4th day of Ransalacue, 5571A The Long Whiskers Inn & Tavern
Talantier, The Divided Lands
Another day, another breakfast.
Or so it seemed to Illumenatta as she sat with her other five companions at their table, finishing their breakfast of bread, cheese and pottage. There had been no objections (except for some minor grumbling from Oliver Athraite) when Lumen had informed everyone that due to everyone now having some coin, the Light in the Darkness would be paying for their own room and board going forward.
Still, the moon elf smiled to herself as she listened to the back-and-forth of conversations flying across the table. This routine was something that she needed, for reasons she couldn't explain to herself yet.
Of course, there was still much that had to be done.
She noticed the troubled expression on the face of her third cousin, who was again sitting to her right.
"I'm worried," Qidarchios said. "Caffrine said she would meet us yesterday and she never showed."
He gestured towards the door to the kitchen, where they knew Adorella Duskwind was currently working.
"We know she was here," the bard went on. "Adorella told us she talked with her. Why didn't she wait for us?" He shook his head. "Something's happened."
"Maybe," put in Oliver, shooting a sideways glance at Sebastian, "she's guessed that we know about the bracers she took from Peck and is scared of what our reaction might be."
Voluntary or not, all eyes went, not to the barbarian, but to the samurai.
Saito Takahashi seemed to flinch even though the samurai's eyes had been fixed to the table ever since he had sat down this morning.
"Girl," he said after a long moment, "has nothing more to fear from me."
Lumen laid a gentle hand on her cousin's shoulder.
"Don't worry, Dark," she said soothingly. "You and I will ask around tonight. Between all of us, we'll find her."
"We should get going then," put in Bjorn Sigmundson, who had just finished mopping up the last of his pottage with a hunk of bread and devouring it. "We said we'd meet Mung at nine bells; we should get moving if we want our evening free for making inquiries."
The genial meat pie vendor was waiting for them at the intersection of Spit and Swan Streets as promised.
"Glad you came," he said, an expression that Lumen thought passed for a smile among half-orcs filling his face before it went solemn again.
"There's definitely something going on," he said as they gathered around him, Lumen and Saito again hanging back a bit. "As of this morning, the dungsweepers have gone on strike as well."
"Dungsweepers?" asked Bjorn, looking puzzled.
"Some call them garbage workers," replied Mung with a laugh. "But dung by any other name…" he shrugged and trailed off.
"This doesn't make sense," said Sebastian, frowning. "Sewer workers have gotten nothing from town council for not working; why would dungsweepers try same thing?"
"I don't think they have, my friend."
All eyes went to their wizard.
"Think about it," said Oliver Athraite. "The sewer workers and the garbage workers," he counted off on two fingers to illustrate his point. "That's two thirds of the Urban Decay Trifecta. If the ratcatchers follow suit," he held up a third finger, "this city will be unlivable within a month."
"But the ratcatchers aren't on strike," protested Lumen, looking over at Mung.
"No, but four of them are missing and two of those have turned up dead," mused Dark as Mung nodded vigorously.
"Ahh," the barbarian said as the suggestion being bandied about hit him. "You think someone is leaning on sewage and garbage workers to stop working and ratcatchers are next."
"Bribery or extortion would be my guess," the transmuter said, nodding in agreement. "Given the disappearance of the ratcatchers, my money is on the latter."
"But who would do this?" asked Saito, frowning. "And for what purpose? Hard to believe it's the Nightsong Guild; why would they wreck their own home like that?"
"It might not be them," mused Bjorn.
"Caffrine implied they pretty much have a stranglehold on illicit activity in town," said Lumen. "If it's not them, at the very least they've got to know about it. Maybe they're being paid off enough to look the other way."
"We need information," Dark stated, looking back over at Mung.
"I can get you started," the half-orc said eagerly.
The Light in the Darkness headed down Spit Street, following Mung's directions.
The three-story building coming up on their left was the Dungsweepers' Guild. A few doors further down was the Ratcatchers' Guild; the Sewer Workers' Guild was about a half-mile off; they'd hit it if they had to, but these two buildings would be the party's first stops, followed by a visit to the home of Mung's missing friend Algie, who lived less than two minutes' walk from his job.
The sign that hung outside the entrance to the Dungsweepers' Guild had no writing, but it got straight to the point; a picture of a man following a team of horses while sweeping up a pile of dung taller than himself with a long broom.
"Charming," groused Illumenatta, who had taken to tying a silk handkerchief across her face like a veil. "The smell is getting worse, if that's possible."
Dark gave his cousin a smile and helpless shrug as he strode up to the door, which was a massive affair made of iron and knocked.
A panel he hadn't realized existed slid back and the high elf found himself staring into a pair of brown eyes filled with suspicion.
"What?"
"Good morning," Dark began pleasantly. "We are-"
"Go away," the man snapped and slammed the panel shut.
Continued knocking produced no result. Sebastian Sanders found a smaller door on the rear of the building, but it too was closed and locked, and no one responded to their knocks there, either.
Saito took a deep breath and immediately set to coughing from it. The others waited patiently while the samurai composed himself. They assumed the string of incomprehensible language coming from him was Nipponese profanity, but no one dared ask.
"Right," Takahashi said once he had stopped coughing.
"Wizard," he ordered, pointing at Oliver. "You and Lover Boy go to this Algie's house. The rest of us will talk to these ratcatchers," he finished, his voice again regaining the crisp diction of their battle commander.
"Is there a reason you're splitting us up?" the mage asked.
"Yes," the samurai responded. "We can't be sure that there's no one in the garbage worker Guildhouse that doesn't have access to that message spell of yours or something similar; maybe even just a fast courier. If we start sticking our noses somewhere where they don't belong, I want to be a leg up on them before they're aware of it."
Oliver nodded but Illumenatta looked unhappy, even behind her veil.
"I can assure you, Saito," she said, her emerald eyes wrinkled in disgust. "Our noses are already deep in where they don't belong."
Things started out better at the two-story building that housed the Ratcatchers' Guild. A haggard-looking man who introduced himself as Meshton answered the door and showed the quartet in.
The entrance room sported little other than shelves on one wall which held the sordid tools needed for rat catching and killing and a table with two rickety chairs by the other. Both chairs were occupied by men playing cards whom Meshton said were off-duty ratcatchers. All three men seemed eager to assist the visitors.
"Besides Algie," Lumen asked, leading off the line of questioning, "who else has gone missing?"
"Emos and Zenna," said a man who said his name was Willard. "The other's a dwarf named Cabe."
"Emos and Zenna are already dead." The other man, Ben, seemed on the verge of tears. "Turned up in alleys with their throats cut."
"No sign of either Algie or Cabe," Willard added, his expression one of despair, "but I gotta admit I don't hold out much hope for 'em."
"We're just honest folk tryin' to make a living," said Meshton. "Doin' the jobs no one else will. It's dirty work for sure, but it's steady and the pay's enough to get by on, if only just."
"The sewer workers and now the dungsweepers have stopped working," said Saito, "ostensibly for better wages. Do you know anything about that?"
"No," said Ben, "but we're bettin' they're being leaned on to stop working. Don't know by who or why."
There was a short pause.
"Any chance these disappearances and murders might be robberies?" asked Dark, sounding as if he was grasping at straws out of sheer frustration. "I know none of you are exactly rich, but some people will kill another man just for a few commons."
Meshton shook his head. "No. Everyone who's vanished did so during their shift. They all carry sacks with the rats they catch with them; they don't get paid 'til they come back in here at the end of their shift and turn 'em in."
"Haven't you gone to authorities?" rumbled Seb, his voice expressing both dislike and disbelief. "Do they think you so low-class that they don't care if you're being killed?"
The ratcatcher trio eyed each other before replying.
"Weston did," Ben replied. "Told us they said they'd get to work on it, but we haven't seen much sign of that," he finished morosely.
"No one from the guard has come around here asking questions," added Willard.
Lumen frowned to herself.
I wonder if Lieutenant Anderson knows about this.
A sudden vision of the city guard officer being on the take was so upsetting it even blocked out the horrible stench assaulting her nostrils, if only for a moment.
"Who's Weston?" asked Dark.
"Our Guildmaster," answered Meshton, pointing towards the door at the far end of the entrance chamber. "Halfling. He's in right now if ya want to talk with him. I'm sure he'll tell ya anything he knows if ya tell him ya want to help us out."
Ben and Willard nodded mutely in agreement.
"Good luck," said Meshton, heading towards the other door. "My shift is just startin'; gotta earn me pay," he said with a grim smile as he pulled a dirty sack out from his belt and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll be back in eight bells. If you guys find out anythin'," he said to Ben and Willard, "fill me and Bella in, will ya?"
"Who's Bella?" asked Lumen.
"Newest member," said Ben as Meshton left. "Only been here about a month. Years for all the rest of us," he said with a grim smile that Willard matched.
"Come on," Saito told the others. "Time to pay a visit to the Guildmaster."
A short, torch-lit hallway led to the door of Weston's office. As the quartet approached, they could see that the door was ajar.
Saito, in the lead, frowned, peered through the narrow space for a moment and then pushed the door in.
Three stark observations immediately struck the samurai and then the others as they followed Saito into the office, looking around.
There was no one here apart from themselves.
There were no other doors into or out of this room.
And there were no windows.
"Look at this," said Dark.
Lumen and Saito looked up from examining the various documents scribbled on parchment that were located in boxes or strewn across the halfling-sized desk in the office. Sebastian had been walking around the room's perimeter, looking in vain for signs of a secret door.
The elf was kneeling down on the floor behind the chair that sat behind the desk.
The others followed his finger to the small bloodstain on the floor.
"I can't tell how old this is," Qidarchios said, his expression grim as he stood back up, "but I'll lay odds this came from Weston."
The four members of the Light in the Darkness looked at each other.
"Wait here," Saito abruptly announced. "I'm bringing those two men back here."
He turned and walked out of the office.
"What is this?" Sebastian asked after a few seconds.
Lumen and Dark looked over. The barbarian was standing by the wall to the left as one entered the room. Set into it at about five feet in height was a metal handle. Seb pulled on this before the two bards could say anything and a metallic panel pulled out and down on hinges to reveal a chute about two foot square leading down into darkness at about a forty-five degree angle.
A smell fouler than anything they had yet experienced wafted out from it.
Lumen cursed in elvish, then sighed and began rummaging through her backpack.
Seb and Dark watched as the moon elf came out with a bar of soap. Lumen carved a small piece of it off with her fingers and rubbed it into a tiny sphere of combined fat, lye and perfumes.
Carefully replacing the rest of the soap back in the rolled-leaf package it came from and then putting that back into her knapsack, Illumenatta then hummed softly and a magical light began to glow from the small soap ball.
Lumen rolled it down the chute. The trip watched the light grow smaller and smaller until it abruptly dropped down and out of sight at what they estimated must be at least sixty to seventy feet.
"By the gods."
They turned around. Ben and Willard, followed by Saito, had entered the office and were looking around. Confusion and worry showed on both men's faces. Willard, having uttered the exclamation, turned to the party.
"What happened?"
"How long have you two been here?" asked Saito, his voice tense.
"Um, "Ben stammered. "Well, I was first hired about five years-"
"No!" shot back the samurai, causing the two men to start back in fright. "I meant how long have you two been out there playing that damn card game!"
"We got here right before eight bells," said Willard, who backed up a step, clearly fearful of the samurai.
"And Weston was here when you arrived?" asked Lumen, who thought that a friendly voice might yield better results.
Saito shot a scowl at the moon elf for usurping his interrogation but said nothing.
"Yes," confirmed Ben. "He stuck his head in and greeted us. He always does."
"And what about Meshton?" Lumen pressed. "When did he get here?"
"Just a few minutes before you did," replied Willard. "He's not much of a card player."
"Did he go in to see the Guildmaster?" Saito asked, unable to resist rejoining the questioning but trying to keep his tone from sounding too accusatory.
"No," said Ben, shaking his head. "He was checking on our supplies when you knocked."
There was a short pause.
"What is this?" repeated Sebastian Sanders.
"That," Willard said as he and Ben came over to stand near the draconic barbarian by the chute, "is where we discard our dead rats after they're counted."
"Most of them, anyway," added Ben. "The biggest and most undamaged ones we sell to local bakers like Mung."
Sebastian uttered a low, inarticulate growl at the thought of what he had almost eaten unawares.
"That leads to the sewers, then?" asked Dark.
Ben nodded.
Another short pause.
"Did anyone else come by this morning?" Dark asked, the growing frustration in his voice evident to his companions.
Willard shrugged. "Just Bella."
Saito's eyes narrowed.
"Tell me about Bella," the samurai said to the two ratcatchers in a tone that they, as well as Takahashi's companions, took as a direct order.
"Like we said, she's new," Ben said. "Not real sociable; keeps to herself."
"Describe, please," added Sanders, who seemed eager to join in the questioning.
"About our age. Thin. Dirty," Willard offered. "Stringy, messy hair. Couple of scars on her face, like maybe she was in a knife fight."
"And when did she arrive?" asked Saito.
"Not too long after we did," Ben said, his face screwed up in concentration. "Sometime between eight and nine bells, I think."
"And she went in to see Weston?"
Willard and Ben glanced at each other at Lumen's question. The new sorceress couldn't help but notice that both men looked embarrassed.
"I think so," Willard said sheepishly. "To tell you the truth, we don't even bother saying much to her, what with her being so unfriendly and all that. I barely remember her walking by us but yeah," he gestured. "She did go this way."
"And how long was she here?" asked Saito, the wood elf's brown eyes gazing intently at the two humans.
Again, the shared glance.
This time though, the pause was much longer.
"Well?" Takahashi demanded, his patience wearing thin.
"To be honest with you," Ben eventually stammered, looking around at the entire group so he could avoid Saito's burning gaze, "Now that you mention it, I don't remember seeing her come back out."
The four members of the Light in the Darkness, along with the two ratcatchers, stood outside the Guildhouse in the late morning sun.
Willard pointed towards a nearby sewer gate set into the ground of Spit Street.
"There," he said. "That's the closest entrance to where that chute comes out."
A bubble of green, viscous fluid erupted from the grate and oozed out over the street.
Dark looked over at his cousin, but the moon elf shook her head.
"Not one chance in a million. Let me know what you find."
"Not yet," said Saito, assuming his tactical mien again. "We have Bella's address from Weston's records; we'll check it out after we meet up with Bjorn and Oliver."
"You don't want one of us to head over to Bella's now?" asked Illumenatta, who had noted the samurai had dispensed with using the nicknames he apparently liked to use so much for the party members. "Save some time? It's not far."
"No," replied Takahashi without elaboration.
"So," said Sebastian. "You think Weston is alive or dead?"
"Not sure," Saito said as he began walking further south towards Algie's house, the others following in his wake. "My guess is alive."
"How can you know that?" asked Dark, frowning as he saw Sanders nod in agreement.
"Stabbing or cutting throat would leave much more blood than we found," the barbarian said with a shrug.
Goddammit, Qidarchios thought to himself. That's three times!
The ramshackle one-room dwelling of Algie the ratcatcher was squeezed so tightly between two flophouses that the alleyways between them were too narrow to walk through. Bjorn had noted that it seemed to be a Talantier truism that the seedier the neighborhood, the closer together the buildings were and the narrower the streets were.
And this section of the city's Curtain Quarter was about as seedy as it got.
"Well," the cleric said to the mage as they stood, buffeted by the uncaring masses of people who were thronging the street, outside the front door which boasted no lock, "shall we?"
"Might as well, " grumbled Oliver while wrinkling his nose and looking at a nearby sewer grate. "That damn sewer smell doesn't get any better when you mix it with dung. I can't blame Lumen for not wanting to have anything to do with it. This city's turning into one big stinking pile of crap!'
"Pile of crap!"
Two heads turned in astonishment to the raven Fiach which sat serene and unperturbed on Athraite's shoulder.
"Now he talks," the transmuter said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as Bjorn opened the door and went inside. "Stupid bird."
The duo took their time in searching, each realizing that neither possessed the skillset or keen eyes that might uncover details more quickly.
Bjorn wondered again about Caffrine and sent a prayer to Balder that the young half-elf was all right.
"Food in the cupboard, such as it was," Oliver announced, then turned to the small fireplace. "Logs laid out. He was certainly planning on coming home."
"Look at this," said Bjorn.
The glob of green goo situated on the floor near the front door was disgusting but not unusual in and of itself. The sewer muck had been ubiquitous ever since their arrival in Talantier and hardly seemed poised to go away unless the sewerers returned to work. Both men had noticed and stepped over the gelatinous mass when they had first entered but now Oliver saw what he had missed at first; no doubt due to his desire not to get any closer to the foul stuff than he absolutely had to.
But now, looking closer, the mage could see there was a footprint in it.
It was only a partial print but even that was enough for both men to clearly determine that it was not human.
The foot was clawed; three, maybe four claws.
And behind each claw there was the same imprint of some kind of pad.
"I think," said Oliver Athraite said as he slowly rose back to his feet, "that I might have an idea about what kind of creature made this."
"What?" asked Bjorn, curious.
But the wizard shook his head. "Not here," he said grimly. "It might be a lot closer than you think."
Sigmundson didn't see how that could be possible but he made no comment as he followed Oliver, who had already left Algie's cabin and was now heading back the way they had come and moving at a speed that suggested great urgency.
The sextet met up about half-way between Algie's home and the Ratcatchers' Guild. A few minutes sufficed to get everyone up to speed.
"Let's check out this Bella," said Lumen.
The others nodded in agreement. "Where does she live?" Bjorn asked.
The moon elf looked over at Saito, who pulled a scrap of parchment from his belt pouch and examined it.
"On Tailor's Way," the samurai read off. "A house painted blue, directly across from the Weavers' Guild."
Illumenatta, who seemed to have the best grasp of the city's layout next to the absent Caffrine, pointed out the way and the party set out.
"Odd," Qidarchios said after a few minutes of walking.
"What's odd?" Saito looked over sharply at the high elf.
"We're getting into a better section of the Curtain Quarter," Dark responded, indicating their surroundings, "not counting the dung and overflowing sewers of course. More expensive to live here. Why would someone with that kind of money need to get a job as a ratcatcher?"
"Maybe she didn't need to," Oliver Athraite offered.
The transmuter was looking straight ahead and didn't meet anyone's eye as he spoke.
"Maybe she wanted to."
He would not elaborate, even to Seb.
The Weaver's Guild looked clean enough; whitewashed walls and a sign hanging over the main door showing an image of a bolt of cloth, a spool of thread and a needle. A young man, sweeping outside, glanced over at the six individuals who stood outside the Guildhouse and yet seemed to be staring in the opposite direction.
Specifically, they were staring at the open park that lay on the opposite side of Tailor's Way.
"Who," queried Oliver, a grim expression on his face, "besides myself is not surprised by this?"
Dark's spirits lifted momentarily as the Light in the Darkness returned to the Long Whiskers to discuss their next move over lunch. The small, thin figure with red hair standing by the front door of the inn looked like Caffrine Esslos, especially when it spotted them and waved.
When the figure ran over, however, the bard couldn't hide his disappointment. It was a human boy of perhaps eleven who directed his attention to Lumen (as most people did), although he did steal several sideways glances at Sebastian.
"Are you Lumen, my Lady?" he asked.
"Not so sure about the 'Lady' part," Illumenatta said with a smile that set the poor boy's knees to knocking, "but I'm sure I'm who you're looking for."
"I was hired to give this to you," the lad said, holding out something that he did not bother to hide his distaste at having to carry.
It was a tuft of straw-colored hair about the size of his palm, barely held together by the piece of scalp it was attached to.
"You certainly get your share of secret admirers, Lumen," Bjorn said with a grim smile as he examined the hair that the moon elf had of yet made no move to take.
"Who gave this to you?" Saito asked the courier.
"A man named Willard from the Ratcatchers' Guild," the boy replied. "Told me to tell you he'd found it underneath a desk while searching the Guildmaster's office."
The six looked at each other in silence.
"I have feeling this doesn't surprise you either, my friend," Seb said to Oliver.
"Surprise, no," the mage said, shaking his head in resignation. "Dismay, yes."
"Dismay!" crowed Fiach.
The sextet sat around their table. Their lunch of blueberry soup and bread was picked at without any real enthusiasm with the exception of Sebastian Sanders..
"So," Dark said, looking over at Oliver Athraite. "Time to tell what us your theory is. Start by telling us kind of hair that was," he finished, referring to the sample which he refrained from putting on the table in deference to whatever appetite his friends might still have left.
The hair clump currently resided in Dark's belt pouch, as his cousin Lumen had refused to touch it.
"Looked like rat hair to me," said Bjorn, his hands clasped in front of him on the table. "Too long for a normal rat, though. A dire variety, perhaps? Living in the sewers?"
Oliver Athraite, to the surprise of all his companions, shook his head in the negative.
"It's from a wererat," he said.
After a long silence, Illumenatta was the first to speak.
"How sure of that are you?" she asked the wizard.
"No doubt whatsoever," Oliver replied, before looking around at each of his companions in turn.
"My," he hesitated, "former instructor was fascinated by creatures that could change their form. He kept quite a few skin and hair samples, as well as some stuffed specimens on hand in his home," he finished with a dour expression. "That's hair from the hybrid from of a wererat, all right."
"Hybrid?" asked Bjorn, looking puzzled.
"Werecreatures can assume a form somewhere between their humanoid and their animal nature," Dark explained.
Oliver nodded in confirmation. "The question we need answered now," the transmuter went on, "is whether this is from a born wererat or an infected one."
"What is the difference?" asked Saito.
"Someone who was born of wererat parents can change shape anytime they want and can also infect others with lycanthropy," Athraite said. "Someone who has bitten by a wererat cannot transmit the curse to others and changes form on the full moon, whether they wish to or not."
"Full moon is still over a week away," Illumenatta observed, "so unless that," she pointed at Dark to indicate the item he carried, "was hiding under Weston's desk for a very long time, I think we're dealing with a native wererat."
Oliver said nothing but nodded in agreement.
"And we think it's this Bella?" asked Sigmundson, looking around at the others just to make sure they were all thinking along the same lines.
"Seems like it," Dark said. "No other obvious reason for her to hide her true identity by giving the guild a false address."
"Base question still remains," muttered Takahashi darkly. "Why? What is the reason for all of this?"
"Is good question," Sebastian added, swallowing the hunk of bread he had been working on. "Wererat would obwiously like to turn town into cesspool but is just as obwious that she is not working alone. What do her allies have to gain by all this?"
The long silence that followed was broken by Oliver Athraite, but the wizard's words, spoken so softly that they had to lean forward to hear them, took everybody by complete surprise.
"No one look around," he said. "And say nothing else about this. We're being scryed on."
The Light in the Darkness, with some difficulty, obeyed Oliver's instructions and acted innocuous, throwing around a few comments about they were completely baffled by the missing ratcatchers and what it might mean until Athraite nodded after a minute or so and said, "it's gone."
"We do seem to be accumulating enemies, don't we?" Lumen asked with a smile while drumming her fingers on the table.
There was a general murmured assent, but the bard/sorceress noticed that Saito Takahashi had not responded to her comment but instead had risen to his feet.
The samurai gulped but kept his gaze on the front door, which was to Lumen's back.
"She's here," Saito said.
The others turned to see Caffrine Esslos standing by the door, looking back at them.
Some of the group, like Oliver and Sebastian, noticed first the studded leather armor the half-elf was now wearing, or the morning star she now carried from her weapon belt. Others, like Saito, Bjorn and the two bards, zeroed in on the teenager's expression.
It was nervous; apprehensive. Her body language made it clear she was ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
Lumen took the initiative.
"Caffrine," she said with her warmest smile as she stood up and gestured to the empty chair on her left between herself and Bjorn, "we've missed you. Please join us."
The rogue seemed torn. Her eyes darted from one member of the party to the other.
One by one, the other members of the Light in the Darkness stood as well and welcomed the teenager back into their company.
Bjorn did not miss Saito Takahashi's trembling, even though the wood elf kept one hand on the table to steady himself.
Slowly, Caffrine approached.
Taking care to ensure that her second cousin knew it was coming and an opportunity to refuse it if she wished, Lumen took a step forward as she arrived and moved to hug Caffrine.
The girl hesitated, but eventually acquiesced to her cousin's embrace, although she remained stiff and trembling.
"I'm sorry," Caffrine eventually said once she was seated, her voice sounding hoarse. "I'm sorry I didn't meet you yesterday. Things have been… chaotic… her voice trailed off as she stared at Lumen's bowl of soup.
"That," Saito announced, his voice suddenly once again loud and strong, "is due mainly to me."
The wood elf, no longer shaking, abruptly stood up and began to walk counterclockwise around the table towards the half-elf.
Lumen, feeling Caffrine stiffen up, gave the teenager's shoulder a squeeze as the samurai approached.
She was about to whisper some words of comfort to her cousin when without any warning Saito Takahashi drew his sword.
Caffrine shrieked in terror and jumped to her feet as Lumen and Bjorn closed ranks around the rogue. The others were already in motion when the wood elf sank down on one knee and held out his katana: his right hand grasping the hilt and the blade resting over his left arm.
"Caffrine Esslos, daughter of Hennet Esslos," Saito said, looking up at the frightened half-elf, "my life is yours to take."
The new silence seemed to everyone to last an eternity. Even the background noise of the common room had quieted.
No one moved.
"What?" Caffrine finally asked, her eyes wide as much in confusion now as in fear.
"I turned on my friend and ally in battle," Saito said. "The magical influence of that Dromdal woman's voice upon my mind is no excuse. Nothing which may or may not have happened after the battle is any excuse."
Caffrine's mouth tightened but she said nothing.
Now the samurai was starting to tremble again.
"You were strong; I was not," Takahashi went on. "I thought you a coward, but you persevered even when I did not. My sin is one of dishonor."
Seeming of it's own initiative, Saito's head dropped down so that he was staring at the wooden floor.
"I did not think you were worthy of honor, but it is I who am not. If you wish it, Caffrine Esslos, my life is yours to take," he repeated, gesturing again with his katana.
Tears were rolling down the half-elf's face again.
"I don't want to kill you, Takahashi," she said. "It's just that…"
Caffrine looked around helplessly at the others.
"I've always been ashamed of who I am; of what I've had to do to survive," she said through her attempts at stifling her sobs. "I always told myself that I shouldn't be, and I guess I kind of fooled myself. But then I met you, and when you…"
The teenager was unable to continue but her gesture at Saito made her meaning all too plain.
Very slowly, Saito Takahashi rose to his feet, sheathed his sword and walked up to the rogue who was now trembling wore than he was, but held her ground.
"If you will not kill me, Caffrine," Saito said quietly, "may I be so honored as to count myself your friend?"
Another silence which no one dared break.
"Does this mean," Caffrine sniffled eventually, a hint of her old manner coming back as she wiped her eyes clear, "that you won't be calling me Thief anymore?"
Takahashi smiled.
"Ah, my child," the samurai said in a voice more soothing than any of his companions had yet heard him use, "samurai are bound by bushido to the truth. You are indeed a thief and you will remain a thief to me forever."
The hurt returned to Caffrine's face.
"Then what has changed?" she cried out.
The smile remained on Saito's face.
Only now was it joined by tears that he made no effort to stem.
"I changed, Caffrine-san," he said. "I changed."
Now both the samurai's smile and his tears were mirrored by the young rogue.
This time, Caffrine did not hesitate to accept the offered embrace.
