Seeing that Devlar had yet to do anything about Tyrahae's condition, Zak walked over and asked bluntly,
"How much?" Devlar scrutinized the situation carefully, and estimated,
"Twenty gold pieces. I'm not really good at this healing business, I just took it up a short while ago, so I can't do anything further. She'll live, though, which is more than I can say right now." The rogue took out his priestly symbol of Mask, and waited to be paid. Arakanzar merely leaned against a wall and watched with a critical, detached, perspective. Zak knew that the price was actually quite fair, but instinct drove him to bargain a bit.
"How's ten? I'm not exactly loaded, you know," he suggested, which wasn't exactly the best bluff, for if Arakanzar had indeed heard of him, and that was odd this far south, then he knew that Zak was quite well off.
"Sir! Surely price is not an object when a person's life is at stake?" Devlar protested theatrically, flinging out his arms in abject despair. Zak sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The thief knew where to hit hardest, and Zak wasn't willing to let somebody die over the sake of gold pieces he could earn again.
"Fine, here's half your fee," he said, belatedly counting out ten gold coins from his bag of holding and slapping the mass into Devlar's outstretched palm.
"Now get to it." The thief merely bowed and, laying his hand on one of Tyra's wounds, began a prayer to Mask. Meanwhile, Zak occupied himself in searching the enforcer's body for anything of value. This was always unpleasant, and was made even more so by the fact that the man had gone and bled all over his robe from the gash in his neck. He found a coin purse inside one of the man's pockets, with fourteen silvers, three gold, and seven coppers. Not the most wealthy, but it'd go towards the second half of Devlar's fee. Looking closer, Zak also discovered two jambiyas tucked away in his robe, and one of them came with a well-made sheath. Devlar's healing chant rose to a crescendo behind him, then stopped. He heard a pained groan as Tyrahae regained conciousness, and some scraping as she stood up. Taking both daggers, meaning to see if the one was magical later, Zak turned back to stare into Tyra's newly healed visage. Her injuries were mostly mended, but her armor was not. She had simply discarded the slashed and scorched remains of the wizard's robe, it being beyond repair. The resulting exposure of skin sent the corner of Zak's mouth curling up. If carried too far, this sort of thing could be dangerous, but considering that he lived with danger almost every day, he had to admit that this could be trouble.
"You might want to get some new armor before you're sunburned in places it's liable to chafe," he recommended in a carefully neutral tone. She leaned in close, and growled,
"You just watch yourself. I don't like owing people, and it's a lot easier to simply kill you then pay it back. So instead, I'll just warn you that you'd be doing well to get as far away from me as possible." Zak met her stare, and raised an eyebrow.
"We'll see about that. You could have tried to plant a dagger in my back just now. Why didn't you?"
"Because Arakonza," Here she gestured over her shoulder towards the crime lord, who showed no reaction save to turn to Devlar and begin a side conversation with the rogue,
"Said he wanted us both alive for a business proposition. If he hadn't, you'd already be dead. So watch your back, because at the soonest possible opportunity, there'll be a knife in it." She snatched the second jambiya from his grasp, and stuck it in her belt. Hefting the dire mace with new strength, she turned and strode off towards Arakonza, who gestured for Zak to follow. On his way past Devlar, he slipped him the remainder of the promised coins, murmuring,
"For services rendered." Heading down the street, now a subject for a few staring eyes, the mercenary shook his head. She could've tried, but he had heard her as she came up, and would've foiled any attempt to stab him from behind. Even if she had aimed for his neck, he could've spun around fast enough to stop it. He had guessed, correctly, that she would know the dire mace made to much noise to swing silently. As they walked along, Zak tapped Tyrahae on the shoulder.
"What!" she snapped, looking back. Zak took his dark green cloak out of his bag, and proffered the garment silently. Muttering angrily, she took the cloak without so much as a thank you, and went on without another backward glance. Zak shrugged. His mood was changing back to a good one, because if anything, a challenge was an opportunity to prove his valor.
They reached Arakonza's place in a couple minutes, and when they had both seated themselves around the table, with Devlar holding his crossbow on the pair of them from his corner, the half-drow assumed the posture of a merchant, and remarked to Tyrahae,
"Perhaps you will be so kind as to compensate us for the healing you just received?" Zak suppressed a chuckle with some difficulty. Arakonza was good at being greedy, that was for sure. Charging both him and her for the healing spell. He wasn't above a little payback.
"What, he didn't pay you already?" Tyra asked, jerking her thumb towards Zak.
"Isn't it the sort of thing that you'd do?" she continued, this time speaking directly to him.
"When the person who found the healing is constantly harangued by the person who benefited from the results, I find that a situation to put it on their tab. You can have that copper piece back if you need it, and if that still isn't enough, well, we'll have to talk about laying off the whole 'wanting to rip out my tongue and use it as a belt' thing." Zak responded lazily, totally at ease. She ground her teeth for a moment, but relented, perhaps realizing that she had to give in sometimes.
"All right, how much?" Arakonza smiled beautifically.
"A mere thirty gold pieces should cover such fine work, should it not?" Tyra looked down her nose at him.
"Your mistake was to heal me first without asking payment. You'll get what I give you, in this case, five gold coins. I'm not exactly in tip-top shape, and I think I can judge that better than you." Unconciously, she pulled Zak's cloak tighter about herself. The half-drow sighed dramatically.
"If you believe such a fee is adequate, then I suppose I, as a poor, but honest purveyor of goods, must trust you." Tyra was startled, but hid it well as she pushed over the requisite amount of coin. Zak knew that he had accepted the asking price because he'd be getting more coin out of her later.
"Well, what now?" she asked resignedly.
"Now is when you two are free to leave this town. I believe that Zak already has passage on a caravan that is leaving tomorrow. You however, m'lady, will have to talk price with me for getting onto that same caravan."
"I am NOT leaving with that pointy-eared sword nut!" Tyrahae burst forth vehemently. Zak stiffened at the slight, but kept his hands on the table, in plain view. His payback would come later.
"Very well," Arakonza agreed.
"Then stay here until the next carvan comes through. But don't expect further protection from my people. If you don't want my services, I fail to see why I should extend you the offer for however long it takes you to leave." He rose, and made as if to leave. Zak did his best not to show his interest in the affair, but he really did want to get Tyra's story. He didn't particularly care if she was a Zhent or not, but there was just something about her that piqued his curiousity. And it wasn't all the damaged armor, though admittedly it was part of it. What could he say? He certainly wasn't going to back out now.
"Wait." Tyrahae said, her voice sullen.
"Let's talk." For once, her scowl faded, and she did her best to act civilly. Arakonza turned around and came back.
"Oh, well, another, more spiteful person than I might simply refuse to deal with you altogether now," he informed her archly.
"But I, being of unmistakably generous nature, will consent to hear you out." Zak rolled his eyes.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, O Arakonza the Unmistakably Generous, I think I'd just as soon find a place to stay and find my caravan again," he excused himself, casually grabbing his cloak back from Tyra. Devlar made a high-pitched whistle from his corner, and commented,
"Hey there, Ty. After the meeting, I'll show you my Rapier of Swashbuckling. I'm thinking you'll be mighty impressed, if you catch my drift." Tyrahae plucked the jambiya from her belt, and hurled it at the laughing rogue with an overhand snap of the wrist. Quick as lightning, Devlar's hand flashed out and caught it less than an inch from his forehead. He plowed right on ahead, ignoring how close he had come to certain death with a nonchalance that left Zak astounded.
"Whoa! Bad show there! Can't wait to get your hands on me, eh? I know just the type…" Whatever else he was going to say died on his tongue as Arakonza held up his hand.
"Inciting the customers is bad for business," the half-drow reminded the rogue, who ceased to be amused and swallowed hard.
"And if you want to continue in my employ, you will save such things until after we have concluded our business. Then you can do that all you want, but for now, keep your rapier tucked away."
"Sure thing!" Devlar agreed cheerfully, and went back to playing with his crossbow, but surreptiously making lewd gestures at Tyrahae when he thought she was looking. Zak decided to hang around and see how things went. Arakonza certainly wouldn't mind. Leaning against the wall, and taking a swig from his hip flask, he settled in for a bit of a wait.
"What'll it cost for me to get onto this caravan, then?" Tyra asked, crossing her arms.
"Depends on how much you've got." Arakonza studied the fingernails on his right hand, feigning indifference.
"How about if I've just got seven gold, five silver, and three copper coins to my name?" Tyrahae inquired, depressedly. For the first time since Zak had seen him, the half-drow showed some signs of anxiety. He frowned, and let fall the self-assured manner in which he had been conducting the negotiations so far. Zak didn't blame him.
"Well…" he said hesitantly, as if trying to figure out whether he could leap over a deep pit,
"I certainly hope that you have more than that, because to be honest," he laid both his hands on the table,
"If in fact that's how much you have, you're simply not worth extorting from." At the words, 'to be honest' Zak laughed quietly to himself, but by the end of the sentence, he was back to biting his lip. He could pay Tyra's way in, but such an act was not likely to endear him to her, and he saw little chance of getting it back. But, he had to make a descision soon, or Arakonza was liable to take matters into his own hands. Devlar had stopped trying to get Tyra to notice him, and had laid the crossbow over his arm, sighting down the bolt right between her eyes. The rogue was in deep concentration, and if he fired now, Zak could tell he wouldn't miss, not even if Tyra moved before he fired. He stepped in.
"Let's say, hypothetically," he began, hoping to stall for time until he could figure out something else do to, but Arakonza held up a hand.
"Let's not say 'hypothetically'," he cautioned, sounding somewhat pained.
"Not only is that at least as formulaic as the other phrase that I mentioned, but there's no one here but us, so you may feel perfectly free to refrain from using the word. If I said that hypothetically I was a powerful wizard, you would react in the same manner as you would have if I hadn't used the word, for example, so please, just speak freely."
"Are you a wizard?" Zak asked guardedly, for spells were something that he had the most trouble guarding against. He had invested all his skill in armed combat, not spell-battle, and consequently, had no knowledge whatsoever of spells, save that he knew spellcasters could do just about anything. Arakonza's devil-may-care manner made a return appearance, as he easily slipped back into the personage of the helpful merchant. Devlar let the crossbow drift away from Tyra's face, and Zak relaxed a tiny bit.
"That information really has no bearing on this conversation, and besides, as I said," The half-drow shrugged eloquently, which, beneath the heavy robe, was a small miracle in and of itself.
"You'll take care now to treat me as if I was one, whether I am, or not. Now, what were you going to say before I was forced to interrupt?"
"Let's say, then, that in reality," Zak began, taking care to ensure that he kept himself on firm ground,
"I have enough coin to buy Tyra's way into the caravan. Let's suppose," he went on, warming to the subject, and starting to regain confidence,
"That I'm on good terms with the caravan master, and could probably get her in without paying as much." The rough beginnings of a plan began to take shape in his mind. The odds were much against the half-drow if it came down to combat. After all, Devlar only had one crossbow shot, and he was sure he could get Arakonza before the wizard, if that's what he was, could cast a spell. The man's threat was nearly forgotten beneath Zak's overpowering belief in himself, but not entirely. Arakonza leaned back in his chair. A loud creak resounded from within the overstressed wood, but he ignored it, and replied,
"Were you to, in reality, buy the lady's way in, it would cost you the same as it would her. That is to say, fifteen gold pieces." Zak kept his entire savings in the bag of holding, which was why it couldn't have held much more than his shield, harp, and a few other knickknacks he had picked up. He had considered, on occasion, stashing them away someplace, but didn't like leaving it out of his sight, and if he ever needed money in a pinch, it didn't do him any good then. He could easily afford fifteen gold pieces, but if he was anything, he was a skinflint.
"Fifteen?" he questioned, disbelivingly. His plan was smoothing out, but he still needed time to think. Tyra hadn't said a word during the entire exchange, and was still sitting in her chair, looking bored with the proceedings.
"What do you think?" he addressed her, flashing his most trusting smile. She sniffed disdainfully.
"You clearly don't know when to let well enough alone," she said, shaking her head in dismay. "I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why you want to help someone who has sworn to kill you, and don't think that I won't!" she added, her latent rage beginning to flare back up again under the prompting. Devlar aimed his crossbow again, but Arakonza motioned for him to leave things be. The half-drow appeared to be enjoying Tyrahae's attitude towards Zak immensely. The mercenary didn't intend to give him the satisfaction, but it was hard to get Tyra to calm down.
"Never my intention to bribe you with help," he hastened to assure her, taking a step back.
"But if I want to waste my money, what's the harm in letting me do it? It doesn't cost you anything." That got her attention, and she thought it over for a moment.
"Fine," she decided scornfully.
"Throw away gold pieces. See if I care." She returned to her relaxed position, and resumed her examination of the tabletop. Zak turned back to Arakonza, his plan almost complete. Almost would have to do, it seemed, for he was out of ideas to stall with.
"Hey listen now," he began,
"I can tell that if the best you can do is to extort people for fifteen gold pieces, and don't think I won't bargain it down some, you're just rotting away in this dirtbag town. I've never known somebody like you to be content to do that kind of thing. Sure, it's easy money, but the boredom has gotta just hang on you. Hey, Devlar," The thief sat up and dug a finger into his ear at the mention of his name.
"Do you think you could stand another few months rotting away here?"
"Well, I could, but yeah, I'm just going out of my mind with boredom," he confessed, laying aside his crossbow, and yawning mightily.
"You have any idea just how much more I was getting back in Calimport?"
"I do, so don't talk about it." Arakonza interjected tiredly. Turning back to Zak, he said,
"I fail to see how our emotional state figures into it." Devlar sat back down, and retrieved his crossbow, but didn't bother to aim it even absently.
"Well, how about if you leave with us? Put together a package deal for you, Dev, and Tyra. Once you've negotiated with the caravan master to get all three of you onto the caravan, you divide the sum by three, and bill me for whatever Tyra's third is, how about?" Arakonza acknowledged the truth that lay in Zak's proposal with a nod.
"I agree that we are growing complacent in this town. In point of fact," he conceded,
"We have only been here for a couple months, and weren't planning on staying long. But it was rather nice to relax after our somewhat hectic departure from Calimport." By the way in which the half-drow referred to that last bit, Zak guessed that he had been run out, and thought cynically, What do you expect from a city overrun with guilds already. They don't need competition.
"Yeah! Let's get out of this nowhere place!" Devlar put in from his reclining position over on the window ledge.
"I wanna get something other than a handful of dust and some silvers when I go out on reconnaisence." Arakonza wasn't going to be rushed into anything though, and idly said,
"Dev, let me think." Zak took his seat again, since it was clear he was back at the table, and offered Tyra the cloak back, but received such a venomous glance that he folded it and stuffed it back into the bag of holding instead. If she'd rather walk about like that, fine, he figured resignedly.
"I have some modifications to put into that proposal of yours." Arakonza said, standing up and walking about.
"I will make arrangements for the three of us to be added to the caravan, and for Tyra to pick up some new armor on the way out. In exchange, you two get to work for me for a few jobs, as well as pay her third, plus the cost of the armor, plus the standard fee for protection, which I have extended to both of you in advance, and didn't mention before." Zak winced beneath the steady barrage of charges.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he protested, not at all interested in paying for all of that, but even less interested in working for Arakonza.
"First of all, neither of us are gonna do your work for you, not even if that's the only way that we all leave together," he established firmly.
"Second, if you want to leave here because of my proposal, I'd say that you owe me for it, and you should knock off the cost of the armor. Third," He paused dramatically here, and his expression darkened, and eyes narrowed.
"If you suggest that I really needed 'protection', you're a lot stupider than I thought. Now, I'll agree that I owe you for acting on my suggestion, so you can put the cost of the armor back in, on further consideration." Zak belatedly smote himself for not thinking of that before, but there wasn't anywhere to go now but forward.
"I'm still not sure that I'll be acting on your suggestion, mind you." Arakonza corrected him.
"While I do feel that a move to a bigger city would be beneficial for me, that is the only reason I have to leave. I also have plenty of reason to stay, and with my lifespan, another few months won't matter in the long run. Very well, I won't charge either of you for protection, or the armor, but in exchange, I insist you take on one job for me."
"And that would be?"
"Well, if I'm to be departing, I can just steal anything I'd like, since I won't be around to arrest, so I'd like you to help Devlar rob the strongbox over at the best inn in this place, the Blunted Saber. And while you're at it, do the same for the next-best inn, right beside it."
"That's two jobs!" Zak protested angrily. Arakonza shook his head.
"No, it's two things to do on one job. You can interpret it differently, but since I happen to be the one in charge, it's my interpretation we'll be using. Are we agreed?" The crime lord extended one obsidian hand across the table.
"Fine." Zak agreed grudgingly, taking the proffered hand and shaking it firmly.
"I'll do it. Now get started on finding some armor and getting all of us onto that caravan. We're leaving tomorrow." He stood up, and without waiting to see what Tyrahae thought, stepped back out to see if Anbory was to be found.
After Zak had left, after a nod from Arakonza, Devlar took the bolt out of the crossbow, and pulled the trigger. At the crack! of the string, Tyrahae sat bolt upright from her slumped position, and had stood up, tipping the chair over, and grabbed the dire mace before she realized what was going on. Arakonza was all business.
"You want to kill Crimsonleaf, I can arrange that too," he said confidently, his attitude having shifted yet again to quiet power. Tyra sat back down.
"How?" she asked warily. He gave her a knowing smile.
"I'll let you in on a little secret. I am in fact a wizard, and can end one half-elf's life quite handily. From a distance. Without any risk to you or me."
"What'll it cost? You know exactly how much I have." Tyra murmured, somewhat in doubt of this good fortune. Odds were that he'd offer Zak a similar deal for protection from her, yet…he seemed somewhat honorable…in his own way. He'd carry out a contract, but you couldn't expect more than that, and probably, she concluded, not even that. It was best to assume that he'd try something like sell Zak and her out to each other and try to come out ahead.
"That's the good part. It doesn't have to cost you anything but information." Arakonza explained.
"I just want to know what brought you here, how you came to meet Crimsonleaf, and what you plan to do. Oh, and I get anything valuable I find on his corpse. And I'll need you to take on an additional job for me once we arrive in the next city. Make that two jobs, in fact, since you seem to hate him so much. I know how that is." Tyrahae pondered the deal, and found more than a little risk in accepting it. Arakonza could sell that kind of information for a great deal of money in most major cities, but she figured that he wouldn't quite yet, not until he found a buyer who would pay to keep it quiet. Her superiors wouldn't be happy if they found out, but if she still managed to accomplish her original mission, they'd get over it. It was a gamble, to be sure. Arakonza noticed her weighing the pros and cons, and added another incentive.
"I'll let you keep his sword." That tipped the scale.
"We are agreed," she nodded graciously.
"I look forward to more of such profitable exchanges in the near future." Rising, she asked, looking around,
"Do you mind if I stay here until you get that replacement armor?" Arakonza shrugged.
"If you don't mind hanging around with Devlar, feel free," he invited.
"I'll be out for most of the day. Oh, and watch any valuables you might have forgotten to mention. Dev has a bad habit of winding up with things that don't belong to him showing up at the most inopportune times." She glared at the rogue, who pulled out his two trouser pockets to show that they were empty, flashing what he thought was a rakish grin. The wizard stepped out, leaving Tyra and Devlar alone. He cleared his throat, and tried again,
"So, m'lady, if you're not going to be doing anything else today, I think that you'd be much more comfortable upstairs. It's got a few more furnishings then this." He indicated the firewood chairs and table with a broad sweeping gesture that took in the whole of the room.
"I'd be more than happy to show you around the place, including a few parts that most people don't get to see," he went on suggestively. That, typically, got a rise out of Tyra, and she stepped forward, ready to bash Devlar's skull in with the dire mace.
"All right, wait! I'm sorry!" he blurted out, collapsing into a fit of giggles.
"It's just that…it's so easy to provoke that kind of thing….do you have any idea how hard it is to get people other than you and Zak to do that?"
"I could take a wild guess," Tyra muttered, turning one of the chairs around so that it's back was to the rogue, and sitting down again. Calming down, Devlar went up the stairs himself at a good clip. Some sounds of rummaging about drifted down from above her head, and Tyra idly hoped that the ceiling wasn't going to fall in.
"Check out my rapier, eh?" Devlar came rushing back, holding, to her mild surprise, an actual rapier in a glossy black leather sheath. It was the first thing in the place she had seen that looked well cared for. The thief noticed her inspection of the weapon, and whipped it out of the scabbard, putting it through a few flashy flourishes.
"What say you to that?" he preened, attempting to put his hair into some semblance of order. Tyra made a sound of derision.
"Do you keep your brains in that scabbard along with the rapier?" she inquired sarcastically.
"Because you must have problems with them falling out every time you sneeze." Taking no offense, Devlar guffawed mightily.
"Well, at least you haven't got that problem, for from where I'm standing, I can't see any brains at all in that fine skull of yours," he returned. Immune to his taunting by now, Tyra remained sitting. The day was going to be extremely long.
"Hey Anbory!" Zak called, rushing over to where his caravan was settled in for the night. The Tethyrian turned around, an expression of surprise on his face that quickly gave way to laughter.
"Zak! How'd you make it back?" Zak flipped back an overhanging lock of hair, and did his best to look good.
"It takes more than a few silver-piece guards to stop Zak Crimsonleaf," he proclaimed.
"What's the news hereabouts?" Anbory pointed towards the caravan master, a halfling who was overseeing the stabling of the camels with a critical eye and occasionally correcting someone's work.
"Brenim has got all a few of us keeping watch on the goods, and the rest are probably at an tavern or out looking at whatever's for sale. I was just going to see if I could get my waterskin refilled. It's near bone dry." The guard held out the waterskin in question, and shook it. A sad little sloshing noise came from inside. Zak suddenly felt very thirsty, and was reminded that he had had three drinks all day, and two just within the last hour.
"I think I'll come with," he decided. There wasn't any sense in dying of thirst before being killed by Tyrahae.
Arakanzar Z'tran, for that was his real name, entered the shop of the only purveyor of arms and armor in the town, whom he knew quite well, and who owed him a few favors for convincing the town guards not to evict him at various times for selling some questionable merchandise, namely, weapons that had had the cracks painted or silvered over and wound up breaking off in the sheath. Nobody really cared for him, but Arakanzar found that he did have some good items to sell, and his order today would tax the shopkeeper to the limit. The man in question, who was currently in the process of painstakingly binding up a hilt where the wood had cracked apart, looked up and started at the sight of Arakanzar. He quickly laid aside the work in progress, and greeted the wizard.
"Hey, Arakonza, good to see you. What'll it be this time, eh? You want a deal on that saber that just came in?" He gestured at what was probably the best sword in the place, a curved cavalry saber with a finely worked silver basket hand-guard. He twisted a few hairs in his scraggly beard, grinning with the few teeth left in his jaw. The wizard shook his head.
"No, not that. What I need today is a complete set of studded leather armor. If you have one in black, that would be even better." Arakanzar knew that that color would soak up heat better than any other, and took a small pleasure in the fact. The man winced.
"Ah, you've stuck me for the one thing I ain't got right now," he lamented. "But I can give ya something close enough. I just picked up this chainmail from that bandit group that passed by a couple tendays ago. You remember him right? Ticked off a few people and yer men stuck him full of bolts?" Arakonza nodded. While the town was in theory, open to all, if bandits had the audacity to stop by, they could expect to lose a few people in the process, but this band had been desperate. He didn't like desperate people too much. They didn't have anything to extort, and they were liable to try stupid things to survive.
"Well, the sap must've been a high-ranked fella, cause this here chainmail 'as an enchantment of cooling on it. Me first magic item! Ye should be proud to purchase it." Arakonza clapped the man on the shoulder.
"Excellent work, but somehow, I don't think the person whom I need it for can afford such things. Have you anything lower in price?"
"Just the ordinary chain shirt that's been here for who knows how long. It's nothin' fancy, but the price is right. Or ye kin get that cracked breastplate over in the corner. I've fixed it so they won't figger it's broke until they're out." The wizard nodded once in agreement.
"Name your price for the chain shirt."
"For you, ten gold."
"How about eight."
"Make it nine."
"Then we agree." Arakonza counted out nine gold pieces from his coin purse, and laid them on the dusty countertop, and the proprietor stumped back behind it to fetch the chain shirt. Taking the armor, the wizard tossed off a salute before leaving the shop. The owner chuckled to himself.
"Funny thing about that fella. I just 'ad that other person askin' bout him today. Good thing they don't pay as well 'as 'e does."