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Sylvie was trying to get back on track. "So, we're waiting for Robare and Kord... that leaves whoever the Gold Coin sends over as the only one who maybe doesn't know who you are? Or did I forget anyone?"

"Oh, him," Jon said, eyeing Sebastian. "You've met his dad. I had one of my girls run over there and tell him there was money to be made, b--"

"Randall actually spawned?" Sebastian interrupted, looking as though he was in pain. Yes, headache. Arriving. Now. "No, doesn't know me," he said weakly.

Sylvie took a breath to point out that he probably had heard family stories, though, but changed her mind. Instead she looked at Jon for a hint if Sebastian was guessing right.

The old man cackled for a while. "Don't think so. Not after the stunt you and Er--"

"Let's keep it at that," Sebastian said, despondent. "And don't mention him to Robare, please."

Missing information there frustrated Sylvie mildly. At least Garren looked confused, too. Even if Sebastian didn't want to talk about the details, there was a central question. "Is this likely to cause practical problems? Or is it just Fortuna sprinkling weird coincidences over matters for the fun of it?"

"To both I'd say, I hope not -- at first, I mean," Sebastian replied. "But if she is sprinkling coincidences, there's a reason for it."

Auker seemed to agree. "Yeah, she's a fickle bit of deity business, but there's usually a reason." She glanced at Sebastian. Jon, on the other hand, shrugged. "Well, things go as they go," Auker managed.

"How philosophical," Sebastian muttered. "Are you going to relate my discontent to her?"

"Don't think I have to."

"Me neither," Jon said. "Say, Auker, any more booze and eats to have here?"

The half-elf looked pained. "If anyone doesn't mind, I'll go nurse a headache at the shrine?"

Since nobody immediately spoke up, Sylvie said, frowning a little, "If you like I can go with you and try to do something against the headache." Pulled in several directions as she was, her tone ended up quite neutral.

The clergy at least gave the verbal version of a shrug. Jon and Auker immediately settled to brag and then challenge each other to a drinking contest, which scarcely helped Sebastian's headache. Riya on the other hand placed herself next to her father, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. At least that helped a bit with the headache.

"I'd welcome that," Sebastian said, not exactly saying but meaning let's go as he extricated himself from the conversation. He led her back to where Sylvie had first met Auker and, without any ceremony, sat himself down on the very same bench and buried his face into his palms.

As soon as the two of them were out of the door, Garren started trying to get Auker and Jon to talk about Sebastian, both for the sake of curiosity and because he hoped talking would distract them from drinking.

In the main room of the shrine, which at the moment held no-one else apart from the smugly smiling image of Fortuna, Sylvie stood behind Sebastian and folded down his collar. "Need to vent?" she asked softly, secretly hoping to get some information but not wanting to push him just now, and started gently massaging the back of his neck. Stress headaches tended to be a muscle tension problem, after all.

It worked. Jon and Auker looked first at Garren and his daughter, then at each other. "Well, last I saw him was some fifty-sixty years ago," Jon said, snickering. "Him and Errand, one of Gentling's folk -- shame what happened to him -- were working on something. I remember them dragging a shipment of stolen food to the poorer quarters on a mule."

"I'd forgotten about that," Auker muttered. "That the one where they stole the Gold Coin's high priest's chair, put it on the mule and--"

"--and put a scarecrow on it, with a note saying 'got off his high horse'. Think there was something more on the note, but I didn't know how to read back then."

Biting her lip, Riya glanced at her father.


Whereas elsewhere, Sebastian gave a muffled sound the moment Sylvie's fingers sank into his neck. "I think I would. I was actually going to just come over, nurse the headache and then poke that statue in the ribs a few times so I can again tell her I'm done." He lowered his hands. "Yeah, I could vent."

Sylvie looked at the statue through her eyelashes. Painted wood, the remembered from an earlier visit. After a quick look around if anybody else had come in meanwhile she leaned forward and whispered, smiling, "I could probably get something along the lines of fast dry rot started, if you're looking for a ruder gesture." Setting the statue on fire seemed too risky, and besides, "On the other hand, there's Auker to think of."

Garren smiled, mildly amused, though it might look just polite. "A bit before my time." Thoughtfully he added, "I remember my parents didn't have a very high opinion of the Gold Coin clergy."

Jon clapped appreciatively, whereas Auker grinned whilst he said: "Good on them. I'd guess your parents might remember how they sold more food and things out to nearby cities and then hiked up prices back here in Canyet, saying there was a food shortage. They got fat doing that."

Auker nearly began to laugh when Jon patted his stomach. "Things've been better lately."

"I'm afraid you're in for a shock," Auker told him.



Elsewhere, Sebastian was decidedly loosening up -- he relaxed and even laughed softly. "Don't. Auker might not be amused, but I'm afraid you might attract attention." He continued to chuckle for a while. "Well, I'm going to vent, but it's going to be at her. Unless you're curious and want to steer my venting to any certain subject. I can do either."

"Well. I feel a bit like a child dragged to a grown-ups party and listening to people talking about people and events I've never heard of," she admitted. "Not very useful for trying to figure out if there's a true link between then and now."

Sebastian's braid was in the way a bit trying to work her way upward, so she skipped a bit and started massaging the back of his head in small circles with her fingertips.

"Ask, and you shall know," he said, breathing in and out deep. His eyes were barely open, but it was quite obvious he was calming down. Even the headache seemed to abate, slowly. "I mean it, dear."

Sylvie gave a thoughtful hum and continued. As far as work went, this was pleasant. But to come up with a specific and general enough question... "What were you and your old friend up to? Particularly with regard to the Gold Coin." Hoping it would not bring the tension back, she added, "Our expected visitor might have heard things from his father."

"Particularly? Well, the Gentling is a god of charity and good will, and when you mix that with the fact that he was involved with the Jackites, um... he was a rather rough character, but he hated people trodding on others. Don't ask me, Errand was a bit of an odd soul, which is why we hit it off," he said in a lazy tone, counting the floorboards as he spoke and trying to relax. "We stole food from the Gold Coin and, um, some money and a chair. Then we handed it over, charitably, parading the... chair with a mockery of the high priest from that time. On a mule."

Sebastian sighed again, but out of pleasure. "But I feel guilty about what happened to Errand. He was one... one of the few friends I've ever had."

"Oh, I can imagine," Sylvie murmured after Sebastian described Errand, both because she could easily imagine the two men's principles and working methods meshing well, and because she knew the odd-ones-out being drawn to each other from personal experience.

"Was it a direct consequence of that theft and mockery?" Her voice was soft and sympathetic, but she could not quite let it go.

He closed his eyes, finally, remembering. "We'd stolen from the Jackites. That was the mistake, as he was nominally one of them. In the same way that I don't belong to either goddess solely, but... let's just say his wife disagreed. Violently." Sebastian opened his eyes. "Suffice to say, we tried to run, but he got left behind. I think chivalry died with him -- he tossed me down the city walls after asking me to hold on to a map and a compass and stuck around to cover my escape. All in all, it was an accident that he died. They wanted me dead, not him."

The memory came back too easily, and he wouldn't have let himself get mixed up in it were it not for the fact that someone he trusted was listening and alleviating the pain inside his head.

It came out as a narrative.

Errand, not his real name, eyed the walls as they ran. "We pissed them off good."

"This time," Sebastian agreed, not regarding the taller, more muscular man. "Sorry I dragged you into--"

"Shut the fuck up, Fox. I don't get into anything without my own approval, so stop feeling so damn sorry," came the grunted answer as Errand took two barrels and set one on top of the other. "They won't kill me, but you're dogmeat."

The half-elf thought about that before climbing on the shoddy construction, nimbly, quickly and with precision. He knew it was the logical bit to do -- if Errand wanted to escape as well, it made sense the more dextrous went first. He had to leap to reach a handhold on the walls, nearly slipping and falling back down to the din of muffled running footsteps.

But he didn't.

Sebastian pulled himself up, panting. Fifteen minutes, they'd run. Alleys and everything. It was hardly close to the limits of his stamina, but every use of force and strength depleted reserves. "Come on," he breathed out to Errand, offering his hand.

Though heavier and a bit more clumsy, Errand managed to climb on the barrels, leap enough to get a hand locked in Sebastian's and the other hand on the edge of the wall's parapet. They struggled, but somehow through willpower and sheer stubborn nature, they found themselves sitting on the parapet. Not for long. They took five seconds to breathe before they stood up in harmony.

"Map, compass?" Sebastian asked, watching the figures run toward the wall. What he saw didn't really encourage him, less so that he knew that none of their pursuers nor Errand could see very well in the dark of a wintry night. He swallowed, looked at his partner-in-crime.

"Got them here," Errand said, turned and blinked just as he patted his satchel. He didn't see it, but he heard it just as well as Sebastian did. Saying nothing, he slammed the satchel at Sebastian.

It was cold, slippery and wet. The contact the satchel made thanks to the other man's strength and size was enough to catapult him over the edge, no matter how he scrabbled for a hold on the tiles of the wall. Before he fell, he saw Errand inhabit the place where he had been a moment before, also ready to fall, arrow stuck in his face.

And fall they did.

He didn't go into the details of what happened then. "I hid in the wilderness for two days with his dead body before I worked up the courage to drag him back to the city, to be buried. By then, it was more or less common knowledge that the Jackites had... killed one of their own by mistake. They let me in the city, to turn the body over for burial and let me leave, too. His wife... well, she still hated me, but she hated herself as well," Sebastian whispered, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Sylvie. "They didn't let me stay for the funeral, but at least I got to kiss his cheek before the priest came out to see what the ruckus was about. The Tin's people were there, Jackites too, Gentlings... obviously." He didn't know it, but a tear did run down his cheek.

Sylvie's face reflected sadness and worry for him. She could feel the shape of the guilt Sebastian felt, but not its texture. It was out of her experience.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, and she gently pulled him towards herself until he was leaning against her, her arms resting on his shoulders, hands touching lightly in front of his neck.

At length she quoted calmy, "I don't get into anything without my own approval." She sighed and said, ever so gently. "I wonder if having her jerk you around regardless of what you want skews your view of other people's choices."

He was still mostly relaxed when she pulled him against herself, but finally when he heard the words he first stiffened... and then, against all odds and his usual worries, inhaled sharply to curb an emotion. It didn't help too much, of course. "I know you wouldn't, and neither did he. This place is a bit too close in terms of memories, sorry. But you might be right about her," he said, turning to stare brimstone and hellfire at the statue. Having swallowed, Sebastian found his temper again and pointed his hurt finger at it.

Then he began to mutter at it in another language Sylvie had never even heard of it. It contained several rhotic consonants and a lilting quality to it. It only took some six or seven seconds.