Chapter 5- Part 4

The people of Varna moved with a purpose. The largest town in the Reaches, and the only one that could properly be called a city, Varna moved with a pace like no other place in the Eldeen. Portion of the streets actually were paved, and the buildings tended to be more permanent-looking affairs than the thatched huts found scattered throughout the great wood.

The buildings also sported damage not found elsewhere in the Eldeen. Varna may have been a city run by a Dragonmarked House, but it was also a city that moved thousands of troops for the Eldeen, and tons of supplies for the war. As a result, every kingdom involved in the war considered Varna a fair target. Lightning bolts and fireballs from Aundair wizards, as well as siege machinery of a more mundane nature had all left their mark.

The western edge of town had a whole section of the wall missing, with large burnt marks near where the Orien trade road came in. The collapsed gate and wall sections had been moved so that the road traffic could enter and exit the city. The wall was being rebuilt, but it went slowly, and for now the city guards let foot traffic pass freely through any wall gap that was not actually dangerous. The cold rain made the ground loose and treacherous, and the travelers and locals had to step carefully across ground that had not been meant for so many feet.

A pair of elves wearing bright pastel robes totally unfit for the weather stood beneath parasols, trying to keep the colorful paint on their faces from being disturbed by the inclement weather. Across from them, wearing heavy armor with an upturned face plate that dribbled rain, was a grizzled man with heavy mustaches and a badge of rank on his tunic.

“Dunno if I can have you folk go so far southwest down the road,” the man was frowning.

“There’s a whole company of soldiers waiting to be entertained!” exclaimed one elf. She had green marking on her face in the shape of a five-headed serpent, standing boldly against the white paint beneath, and her long hair was in braids that were dyed a twirling mixture of orange and purple. “Our company is small, but the prospect fo such an audience!”

“Plenty audience in the city,” snorted the man in armor.

“And they have seen our performances so many times!” sighed the other elf. He was male, or seemed to be. He wore even more jewelry than the elf woman. The five-headed serpent motif was found on his robes, his face paint, and the three thick rings he wore on each hand. “A new audience, can’t you feel the attraction, sir commander?”

“I’m not a commander,” the weary human in the armor was saying. “I’m just – look, can’t you just stay in the city?”

The stern-faced elf standing under an overhang was affecting to read the latest copy of the Korranberg Chronicle, but he was listening to the conversation between the two painted elves and the armored human most carefully. The stern-faced elf wore leather armor beneath frayed robes, and an eagle sat carefully on a perch nearby, scanning the area for enemies. The stern-faced elf wore no accoutrements that announced who he was, but the docility of the eagle next to him, and the ring of holly leaves around his neck told anyone who cared that he was a druid.

The human in armor was asking the two painted elves if they planned to count soldiers are something, and the elves responded in shocked tones that House Phiarlan were merely entertainers, whatever was he implying?

Aruunis snorted. What idiot would believe that these two were merely entertainers? The stern-faced elf looked over the human in armor. The man clearly did not believe the two under the parasols, but clearly also did not want to offend them.

One of the elves turned ever so slightly, the effeminate male, and caught Aruunis’ eye. The druid affected to still be reading the Korranberg. Then he decided to actually read it, in case the elf later queried him.

It bore today’s date, the 26th of Aryth. There were front-page articles about new warforged models that were killing thousands, and undead legions that were killing thousands more. A small blurb announced strange weather patterns in the Barren Sea, another discussed new security arrangements for the peace talks in Thronehold, while some letter to the editor protested supposedly biased coverage of House Cannith’s new weapons.

“Look,” the human said. “I will ask again, and I think that a meadow can be prepared, but I do not control the answer.” The elves thanked him, and the human turned away and began walking off. The female elf watched him go, the male elf watched Aruunis openly.

Aruunis sighed. He tossed the paper into a large puddle and beckoned the two painted elves to him. A few passersby gave him funny looks for throwing away the paper, but most ignored him. The painted elves raised all four of their eyebrows, but came over anyway, stepping around the puddles in their slippers – slippers!

“Inquiring about where you may find a performance by House Phiarlan, my friend?” the woman asked him in elvish, as she and her companion approached.

“I might be,” Aruunis answered in elvish, resting a hand on the sickle hidden beneath his robe. He gave a soft whistle, and his eagle alerted itself. He opened his mouth to say more, but waited until they joined him with no other around. “That is, I might be interested in a performance of Phiarlan’s, but given that you aren’t actually members of that House, it isn’t really relevant then, is it?”

The two painted elves stopped, their eyes going briefly to each other. “Good sir, good –” Eyes with lavender paint on the lids took in the holly and the eagle. “Good druid, you insult us if you think we are some second-rate pretenders.”

“Oh you were both born into Phiarlan, of that I have no doubt,” Aruunis said. “But your accents are Thuranni to my ears.” He stared at them carefully, ready to hurl forces of earth and fire at them if they attacked.

He’d been watching for it, so he saw it. The flicker in the eyes, the tensing of muscles, the initial reach for daggers or garrotes hidden beneath the ridiculous entertainer’s outfit. But they were cautious, these two, and they clearly decided not to attack a druid of unknown power.

“We’ve not time for riddles nor for insults,” said the woman. She sniffed and beckoned her companion.

“I have taken the shape of an eagle, many times,” he told them, reaching into his robes and pulling out the black dragon symbol of the Gatekeepers. “My companion and I have seen much with sharp eyes. Including recent disposition of troops. Including the regrouping of Brelish infantry. Including berths built to accommodate new warships on Lake Galifar.” He hid the symbol. “You’ll get better information from the sky than you will on the ground, especially when dodging the few true members of Phiarlan in the Reaches.” He grinned a cold grin. “I’m willing to bet that the bodies of the agents whose identity you stole won’t be found for years yet.”

“You make powerful accusations, friend,” the male elf said. His hand was in a pocket of his robes now. “You make powerful promises, too. Maybe you talk too much.”

“Maybe you take your hands out where I can see them and you don’t end up as ash,” Aruunis said.

The woman elf waved a hand somewhat imperceptibly, and the male held his hands out in the open. “What do you want?” the woman asked, putting a false smile on for any who saw. Her parasol had wavered, and rain drops had made emerald tears on her face.

“A potion,” he told her. “Specifically a potion of glibness. The kind that lets the speaker lie so convincingly that it fools even magical detection. I figure you keep several on you, in case you run into some serious trouble. I only want one.”

“You need to fool someone,” the man said, twirling his parasol slightly. “Someone close to you. One of your own.”

“You know what that’s like,” he told the other elf. “So then you know what I need.”

“Can you trust us to give it to you?” the woman asked.

Aruunis leaned forward, and his eagle leaned with him. “I. Am. Not. Someone. You. Want. To. Cross.”

The two painted elves considered this for a moment, and then the female looked at the male and nodded. The male slowly reached into a pocket and handed a potion to Aruunis. The stern-faced elf took the small vial and cast a detection spell on it.

“So,” the woman said. “Let’s start with the ship berths.”