Chapter 2: Rendezvous in Tanaris

"You're convinced that anybody who meets you for the first time will consider you a shit, so you take preventive action. Relax, boychick. When they get to know you better they will realize that they were right. You are a shit."
― Mordecai Richler

"Gadgetzan! Also known as the Jewel of Tanaris." The human mage pointed out the glimmering white city in the vast sandy landscape to his wide-eyed apprentice. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." The young man, probably a recent protege fresh off the farm, gaped at everyone and everything at the end of the long road leading to the city.

"Will we have to mingle with the Horde?" he asked nervously.

Rin'Seyi rolled his eyes as he pushed past the startled lad towards the city gates further below. He strolled with a comfortable familiarity into the city, down its labyrinthine streets, the last sand storm having deposited a sprinkling of sand that shimmered like gold over the ground. A hot desert breeze brought no relief to the oppressive heat hanging over the city.

"Too hot to do business," someone mumbled as he walked by the bank.

"Never!" A goblin bruiser standing guard flashed a sharp, toothy grin.

Gadgetzan had been Rin's home for a couple of years. He'd lived there at the very beginning of his apprenticeship as a newly initiated druid dedicated to studying the properties of herbs under the tutelage of one bastard of a cantankerous troll called Zal'Jen, an infamous master alchemist who'd probably been coerced by the Circle to take on a pupil as part of some penance or probation. The Circle guaranteed all its initiates an education and guidance. It did not, however, deign to cover living expenses. Normally, younger druids lived with their teachers, performing household tasks and undertaking other errands in exchange for food and board. Zal'Jen, however, lived in a tiny, dingy room that barely afforded one person enough space. Instead, Zal'Jen worked him to the bone in exchange for his lessons and did not hesitate to turn him out before mealtimes. The miser would not even spare him the dust from a withered peacebloom leaf. His coin purse strings had been stretched to a tearing point in Gadget, a goblin city that preferred to cater to those able to partake in its high-stakes deals. He managed to earn a living in the inhospitable city by accepting tasks from the city's feared goblin dealbrokers. He procured items, chased away vermin, and delivered suspicious crates to Steamwheedle's port, all under a merciless blazing sun. It was a grueling, precarious existence. During more desperate times, he did not hesitate to toss his name in with those of other challengers in the prize fights held in the Thunderdrome's ring, under Dealwell's watchful and covetous gaze. Every night he managed to scrape just enough to pay for a hammock and buy a crock of slop at Zabeixle's Home Away from Home—a version of home he did not wish upon anyone. The bland and unappetizing food was often the only substantial meal he'd have during the long, arduous day. He also slept poorly: the hammocks were made of coarse rope that needled him all night. When he wasn't tossing in the hammock, his slumber was disrupted by a cacophony of snoring, or by the transient, suspicious characters prowling around in the dark for some unlucky fool's unguarded pack of possessions (he slept with his safely strapped over his chest). He'd learned to tune out inconsiderate latecomers who conversed loudly, frequent arguments, or even the occasional raid conducted by bruisers converging on a suspect lodging among them. That morning, as Rin passed his old neighborhood, he contemplated the lot where Zabeixle's once stood, the shabby inn having been condemned and shut down more than ten years before. It had been a miserable place, but he couldn't help remembering it with the pride of a soldier who'd successfully survived a legendary trial— a rite of passage of sorts.

He recalled his last night at Zabeixle's with an arch grin. A human woman in tight, dusty leather armor had wandered in one late afternoon looking to stay for the night. He should have known she was trouble when she so brazenly walked into an inn that catered mostly to a Horde clientele, in a Horde-heavy neighborhood, while nervously glancing over her shoulder. The pretty blonde blood elf Zabeixle had hired to run the front desk was very effective when it came to dazzling his patrons and enticing them to settle there for the evening, but she really didn't know how to do anything else. When she found that her interaction with a human deviated from her memorized script and that the woman responded neither to Thalassian or Orcish, Rin'Seyi had gallantly stepped in, and despite his limited Common at the time, helped her check in. She had reserved not a miserable hammock, like most patrons, but one of the inn's best rooms. The woman's relief at being able to secure shelter for the night was expressed in an invitation extended to him to share in some "fine rare wine". He should have known she was no mere traveler. He should have pieced it all together after he followed her back to her room, when the dusty bottle of wine she so carefully hoisted from her overstuffed pack, a red vintage listing "Caer Darrow" on its label, could only have been pilfered from the wine caves deep in Scholomance. He wondered if he would have cared, though, even if he'd known, since she was grinning and laughing at him so flirtatiously. She'd introduced herself as "Tara", but he believed that as much as he would have believed her if she'd declared her name to be Jaina Proudmoore. Once she'd begun openly staring at his broad shoulders and well-defined chest, he was having trouble of thinking about anything else than didn't involve his peeling off her tight leather pants.

"I'd love to learn more about you fierce trolls," she'd said in a husky voice when he got up to leave for the night, their wine long finished. "Won't you indulge me?" She'd pet the spot beside her on the bed. "There's room for two," she hinted.

He'd dropped his pack on the ground and soon his breeches followed.

"How do you kiss with these?" she'd wondered, running a finger along one of his tusks. They sprouted up from the edges of his lips, pointing upwards—not too small, not too large. Normally, it was his sharp, beaky nose that got in the way of such endeavors.

"Mm…carefully," he'd recommended, pulling her naked hips against his.

"Show me," she'd teased, pushing her soft, ample breasts against his chest.

Her moans and cries echoed loudly as she clung to him, meeting his thrusts with the same primal need, lighting his blood on fire. When dawn arrived, they finally collapsed over the bed tiredly, having kissed, licked, and sucked every tender inch of each other.

"Rin…that was…amazing!" she had panted incredulously as exhaustion gradually overcame him.

He'd still mustered enough energy to playfully swat her wandering hand off his cock as she stifled a giggle and he drifted off into the best sleep he'd enjoyed in a long time.

He awoke a few hours later.

"Checkout is in fifteen minutes!" an impatient voice announced outside the door. "Get your hides out or pay for another night!"

Of course, the space beside him on the bed was long empty. He was alone in the spacious room. When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he was still emerging from a pleasant haze. As his dark amber eyes adjusted to the light flooding the room, he rose from the bed, intending to collect his belongings. He noticed she had taken his breeches off the floor and left them folded on the back of a chair. The gesture was sweet, he thought with affection. Except that, after some perusing, it became clear that it was the only thing of his she'd left behind. He realized with growing alarm that his pack was gone: all his books, hard-earned reagents, and meager coin pouch— even his few ratty clothes. She'd stolen everything. The empty wine bottle they'd shared earlier seemed to be mocking his gullibility. He groaned loudly and suddenly felt a splitting headache coming on. He pondered a few courses of action: he could try to track her, but he had the sinking feeling she was used to making a clean exit and would be hard to find. He could lodge a report with the city guard, but it was likely that if "Tara" were ever to return to Gadget, she would be doing so under a new alias. He was completely destitute, but in truth, it hadn't taken much to usher him to that state.

And damn, he decided, sighing heavily, it had been terribly fun getting there.

As he made his way out of the inn, he walked slowly, weighing his few available options: he could beg his teacher for aid and pledge his servitude until he got back on his feet, he could take a leave of absence and return to Moonglade, or, his least favorite: he could ask his grandmother, already burdened with the care of his younger siblings and cousins, for a small loan. It was then that the pretty blood elf behind the counter called him over, glancing about nervously. He examined her beckoning gestures warily. He half expected her to request payment for the room. It would have been the crowning moment of his complete humiliation. Instead, the elf had him approach the desk, and when he stood before her, thrust a medium-sized cloth package into his hands.

"I was paid to give this to you," she whispered. "It's from that human guest."

With nowhere to conceal it, he secured it against his chest with folded arms. "Did she tell you anything else?" he wondered.

The elf shook her head and shooed him away before they attracted unwelcome attention.

It was only once he was safely inside his master's home that he dared to unwrap the bundle. Inside, he found a note and something in the shape of a machete wrapped in more cloth. He unfolded the note and began to read.

"Dear Rin'Seyi, I hope you don't resent me too much for what I've done to you; I've earned my thieving reputation honestly and you cannot begrudge me for simply acting in accordance to my nature and seizing an opportunity when I see one. Please know that I am grateful—oh, ever so grateful!— to you for last night. For a few unforgettable hours you made me feel like I haven't in a very long time. Consider this gift restitution…and a memento from an appreciative (and most satisfied…) friend.

Ever yours,
Tara

PS- In addition to the breeches, I considered leaving you a tunic, too, but it would be a sin to cover up that chest, my sweet.
PPS- The dagger is from Zul'Farrak. I wouldn't recommend trying to return it to its rightful owner. The trolls there are nowhere as delicious or kissable as you. It might be worth something. It might not. I took a gamble. You should, too."

Once unwrapped, the dagger turned out to be an elegant bolo with a grooved steel blade, brass-shod handle, and guard spike. It was a ceremonial Sandfury bolo: probably worth a small fortune—worth far more than all his humble belongings combined. He'd blinked at the gift before tossing his head back and laughing heartily. He could still recall the perplexed expression on his master's face at his delighted outburst.

As Rin walked up the street, Zabeixle's old location fading away in the wake of his footsteps and thoughts, he had to admit that the human's con had been a turning point for him. He'd been forced to fend for himself—he'd had to learn how to find and make shelter out in the wilderness, defend himself and hunt, field dress and roast his prey, such as the large reptiles crawling on the shifting dunes. In the process he learned how to become self-sufficient and discovered a new appreciation for solitude. It had been a long time since that night and he'd experienced many a passionate and pleasurable evening with many different companions since then. But he'd be lying shamefacedly if he said he'd never searched for his roguish human in the crowded bazaars of Gadget, even years after, hoping to catch her cocky swagger and sly grin. He never did see her again and he sincerely hoped she hadn't met an unfortunate end treasure hunting in some cursed ruin. He kept the bolo among his belongings.

He never bothered selling it; it had been a worthy weapon.

At the entrance of the Auction House, the goblin bruisers surveyed the crowds for trouble. He knew better than to loiter at the entrance, inviting scrutiny and possibly some ill will. Instead, he bought a small pastry from a vendor's stand down the street and leaned against one of the sandstone buildings, seeking shelter from the beating sun. The morning light was piercingly bright and he watched the busy pedestrians hurry past him. He had worn lighter, non-distinct armor, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.

Sahar. Sahar, he repeated to himself, examining the passers-by. He nibbled on his pastry, willing it to last until he met his contact. He was distracted from his people-watching by a small commotion unfurling on the Auction House's steps. The bruisers were loudly—and coarsely, as was their custom— shooing a draenei woman down.

"Keep it moving, toots!" they shouted at her. "No loitering!"

The woman wore a simple cloth shift with a leather vest and some kind of fussy apron. She couldn't have looked more out of place than if she had fallen off a gryphon into the busy square.

"Is this really necessary? I am waiting for someone!" she protested, even as a goblin persistently pointed her the way down the steps.

"Not my problem! Move your tail out of here."

He watched her march down the steps with the indignant haughtiness of those attempting to feign indifference after public humiliation. She was a tall, dark-haired draenei. Her garb and her staff led him to believe she was some kind of priestess. She crossed the street and passed him, headed for the same vendor he'd visited minutes earlier. He noticed her hooves were decorated with tiny gems. In her wake, the warm, spicy perfume of mageroyal lingered in the air.

So much for forsaking vanity an' material entrapments, he thought of the priestess.

"I'll have one of those," she announced in a huffy manner, still smarting from her public chastising. "You know what? Make that two…No, THREE!" she decided after a moment.

He smirked.

"Don't be takin' it personally," he wanted to tell her. "Goblins are equal opportunity harassers."

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry deciding he was in the mood to mind his own business that morning. He quickly wiped his hands over his trousers when he saw a large, stately draenei walk in his direction. He balked inwardly: the draenei had come dressed to the nines, in full battle regalia— the enchanted mace strapped to his back cast an icy glow. As the draenei approached, Rin sought to make eye contact, but he simply walked past him, stopping at the vendor.

"Khronokai khrystor," he stated in a deep, melodious voice to the vendor. "Can you please refill my canteen?"

Rin blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sahar?" he asked, approaching the draenei. He ignored him, distracted by the vendor's pouring cold water into his canteen. "Are ya Sahar?" He stood beside the draenei, who managed to be at least a foot taller than he. The draenei turned his head, startling at being addressed by a troll. "I be Rin-Seyi. Da Circle sent me," he quickly explained, trying to make the startled expression on the draenei's face disappear.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, bewildered.

Rin had a sinking feeling just then.

"Ya aren't Sahar?"

The draenei snorted.

"Sahar is a woman's name."

"Aah." Rin raised his hands apologetically. "That I did not know. Ya aren't Sahar, den," he concluded.

"No, I most certainly am not!" He grabbed his canteen brusquely and tossed a coin on the stall before stomping off.

Rin clicked his tongue, but before he turned back to his watch post along the wall, he became aware that he was being scrutinized by a pair of silvery eyes.

"Did you say your name is Rin'Seyi?"

He glanced to the side of the stall, where the draenei woman he'd been observing earlier stood. A light trail of powdered sugar littered her leather vest. Her tail twitched to and fro.

Oh, Cenarion. Don't be telling me…

"I am Sahar!" she announced excitedly, quickly swallowing the sweet she'd been chewing on.

Are ya sure? he'd wanted to ask, his mood plunging.

"Khronokai khrystor!" she exclaimed, taking a step, ebulliently, in his direction. At his look of utter dismay, she halted in place and attempted nothing further. "It is very nice to finally meet you!" she gushed.

"Okie dokie, he muttered, "We should go somewhere to talk," he stated, eager to get out of there all of a sudden. Eager to get that whole wretched assignment over with, in fact.

As they began to walk towards his inn, he turned abruptly towards her.

"Ya be a shaman, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Sometimes people think I am a priestess because…You know: draenei. Woman. It's just an assumption. But I am a shaman!" she said cheerfully. "And this is the uniform for my rank."

Rin pressed his thumb over the bridge of his long nose as if he wanted to rub out the thin jabs of annoyance assailing him just then.

"And what rank would dat be, now?" he asked in a strained manner.

"Ah! That." She appeared to freeze for a moment. He turned to face her, his eyes wide. She pressed her lips together nervously.

"Ya be a properly trained shaman, right?" he asked ominously.

She tilted her head, her tail swishing back and forth again in short bursts.

"So, when you say 'properly' trained, what do you mean, exactly?" she wondered.

Oo, fucking fuckers dem elves. Stick da noob with good ol' Rin, is it? Have Rin drag her along to help her gain some experience? Maybe get himself killed when she can't prevent da angry mob of humans from lynching him? he imagined angrily.

"What can you do?" He was going to write the Circle right then to cancel the mission and send her back to Azuremyst with a pat to the head and a large lollypop.

"Well, I can…can…Uh…I can lightning!" she began in a slightly frantic manner, her tail's swishing growing more agitated. "I mean, I can harness lightning and I can do a few things with fire. Also, I am working on mastering my earthbind totem—it's really good at slowing down attackers…At least I think it will be, because so far I was only able to test it on some murlocs. Have you ever tried to run from murlocs? I mean, they're slower on land than water, but they're not a pretty sight, flailing and gurgling—"

"Quiet!" he commanded sternly. "I need to tink!"

I can lightning, she'd blurted out.

I.
Can.
Lightning.

So. The Circle had arranged for an inexperienced draenei shaman to accompany him on a sensitive mission to Feralas. She, in a cotton shift and fancy apron getup, holding a stick more suited for grilling sausages over a fire, was supposed to be an imposing enough presence to stop the human settlers from killing him on sight. She was supposed to understand the designs of the elements out in the wilderness. She was supposed to fight off any assailants in the field. "Very funny," he wanted to yell. "Waste of my time!"

"Lissen," he began, summoning all his calm. "Dis was a mistake. I can't be takin' ya with me to Feralas. I be needing a real…An experienced shaman. I have no idea what we might be facin' up dere. I know one ting, though: I have to be prepared. And so do ya."

She appeared so crestfallen at his dismissal that he was struck with a twinge of guilt. He grimaced.

"Look." He crossed his arms, struggling to find words other than 'go home.' "Dis is nothin' against ya, all right? I bet someday ya be harnessin' all da elements and doin' all kinds a heroic tings." His tone was gentler. She raised her almond-shaped eyes to him, their silvery gleam so cool and bright. "Maybe when ya be stronger, who knows- we could work together someday."

"All right," she agreed in a docile tone. "I'm very sorry." She gave him an awkward smile.

At least that hadn't been difficult, he thought, relieved.

"Sorry for what?" he asked more amenably. If anything, he blamed her superiors for making such a bad call. "It not be ya fault. Ya went where ya was told to go."

She nervously wrung her hands together.

"Actually…That's not quite it…You see, a month or so ago, the Circle sent out a call to the Earthen Ring seeking to update its roster of shamans willing and available to assist on various missions…And no one was really stepping up, so… I…I was merely supposed to deliver the roster to the druid…but…I added my name to the list." Her tail swished in a hypnotic way. "To the top of the list, you see. To be called first."

He groaned. Now what?

That had been a transgression. Clearly.

But she wasn't a druid. She was the Earthen Ring's problem.

Still…she had made an impulsive decision that could have had disastrous consequences. Was he supposed to discipline her?

I should have accepted her apology and simply walked away.

He stepped up to her crossly, backing her up into the wall. She was a tall woman, but he still had a few inches on her. He peered into her face, his nose almost touching hers.

"Did it ever occur to ya dat ya name could be chosen?"

"Yes."

"Did it ever occur to ya dat ya don't have da proper trainin' to assist one of us on a mission?"

She said nothing.

"What was dat?" he insisted, at her silence.

"I just wanted to help. That's all. I just thought I could prove that…"

"You want to help?" His eyes narrowed. "Den go back to da Ring and work hard to earn your ranks and training! Don't go tryin' to ride to da top, off someone else's abilities!"

He stepped away and rolled his shoulder with slight annoyance. Dis can be Auroch's problem. Let Leafwing get off his pretty bottom and go write us a preliminary report. I'll be going back to Silithius tonight.

Without a backwards glance, he walked away, leaving the flummoxed draenei behind.

A/N: Forgive me! I made a Star Wars reference. Couldn't resist. Gadget just has that Mos Eisley thing going...