From under the tarp comes a muffled moan. Kjarin is beginning to stir. Qoulian glances over, his thin blonde hair saturated with sweat sticks in snaking strands across his beaded forehead. He knows Kjarin. They grey up only two houses away from each other on the same street. One time, when they were younger, Kjarin's father was caught entering their house and trying to steal the family heirloom crest. Instead of bringing his father to the guards, Qoulian's parents loaned him the needed tria and established him as a worker in their bakery until he had worked off the debt. The two boys grew up as best friends. Both families were in financial trouble now, and Qoulian had been sent off to apprentice with the Blacksmith Guild 3 months ago, and the boys lost touch. Apparently, in the mean time, Kjarin had been helping his family out by following in his father's footsteps.
What was he thinking trying to steal that dagger! Hynlan is going to have him killed! That is for certain. Qoulian whimpers. He needs to get his best friend out of here, but Hynlan would be after him too if he does. And what's worse, Hynlan knows everything about his family; it was all written into the contract his parents had entered him into. Ah mannnn, I am NOT cut out for this... WHAT DO I DO?
Qoulian takes one long last sniveling look at the heap of darts and moans, "Ohhh... I'm so sorry Kjarin," and darts out the back of the booth, where he immediately bumps into Szahia.
It doesn't take long for his already fearful mind to register what purpose she intends and he cowers backwards, "Your here to get him... Kjarin.. take him, please... just... don't hurt me!"
He raises his hands in front of his face in a defensive gesture, but peaks through his fingers after a moment of not being hit. "W-w-w-w-wait..." he stammers, "Y-you can't carry him all by yourself... and... and I know where we can take him... L-l-let me help you... take me with you!" His voice cracks and he covers his mouth, realizing how loud he was just speaking and adds in a whispering plea, "pleeeease?"
Meanwhile, Qoulian's employer is scouring the crowd looking for a very particular fenki. It's obvious to him that the egg throwing spectacle was meant as a distraction while that sniveling diseased rat tried to take the dagger. It had nearly worked too, if the explosion hadn't knocked him backwards and into the boy thief. These kids think they're so smart, but not smart enough to get away from taking an extra cut from Jag. The thought brings a smirk to his face as her peruses through the injured bodies littering the plaza yard. As far as he knows, the simple set up to catch both looters has been halfway successful. He is intent on seeing it complete.
The one he is mistakenly looking for is ironically being reassured by her wounded friend. Micah bravely waves off Keelana's question, but a tight wince betrays his bluff, "I'm alright... don't worry about me... I'm just glad I wasn't in that blast. Still, it's gotta make you wonder why... who would do such a thing?" As all things do, slowly it dawns on him, "Keelana!" his eyes widen, "You got to get out of here! They'll think that your part of it!"
Before she can answer, Eyolil quickly returns with help in tow. "There he is!" she points the wounded menki teen out and without pause explains, "Keelana, they're evacuating the rest of the wounded to the hospital. I'm going to go with them, for they need all the help they can get. You should come with us." She tries to sound encouraging but in the back of her mind knows the prospect may not seem favorable to the fenki. Her hope is to keep Keelana out of the eye of any suspicion and her mind occupied all the while.
"This man says he can help your friend to get special treatment." Keelana and Micah both should be able to recognize who she is referring to. The man she brought to help, a towering Ynnwn with silvery hair and adorned in armor equal in splendor to that of the Vigesimi, bends down to scoop Micah up. His very identity should confirm her statement, for he is Hynlan the Captain of the Blacksmith's Guild, and it's well known he has pull throughout the town.
Hynlan cracks a smile down at Keelana as he shifts Micah in his arms. "Heh. That was a gutsy move you pulled kid, but don't worry, your secret's safe with me. You should listen to the lady here, they'll be asking less questions at the hospital than they will if you stick around."
Gathered around the charred ruins of the tavern, the Vigesimi and his men have mounted and are leaving the plaza for the palace. Orders are being carried out throughout the city; the plaza is being cleared as most of the guards head towards the outer gates to secure them shut. It should be easy now for anyone to leave the plaza without much hassle, but leaving the city is out of the question. That is, for anyone who doesn't have access to the underground.
Two such people, Rhianon and Jajix move through the cramped corridors. Jajix answers Rhianon, but because of many coinciding factors, the closeness of her hood, the flickering torchlight against the dank, cavernous dark, the odd angle between them, she has no way to see whether or not his mouth was moving. Despite the visual obscurities, the vocal component of his voice reaches her sharp and clear. There is no echo when he speaks as one would expect in the narrow passage. The quality of his voice is near to perfect with hardly a traceable flaw. Still, within the tonality there carries the trace of a smirk.
"Notice how this corridor is just wide and tall enough to fit a large barrel. You see, under the old Vigesimi, this town was dry. Bootleggers built these tunnels to get their goods in and out of the city undetected. Of course, our current beloved leader has relaxed that law and the booze running ran out of business. It's impressive to see how much easier it is to be a criminal the more crimes there are to be committed. Nowadays, the good people truck the booze in under the plain light of day, while these tunnels go all but forgotten."
A few silent steps later and Jajix stops suddenly and moves to the side. Again he dismisses a wall illusion similar to the one outside but adapted to fit their current setting. This time the entrance is further concealed by a large and heavy fur which he pulls aside to reveal the telltale blinking red light of a campfire along with the savory smells of smoke and roasting meat. Again he motions Rhianon to step in before him.
They step through and into a rather large if low ceilinged bunker. It is peculiarly homey and well furnished; a fire pit dominates the center with a large hunk of kormi meat golden brown and sizzling on an open spit, several long tables fill two sides and along the wall furthest from where they stand are stacked sacks and crates filled with pilfered items. There are doors leading into other rooms and hallways, a perfect defensive design for a quick getaway, one heavily concealed entrance and multiple convenient exits.
There are a number of occupants in the room; one man tends the spit while others sit at the tables. A few eyes look up to meet them as they enter, but not a word is exchanged, at least none that Rhianon can hear. A perceptive mind would take note that each resident of the bunker seems to be occupied with an individual task, tending the roast, counting stacks of tria and recording detailed figures, sorting out objects into varied stockpiles. They are all silent, consumed by their work.
As soon as Rhianon crosses the threshold, she has an almost imperceptible sensation, a small tingling that starts at her scalp and ends at the tip of her toes. It is quick and subtle, but doesn't go without notice. Jajix, if he feels the same, remains unhindered and turns quickly to face her. "Wait here... and keep a close eye on your possessions. We can't be held responsible for any items that may end up missing during your stay."
He walks through the room towards the back wall where there is a heavy wooden door which leads into an even deeper cellar. The room behind the door is dimly lit by only a few oil lanterns. It is dark and dingy, the air filled with the musty smell of mold and mildew, the floor littered with the bones of creatures long ago digested. Huddled together in the far corner tremble the Vigesimi's family. Before them, Arkus stands with the confidence of a man who knows exactly what the consequences are and is willing to stand against them.
The two men face each other and a psychic tremor can be felt between them. In a flash their minds meet and their memories, all the sensory information recorded since the last time they performed this meld, are instantaneously shared between them. Arkus's mental report only confirms Hynlan's verbal one. Jajix growls, the Vigesimi still remains at large. The Diaboli meets Arkus's eyes and orders directly, his voice masked in a bent pitch, "Kill them and send their bodies to the palace. Injure yourself, make it look like an ambush. Oh... and see if you can't save the jewelry."
Jajix returns to the main bunker and calls a runner forth. He whispers a message to the young boy who then goes scurrying down one of the side tunnels. There are screams of terror and flashes of prismatic light emanating from behind the heavy door of the back room as the Diaboli returns to fetch Rhianon. "My apologies, m'lady. Just trying to keep things nice and tidy around here, can't have any loose ends, you know. Now... I have more business to take care of outside the city walls, and I believe that's where you were headed miss, so shall I continue my escort?"
