepared to spend." the tone of his voice was vicious. "I don't know who he was buying them for, but he had a very particular interest in a particular sort of relic."
He stopped, turning again toward her as he puffed on his pipe, drawing his eyes along her legs from her heels to the hem of her short skirt.
"He wanted those with a particular gem. Yellow. Sort of like an amber, but cloudy and hideous. You could recognize these things a mile away. He was willing to pay top gil for any we managed to come by."
"Were you just buying them to resell to him?" She asked, as he looked up to her eye-to-eye. "Business is business, my dear. We have a vast array of methods to acquire just what our patrons are looking for."
His pleasant demeanor seemed to be broken by her question, and he turned his back toward her again, "Now .. I'm not sure that I can remember anything more."
She reached into her coat, withdrawing another stack of platinum coins, a sight he spied with a look back over his shoulder. "You are not afraid of this man are you? He did not sound dangerous."
"Hmph!" came the immediate reply. He whipped his gaze back toward the wall, leaving his back to Aya indignantly. "If you had met him you wouldn't say it like that. foolish as he may seem, I wouldn't want to cross his ire. Even an idiot can be dangerous if he's good with a blade." As he spoke he drew the pipe from his mouth, fidgeting with it in his fingers. "There's something about him." He visibly shuddered, "You can just feel it."
She nodded silently, he glanced back, "There are -other- ways to convince me, by the way."Â He grinned mischievously, as if trying to banish the uncomfortable topic of discussion.
She smiled slyly, reaching into her coat once more. She paused her hand there, letting it slide slightly more open to reveal her low cut top, before she withdrew yet another stack of coin.
"He's not buying any more is he? Your finders fee will make this worth the while."
The Lalafel nodded, "I don't think he was with the Ishgardians, but he refused to reveal his reasons, not that we're exactly in the business of prying. But he took the time to warn us against the Dravanians. He was fond of mentioning the danger of these relics, as if the importance of his cause would encourage our business."
He took a few more puffs on his pipe, moving about the room again and facing her as he spoke, "It doesn't make any sense to me, either. Why buy so many of these relics if dragons aren't your thing? But you can't argue with the man's success. You could probably talk to a dozen of my competitors and they could tell you the same stories."
He stopped, throwing his hands into the air as if tired of the whole spectacle, "They're gone! You're not going to find any now, at least not any of the real ones. So good luck."
She nodded, adding another partial stack to the three sitting upon his desk. She wanted to sigh: the sight of an accumulation of a moon's hard work handed over to a Lalafel who raked in more than that in a night's work. And for the barest handful of information.  He glanced at it as well.
"Thank you." she said pleasantly, "I am satisfied, are you?"
He shook his head, "Not yet."
She offered him a shrug, and smiled as she walked across the room toward the exit. He watched as she turned to open the door, hopping back onto his chair with an ear-to-ear grin. "Now I am."
She closed the door behind her. Another long walk in the cold night awaited.
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