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Topiara - Chapter 39
The Prairie Rose Inn sat in the midst of a thriving market district where most of the goods bought and sold in Alinber could be found. The innkeeper was a very sharp and aware fellow by the name of Krell, who promised that his liverymen would take extra good care of the party's ponies for the two extra pieces of specie. While Jilan and Sharin carried all their supplies up to their two rooms, Lyara and Farranby headed out to the local Guide's Hall. Lyara had a hunch that the head of the local Guide's Hall would have some idea if a man named Corwin was still in the area and/or still involved in the buying and selling of slaves.
The knock on the Hall gates brought a young man garbed in Guide's leather. "Yes? Do you have need of a Guide?"
Lyara chuckled. "Not really. I'm trained as a Guide myself. Places I can find – but finding people is another thing entirely. We're interested in finding someone last reported to be here in Alinber – and knowing our Guild, I figured that here would be the best place to start looking."
"You'll be wanting to talk to Hallmaster Wendell then," the young man stated and moved aside so that Lyara and Farranby could come through the gates into a spacious and surprisingly beautiful courtyard that belied the rather parched conditions outside the walls of the estate. A hard packed earthen path led to the Hall's stables, while the young man led the two visitors to the flagstone walk that wound its way across the verdant lawn to the low building. He ushered them into the building and escorted them to a room that was dominated by a huge hearth, before which several comfortable chairs were arranged in a semicircle. "If you'll wait here, I'll see if he's available."
"Thank you," Farranby told him and went to the chair nearest the door and settled down on the edge of the seat. He waited until the young man was gone before he bounced experimentally. "Pretty luxurious for a Guide's Hall, don't you think?"
"If I remember correctly, the only hires that come out of this hall are to escort musicians and actors to and from Tandri," Lyara said with a shrug. "When the famous travel, they tend to pay well. Prices negotiated here generally are banked here."
"Lyndon knows and approves of this?" Farranby asked in surprise.
"As far as I know," she shrugged again. "The Guides are one of the most wealthy guilds in the land, you know…"
"You wouldn't know it from the Hall in Tandri," Farranby sniffed. "Master Dilan's Hall and holdings nearly dwarf that of Master Lyndon."
"Then again, Master Dilan is housing horses by the score, is he not?" Lyara replied with a smile. "Horses take lots of space. Chatori and chereti Guides only require a small room in a dormitory – and classrooms in which to learn their trade."
Farranby chuckled and relaxed. "Point taken," he conceded and then looked up as the young man who had escorted them in appeared in the doorway.
"Wendell will see you," he gestured. "If you will follow me…"
The three went down a short hall and then through a door, where a tall, blonde man rose from his seat behind the paper-encrusted desk. "Thank you, Lem," he told the young man, who bowed and closed the door behind Farranby. "I am Wendell – I understand that one of you is a Guide as well?"
"I am Lyara," Lyara stepped forward and extended her hand. "When I was still with the Guides, I was based out of the Hall in Tandri." She turned and gestured to Farranby to step forward as well. "This is Farranby, formerly of Master Dilan's employ as steward."
"Welcome to Alinber," Wendell gestured for his guests to be seated. "What is it that you think I can do for you?"
"We are looking for a man by the name of Corwin," Farranby stated as he took his seat. "From what we've been able to gather, he's active in the slave trade…"
"Corwin's activities involve just about any kind of trade you'd care to mention," Wendell stated with a trace of acrimony. "Legal, illegal – if it can be traded for profit, he's interested and involved up to his neck." The Guide's face grew wary. "What do you want with him?"
"We are following a fairly cold trail of a slave trader coming down from Varren Straits with at least one Talandri child for sale," Farranby told the Guide in a brittle tone. "She was – is – my daughter."
Wendell nodded somberly and steepled his fingers. "That sounds like the kind of business Corwin would be up to his ears in," he remarked darkly. "How long ago did this happen?"
Lyara glanced at Farranby. "Thirteen years ago," Farranby answered dully.
"That IS a cold trail!" Wendell rose and walked over to the window behind his desk that overlooked the courtyard. "And do you know if your daughter was sold here in Alinber, or whether she was taken further south?"
"That's why we want to speak to Corwin," Lyara said before Farranby could open his mouth. "We're hoping that he can save us a great deal of time by telling us whether we should continue to search here or travel further south."
"You're banking a great deal on whether or not he can remember this one child slave and where she went after she came to Alinber, aren't you?"
Farranby shrugged. "I really have no choice. All that we know is that the trader that took her with him as merchandise headed south – and since Alinber is a major stop on any trade route, any contact the trader would have had here will hopefully give us an indication of how much further south we need to go."
"Do you know where we can find Corwin?" Lyara asked, cutting through the discussion.
Wendell returned to his desk and sat down. "When he was healthy, he held court regularly and carried out most of his business in the Flaming Pearl Inn on the south end of town – a moderately disreputable establishment where the keeper turned a blind eye to everything that happened in his common room and made a handy profit by keeping his mouth shut about everything he doesn't see. But Corwin got himself in a dust-up a couple of months back – and someone pulled a knife on him. There's been talk in the marketplace – complaints that some of the commodities that used to be so easily come by are getting rarer and more costly – since he's been out of service, as it were."
"Is he dead?" Farranby asked, his voice showing his fear.
Wendell shook his head. "I don't think so – I'm fairly sure I would have heard if he'd taken the ferry across the bottomless chasm. Chances are he's holed up nice and tight in one of the finer upper suites at the Flaming Pearl with one of his slave women taking care of him."
Lyara nodded. "Does he have hired bodyguards?"
"I doubt it," Wendell shook his head again. "What with not being active in the trading game, his funds must be starting to run a bit short. At best, the innkeeper will deny knowing who he is or what room he's in."
With that, Lyara and Farranby rose in unison. "Thank you," Farranby told the Guide earnestly. "I appreciate your help."
Wendell shook hands with both of his visitors. "I wish you good luck with finding your daughter."
Farranby looked at Lyara the moment the two were once more out on the street in front of the Guide's Hall. "Now to find the Flaming Pearl."
Lyara cast an eye skyward. "No, first we head back to the Prairie Rose and pick up a little extra help," she countered, a hand at his arm to prevent him from starting to walk in the wrong direction. "Face it, Farranby, Corwin didn't stay in business as long as he has by being stupid – and only a very stupid man would have been involved in shady dealings for this many years and think he'd be safe recuperating from a knifing without at least one bodyguard."
Farranby shot her a look of intense frustration, and then his face softened slightly. "I really hate it when you're right," he growled at her.
"If Corwin's been holed up in the Flaming Pearl for a while now," Lyara reasoned with him, "he isn't going to suddenly take off now. An hour or two isn't going to make that much difference."
"Doesn't make it any easier." The growl was rougher, less restrained.
"I know," Lyara told her friend sympathetically.
Jilan and Sharin were more than eager to join in the party that would land on the Flaming Pearl, and Lyara felt just a bit more secure with the extra hands and blades at her side. Farranby's mood was proving to be as changeable as the wind direction in a snowstorm right now – the Kauwlut simile being the quickest and most appropriate one to come to mind. Topiara warmed on her breast and sent her a quick vision of a man in a chair being tended by a lovely flame-haired woman – but no obvious signs of protection.
"It's possible that Wendell was right – and Corwin is strapped enough that we aren't going to have any trouble with him," she told the others after getting directions to the Flaming Pearl from Krell. "I just don't want to take any chances."
"How far is it?" Farranby demanded, obviously ready and eager to go charging off on his own if movement didn't happen soon.
Lyara patted his upper arm. "Not far, old friend," she smiled at him. "Follow me."
During the trek through the narrow streets of the working section of Alinber, the difference between this city and Tandri became far clearer. It seemed that at every cross street, there was a performer of one sort of another – musician, mime, orator – practicing his or her craft with an open box on the ground nearby for any impressed spectators to toss in pieces of specie. The performers looked to come from every possible background – from the dark-haired northern look to blonde Talandri and flame-haired Vryies.
Even Farranby became somewhat bemused as they walked slowly along the route that Krell had put them on – and Lyara saw him more than once surreptitiously slip a bit of specie from his pouch into the box of a particularly talented individual or group.
"Can you imagine what some of the drinking houses must be like after hours?" Sharin nudged Jilan in the ribs. "I'd bet you half of what's in my purse here that we'd never have heard good old drinking songs sung as well."
"I know better to bet with you on that," Jilan chuckled at her with a shake of the head. "And to be perfectly honest, I like this place. Tandri was always such a… conservative… petrified society where everyone was more interested in his or her reputation and power base. This…" He swept his hand in front of him eloquently, "…this is life walking right out and bumping into you with all its passion and color."
"It is quite different from anything I've experienced before," Lyara agreed, slowing her steps to join her friends. "It isn't quite the tribal togetherness of the Kauwlut, nor the end of the day celebration of the Fishing Master's Hall – nor the stilted society of Tandri." She smiled at Jilan. "I'm with you – I like this city."
"I could be content to find Herrista here," Farranby finally let down and joined the discussion. "If she had become a performer – and if she were leading a life that made her happy…" He looked around him. "Its just that that I keep being reminded of just how BIG this place is – and how many corners would need peeking into…"
"Well," Lyara said, pulling on Jilan's arm and drawing the group to a halt, "here's where we begin to find out exactly how many corners here we'll have to pry into." She pointed up to the sign in front of the inn, which had the name Flaming Pearl in both Talandri as well as painting. "We're here."
Farranby's eyes immediately began to harden, and Lyara caught the attitude change before it could have any consequences. "I'm going to be doing the talking here," she told him firmly. "You're too emotionally involved to question logically and reasonably. We're not here to exact revenge on Corwin, after all – just to find out if he remembers a trader coming down from the north with a Talandri slave girl in his keeping some thirteen years earlier."
The older man opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again as Sharin moved in closer to him. "You know she's right," she told him gently. "We want answers, not a fight."
He looked down into her clear eyes, and his face softened a little. Looking up again, he nodded agreement to Lyara, who let loose a small breath she'd been holding against having to argue with him on the point. "I just…"
"We know, Farranby," Lyara said kindly. "It's all right – we know."
Farranby blinked as the realization finally hit that he was no longer alone in his search. He really DID have others equally invested in helping him find his daughter – not the least of whom was a woman with whom he was still in the process of falling madly in love. He took a deep breath and let it out again. "Thanks for being patient with me."
Jilan's hand landed warm and firmly on his shoulder. "Think nothing of it. C'mon now – let's go see whether this Corwin knows anything that can help us."
Lyara came back to the table at which her friends were waiting for her, tankards of bitters in front of each. "Wendell was right – the innkeeper denies having anybody by that name in his rooms," she announced, taking her place beside Jilan.
"So now what?" Farranby asked quickly.
She shrugged. "We wait. I have an idea whom to look for to lead us when the time comes, all we need to do is be patient." She looked over at her old friend and nodded at his tankard. "Drink – but drink sparingly. We don't need to be intoxicated when the person I'm expecting to see makes her appearance."
Jilan felt a twitch in his mind, and then he too saw a man – rotund, bloated-looking and decidedly wounded – with a young woman hovering over him with flame-colored hair pulled into a long braid. As the vision cleared, his eyes touched Lyara's and found them understanding and appreciative. He gave her the tiniest nod and saw her sigh in contentment. "I agree," he told the others then, "we can afford to be patient and not make scenes unnecessarily."
"I don't think we'll have to be THAT patient either," Lyara commented, leading Jilan's gaze with her eyes to where a flame-haired woman was walking down the stairs with an empty trencher and pitcher. The woman handed the dishes to the innkeeper with a bow and headed up the stairs again. "That's our cue," Lyara stated, rising.
The other three rose quickly and followed their friend over to the stairs.
"Where do you people think you're going?" the innkeeper demanded, putting the empty dishes down on a cupboard behind him and facing them with hands akimbo.
"We have a need to speak to the man upstairs," Lyara explained patiently. "We wish no trouble – we're only after information." She gazed evenly into his eyes so that he could appreciate her determination. "We know he's up there, I recognize his woman. If you would like to accompany us, we wouldn't mind."
The innkeeper's gaze grew cautious when he saw that all four were armed. "If ye be here not to cause mischief, why wear blades?"
"We're travelers," Jilan answered this time. "We know better than to travel the distance we've come without the ability to protect ourselves."
The innkeeper wavered in his determination to protect his tenant and then turned away. "Just know that the slightest sound of trouble, I'll have the King's Men here…"
"There will be no trouble, I give you my word," Farranby promised earnestly. "We simply want to talk to him and see what he remembers of a time long ago – nothing more. Once we have our answers, we'll leave."
The innkeeper just waved them on and picked up the empty dishes again, heading in the direction of the kitchen. "Just remember what I said. There's a station just across the street – so don't think I'm joking about having King's Men here on the double."
Lyara led the way up the stairs, with first Jilan and then Farranby close on her heels.
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