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THE INTERIOR OF THE Bocado was filled with a choking haze from gods knew what. Tali suspected it might be stimulant in nature, but whatever it was, in this bar, it was popular. The other main addition to the decor of the place was the music. A loud and insistent female voice, that seemed due to the acoustics of the place, to carry everywhere, was being accompanied by two stringed instruments that used a set of musical notes Dun hadn’t experienced before. Not an unpleasant sound, just an alien one. It needed to be pretty alien in Dun’s opinion, to stand out from the amazing range of noises outside in the Throng. The song was unfamiliar in itself, but it didn’t take much of a listen to peg it as someone’s lament over a lost love.
As they explored, carefully, they found that around the edge of the bar were cozy booths, a table that seated four or six at a squeeze and a bench on either side. With low spoken voices, a reasonable degree of privacy was to be had. Tali, still having the majority of their tally sticks, went to what passed for a bar. To Tali it felt like some kind of found piece of wall or roof structure co-opted for the purpose of serving and laid sideways. She ordered a racta for Dun, the mead that Padg had insisted on, and a herbal tea for herself. It seemed the local drink round here was a thing called “Good-drip”, by the temperament of the clientele in there she wondered just how good it really was. Her brief reverie was broken by a tray being slid across the bar gently coming to rest against her upper leg. She felt to check the drinks and discovered a bonus: There was a small bowl of some kind of chips. She tried one, which seemed to be some kind of salted dried local plant. Since she didn’t have to pay for it, Tali assumed that the salt in there was to cause them to drink more. Well, she felt like something to nibble at while she thought. And there was a lot to think about. She carried everything back to the booth.
“Here y—”
“Shh!” Dun hissed.
She put the tray down on the table in the booth and as she did Dun grabbed her hand. She suppressed a cry. Gently but firmly, he guided her hand to a piece of parchment he’d laid out flat. She ran her hand across it. In his small precise writing he’d written:
Quiet! I’ve been listening to a booth
about three tables away behind us.
I think its Myrch.
She tapped his hand on the wrist. She paused but nothing happened. She took her forefinger and drew in squiggles on his hand. He finally understood and pushed the stylus into her grip. She scribbled hastily back and both Dun and Padg reached over to read it.
Has he said anything yet?
Then in Padg’s long spidery hand, he wrote,
We think he’s been negotiating a way to gain passage through someone’s territory. Faeries? Never heard of them.
Tali scribbled back.
Listen. Can talk later.
They strained and could make out two voices, that of Myrch and another with a River-folk accent.
“...too much,” Myrch said.
“Well, my friend. I don’t believe you have much choice. Besides, your employers will pay.”
“...just plain extortion.”
“I’m in business, just like you. We, freelancers, have such expenses. Covering your trail and ensuring my friend's involvement is secret, well...”
“... have died because of that knowledge.”
“... mrgh...”
“... much do you want the package...”
“... bandit-folk!”
“... have a deal... good!”
Drink up. Back to the hostel.
So hastily, but as quiet as they could manage, the three of them navigated the edge of the bar farthest from the discussion and fell into the Throng. Then holding hands Padg, threaded them back through the crowds at as fast a pace as he could in the chaos. Tali was glad she had taken the pre-emptive step of paying for two stays at the hostel for all of them. It kept their room and it saved time. Since it was work-cycle, when they got back to the digs, it was empty except for them and Gryk on the door. He greeted them cheerily, though he did briefly stop them to remove their newly bought knives.
“How does he know?” Dun said when they got back to their room.
“Habit?” Padg said.
“I tell you what. I’m glad of him now. He’ll keep strangers away from the door and listening in at windows. Not the kind of thing I’d have thought he’d tolerate,” Tali said. “So what the hells was that wheedling mercenary up to? And what did I miss while I was at the bar?”
“Well,” began Padg, “there was all that stuff about the Faerie, whoever the hells they are.”
“Fire-folk,” Tali said. “It’s an old name for them. I’ve come across it before in ancient alchemy scrolls. They used to be the go-to folk for potions and stuff as they used to be the only folk with enough hot vents to do any real alchemy. Of course, since then we’ve all learned to adapt and find new vents all the time but it’s still said that the vents of the Fire-folk are the hottest. “super-heated” or “high-pressure” so they say.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me into alchemy speak,” Padg said, feigning a snore.
Tali kicked him. “Well listen up, dozy, it might be important.”
“So, if it’s the Fire-folk we’re talking about. What do we know? They are supposed to be really secretive,” Dun said. “And they have a whole lot of rituals unique to them, that no one else has experienced. Supposedly no one who learns their secrets gets to escape alive.”
“Sounds like a traders tale to me,” Tali said. “Much truth in it do we think?”
“Not much to go on,” Dun said. “Almost all the stuff passed down about them is rumor. There is an area on my father’s map where he thought their tunnels began. It says, ‘Fire-folk. Beware!’ on it.”
“Not massively encouraging then,” Padg said.
“Well, hard to tell what Father meant by it. He wasn’t one for overstatement, so the warning is genuine, but then again, by the rough way he’s sketched out the boundaries of their realm, he never went there himself.”
“Let's move on, I presume that’s where Myrch was trying to negotiate passage. Let’s just hope he did an efficient job.”
“Yeah, he’s efficient all right,” Padg said bitterly. “Efficiently double-crossing all of us with the damned River-folk.”
“That doesn’t really bother me that much,” Dun said.
“What?” Padg said.
“No, really. What does bother me is: Why? What are the River-folk up to and why is Myrch needing to stay on their right side?”
“Two very good questions,” Tali said. “Any thoughts?”
“Not really. I just get a feeling that the plans of the River-folk and Myrch aren’t in the slightest bit related. They’ve just crossed each other's paths and proved mutually useful.”
“Is that a feeling or a feeling?” Padg said.
“A guess a hunch more than anything.”
“What do we think is in the package that they were talking about?” Tali said.
“Knowing that pack of tricks that Myrch carries around with him, it could be anything. Those found weapons he has are deadly and to anyone in the Dark he could name his price.” Dun said.
“Too simple,” Tali countered. “If it was the weapons, he wouldn’t be so free with using them. I think he’s got something else.”
“One last thought. Do we face him with it?” Dun said.
“Are you mad?” Padg said. “Half of what they said could be ‘knowledge enough to get us all killed’, and gods know who else in the process.”
“We should go back and tell the village,” Tali said.
“We can’t go back.”
“No, not without having found the Machine-folk.”
“No, we just can’t go back,” Dun said.
