Getting rid of the bat-curse had been easy enough once they made it past the city gates. Mogashi had howled himself to tears at Niero's attempt at explaining himself to a bunch of guards who surely could not possibly have looked more dubious. When it turned out that they had not even realized Niero's lisping was supposed to be language, Mogashi had fallen to the ground gasping. Kailn had eventually managed to explain the situation to the satisfaction of the authorities, and all it took after that was a fat purse, which Niero had. Ominously enough, the cleric of Sarenrae he approached about his curse did not even bat an eye at his condition. "See worse every few weeks" and a shrug were his exact reply before taking Niero's money and fixing his problem.

Their merry band had each gone their separate ways, and even parted on more or less good terms on top of that. Aerys, Sasha, Mogashi and Ishirō had divulged some basic instructions on how to reach them in case any prospects turned up. Sujiu had enlisted with a mercenary company and was now on his way to Kalabuto, guarding a caravan. Malje and Kailn were staying with Malje's family, living the easy life. Niero, on the other hand, had set his sights higher, for he had a map.

A treasure map.

He had a reasonably strong conviction that the area depicted in the map was somewhere in the Mwangi Expanse. A lesser soul might have been deterred by the odds, but Niero was determined, and that was why he was now heading for the largest library in Eleder. And anyway, how hard could it be? His scrap of parchment held a name, and clearly described certain geological features that it should be a simple matter to pinpoint. Find a collection of maps, conduct some etymological research, and voilà.

Niero hoped that wherever his goal turned out to be, it would not be too far. Or, barring that, he hoped it would not be guarded or inhabited or otherwise polluted by the presence of any kind of eldritch evil whatsoever. Those really were the worst.

The library was easy enough to find, and a talk with the Head Librarian – an elven man by the name of Something-too-hard-to-pronounce and who preferred to be called by any one of his titles rather than his name – had assured Niero that he could, indeed, find what he was after here. He might have spent a fraction of his newfound riches on hiring one of the assistant scribes to do his book-mining for him, but the fees they charged were so large Niero had to remind himself that this was a land were slavery was legal and being in a market meant being marked. And so, after having graciously declined their offer, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

The first day of his research was promising.

The second day was less fruitful than he might have hoped.

By the third day, he was on a first name basis with the library guards.

On the fourth day his studies had to be cut short because he needed a drink, and the drink ended up getting lost in the crowd of its fellows, and he spent most of the day and all of the night looking for it. On the fifth day he was not allowed into the library.

By the sixth day he had managed to convince the whole staff aside from the Head Librarian to call him by his first name.

On the seventh day he started bringing his own drinks.

The eighth day brought overheard complaints from the edge of his hearing, and hesitant glances from the staff.

On the tenth day, the Head Librarian offered him a discount should he opt to accept their expertise after all. Niero refused. It was personal now.

By the twelfth day his collection of bottles was taking up more space than his work desk, even after he had reused – and melted – many of them in the course of his alchemical experiments. He donated the empty bottles to his favorite tavern and got a bottle of most excellent brandy in return.

After two weeks, he found he could smell his work space when he returned to it in the morning. Someone had left a potted jungle plant on his desk. It smelled like carrion. He never found out which wag had left it there.

On the fifteenth night, Niero thought, no.

lIlIl

Niero had gone looking for Mogashi. There was a native of the jungle who should be able to tell him anything he could think to ask. In theory. He could not believe he had not thought of it before. As brutish as the man might be, he was not stupid.

Well...

Anyway, Niero would have to scourge some more jungle again, and Mogashi seemed like the person to have at his side for that sort of thing. However, Eleder was large as towns went, and he had problems finding the man. He had spent some time looking for him on his own, but at last he had to resign to forking out some gold in order to get directions.

Gold! Niero would not have paid copper for the instructions he had been given. The first man to take his money had told him where "the knuckle-dragger camp" lay, and to follow the deepest set of grooves. Cursing under his breath, Niero had stalked that way, only to be confronted with the worst sort of pit he had ever found a person voluntarily living in – and tried though he had, he had not managed to erase the memory of that cannibal camp from his memory. He had ended up having to pay gold to another of Mogashi's people before he finally found the man. By this time he did not mind doing so, so strong was his desire to be done with the place.

lIlIl

Mogashi had shot a most suspicious look at Niero upon learning what he was needed for. No surprises there. What was surprising was that the man was literate enough to help. That discovery had spurred Niero into taking the Mwangi to the library that same day.

It might have been worth it simply to see the expressions of the guards and staff of the library, but the humor was diluted somewhat by the effort it took to convince them all that Niero did genuinely intend to bring the man inside. Mogashi had stood still through the whole conversation, arms crossed in stony silence until Niero eventually managed to wheedle the opposition into granting him admittance with the tacit implication that the research would now be concluded in good time.

That was three days ago.

The growth rate of their collection of empty bottles had kept pace with that of the staff's misgivings. Niero had the impression that someone was always keeping an eye on them, and Mogashi was convinced of it.

And now the Head Librarian was approaching their workspace with a look that suggested he had tried and failed to relegate the errand to his underlings.

Here we go, Niero thought, turning in his chair to face the elf.

"How do you do, master Brandt," said the librarian

"How do you do," said master Brandt.

"I find I should again extend my offer for a discount on research assistance." The man's words gave every impression of being carefully chosen, perhaps even rehearsed. "I trust you will agree that your progress thus far has been... modest. However, through your perseverance in your efforts you have already supported our archives substantially enough that I am prepared to assign an assistant to your cause for free."

The librarian took a breath and was about to continue, so Niero intercepted quickly. "I thank ye for your kind gesture, but it willn't be necessary. Me comrade and I're learnin' all manner of fascinatin' things here, and makin' fair advancement besides. So thank ye for th'offer, but it shan't be needed." So saying, Niero turned back to his books, hoping that the man would take the hint and leave.

He did not. Niero felt the librarian's eyes fixed steadily on the back of his head. "I will be frank, master Brandt. While we naturally trust your keen judgment in companions, as the patron of these studies of yours I must express my doubts as to the potential utility of the specimen you have chosen to―"

"Fuck you, fairy man," Mogashi growled, staring levelly at the man behind Niero's back.

Niero jumped in hastily. It would not do to be deprived of their only source of information on account of such trifles as injured egos. "What my world-wise colleague imports, good book-keeper, is 'e takes exception to implications – howe'er unfortuitously communicated – of a nature undermining of 'is character. Isn'at so, Mogashi, mate?" He followed that up with a furious wiggling of his eyebrows.

"If you say so," the Mwangi ground out, eyeballing the elf over Niero's shoulder murderously.

"I... see," said the librarian. His voice seemed to be coming from a step or two further away than last time. "Then I shall... have faith. Good day to you, sir...s." After a moment of listening to the sound of receding footsteps, Niero shot a discreet glance behind him to make sure there was no troop of armed soldiers about to pick up where the librarian left off. Satisfied that there was not, he turned back to Mogashi, who thrust his book away with a violent swipe.

Niero caught it before it hit the floor. "Look 'ere. I un'erstand tha' this ain't your strong suit, an' I'll grant tha' yonder elf's an ass, but there's booty down the line for this one, so I need ya to bear wi' it for a while longer, ey?"

Mogashi let out a gravelly sigh. "Why aren't we just taking them up on that offer?"

Because. "Because if I'm right 'bout this, there may be more takers for this info than good ol' us, see? I dun' wanna have to race half o' whole Eleder to these ruins, an' involvin' more folk in this will just fly in th'face o' that, yeah?"

"Fine," Mogashi grated, and that was that.

Two days later, after having called up Kailn – and with him, Malje – to do the research in their stead, Niero and Mogashi set out on a tavern crawl to wash away their memories of the whole fiasco.

lIlIl

Sujiu was sitting slightly apart from his fellow caravan guards, watching one of them harass a wench while the others hooted at the spectacle. The man in question was a vile, foul-mouthed little sellsword named Dzac, who, no matter how drunk he got, never seemed to stop pissing on about everything that was not Dzac. Still, as drunk as the man was, Sujiu doubted he would have to step in. From the way the serving girl's hand kept straying to her hip, he was fairly sure she was packing a knife. And if her knife did end up in Dzac, why, then Sujiu would simply have to order another ale and slip in a generous tip for her.

That was when Niero and Mogashi walked in. More than one head turned as they entered, followed by most of the rest as Niero hailed Sujiu. Sujiu raised his arm in reply and indicated a pair of vacant chairs at his table.

This did not escape Dzac, though it did allow the wench to escape him.

"Oy, elfling! You know this monkey-man?"

"Watch it or I'll carve you down to the size of one," Mogashi growled.

"Well, well... I'll be damned, it fuckin' talks. It take you long to teach 'im these tricks, Shoo-you? I hope they don't grow in no goddamned trees, these mutants? You grow in a tree, o Lord o' the Apes?"

Some of the noise was dying down around them, and most of the place's clientele looked somewhat more alert now, expecting a fight. Niero was speaking in a low voice to Mogashi, who was trying to push past him.

Sujiu tried to step in. "You don't want to pick this fight, Dzac. Mogashi, never mind that guy, he's always like that – drunk and rude both, there's no―"

"Shyeah, you heard the half-blood, Mongi Shongi... You don't want this fight, so go climb some trees or fuck a few o' your demon sisters, make a few more o' you while you're at it, why don't you... Oh! Oh, I know! You go and find yourself a nice orangutan missus and breed real hard and we'll set up this circus―"

Mogashi threw Niero off and lunged over to where the man was sitting. Dzac had just enough time to draw a weapon, but by then Mogashi had gripped him and lifted him clear over his head. Mogashi brought him down head first on the table, hard. There was a sharp crack as the table broke into pieces, followed by a thunderous clamor as the whole room erupted into a brawl.

lIlIl

The only three people to walk out the door under their own power were Niero and his friends. And a fine-looking bunch they were. Mogashi was fuming and growling and bleeding in half a dozen places and snarling like only a thiefling could, occasionally clenching a fist, while Sujiu, his face smeared with blood from a cut around his hairline, was sporting a stony expression and an icy silence to match. He was staring straight ahead and clenching his jaw.

Finished with his brief assessment of his companions, it occurred to Niero to spare a thought as to how he must appear to the undiscerning eye, strolling the streets as he was, just as bloody and equipped with enough vials and bottles to stand fair comparison with a respectable bar shelf and smelling of smoke and spirits and unidentifiable alchemical compounds. Come to think of it, he had not had much trouble from any stray dogs recently, even when crawling out of disreputable boozers in the dead of night on all fours and howling like the moon was full. Was that why?

You know what? Perhaps it was.

Huh.

Niero noticed he was smoking. Some of his more fragile – and, to be fair, even his less fragile glass containers had broken in the fray. He had shaken the worst of the shards out of his clothes, but getting rid of the substances themselves – every one of which richly deserved to be imprisoned in a glass vial and tucked in a lightless pocket – that was simply not possible in the middle of a street. So on Niero walked in his slowly dissolving clothes and a cloud of acid fumes that seemed to be originating from somewhere inside his pants.

"Blood an' thunder," Niero mumbled.

"What's that?" Mogashi grunted.

"Nothin'. Just sparin' a thought for th'heroes o' our time."

No one cared to comment on that. After a while, Niero turned to Mogashi. "Y'know... I think ya killed tha' first guy you grabbed."

Mogashi spat out a wad of something he probably bit off someone in the heat of things and made no reply.

Niero then turned to Sujiu. "Th'guy was a member o' your company, right? I 'ope this'sn't too much of a... problem. "

"His demise will have to pass unlamented," Sujiu said flatly.

Might've guessed, Niero thought to himself.

"Don't give me that look," the half-elf said. "He had it coming, and I don't mean because of what he said."

"Right."

Silence.

"Say, Sujiu, you interested in an enterprise?"

Sujiu sighed. "Does it take us out of the city?"

"Yah."

"Go on."

A/N: The Knowledge (Geography) check DC Niero had to meet was 20. He needed to roll 13 to succeed. He got one check per day, and really did fail sixteen times in a row (possibly fifteen) – and he didn't actually skip days like in the story; I wanted the number of nights to be fifteen for purposes of inside humor. Much fun was had. I don't remember how many times Mogashi failed at it (his bonus was actually slightly lower than Niero's), but I think it was four or five. Kailn, who doesn't know bugger-all about no Geography, got it on his third try, if I recall.