1629, Sea Season, Illusion week, Waterday evening
Context
Berra came to Nochet without Varanis and the Vingan is tracking her down after flying the whole way. Followed by (Feeling It All). Session SA4.16.
Events
It is a dull but rainless day in Sea Season. Evening falls, as the clouds scud over, bringing with them a figure who descends from the clouds, and the promise of fertile rain overnight.
The great sights of Nochet, the bright-painted palaces, the gaudy temples, and the dark monoliths of death houses are on display. From above, Nochet is a mighty city, sprawling far beyond its walls.
Varanis makes for Orlanth’s Hill, but stops short of it, landing instead in front of the Humakti Battalion on the other side of the Stormwall.
When she lands, she looks tired, wind burnt, and dishevelled. She strides up to the gates to speak to whoever is on duty.
The gates are open, and there are half a dozen guards. Their commander bows her head to Varanis. “Daughter of Vinga. How may we help?”
“I’m seeking Berra Humakti, of the Boldhome Temple. I believe she is in the area,” Varanis says with the authority of a Wind Lord and the daughter of one of the noble houses of the city.
“I’ll have her looked for.” The woman nods to one of her guards, and is just turning away when another says, “The Wyter Priest?” He does not sound fond.
Varanis gives him a level glare, loaded with challenge. “Yes, the Wyter Priest of the Hero, Eril.”
He narrows his eyes, and the commander puts up a hand. “Go see if she’s around, Tarren. If not, see if you can find out where. Daughter of Vinga, who’s asking for her?”
The guard who spoke up is already backing away, eager to get out of that glare.1Special on Intimidate.
“Vareena Colymar.”
“Cut to it, Tarren. Lady Vareena, you’re welcome to stay here, but it could be some time. Battalion’s large.”
“Do you have a basin of water? I’ll wash up while I wait,” Varanis says. “If the Wyter Priest is not easy to find, I can visit the food carts.” She waves in the direction of the ever-present food carts that serve the patrons of various temples in the quarter.
“Miska, take the lady Vareena into the waiting area, give her a room, and what she needs.” The commander does not name herself, which likely means that Varanis is on the hospitality of the Temple itself.
She nods her thanks and follows where she is led.
It takes about half an hour of waiting. Hot water is provided, and a rough cloth for washing and drying. There is even a piece of bread with some honey. Mostly crust, it has a few seeds in it, and a cup of water balanced on the same plate.
It seems to be enough. Or, if it isn’t, Varanis doesn’t say so.
She cleans herself as best she can, re-plaits her hair, and eats the food.
It’s surprisingly good – the bread is heavily salted, which is something she had needed. A post-battle snack, perhaps…
It takes about half of an hour before Tarren comes back with the news, “The Wyter Priest is not staying here, but a message can be left. It’ll be picked up around Yelmrest, which isn’t long.”
The message that Varanis leaves is that she is in the city and will go looking for Berra at her inn. She will wait at the inn if Berra is not there when she arrives.
Tarren nods. “You can go back to the gate,” he says. “I’ll take the message.” Off he goes to do that, looking faintly resentful.
Varanis goes as far as is necessary to see sky, then flies off. No need for a gate if there’s no roof in the way.
There is a shout of alarm, or of warning, but nobody tries to stop her. Nochet opens up to her view once more.
She flies off in search of that alley in that place where Berra stayed at before. Varanis makes a mental note to remember to send some sort of token of thanks to the Battalion for the hospitality.
There are a few people cutting over the rooftops, but currently nobody else is flying like she is. The alleyway is familiar from the ground, once she gets there. From above it is too well covered – a secondary roadway goes over it.
After ensuring there are no lurking threats, she aims for the front door.
The inn is not a bad one, for all it is in a busy place. It, and the alleys nearby, are built in an old pit of some kind, so the ground is almost as low as the sea outside the walls. The building itself rises up three storeys, but is still lower than the surrounds. At best guess, this was the excavated foundation for a place that was never built.
The front door gives way. Within are dozens of people talking, making easy, drinking, and eating. The lower room of a busy public house is, well, busy. There is no sign of Berra, not even a scrawled Death Rune on the wall to mark where she sleeps.
The brightness within contrasts with the fall of night outside the door. Yelm is dead, but life goes on.
Varanis frowns. If Berra were staying here, the wall should be marked. She looks for the innkeeper.
There is a bar, and a man behind it pouring from an amphora. Perhaps he is the husband of the owner.
She strides up to the bar. “Hello. I’m looking for someone. She said she’d be here. Humakti, about yea high,” Varanis gestures, suggesting a height a bit taller than your average Durulz.
The man finishes pouring and gives Varanis his full attention. “You a friend?”
“Yes.” Her Esrolian is the clipped tones of the upper classes.
He nods. “Upstairs, the room with the cock above it. Be careful knocking. She’s got bodyguards.”
Varanis blinks. That doesn’t sound like Berra at all, but… the man is unlikely to lie to her. She nods. “We may be needing dinner. If so, I’ll send word.”
Then she swoops up the stairs without bothering to step on any of them. She’s looking for the right door.
There are two flights of stairs, and the second floor, the one just below roof level, has a door with a cockerel painted over it. Its body is a Fire Rune, its wattle is Mastery, and its painter was inexpert at best. It could charitably be a chicken, but perhaps has some bolo lizard ancestry.
It might be the right place. A young man with a keen look is kneeling outside the door. He is not going to be able to get up in time to deal with a sudden attack, but he elbows the door pretty hard in warning. “Who’re you?” Sartarite, not Esrolian.
She arches a brow arrogantly. “I might ask the same of you,” she replies in Heortling. She looks him up and down, taking in the old armour and clan tattoo. “What brings a Narri warrior to Nochet?”
“Duty,” he says proudly, managing to get to his feet without taking his eyes off Varanis. “Flying in quietly ain’t normal.”
She shrugs. “I like to fly. Is Berra in there?”
He looks for a moment longer. “Who’s askin?” His expression says he is sure he knows.
It doesn’t seem possible for that brow to arch any higher, but it does. “Tell her it’s Vareena,” she says finally.
The boy knocks on the door. From inside comes a hissed, “She’s asleep,” and then a familiar voice, “No I’m not. I woke up.”
“There’s a Vareena here?” The boy calls, unsure, and a moment later Berra calls, “Come in, then.”
Varanis looks at his expectantly, waiting for him to open the door and step aside.
He does the stepping aside part, at least, letting Varanis open the door.
She does, stepping into the room and immediately scanning the space for her friend.
“Berra? Are you well?”
Berra is sitting on her bed, which is made but disheveled. She was probably napping.
This is an expensive room, as far as this place has expensive rooms. The windows are shuttered, but the room is big enough to have two. There are rag rugs on the floor, where two small piles of equipment mark the places others sleep or rest.
“Yes?” Berra says in confusion. “Why?” Her right hand rests on the iron sword, which was probably next to her when she slept.
“It’s just an odd time for naps,” Varanis replies awkwardly, glancing at the young woman in the room.
“I’ve been studying.” Berra stands up, buckling on the iron sword. “I’ve got to tell a lot of very rich women about Clearwine and how to drink it. I think Lady Serenelda’s trying to do me a favour with introductions.”
The young woman looks stoutly at Varanis. She’s taller than Berra, at least, but she still has to look upwards.
Varanis looks at Nayale and then back in the direction of Harmakt. Nayale gets a polite nod.
“You have to tell them now?” the Vingan asks Berra. Then she takes it all in. “Wait… don’t take this the wrong way, but… you’re teaching a group of Esrolian noblewomen about customs and etiquette?” Her lips twitch, like she’s trying to suppress a grin.
“Yeah. But it’s Sartarite stuff, so I’ll be alright. I asked Oranina – the woman with the house with the river egg – all about it. And Lord Raven knows some too. He’s making sure I’m good at saying it all.”
Nayala gives Varanis a bow, politely, but stays alert.
“Would you have guessed this would be your fate even a year ago?” She starts to chuckle, but it’s interrupted by a yawn. “Sorry. Tell Raven I say hello? And do you want company on your walk to wherever you’re meeting your noble students?”
“I’m not meeting them yet, but… well, you want to be seen going to the House of Hulta, sure.” Berra shrugs. “Want to go get food?”
The Vingan’s stomach growls her agreement. “I warned the man at the bar that we might want food,” she says. Then, “Hulta?”
“Yes. Lady Serenelda’s a Hulta. Married to Lord Kesten. Who is also a Hulta.” Berra smiles. “Lord Raven says hello.”
“Serenelda’s a common name amidst Nochet’s Great Houses,” Varanis replies with a sigh. “But I’d best not go to that palazzo without having first gone to Saiciae. Grandmother would send Serzeen after me, I’m sure.”
“I’ll be showing her and her friends something she says is new and exotic.” Berra may not realise she is part of the show. “Nayale, Harmakt, I’m going out with Varanis. Just check the… actually, Varanis, you check the window?” Berra takes a moment to buckle on Wind Tooth.
Two crestfallen Humakti look at each other, and make some kind of decision. If they are getting left behind they will guard this place really well.
Varanis nods and walks over to the windows. She checks the latch on one, then the other. And then she grins. “Berra? Can I leave my pack here for now? I’ll grab it later, when I decide where I’ll sleep.”
“Course. They’ll look after it. We’ll go out of the one on the right and up over the roof. Sorry, I meant check the exit was clear.”
“Oh, that was my plan too,” Varanis replies, dropping her unusually light pack on the floor beneath the left window. She moves over to the other, flicks the latch, and flings the shutter open. To be fair to her, she does look before she leaps.
There is a gasp from behind her, and Berra says, “She’ll be fine…” on the way out.
The sturdy little Humakti hauls herself up to roof level. “The food here is big but has too much fish taste. Let’s get meat skewers.” She listens for a moment, and then says, “Lord Raven wants a word.”
Varanis is not clinging to the wall, as Berra might expect. Instead, she’s hovering in the air. “Want me to rattle the other window? Make sure the latch holds?”
“No, it’s good. I had the k… them in there check them, and I won’t undercut that.” Berra looks Varanis up and down. “We put the bars on for the night anyhow.”
“Fair enough,” she says, flying up and landing lightly beside the Humakti. “You’ll have to tell me about them later. For the moment, I am at Lord Raven’s disposal.”
Her stomach growls again. “And then meat skewers.”
Berra wriggles a bit to hand over the sword, which was put on before Wind Tooth and needs some disentangling. “One more word out of you and you get a shoulder harness,” she warns it.
SHOULDER HARNESS SO I CAN BE UP HIGH, Dezar demands.
“Oh dear. You’ve just given Dezar ideas,” Varanis laughs. “I’ll look into a shoulder harness, dear one. But for now, I need to speak to Uncle Raven.”
ROWR!
- 1Special on Intimidate.
