The music I heard upon entering the district came from the local tavern. The building itself was a dinosaur, its roof shingles overtaken by moss and rot, the heavily-vandalized door nearly falling off its hinges. Bright light shone through the grimy windows, allowing sight to the assortment of patrons inside. For all the death on the streets, there was sure a good load of liveliness inside.
I stood to the side, watching idly as my new partner negotiated with the doorkeeper through a viewing slit in the door. Apparently, special coins were needed to gain entrance to the tavern – namely because of the auction that would go on inside that night and the desire of the general populace to exploit the ill fate of the masses – and Dil had, apparently, gotten robbed on the way there.
"Dammit, Thurin!" The half-elf cried, slapping the door, "It's me, Dil! Don't give me this bullshit…" He frowned into the viewing slit, "I paid you earlier today!". This had gone on for approximately fifteen minutes, and Dil's voice was only getting scratchier and scratchier.
The owner of the bright blue eyes on the other side of the door shook his head, "Nay, lad. Ye should know best of all that my job ain't te grant folks favors." He apologized in a rough accent.
Dil's eyes grew wide and he almost threw himself at the door, "What?!" He cried, both hands spread on the door now, "You owe me favors, Thurin!" He snapped, incredulous, "Surely your present employer hasn't rid you of the memory of Sandy, has he? Do you remember Sandy?" There was a pause on the other end and Dil eagerly dove for the attack, "Of course you do. My mother almost killed me for that!" He pointed an accusatory finger, "I took the fall for you, little man. My mother was disappointed in me…real disappointed. And the girls never forgave me!" He smacked the door again, "I still can't so much as sit beside any of them without getting smacked or snubbed or insulted or drenched with alcoholic beverages! And all that for you, my friend." He narrowed his eyes and his voice dropped to a hiss, "So you owe me big, jackass, and I'm calling in the favor right now."
The man behind the door looked over in my direction and I waved. He returned his attention to Dil and blinked, "I'm still gonna have to ask ye fer five co—" He started, then was violently cut off as Dil pounded on the door one final time.
"Thurin!" The rogue screamed, the door rattling ominously under his fist.
"Fine!" The guard roared at long last, adding a few choice expletives and unpleasantness in Dil's name. The door swung open so fast that I feared it would be flung right off.
Dil turned to me then and motioned to the door, "After you." He said pleasantly and offered a tight smile.
I held a chuckle and we entered the tavern. Despite it being mid-morning, the place was just teeming with people. The auction had obviously attracted much attention, and it seemed that everyone wanted to get a good seat (figuratively speaking) in time for the evening show. Ale foamed in most goblets – even those of the visibly sick. The tavern was accepting anyone and everyone, with the proper pass coins or undue favors that is, and that included those stricken with disease.
As the door snapped shut at our heels, Dil turned a wicked glare upon the doorman – a burly dwarf standing on a chair by the door. The dwarf, Thurin, grumbled something under his breath and waved him off irritably.
As Dil stood still and looked around, I frowned at the people who passed by us, "There are diseased people here, you know." I said, "Aren't you afraid of catching their sickness?" I looked up at the half-elf but he was concentrated on his search for something or someone and hadn't heard me. It came to my mind then that none of the healthy-looking people in the tavern seemed distressed by the presence of the sick among them. Perhaps tragedy brought them together in hopes of finding some relief? Or maybe they all figured that the 'cure' that Dil's leader Vengual would bring to them would cure them all one way or the other.
I was pulled from my reverie when there came a sudden motion at my side. Dil had found whatever it was he was looking for and had bolted through the crowd after it. I followed, and we came to a halt at the back of the room, where a tall, bearded man stood in a doorway.
Dil raised his hand and grinned, "Mutanim, my boy!" He cried good-naturedly and the tall man came forth to greet him, grasping his arm in one hand and patting it roughly with the other. I watched curiously, feeling terribly useless and invisible, wondering just how many people Dil knew.
"Nothing yet 'bout Vengual, Dil." Mutanim said at once, shaking his shaggy head, "The boys 'er still out lookin' and there's nothing else I can do, really…" He trailed off and looked over at me, noticing me for the first time, "Oh hey lookit this!" He cooed, looking me up and down; he smirked and reached out to touch my face, "Another gift from the lady Ophala she is, eh?"
Dil's hand shot out like lightning and slapped Mutanim's fingers away, "Ah ah ah! Not so fast, my friend!" He exclaimed and winked at the other man, "This one's not mum's." The two seemed to exchange some sort of inside joke and chuckled.
Mutanim drew back slightly and inclined his head to me, "My mistake. Dreadfully sorry, Miss…" He paused expectantly.
"Malkat." I offered and looked over at Dil suspiciously. Was he trafficking women? Dil grinned from ear to ear. Probably. Mental note: find out later.
Forgetting me altogether, Mutanim sighed heavily and returned his attention to Dil, "I'd throw everybody out, but it'd be a sin to waste a cash grab like this, y'know?" He appealed to Dil, holding out his hands; when Dil nodded his understanding, he shrugged, "And besides…maybe this is jus' part of the show. You know how Vengual is an' all…"
Dil frowned at that, "No…this isn't any show, I assure you." He pressed concernedly, "Have you seen any of Callik's men around here today?" He looked around, craning his head to scrutinize the many foreign faces.
Mutanim looked stoic, "Couple. Hard to tell who's who nowadays, mind." He furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, then lashed out and playfully hit Dil on the arm, "Hey, know what?! Saw one o' your guys this mornin'; came to me an' asked to take the Challenge!" He laughed, "Can you believe it? At a time like this the damn kids're still lookin' for something t'do!"
Somewhat dejected, I piped up, "Challenge?" I asked curiously. Mutanim looked at me like I had just sprouted a third eye.
"You mean to tell me you haven't heard of my Challenge?" The tall man almost barked at me, "Where you from? Th'Underdark? The bleedin' ruins of Myth Drannor?!"
I stared at him dully, "Apparently both." I droned.
With a grunt, Mutanim ignored the sarcasm, "Well whatever. Anyhow," He thumbed over his shoulder, where past the doorway behind him was a short staircase leading to a heavy oak door, "My Challenge was th'most popular damn thing before the plague usurped my fame. I got surprises back there that'd stump the cleverest o' halflings! Worked hard on that place, I did." He nodded to himself, "Ain't no poor bastard ever get out of there alive so far!" He grinned and drew himself up proudly.
I cackled despite myself, "So you have a dragon in there or what?" I asked. Where there's someone offering stupidity, there's always someone right close by who's willing to buy it.
Mutanim waved his hands, "No no…I'm not that lucky a man, lass." He smirked, "But tell ya what, there's a pretty penny in it fer the man who bests the chaos I got set up back there."
I raised an eyebrow, "How much exactly?" I inquired. Was I considering taking the Challenge? No. I was only probing for future entertainment.
"Well so far it's up to two thousand five-hundred." Mutanim answered with a measure of reserved awe; he grinned when my eyebrows shot up, "Nice, eh? Specially in times like these, too." He seemed to get an idea and thrust his chin out at Dil, "How come you ain't never tried yer hand at it, man?" He asked the half-elf, who'd been quiet and contemplative since I had asked about the Challenge.
Dil blinked and raised his eyebrows at his friend, "What? Me? Oh…" He shook his head and made a face, "I'm no fool, Mutanim." He said and glared, then, "So anyway…are you sure the boys've looked everywhere? Vengual didn't just disappear, you know." He urged, bringing the conversation back to its original path.
Mutanim shrugged helplessly, "Hey…I said they looked everywhere and that they're still lookin'. There's only s'much we can do. My guys're dyin' out there, too." He replied, his tone dropping from pleasant to almost hopeless.
Dil rubbed his eyes and took a breath, "I know, I know…I'm sorry and all, but that's war." He frowned up at Mutanim, "I was attacked just a moment ago, too. Right near the gates." He motioned loosely over to me, "Malkat helped me. Look, I know Callik's up to something and I'm sick of standing around like a blasted peon waiting for a miracle."
Mutanim looked deeply disturbed, "Dil, come on, man!" He pleaded, grasping the man's arm and squeezing it as if to ground him, "What're ye gonna do? Seriously! We can't find Vengual. I say he'll turn up when he chooses to and give us all a good scare." He shook his head, "Goin' out like a mad harpy isn't going to help matters any; ye can't do more in a couple hours than what twenty other guys have been doing since this morning."
Dil pulled his gaze from Mutanim's pleading one and looked over at me, though his eyes were focused and unseeing, "How many Bloodsailors did you say you saw here since this morning, Mutanim?" He asked the other man without looking at him. I looked from Dil to Mutanim and back again.
"What…I'd say…" The shaggy-bearded man thought for a moment, "…three or four, tops. Stalked in here and stuck out like sore thumbs, what with their red getup an' all." He shook his head, "Then there was your guy…Vengual's men still wear red too, some o' them…guess they didn't have a change of clean clothes or whatnot when Callik took the reins…" He frowned and trailed off.
I looked over at Dil and examined his attire. He wore no red. I caught his gaze, "Hey…where's your red gear?" I asked rudely.
Dil's expression remained thoughtful, "I had this." He pointed to his dark, roan-red hair, "And in case you weren't listening, Mutanim just said that only Callik's men wear red now." His eyes flicked to the side for a moment and I followed his gaze. He was looking at the oak door behind Mutanim.
I looked at Mutanim, who was now also looking at the very same door. Both men had gone strangely quiet…then they looked at each other and Mutanim's face became a mask of disbelief.
"Holy shit…" The tall man breathed, "…Talos' crotch!" He cried and hurried over to the door; he fumbled around for something in his trouser pocket, "You don't think Callik's got him—" He stopped in mid-sentence and produced a small rusted key. I began to understand.
Dil ran his hand through his hair and tapped his foot on the ground as Mutanim fiddled with lock on the door, "If Vengual's been smuggled right under your nose…" He started and hurried over to the door as soon as Mutanim had unlocked it.
"Callik's a clever fellow if he managed to—" I started but Dil whipped around to look at me, furious.
"Callik is nothing." He snapped, then motioned for me to follow him through the door ahead, "Now let's go. I don't have all day." With that, he disappeared into the darkness beyond.
I looked at Mutanim, who stood by the door, and found myself speechless. I made my way down the small staircase and up to the dark doorway. Before I stepped through, however, I peered over at Mutanim and raised an eyebrow, "Do I get the two thousand five hundred gold if I come out of here alive?" I asked mockingly.
Mutanim grinned, "Maybe."
