Twenty-five

"Oh, most certainly," Sebastian smiled a little sheepishly. "I think Father Joachim considered his priesthood as his entire life - he never tried to stop anyone from seeing his private persona. It was his public persona as much as it was his private persona..."

He tilted his head. "It's interesting, the impression he's left on me. Maybe I ought to consider changing my base of comparison for clergy. But anyway."

"Yes, I should be going." Pity, really.

Sylvie took her leave and went to Wellgate, most of the way following the inner city wall.

Four streets met there at irregular angles, giving one of the houses not very much room to spread. The front, if you call the side with the door "front" by default, was about twice as wide as the door itself.

Sylvie tugged on the bellpull and waited. Eventually a sour old lady opened, frowned at Sylvie, glared at the clouds and waved the former into the hallway, calculating that she'd drag in less water than it'd be if they talked at the door.

"So, there, someone sent you to pick up something, maybe? Or are you delivering something? Not another of those crazy chickens, I hope?" Apparently she'd noticed Ayu-Asra, who was stirring a little, but hidden in Sylvie's cloak.

"No, actually I'm here because of a problem of my own."

The old lady sighed, exasperated. "Typical. Had a week's worth of visits since..." She seemed to suddenly remember there was someone else in the room. "Sorry, lass, but this is bad luck. Someone brought up a problem Bran called 'innnteresting' to him; he's left yesterday to poke around in a supposedly haunted ruin."

Sylvie sighed. "And do you know when he'll be back?"

The woman shook her head, lips pressed together. "The travel alone will take a week. In this weather! Foolishness to travel in this, don't ask me why he did. Sooo, you'd better run along and see to it that you get home and can dry off, or do you want to leave a message?"

"Ah, thanks, but no. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

For the first time the old lady did not look annoyed, but rather surprised. "Yes, right. Good day to you."

"Goodbye."

Before she closed the door after Sylvie, the lady called behind her, "But don't waste <i>your</i> time coming back if you're after love potions. There is no such thing!"

Sylvie left in a daze, idly wondering what had been going on this poor person' nerves.

Sebastian anticipated that Sylvie would take a while with the mage no matter the answer, even though he wasn't optimistic about her chances. There was no reason to give up hope, and Sylvie didn't seem to be near the point where she would. It was a pleasing, laudable feature. Rather inspiring, even. How many would have given up after a few tries?

He found that his own fears were true and simply closed the history book, unable to concentrate. He was so restless that he could barely keep his mind from straying from anything he tried to focus on. For a moment he was all right, but then his disjointed thoughts dispersed or collided into each other so very, very fast... Sebastian sighed, shook his head and went to take his things. He left the history book behind on his bed, took his satchel and raincoat and - with a nod to Mister Crow - left the establishment.

He had barely made it halfway to Fortuna's shrine, counting the alleys surrounding on the rain-beaten, sodden streets as he walked. As chance would have it - or the Lady Luck -, he happened to come across an answer he had been waiting for more than a week.

Three men passed him on the street and stopped abruptly, turning around to look at him. "Hey!"

He turned around curiously and frowned. They were the men from the graveyard, all strong workers based on their appearance. One of them was towered a head above his comrades, two bearded men who looked somewhat alike. Sebastian's stare was locked on to the tall one, however. Being two heads shorter than the man, it was hard not to be impressed.

He smiled as the men walked nearer. They didn't know it or see it, but he was completely prepared to either bolt or give them a piece of his mind. "Yes?"

"You're the Old Lady's eldest son," the tall man rumbled in a worn voice. It wasn't a question. It was barely a statement, either - it sounded more like an accusation.

Sebastian looked left and right at the two others. "I suppose I am," he said cautiously. "Wh--"

"What the blooming hell do you think you're doing, man!" the tall one snapped at him, raising a fist approximately half the size of Sebastian's face. "Sitting around boozing and finagling like some..."

"Excuse me," Sebastian said, in that style of speech. "Can we--"

"Oh shut the hell up," the man said, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him along.

Sebastian, utterly surprised the two others didn't try to stop this man, looked around. There was absolutely nobody else on the streets, and the last guardsman had been shivering at the corner of some smithy, where he had taken shelter from the rain by the door.

"Now, wait a moment you overgrown lump of...!"

"Oh, shut up."

Thwack.



He came to a little later and found that the room reminded him of some foliage in a forest. But where are her hands? he wondered, lifting his head and feeling the back of his head.

Ohhh yes, that hurt. But there were no hands, nothing to ease the pain. It was a terrible pity and made Sebastian feel sad. He didn't want to start analysing why... and besides, his head hurt. And his... face smelled vaguely of bad wine?

"About time you woke up, you stupid man," a familiar, hoarse voice grumbled from nearby.

He woke up to reality. He was lying on a bed in a large room with wooden walls, much like a log cabin. The room was as much a bedroom as it was an... office of some sort? On the opposite side of the room was a desk and a bookshelf, both full of paper and books... but it was the tall, brown-haired man sitting in front of the desk glaring back at him that really caught his attention.

Sebastian ignored his body's protests and stood up. He didn't have his boots, coat, satchel or raincloak, and was slowly getting angry. "Who the hell are you, lad?" Sebastian snapped, eyes two slits.

"Kheh. I'm Kord. Local clergyman. You... you've got no right to be upset."

The Hat took a single step toward the man. "Aye? Well, lad, I happen to be of the mind to make you think the other way. I could really not care any less that you happen to be the Old Lady's worshipper... you see... Grace, I'm going to give you such a pounding that your grandchildren will be telling stories of it to their grandchildren."

While Sebastian considered the cuss that he had borrowed from somewhere, Kord blanched. It wasn't that he didn't think he could overpower the Old Lady's eldest son... well, actually, yes. He had been confident that he could do such a thing based on how pitifully small and unimportant the... man looked. For the most part, however, it was because the eldest son had a rather bloody reputation akin to that of certain feral gods and goddesses of the deepest wilderness. Granted that it was only because the Old Lady herself required as much...

"I see I have your attention," the Hat said and snorted. "Perhaps next time you will be some what more... 'civil' about it. Another man may have broken your nose by now - that is, someone like you."

Oh, that's really pushing it, Kord thought. "Now look --" The Hat set his arms akimbo and turned his head slightly to the side, eyes still locked on to the man. Kord, pointing at the Hat with a finger, found himself momentarily wordless. He reconsidered. "Are you telling me... that you have no idea at all about what's going on?"

"That would be correct," said the Hat, sitting down on the bed again. He felt a little dizzy. "So, perhaps you should start from the very beginning."

The clergyman winced and sighed, feeling more than a little stupid all of a sudden. "Sorry."

"You can be sorry later."

That certainly didn't sound so good, as far as Kord was concerned. But there was time to be worried... later. He winced and looked at the strange man sitting on the bed, his strange hair, eyes and angular facial bones, how he stared back... yes. There was definitely a reason why he worked for Fortuna and the Old Lady.

"Two days ago when I was praying my thanks for the rain, the Old Lady sent a servant that broke into my house. It was a sunflower that walked on its roots... yes, 'kay, no need to look at me like that." How frustrating. "She told me... the clouds aren't moving. They haven't moved ever since they spread out over Canyet and the surrounding farmed land."

The Hat's aggressive expression melted away instantly and was replaced by one of utter disbelief. "That's not possible."

"Bah. That's what we said. Me and the Traysen brothers and sisters. She told us that it's nothing natural, not at all, but that... she doesn't know who. Or what. Not even where, except... except..."

Kord raised his hand, pointing at the window. Sebastian's gaze followed suit.

The rain was heavy enough to make it hard to see very far, but it was extremely difficult to not see the city walls and the city's tallest buildings above them, sitting still like a dark grey monument of bygone days.

Sebastian considered for a while before he looked at Kord, stunned, knowing that they had reached an understanding. "Gods," the Hat said. "The fields... the animals. The city..."

"The crops will fail: cattle will die. And the diseases," Kord said glumly, looking extremely frustrated. "That's not all, anyway."

"What?"

"Yesterday she told us to... ah-hah... 'go find that cheeky bastard and tell him to get his ass back to work'."

"Oh, lovely."

The first thing Sylvie heard when returning to House Crow, was, "Sorry, your friend Kai has left." In contrast to the woman at the mage's place, Mister Crow sounded like he meant it when he said "sorry".

Well, so much to luck. Sylvie stood there in the common room for a few moments, rainwater dripping from her cloak, and considered paying Fortuna's shrine a visit, but decided against it, imagining what impression and chaos the meanwhile seriously miffed dragon might leave.

"Would you please tell him something when he returns?"

Mister Crow did not mention that judging from Kai's habits so far that might be breakfast time tomorrow, but nodded. "What?"

"The mage is out of town."

Crow looked at her with slight suspicion, but nodded.

A few polite words later Sylvie was on her way back to Old Ivy.

Kord and the Traysens weren't really that bad, Sebastian thought in hindsight as they took him back to Canyet's gates, just in time to hear the guards change to early nightshift. They had fed him, apologised and tried their best to be polite now that they knew he hadn't been trying to avoid his goddess. But the more they had told him, the more nervous he felt. Walking outside in the rain held no more joy for him, not in hearing the sounds of impacting raindrops, not in the scents the rain brought (of course, some of them weren't particularly attractive scents...).

It made him feel slightly angry. Whatever or whoever was causing the clouds to stay had taken away his sunshine and cheated him of the rain he had initially welcomed. Sebastian glared up at the dark mass of clouds and sniffed out, going over the fact in his mind, wondering what he was going to do about it. What could he do about it? Nothing was impossible; it just took planning. Or dumb luck, of which he had in copious amounts. Sometimes.

He walked on silence, thinking about his first steps on the way to House Crow. Under the circumstances, he didn't want to talk to Auker - not now. The Lady Luck had most of his attention, but the Lady Land had her own demands occasionally. When she did have one of those rare demands, he did his best without question.

But this request was quite different from her previous ones. Kord hadn't told him what the Old Lady wanted him to do - that he could figure out all by himself when he knew what was causing all of this.

He snuck into House Crow, finding it largely empty. He shrugged and stopped to listen to the thundering outside. How was he going to find this out and play inquisitor? How was he going to find out what magic was causing the clouds to pile up and gravitate around Canyet and cause rain to fall for miles and miles around the city, and how was he going to stop it if it turned out to be something sinister and deadly?

Silly boy. With fool's luck.

He snorted. Then plotted course for his room.

Someone else started up and inwardly cursed her bad luck.

Too damn close! She hesitated just for a heartbeat before she got up and darted to the window, hearing the key turn in the lock. Fearing getting caught more than anything, she jumped - leaving behind what she'd come for.

The first sounds the intruder made woke a half-asleep beast. Sebastian blinked, squinted and rushed into the room, already muttering coarse things under his breath and ready to offer a fist as a welcome. He only caught a glimpse of the intruder before even that disappeared. The rain and wind pushing into the room did nothing to faze him; he simply placed his hands on the windowsill and scanned the scenery outside the window. He had half a mind to get very, very serious with whoever it was. Even before he had managed to look outside, he was moving to go after them.

She pushed herself up and started running in one movement. Balance would sort itself out with speed.

Sebastian came down with a hiss and rolled, ending up on his feet - and wet. He didn't care, however, just stopped to balance his senses rather than his body. It took only a moment, during which he made a few observations about the intruder. He continued to do this as he dashed after her, muttering some choice words. A nightly chase in the rain would perhaps been romantic under other circumstances, but he wouldn't have thought of that right then.

She was quite a bit smaller than Sebastian, running barefoot as fast as she could, not looking back.

There must be some way -

A sudden change of direction, into a short alley, and halfway through she saw faint light. Slowing down to gather breath meant he'd catch her if this didn't work, but she did, and yelled "Help! Rape!" as loudly as she could manage.

Sebastian, quickly over his moment of imagined victory, gave a snort and stopped, allowed a short-lived smile. Clever girl.

He didn't even dream of staying put to see if there would be guards coming. He could hear someone shout in the distance... but it must not have been very far at all, considering the rain dampened voices, too. It was a wonderful thing that people made haste when someone yelled 'rape!', no matter how irritating it happened to be this time.

Still, the moment required him to keep up some appearances, so he cursed and slipped away, making best speed. By the time he had reached House Crow and examined the ground outside his window, he felt like laughing.

She was no assassin. But who then? He climbed back into his room the same way his Miss Assassin (ha!) had and chewed on this piece of information, annoyed and tired. I am going to find out. Then I am going to tell them that this is not the best of times, and that if they want to play with me... they can do it after I have solved larger problems.

Sebastian frowned as he turned to close the window. How was he going to take care of even that when he was but a much too long-lived scoundrel with plenty of general knowledge but less in the way of expertises? In fact --

The half-elf turned around and took a step. Again, a pause. He stopped brooding for a moment and looked down at the floor, slowly.

There wasn't that much water, this time, but the intruder had left drips and smears, including a few overlapping handprints.

This was quite easy to see, since a small candle lantern, darkened on three sides, was another thing down there, at the end of the bed that was closer to the door. Light spilled under the bed.

Sebastian contemplated the prints and the lantern momentarily. He hadn't hidden anything under the bed, nor even looked under it when he arrived. It was doubtful Mister Crow would have left something there, too. He knelt down on the spot where the burglar had, by all appearances, been working on something and reached his hand out, feeling the floorboards.

One of them was indeed loose, but he didn't dare lift it yet. So. It probably is not a trap... but what is it, then? Some manner of trinket, to make me sleep even less? Smirking at that ironic thought, he threw all caution away and lifted the floorboard.

It took a bit of careful navigation to retrieve the 'treasure': a small wooden box. It was simple, but smooth, and had been polished once upon a time. Opening the lock would be hardly a challenge for anyone.

Such a tiny box could be such a thorn in his side. Sebastian sniffed and set it on his bed, rubbed some warmth into his arms and then set off to clean up as he best could with the one single rag he had. There wasn't a lot of water, but there wasn't much of the rag either.

He avoided thinking about the box until he was done. Once he was done, however, the half-elf grinned at the box and dug into his satchel. "Hello, little box. Let's see what secrets you hold, and why that clever little lass wanted to get hold of you so badly..." The lockpick was twirled in his fingers a few times as he considered the box again. Finally he shrugged and decided he was being far too paranoid: who would trap a little box? The first notes of a local song were whistled as he began to work on the lock.

The lock was indeed as simple as they came.

The contents were not exactly impressive. A few dried strawflower blossoms, a few clay marbles, an inexpertly carved horse (or possibly dog), a fine lace handkerchief, and under the rest, an oblong tin that'd easily fit in someone's palm.

How anticlimactic. He ignored the blossoms, marbles and horse (being very careful with them). The handkerchief received far more attention. Eventually he tired of looking at it and inspecting it, and folded it neatly before placing it aside.

And then there was the tin... Sebastian felt so very tempted to shake it a few times. He didn't. A very tiny part of him had decided it was something important to the burglar. Not in financial terms, perhaps, but sentimental values instead. He made a few guesses about the contents - then opened the tin.

It held, nested in cloth, a spindly thing made from glass. With a flat plate on one end to stand it up, it was about as long as his little finger, and the thickest point was slightly below it's middle.

It wasn't what he had expected it to be, which was both a relief and a puzzling turn of events. Refraining from touching the item, he turned the tin around and stared at the glass thing. He hadn't the slightest clue what it was or what it did.

Sebastian pursed his lips and shut the tin, putting it back into the box, which he put under pillow end of the bed. He would have time to think about it tomorrow, and not alone. As interesting as the mystery was, sleep was more tempting.

He went to bed, this time dreaming of exceptionally wet fields under a harvest moon, a single small nightshade growing under a tree.

As far as dreams went, it wasn't all that bad, the implications notwithstanding.

Depressingly, the morning was no brighter than late night, a fact that caused him a small amount of worry. The pressure he felt was immense: he felt like taking his hat downstairs with him, although there was very little point in doing so. Well, except... comfort.

He persisted, however. Stiff upper lip. Self-restraint. Good things. The only compromise he allowed himself was a small braid that hid behind his right ear, and even that felt racy.

The floor, thank the gods, looked dry and normal, he noted as he sat on his bed, fully clothed, history book in hand. That thought chained itself to the memory of the proprietor cleaning up the previous mess, which in turn reminded the half-elf that despite a lacking appetite it was probably a good idea to eat something nonetheless. So he stood up, left the room.

Once downstairs, he made his way to Mister Crow.