Ferrying the party to the Merchant District took a bit of time, since they had to split into groups to be carried in the little rowboat, but when they reached the docks, they found sailors looking oddly at Talib as he climbed onto the pier.
            A small group of them, led by a woman he knew as Jemmy from the Manatee Rising, approached him. Jemmy spoke, her face sympathetic. "We heard what happened. I'm real sorry, Lord Islaran. We all are." At first he thought she meant his condition, bloodied and torn, but the group murmured their agreement, and she went on, "He was a real good Harbormaster. It's a terrible thing, what happened to him."
            Talib at first had remained thoroughly puzzled as he searched Jemmy's face, trying to suss out her fallen countenance. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head until his hair fell before his eyes and had to be pushed back forcefully. The sailor's mouth opened and closed twice before he was finally able to put thought to voice.
            "What ... Did his illness ... Was, what do you mean was, I saw him just ..."
            Keltar Islaran had been sick for a long time, that much was true, but the man was still up and moving last Talib had argued with him. The former Captain stumbled backwards a step away from Jemmy, looking over his shoulder to the small crew he had fallen in with and then back to the crowd of sympathizers. Sympathizers he didn't want nor ask for. Sympathizers who knew more about what was going on with his family than he did. All thoughts of Vanthus, Lavinia, the Shadowshore, it all evaporated from his mind as if boiling steam. Panic slapped him across the face and he felt himself becoming all at once deeply morose and deeply enraged.
            "What happened to my Father?"
            Lillia stepped with fluid quickness between Talib and Jemmy. One hand pressed Talib back, her eyes flared in warning to him. In that gaze was a world of conversation and emotion, foremost among them a mental slap that he not forget that he was nobility.
            Her other arm held up toward Jemmy, she turned and addressed the woman to mitigate any confusion or fear.
            “This is the first that Lord Islaran is hearing of his father’s fate,” she said in calm, direct tones, lowering her hand. “I’m sure he would be most grateful if you could convey what you know in clear, simple terms.”
            Lillia turned back and acknowledged Talib’s countenance and then calmly withdrew to let them speak. She turned her attentions to any onlookers that might be paying a little too much interest in the exchange.
            Talib felt himself drowning under the weight of the unknown, the fear of having lost what he had just started to mend being an overwhelming, impossible emotion.
            So it was that he was grateful for Lillia's intervention, throwing him a buoy to maintain his posture during such an unforgiving storm. His dark, dampening gaze warmed slightly at her regard, an imperceptible dip of his chin in respect for her careful concern, before he turned his attention back to Jemmy.
            "Y-yes, quite ... quite so," he agreed letting his hands lock behind his back, grasping his wrist so tightly as to make his knuckles go pale.
            "Now, please - I've been ... indisposed, as of late. What is the news of Lord Islaran?"
            His eyes begged for lies, but the stillness of his heart seemed to already know the truth.
            The other sailors abruptly found that they were late to return to their ships, and Jemmy, who couldn't very well just leave when being addressed by a noble, looked like she was reconsidering her life choices. She shot Lillia a grateful look when the seamstress calmed Talib, and fumbled her words in answering.
            "I... I'm so sorry, Lord Islaran, I wouldn't have... I assumed you knew already." Seeing the impatience resurface on his face, she blurted, "Lord Islaran is dead. The Elder, I mean. They're saying he was murdered." It looked to Lillia as though she knew more than that, and was very, very uncomfortable with being the bearer of bad tidings.
            "I'm... I'm really very sorry -if I'd known I would never have..." Jemmy stammered, beginning to back away. "It's just... I thought everyone knew!"
            Though some of the sailors and dock workers were watching from afar, most people paid no heed to the little scene on the docks.
            Jabari shook his head. "What? They're saying the Harbormaster was murdered? That can't be right. How?" The young nobleman's head spun at the thought of what was coming if it was true. He liked Talib well enough, and he felt for the older man, but there were larger issues on his mind. His own family had their own interests here- his parents and siblings had their own contacts in the Harbormaster's office and their own interests in the Azure District and Merchant's District. This was going to be chaotic, even if the transfer of power to the next Harbormaster went smoothly. If Talib's father had been murdered... it would be far from smooth.
            Looking as though she were wishing to be just about anywhere else, Jemmy reluctantly answered, "I... I heard he was torn apart by yuan-ti. I'm really... I'm really sorry - "
            After the sailor responded, Jabari stepped in close to Parant and dropped his voice, hoping it wouldn't carry past the two of them over the hustle and bustle of the docks around them. "The Kellanis could be making a play. Azure District might be dangerous until this is settled, especially for people traveling with an Islaran. Watch our backs." He shook his head, frowning in frustration as he exercised seldom used political muscles. "We also need to see what kind of moves my family and Lavinia are making. We don't want to step on anybody's toes."
            Looking as though she were wishing to be just about anywhere else, Jemmy reluctantly answered, "I... I heard he was torn apart by yuan-ti. I'm really... I'm really sorry - "
            Politics. The word went unspoken, but definitely not unsaid. Parant gave Jabari a nod, then returned to his role as the bodyguard of a young nobleman in a highly dangerous situation. His eyes constantly scanned the docks, the crowd, and the sky. They even touched on the water every so often, sweeping for threats.
            Talib felt all the strength leave his legs, a dizziness making him sway as though he were a novice sailor experiencing his first storm. Slowly did his hands release their grip, one coming to his brow to hold his head as he failed to meet Jemmy's eyes. She was saying more. Apologizing? He could barely hear it. All the sound had died around him, leaving only a high-pitched, shrill whine. He was uncomfortably aware of how his heart pounded, each bang making his head throb all the worse.
            "It's fine," he felt himself say, his mouth and tongue a marionette just going through the niceties expected of his station, "You didn't know. It's fine, you did nothing wrong. It's fine."
            Keltar was dead.
            His father. Murdered.
            He and the old salt had always butted heads, had always been at odds from the moment he had been born. Yet the day before, there was ... well, there had been the potential for understanding. For some type of relationship to exist between them other than just bickering and spite. Maybe one day Keltar would have even been proud to call Talib his son.
            But that was gone now. All of that possibility, dead. No chance to reconnect with the man who had raised him that he had kept running from. No chance to reconcile the future of The Azure: where once he had been terrified at the prospect of being the Lord of The Lighthouse, now he was.
            "You can go," Talib said with a dry tongue, still not looking at Jemmy as he granted her leave. Far be it from him to magnify the woman's panic. "Thank you for your honesty."
            Jemmy offered more awkward condolences even as she backed up, before turning and hurrying back to whatever she had been doing before spotting Talib. He barely noticed.
            The sailor turned away from Jemmy, the crowd, his companions, and walked himself briskly to the edge of the harbor they had returned to. He needed to be away from the stares for a moment, away from the scandal of it all. He didn't give a damn that people worry about being deferential to him, or if they upset him, or anything else that he had tried to leave dead and buried in the past. He wasn't a noble, he was a bloody pirate, and now ...
            "Unfair," he found himself muttering under his breath, his mind drifting to the strangest things in his grief, "Unfair, you old bastard. I said I'd fill your chair when you finally left, and you go and .. and die, you cantankerous ass. Just like you. Just like you to force it to happen. You probably knew it was coming, didn't you."
            Tears flowed freely down his face, sorrow and anger swirling together into a maelstrom of torment. He sat himself down over the edge of the wall that held back the mighty sea, his eyes getting lost in the sparkling bursts of color from the sun dancing on the waves. He spoke to the ocean, knowing its dark waters would never answer back.
            "Godsblood, ?bati. I should've been there. Not trying to cavort with nobles or impress some skirt. Doing everything you always chided me for."
            His fingers dug hard into his biceps, both hugging and crushing himself in equal measure. He wanted to scream. To shout and holler and rage. To break down and wail until he had no more breath to spare.
            But he was Lord Islaran now. And his father would have been quite ashamed of such an unbecoming outburst in public.
            "Do not let all we have built fall to ruin."
            The last thing Keltar had said to him.
            He cast his eyes towards the towering lighthouse, the symbol of Islaran power and the guiding hand of the entire district. Of the entire city even, for Tashluta lived and died on the seas.
            "I will avenge you, Father," he vowed, wiping his eyes roughly.
            "Whoever did this, whoever committed such unspeakable evil ... I will hunt them across every sea. I will remind them that a Lion still sits within The Lighthouse."
            He stood up in a flash and drew his blade from his hip. With a quick motion, he grasped the sharp edge with his free hand and held it over the water.
            "Anachtyr, you hear me!" he growled in hushed tones, "I have not ever prayed to your Blind Eyes, but you will listen! Give this orphaned son Justice. Let my own maimed hand not heal until the murderer of Keltar Islaran is brought before your scales. This is my plea. Heed it or damn yourself to Every Hell - I pursue this no matter what!"
            Talib drew the sharp scimitar over his palm, cutting it deep enough that a pool of blood fell from it into the ocean below. Whether his hasty religious oblation mattered to a distant god or not, Talib did not care. He had made his vow to the seas and the sky.
            Keltar Islaran would have justice. He would see to that.
            Syd frowned deeply at the delivered news, his head bowing in respect. The politics was well beyond him, but he moment wasn't entirely lost on him. He remained silent but nearby, offering Talib a look of camaraderie and support when he caught the sailor's eye.
            Talib was grateful for Loupin's intercession to draw him out of his morose anger, the sailor doing his best to focus on her with damp eyes. Even in the midst of calamity, she tried her best to sort things through logically - it was a needed talent, the now-Lord Islaran realized, especially with all of their plots now thrown into disarray.
            "I ... Yes, I have a brother still here," he answered, "And a handful of sisters. They ... Gods' Blood, if something has happened to them too ..."
            He hadn't even considered the possibility. Frantically he stepped away from the party for a moment, sheathing his blade without bothering to clean it. His cut hand twitched, the nerve endings aflame but the pain didn't seem to bother the distraught mariner at all. Not like the thoughts running through his head. After he took a centering breath, he turned back to the assembled.
            "If ... I can't imagine this has something to do with what we've been looking into," Talib admitted, "Keltar is ... was, a member of The Dawn Council. No Shadowshore or crooks or what have you would think of murdering him - they'd have little to gain from it, in all honesty. We've already seen how bad things have gotten in The Azure, they don't need a high-profile death to bring attention onto them. This ... This feels bigger somehow. Like ... Like somebody is making a play for the Harbor itself. My brother, Nanib, he was never in line to take over the family, my sisters too busy searching for suitors. The heir, the true heir, he's been missing for years, just left home and never came back."
            His brain worked through all the possibilities, all the enemies they had accrued over the years, all the quiet vengeances sworn and ambitions heightened. The Kellanis were the obvious suspects - they and the Islarans had always been rivals for The Azure - but maybe that was too obvious. Maybe.
            "I'd be the next one in danger," he realized aloud, his eyes widening.
            "As would all of you if we remain together. We've not exactly been hiding our associations. Splitting would leave us isolated, but ..." He bit down on his lower lip and shook his head.
            "I need to head home - to The Lighthouse. I have to find my siblings. You should all see to your own - your families, your friends. Confirm whether this is isolated to just my House. And yes, we should see to Lavinia too," Talib added, nodding at Loupin for the thought.
            "Nobody needs to come with me," Talib offered, "I know we've traveled together only a short while and I'd not ask a single one of you to be involved in the affairs of my House, not now that things may be deadly. See to your people and your livelihoods. Meet me at, uhm ... Fifteen Horses and A Mule. The palm wine was good there, I recall, and by the Winds I'll need every drink in Tashluta once this settles in. Once your affairs are in order and we'll plan from there."
            Syd's thoughts were brought to his own past by Talib's words. He was no stranger to looking over his shoulder, no stranger to constant threat. Having one's guild violently disbanded makes it a necessity. Time, of course, had minimized his paranoia as it became clear that there was no real threat to his person.
            He took a step towards Talib and shrugged, "I only have myself, Talib, and I am used to needing eyes in the back of my head. For what it's worth, I will go with you for whatever support you need."
            Talib clasped a heavy hand upon the elf's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Your support is most welcome, my friend."
            While the notion of Syd having nobody else to look after was a melancholy one, the sailor had to admit that he was grateful to have the swordsman along to face the worst day of his life. Syd had proven an able and personable companion, and Talib was touched by his offer.
            Loupin nodded support for this idea; she suspected Syd might be able to analyse criminal evidence a bit better than the rest of them.
            "Maybe we could choose a different place to meet," she suggested. "Whether Keltar is related or not, Shefton at least knows where to find us. There's another tavern called the Rusty Pirate just a few blocks west along Star street. It's not as good, but more obscure and also out of sight of Lavinia's house. Vanthus must think she was after the stolen money. He might have somebody hanging around her place, just to see what she does next. I'm also kind of wondering whether Reginald is all right by himself. He probably translated whatever was in those vault papers by now. But they know I'm alive.... if I go to Lavinia's by myself... I don't know. They may assume you guys are dead. It may be worth trying to preserve the illusion for awhile. I don't know."
            Lillia slowly withdrew as the conversation progressed. Not physically, her persona simply shifted to the circumstances at hand. Her hood was up slightly, her head bowed in thought, her demeanor sedate and small. She just seemed less there, quiet and unsuspecting. She knew word of their survival would spread quickly now. Such rumors would race like wildfire. She awaited the moment of decision until the party started moving again. Then she simply followed with a subservient gait.
            The Rusty Pirate. A location chosen by Loupin. None of the others had seemed to entertain the notion that the spellcaster may have been approached while they were separated. Well, if that had occurred, it would come to light soon enough.
            She had known Loupin long enough to believe she would have picked-up on any significant changes in the girl's affiliations. Matters were changing so rapidly though, that it didn't hurt to be cautious. She needed to check with her people, but that could wait for now.
            So which party had hired Shefton to lead them to the trap? It seemed heavy-handed for Vanthus, but if the people he was involved with were jockeying for control of the Harbor, that would account for it.
            Her mind spun with possibilities, and she banked those coals and tried to remain alert to their immediate surroundings.
            Parant didn't look at anyone in the group as they talked among themselves, and he didn't look at them as he spoke, either. Hie eyes continued to scan the docks.
            "Standing on the docks will not help with that. Especially since at least three people have already identified Talib already. And with his reaction, I doubt it will stay quiet for long."
            Parant's eyes narrowed for a moment as he tracked the flight of a bird that he didn't like the look of. When the bird wheeled away, Parant continued speaking.
            "We should move. Get underground. Make our decisions elsewhere. The longer we stand here, the more time our enemies have to find out we are here and move to limit our options. We do not know enough to make good decisions right now. If there are enemies moving against house Islaran, they moved prematurely, thinking that Talib was removed from the equation. If they thought him alive, they would know that any claim to his position would be futile. But with him gone..." Parant shrugged. For one who claimed to have so little interest in politics, he seemed to be hitting the high points.
            "If his fate was unknown, killing his father would be designed to draw him out. Right now, were it me, I would be looking for any response from heirs or allies of House Islaran, and prepared to counter them. We do not know enough," Parant repeated, "to make any wise decisions. Going to ground and seeking safety and information is our best choice. If we scatter," he finished, "we may accomplish some things, but any of us who are captured or killed will not aid the rest. If we find safety, then we can deliberately learn what there is to be learned, what assets we may still have, and what options we may have. But we will not discover those things standing here on the docks,"
            At first, Talib became angry at the calm, rational words of Parant, wheeling on the man with a sudden, cold glare.
            "My family needs me right now," he growled in low tones, "If any others have been targeted, I need to be there. You'd do the same if it were Jabari!"
            The moment passed swiftly, however - both Loupin and Parant had a way of putting things into words with enough dispassion as to cool the fire that burned Talib's ears. He took a step back and pulled at his hair in stress, smearing blood into his thick locks with little care.
            " ... But we know little. And if I and Syd march over to the Lighthouse, we may be inviting an assassin's blade. They ... Yes. Yes, they wouldn't go for Nanib or my ihitochi, they'd go for me. They'd need to make sure I was out of the way."
            It was a strange thing to admit and keep admitting - while he had certainly made enemies in the past, the notion that someone was actively trying to kill Islarans was disturbing and horrifying. And his father ... His sickly father, already practically on his deathbed, denied a peaceful sleep. The sailor's fist curled tightly, causing his wound to trickle more.
            "We need information. And whomever did this would be watching the Lighthouse, watching to see who went there. It'd be the smart thing to do if they were targeting my family." Talib nodded slowly, pondering this.
            "Loupin, you mentioned the Rusty Pirate? A salty place if ever there were one, but it may be best we head there now, as a group. It'd be well enough for us to stay out of sight until we can figure this out. Mayhaps someone there might even know more for a few slices of silver. Corsairs talk on dry land, after all."
            His mind was racing and distorted, barely able to think. Thoughts of vengeance and the warped image of his father's corpse danced in his mind, robbing the Islaran heir of any ability to effectively act.
            "We need to get off the street," he stated, agreeing with Parant, "Whatever we do, we need to get off the street now. If our enemies think us dead and gone, far better for it. But we need to maintain that illusion." He repeated Loupin's words, acknowledging her idea as a solid one.
            "Even if they think me alive, so long as they think I'm alone, it may draw out whomever committed this heinous act. And then."
            He turned to Mother Ocean again, glaring at it to force it to take his vow. His voice was harsh, coarser than pumice, colder than the North Wind.
            "Then we deal with them."

            The Rusty Pirate was a quite large establishment with what the staff swore up and down was a real pirate's hook-hand protruding from their sign, and when the party flashed a bit of coin, they were soon seated out of the way and treated to good rum and small bowls of salty nuts. A small handful of people along the way may have recognized Talib, and given him looks of curiosity or pity (though since they looked at Parant the same way, he suspected it might simply be their state of "adventurousness" they were reacting to), but they were not approached again before they were ensconced in the tavern, nor did Lillia or Parant find anyone unusually interested in the group.
            But in the tavern, there was little respite. Not because anyone approached the party, but because the talk of the town seemed to be the murder of Lord Keltar Islaran. Rumors were flying about just what had happened, and one was gorier than the next. Thugs had broken in and killed him in his sleep! Yuan-ti had entered the city somehow and slaughtered him in an epic last stand! Some monster from the jungles had flown in through his window and eaten him alive! He had been tortured to death by assassins! His own sons had poisoned him with the venom of a gorgon to take over his seat on the Dawn Council!
            A short fistfight and a yelped apology later, Talib was reseated and the party was free to talk. Conway had insisted on riding Loupin's shoulder, practically under her hair, probably due to the (now probably quite distant) presence of Crow's Nest. Now he ate salty nuts and croaked contentedly on the table, keeping an eye on the Bosun, who Jabari was forced to keep a hand on to keep the monkey from getting up to monkey business.
            "All this talk of yuan-ti reminds me of those statues under Castle Teraknian," said Loupin grimly. "And the Kellanis keep a vault there too; we found that out earlier." The Upwards House was just a little farther up the street, and she prayed that old whats-his-nuts didn't wander in and spot her. "Vark worked the harbor. It all seems like part of the same thing to me. Should we try to contact Lavinia? Maybe if Lillia disguised herself or something, she could get into the manor without being noticed. Lavinia could probably find out what really happened to your dad, Talib. Vanthus doesn't seem to want to hurt her."
            That could change quickly if they kept chasing Vanthus around. The group was very close now to Loupin's home. She still itched to go there, partly because she had three hundred lions stowed away in her room -- every penny of which they may now need, provided it hadn't already been stolen by Shefton or somebody. Her purse felt very light at the moment.
            Talib held a cool, tin tankard to his cheek, nursing the swelling from where a fist had introduced itself quite abruptly after the sailor had taken offense to several of the comments about his father and family. Luckily the Rusty Pirate appeared to be the type of place where such squabbles broke out often enough that it didn't seem to cause the group trouble. The Islaran continued to glare daggers at the men who had dared to insinuate that he and his brothers had anything to do with Keltar's murder. Is this truly what the city thought of them? Thought of him?
            He emptied to contents of his cup quickly, grimacing - he'd have killed for palm wine but he supposed cheaper swill would have to do. Vinegary salt water, more like - where did the bar get its ale from, The Sword Coast? Talib placed the lighter tankard onto a passing serving tray and swiped a heavier one from a different waitress, slipping a silver into her hand as he did so. That drink, too, went down fast, just as the several others had before it. The taste was inconsequential, he reminded himself. He wasn't drinking for pleasure.
            "Contact Lavinia," he slurred in agreement, his elbow placed firm onto the table and his brow held hard in his hand, "She'll tell ush what needs kilt. Yuan-Ti, Kellaneeesh, monstersh, wind spidersh, I dun give a damn. I'll fight them all if need be."
            Talib leaned back suddenly in his chair, nearly tipping over entirely before forcing his body forward to slam his legs onto the floor with a loud thump. The falling sensation did little to break him out of his drunken mourning, however.
            "Vanths there better not be involved, no sir. Nooooo sir, 'r Lavinia won't have a brother onshe I find him. My brothersh ... Godsh, Aaron ... Nanib ..."
            The proud sailor was miserable, sloshed, and effectively useless - just as his father had always said he was. His arms folded languidly onto the table, his head tucked atop them as he choked back a maudlin sob.
            "There's a messenger service just a few blocks from here," said Loupin uneasily, "if you wanted to let your brothers know that you're all right, or to make sure they are." Talib did not seem all right, however, and she worried that he might try to drag them all into some suicidal revenge plot.
            "What happens if Lavinia doesn't sanction the murder of her brother?" she sighed. "She hasn't paid us our retainer for the month. If we tell her we're out for blood now, we could wind up dangling in the wind..."
            The young, lesser nobleman had been on edge since they decided to stick with Talib, worried that Kellani thugs were going to pop out of every alleyway. He tried to keep up a brave face, but Parant at least could see he was jumping at shadows. He'd been distracted as he tried to watch the crowd- he'd almost had a heart attack when Talib got into that fight!- and his animal friends at the same time, but this got his attention.
            "What? No, she doesn't want him dead." Jabari frowned. "I don't know what she'll say, but I know Lavinia and she is not going to want Vanthus killed." He shook his head. "Unless it's in self-defense, I guess. She wouldn't second guess us there. But going out with murder in mind? No." He shook his head again, this time more firmly.
            "We need to talk to her." He looked at Parant. "As soon as possible."
            Parant frowned. He kept scanning the room from beneath his hood. He hadn't moved at all when Talib had started the fight, except to make sure that the fight wasn't a distraction for a hidden assassin.
            "Priority one should be finding a safe bolt-hole," he said, "priority two, getting Talib under wraps until he can sober up. Priority two-a would be reaching out to our own information sources. Including Lavinia, and possibly within the Lighthouse. Until we know who we can trust, we cannot trust anyone. Including law enforcement. At this point, going to the law would most likely result in Talib being arrested or taken into 'protective custody' while the investigation is ongoing. Then, depending on who has paid whom, and what deals have been struck, he could very easily be declared guilty of something heinous enough to justify stripping him and his family of their traditional post, and handing it to someone else. And that says nothing of the usual corruption at the street level."
            "A bolt-hole would suit me fine," Loupin said, stretching, "but if the Lighthouse isn't safe, what is? Jabari's country pile? It occurs to me that I don't even know where your dear friend Lavinia's mysterious dead parents dug you two up. If it's the Seekers, I don't suppose you'd say, but just so you know, I'm not trading one Vanderboren conspiracy for another. I'd rather take my chances with the High Warden, personally." She slumped a little in her seat. "There's no reason to think people like Seoni or Arabani are involved anyway. It's just as likely old Keltar failed to keep Lavinia from putting us onto her brother's lame smuggling ring and paid for it. Baba and I saw him; he was corrupt -- and had one foot in the grave already. No immediate need to make a move on him, even if it is just a rival House thing." She hesitated, then plowed on. "S'pose he may've sealed his doom a bit by bringing his son back into the fold. There's some irony. Especially as I'm not sure I'd trust Just Call Me His Lordship here to guard my ale, much less the entire harbor... no offense, pal, prob'ly a mug's game anyhow."
            It's possible Loupin herself was a lightweight in the drinking department. She was only a slip of a thing, after all.
            "Don't shpeak ill of him," Talib growled and grumbled, a hand pushing away his tankard as the other forced his head to prop up. He attempted to glower at Loupin but his eyes couldn't focus on the Half-Elf. Vision problems or not, he may have been drunk but he wasn't deaf.
            "He wash a good man. A good man. But he got ooold. And he got ssssslow. And siCK."
            The sailor leaned back far enough that his chair came up, his knees under the table the only thing stopping him from toppling over entirely. He reached for the mug he had pushed just beyond his fingertips, and when he could not touch its cool metal he swore loudly in a Northern tongue at the offending cup. His thoughts drifted quickly back to his family, his head lost in a rolling sea of drink and dourness.
            "And alone. Aaron left. And I left. And we allllllll LEFT, shee? And if we all left, how could there be right, hm? Hm?" It made sense enough in his head.
            Jabari laughed in surprise. "If you want to go to the estate, we can do that. It'll be two days in a carriage, but if you want to be away from all this madness, you can't get much further than the hills. And if any thugs or assassins get past the guard gardens we'll just set the terror birds on them." He sighed and shook his head. "But we'd be completely out of touch there. Even fast messengers would mean it would take at least 3 days for us to respond to anything if we needed to be back here in the city."
            "As far as them," he didn't want to say 'Kellani' out loud, "not needing to make a move... that's kind of a good time to make one, isn't it? Nobody would be expecting it," Jabari glanced briefly in Talib's direction, "while people were making preparations for a few months or years down the line."
            Lillia hemmed and hawed in silence. She knew of a bolt hole that could be used. Knew of several in fact. She had paid considerable sums of coin for that express purpose, to insure she had a safe spot to lay low, to regroup when necessary. That was part of the problem though. They were for her safety. She glanced around at the faces she had only just met a few days ago, Loupin aside, and still, even her spell casting ally could have been compromised.
            Trust was a valuable commodity, and in her book, one that needed to be earned with considerable effort. These seemed like decent enough folk, but there was only one way she could truly guarantee Talib’s safety if they went to ground.
            “I know a place,” she said quietly. “Local. Known only to me.” She looked at the others, and added, “And that’s how it would have to remain.” She shrugged, indicating she knew that the price was rotten.
            “But I can keep him safe,” she said.”If you all want to do some asking around.” She shrugged again. ‘Or not,’ her body language said.
            "No," Talib tried to wave Lillia off but instead fanned the air next to her. His voice was barely a whisper, some part of him connecting the dots enough to understand that they should not be overheard. He leaned as far over the table as he could, its surface being the only thing keeping him upright.
            "No, no bolt pole. No running. Only standing, yes? Yes. Yes." He forced himself to fix his gaze hard onto Lillia, pushing past the haze of bad alcohol. When he spoke it was with a strained sobriety, a sincerity he needed to get across.
            "You won't be safe," he told her, unable to consider that she more than certainly already knew that, "Can't let that happen. Won't."
            "Whether we stand or run, we're gonna need magic," announced Loupin as she plonked down her drink. "You zombie burgers needs healing, and I need to get the rest of my stuff and warn my boss about all of this. He may have some good potions lying around, actually. The shop's just a few blocks from here. It'll only take a minute. Especially if it's been burned down already. So which of you dauntless heroes is going to come along? I'm still on the hit list. Syd? Baba?" She gave those two an expectant stare, like it had become their special obligation to follow her around the city. "Don't tell me I have to go hire a strongman."
            "Or an Ox," Syd smirked to Loupin. He had chosen a seat against the wall, partially due to their newfound paranoia. He also had waved off the harder drink, subsisting on a glass of sweetened water. The honey within made it golden enough to pass for a light ale. "I... might be able to find a safer hole." he added as he leaned forward away from the wall. He set his not-ale on the table and pursed his lips in thought, "All depends on if anyone else has found it since... since it was vacated."
            He shook his head at last, "No, not in Tashulta. Someone would have grabbed it by now." He forwned into his drink, continuing to think. He ran locales through his brain, considering places he had used, or that his guild had used, that weren't vacant safehouses. Most of them didn't work, as their presence would have been noted.
            Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Aha, yes, that might do." He smirked to the others, lifting his eyes to them. "I know a place, in the Cudgel District. It's a hole-in-the-wall, and the patrons therein won't want to draw attention to authorities... law or otherwise. Might be a good place to regroup and figure this thing out."
            The Baba sat at the table looking outwardly impassive as he made an unsuccessful effort to keep up with the conversation whirling around him. He was a stranger here, and had begun to realize the benefits of his situation. His family was safe in Chult. His enemies, whoever they were, did not know him. Unfortunately, Gbele did not know who his enemies were, either. The discussion seemed to focus on self-preservation, which he supposed was understandable, but it was not the way of the holy slayer.
            He turned to Loupin and nodded. "I will join you on your errand. "
            He then addressed Talib. "I will pray that the spirit of your father finds its way in the afterlife. But we do not know who caused his death. If it is a struggle for power in this city, then it is not my concern. I must not be distracted from my calling."
            Finally, he spoke to the group. "I will go with Loupin to her shop, but then we must see Lady Lavinia. There is a great evil beneath the actions of our enemies. I can feel it. Now is not the time to hide and scheme. It is the time to draw the evil out into the open, and to destroy it. If we report what we know, she may have insights into the enemies we face."
            Jabari leaned back in his chair, half turned to Parant, and swept an arm at Baba. "This is what I've been saying." He looked at Baba and the others and shook his head. "Not drawing them out into the open, but we need to check in with Lavinia." The young nobleman looked at Talib and Syd. "You have perfect reasons for going to ground. I agree with you. But there are things happening in the city and we need to check on her. All we're going to get from the streets is rumor about what's going on among the nobles. We can get better information by actually talking to people who know what's going on."
            "Or Reginald can," said Loupin. She wasn't sure she agreed with much of what Baba was saying -- especially with drawing out great evil -- but he was willing to go with her, so arguing with him seemed a little rude. "Reginald may have translated her fairy papers by now -- you know, that vault stuff she didn't want us to see? In any case he deserves to know what's going on. He's in this as deep as we are, and it's probably in our interest to keep him from winding up as a hostage or something. Or at least to establish whether they killed him already."
            She wondered how she would feel if Reginald was dead or missing. Probably pretty bad. He was a little weirdo, but he was nice to her, in spite of the fact that she was not usually an easy person to like.
            "Assuming Baba is the only person going with me," Loupin said rather pointedly, "what sort of magical junk do you guys want? If Orimander doesn't have it, he'll probably know where we can find it. I think we should get all the healing potions we can afford."
            Parant grunted. "You're assuming that Lavinia knows what's going on." He looked at the Baba, then back at Jabari, and sighed. He knew that look. And the look that would come after it if the disagreement continued.
            "Fine," he said, with no rancor - merely resignation. "I go with you, obviously. Perhaps the two-legged approach is best. Baba, Loupin, Syd and/or Lillia, go check on Loupin's people, and magic supplies - you may want to have your guy examine the things we found down there, in fact, if you have time. The rest of us, to Livinia, get what information we can, and then all of us reconnect... where?"
            "Lighthouse," Talib mumbled, focusing his vision as best he could on Parant. "We meet at Lighthouse. Must be done soon. Sooner than later."
            He nodded to himself, casting a glare in Jabari's direction for daring to lump him in with those who said to hide and run. Ha! A thousand villains would fall to his blade by the time this crisis was over, of that he was sure.
            As sure as he could keep his head upright.
            Lillia rubbed a thumb and finger against her temples, trying to imagine the encounter with Lavinia and Talib in his current condition. That was a sight she both did not want to witness but that also offered wonderful social potential. Plus Loupin was right about warning Reginald, he was owed that at least. If she went with Loupin though, she could check on her own resources and information sources as they went. Despite Jabari’s beliefs, those on the street often knew more details of current affairs and more swiftly than the nobility.
            She glanced at Syd and pointed to Talib and Loupin, “Do you have a preference?”
            "I think you ought to go with them," Loupin admitted, casting a less-than-confident look at the others heading east. "We need at least one person there who isn't in complete thrall to that woman. Plus you already know that neighborhood better than they do. If something's off-kilter, you'll be more likely to spot it."
            Syd shrugged, "No real preference. I mean no offense," he added with a smirk, "I'd rather just go where I'm wanted and/or needed." He was a roll-with-the-punches sort of elf. His long life had instilled less of a sense of urgency than humans ended up with.
            Jabari laughed. "Thank the gods someone who knows the Merchant District is coming with us. I might get lost walking from my parents house to Lavinia's." He grinned and shook his head. "What a thing to say."
            "I'm not talking about geography," said Loupin with a shrug. "If I had just robbed my sister and murdered you guys, I'd probably post someone to watch her and see what she does next. Unless you and your parents hang around the same kinds of people Lillia does, I'd lean on her advice about who ought to be wandering that neighborhood and who shouldn't. But have it your way! We'll probably be finished by the same time you are, so we may as well just meet at the boat and figure out what to do next. In the unlikely event that Lavinia has something helpful to offer us, planning too far ahead may not be worth it."
            "If Talib is set on going to his house," said Loupin with a sigh, "are we all really going with him? If it isn't safe -- and it doesn't seem like it could be -- it won't be worth sticking around. I'd feel better hiding in the Cudgel District anyway, frankly. We only have one boat."
            The truth was Loupin didn't want to get involved in a feud between families competing for the harbor, if that's all it turned out to be. Whatever Talib thought, she knew Keltar was a bum, and it didn't seem likely to her that Talib would bring up those Kellanis repeatedly, unless something bad was already been going on between them. She didn't know what good any of them could do in a situation like that. If Parant was right and somebody was planning to arrest Talib, they couldn't stop it from happening. They might even be arrested themselves; Shefton couldn't be the only person who suspected them of setting fire to that stupid ship.

            Syd, Loupin and Baba Gbele parted ways with Jabari, Parant, Lillia, and Talib, each group headed off to different purposes.
            Loupin, with Conway still crowding her shoulder, kept an eye out for trouble on the way to her home above Orimander's shop. Were there people glancing at them in an unusual way? Were those urchins running off headed to tattle on Loupin for her return? Were the people standing in the shaded alleys they passed part of a conspiracy against her? Paranoia made Loupin walk a bit faster, her eyes darting after everyone they walked by.
            "Loupin! Where in the Nine Hells have you been?" Orimander huffed when she entered his shop, which was more full of customers than usual. An elderly man with a long beard and a brightly colored turban, he beamed at the customers even as he addressed Loupin. "Off galivanting with your friends, I see! They were looking for you, earlier. I thought you were just sleeping in, so I sent them up to wake you. I didn't realize you would go haring off with them! I could use a hand down here!"
            "Yeah, I see that..." Loupin agreed vaguely, looking about at the customers with slightly more apprehensiveness. It wasn't just that they might be a bunch of bushwhackers casing the place that made her uneasy, although she certainly hoped the boys were paying attention. The thing was, Loupin was pretty bad about managing inventory, or remembering where things were stored, and Orimander was always ready to give her a hard time about it, however many smiles he had for customers. With all these people in the shop, he was probably freaking out over the disorganized state in which she had left things. Most of his customers were old geezer friends of his anyway, who spent more time gossiping than shopping, making any sudden influx of orders cause for panic.
            The holy man placed his right palm on his chest and bowed slightly. "It is a pleasure to meet my new friend's...boss. Your prosperous business reflects well upon your fine character. We have not been to the Nine Hells, thankfully, yet, but we do come bearing news. We may also trouble you for some of your fine goods, and your elder wisdoms, maybe." He nods his head to Loupin, deferring to her to initiate the meat of the conversation.
            "Oh, uh, sorry -- this is --" Loupin paused in mid-introduction, as something else caught up to her. She set a hand on the table, nearly imposing upon a customer's personal space in the process. Her alarm was obvious. "Say, uh, boss, what do you mean, 'friends'? These guys were here earlier -- these two? Who's here? Somebody's up in my room?"
            "A pleasure to meet you, saer...? Are you in the market for some knowledge, or minor magics?" Orimander asked Gbele, though Gbele thought the look he was receiving was a bit dubious. Maybe Orimander wasn't sure what to do with gentlemen callers for Loupin, which he seemed to be trying to establish whether or not Gbele and Syd were.
            While Gbele thought about that, Orimander glanced sidelong at Loupin. "Of course no one is in your room. I didn't give them a key," he snorted, scandalized. "It's one thing to be young, it's another to behave in an inappropriate manner, young lady! Why don't you help me out in the shop now, and we can discuss your company later."
            The holy man smiled. Gbele's default smile wasn't a simple expression of pleasure; it was more of an external sign he utilized to express that he had no violent intentions. As such, it could come off as strained or insincere, but he found it was the best that he could do in most circumstances. "Healing magics," he requested, simply. "We are in much need of these. Also, I am always seeking knowledge of evil spirits...and how to slay them, of course."
            Loupin groaned. "No, he isn't! Don't tell him anything! We have to go upstairs right now, there could be a summoner's trap or a glyph of warning or something up there! Some kind of terrible trap that will kill everybody in the building with horrifying violence! We'll be back in a second. Er... you go first, Syd. Try to watch out for traps."
            It didn't sound like Loupin would have minded if the shop emptied out just then. Fewer things to worry about.
            "Don't mind Loupin, she has a strange sense of humor, and a flair for the dramatic," Orimander attempted to reassure the customers who had overheard her, while shooting a warning look at the departing wizard. She'd probably never hear the end of it, unless the building actually exploded.

            More servants were bustling about the Vanderboren estate than the last time the party had come there - it seemed she had wasted no time in rehiring some of the elderly servants once she'd regained what funds Vanthus had left her. Trying to be discreet, they attempted not to stare at Talib and Parant, but it was still apparent that their condition would raise eyebrows and inspire gossip. They were let in to rest in the small courtyard garden, where they could sit in the shade by the pond.
            Kora went to fetch Lavinia as soon as they set foot inside, and when the noblewoman came out to meet them in the garden, her face was both worried and sympathetic. With a nod to all of them first, she singled Talib out.
            "Lord Islaran, I'm... I'm so sorry. I only just heard, moments ago. Is there anything I can do to help? And good gods, what happened to you? Parant, you're injured as well!"
            "Your eeeeel of a brother. He Happened." Talib Islaran forced himself onto his feet when Lavinia appeared, but the wobble in his step was worse than the pitching of a deck in the midst of a hurricane and he promptly found himself seated once more. He waved it off with a scowl, the miserable and morose man being a far cry from the Talib that any of the group were familiar with.
            "Didn't find him though, no no no. No. ... No. He just ... he GALLIVANTS off with his Brissa whore and his Penkus buddy. Penkis. Pen ... the, him. Criminal person, shadowshooore."
            Sobering up took ... longer than the party had at the moment, and though Talib had splashed some water on his face it still had done little to wear off the horrid spinning of his head. Better that, he thought, than the horrid feeling that he had failed not only his father but his entire family and bloodline and the fear that he and all of his siblings would be hunted down and murdered in the streets of Tashluta by some yet unknown enemy.
            "Went to a Parroty Island. Smuggler caves down below, place was in shambles. Sssssooo were its inhabi ... inha. Livers. But Not Livers. Zombies. Dead, the dead, they walked? And they bit. And scratched. And ol' cat-man and I, well. We're not as kwwwICK as we thinks we ares."
            Talib flopped onto his back, practically sprawled out as he tried to focus on the sky. He knew somewhere in the back of his head that he had to act differently in this situation, but the demigod-effort to do so was beyond him at the moment. He rolled his head to one side to look at Jabari and Parant, a hand reaching out to give the bigger man a light slap on the arm in camaraderie for both having survived the horrors of Parrot Island. It probably felt more like just a slap, though.
            His head whipped to the other side to look at Lillia. He frowned a bit there in sadness. He was being unbecoming, un-Talib-like, and for some reason being so in front of her was ... shameful? Was that the feeling? Whatever it was he did not like it, did not like feeling ... whatever it was. Something negative about himself. That was happening more and more lately, he realized. Since when did Talib Islaran not enjoy being Talib Islaran? And yet Lillia had been there since the beginning, and she had imparted wisdom and kindness to him in equal measure, though they came from markedly different walks of life. She was ...
            "You're a good," he told Lillia quietly, with all the gravity of the moon that pulled the tides. He nodded solemnly at this impactful statement, aware enough to know that it had to be said, yes. Absolutely, yes.
            "ANYWAY." Talib threw himself back up so fast that he wound up standing again and, after a few, steadying steps, found that he could remain somewhat upright. He waved off attempts to get him to sit - he was a Lord, damnit, and he could stand as he pleased.
            "Came back here, after. Heard about my alab. He ... Gods. Lavinia, he ..." The sailor slumped to his knees again, the grief coming on like a tidal wave and taking all the wind out of his sails.
            "He was a terrible father," he admitted, a striking realization that made his eyes wide as if he had slapped his own face. "... But he tried. We all ... we all tried. And now we, we, we can't. We can't try anymore."
            Slowly his head tilted skywards again, staring up at the sprawling cloudscape above the city. "And now you're safe, Lavinini, which is good, very good. And we're ... here? We're here."
            He paused. The emotion swept out of him with the tide as he shot his party members a perplexed look. "Why are we here?"
            "Because you and Jabari insisted that Lavinia probably knows things that we don't, and that speaking to her should be a priority, despite the fact that you being seen here, in your current state, makes all of us targets - even more than we already were." Parant's voice was quiet, but firm. There was no heat in it, but the facts were the facts, and one of the few habits Parant had kept from his previous life was an unflinching willingness to recognize facts, when they made themselves apparent.
            "You should probably let Jabari talk, now," he said to Talib, his voice softening a little, though the look Parant shot Jabari was much less of a suggestion.
            “Lord Islaran is mourning his father’s passing,” Lillia said to Lavinia. “Our attempts to locate your brother have proved involved. There is potential danger to anyone associated with the investigation, and we wished to warn you and our comrade Reginald of our findings. We are currently trying to suss out whether the attempts on our lives were tied to the events surrounding your brother, the circumstances revolving around the harbormaster’s demise, or some combination of both.”
            “Has there been any news of significance on your end, milady?” she asked. “Any details you may have heard regarding events in the harbor may be vital.”
            Lillia glanced askance at Jabari, inquiring if the nobleman had anything additional he wished to add.
            Jabari tore his gaze away from Talib and nodded at Parant. He took a few steps closer to Lavinia and dropped his voice. "Talib has... not been taking this well. We were attacked trying to track down Vanthus. It was... as bad as I've ever seen. And he had to learn about his father from strangers, a complete surprise. In public, no less." The young nobleman shook his head.
            "We need to know what's going on in the Council, who's making what moves. Who's stepping up? Does it look like the Kellanis did this? Do you need help?"
            "The Kellanis? You think they'd do something like this?" Lavinia looked shocked at the implications, but shook her head a moment later. "That's madness. What could possess them to do such a terrible thing? ...Or is this because of the row Lord Islaran had with Lady Kellani? I know it didn't end well, Lord Islaran, but Rowyn Kellani wasn't the one to blame for that, from what I heard." She regarded Talib with compassion, if also with a bit of wryness.
            "PSH," Talib chided Lavinia, rolling over onto his side to face away from The Lady and his compatriots, "She spins eeeeeveryyyy tale to say I. I! TALIB Ishlaraman. Slighted her. Repeatedly. PSH. Jusht becaushe I sailed away for a fewisher months without telling her, and suddenly Iiiiiiiii'm the BAD GUY here. Well she and whats-his-face were a thing looooooong before I got the lust for wandererering and not jusht her, okay!"
            He laughed derisively but stopped swiftly, his hands going to his head to cradle it. His voice lowered until he as barely whispering.
            "Dizzy ... oof ... Wells. Wells wells. Rowyn isn't no cup of nectarrr EIther, you know! Now my brother Nanib ish chasing her! ISlaranins and Kellaneesh, we go together like woil and otter, I say. Rowyani prolly wantsh to marry into the fambily for the Lighthoushe. Kell-knees alwaysh wanted that damn Lighthouse."
            "I'm afraid I'm not privy to the discussions of the Dawn Council. Our family has never been among the seven houses represented there," she explained to the party as she sent Kora to fetch refreshments and bandages for them. She eyed Talib, not stating the obvious - that he was from a family on the Dawn Council.
            "I don't understand why you think you're a target. Who is supposed to be targeting you? My brother? The Kellanis? I know your foray must have been harrowing, and you don't appear to have escaped unscathed, but what purpose could it have? Murdering any of you won't achieve anything."
            "Mabye not the killings of ush, but waylaying us. Slowing us. From ... things," Talib mumbled (un)helpfully, "Deal with Shadowshore, dad dies. Could've been home, shtoppeddd it. But wasn't. Mayhapsh THEY knew we weres out of Tahulute-a? It's all pork in the dogsh noshe, right? Red Herring. Oh. Oh!"
            Talib rolled back to look at Lillia and the rest, his eyes widening slightly. "Can ... can we get some herring? Minced, with the quail eggs and pickles and the olive oil on the flatbread? Oh, and onions, need the onions, it's manure without the onions."
            Parant gave Lavinia an apologetic look, then shot a more meaningful one at Jabari. Then, the judge-turned-bodyguard-and-friend knelt next to the prone Talib, placing a calming hand on the drunk noble's shoulder.
            "Perhaps," Parant suggested quietly, "we should go to the kitchens, you and I, and find you that snack. And perhaps some khave?"
            The inebriated Captain-Now-Lord grinned up at Parant. Slowly, a hand came up to pat the larger man's cheek affectionately. "You're a good cat."
            Talib forced himself to standing and bowed with the utmost gravity towards Lavinia, Jabari, and Lillia. "Ifmyoull scuse me, I've a snack to has."
            With that, he turned back towards Parant and pointed towards the Vanderboren estate proper. He began to walk (mostly stumble) his way to the kitchen, talking all the while.
            "Khave and capers await us. And and Calishite Delights! They're to die fur, sometimesh quite liter ... lit ... Pirates like thems, you see. And I. Do. Too. The roooosewater ones, with just a dollop of cream, and then, you see, the thing of it is ..."
            Talib prattled on, blissfully more concerned with the thought of food and nonalcoholic drink than he was with the dire straits his family was now in, as well as the ax that surely hung above the necks of himself and his friends.

            When Loupin, Syd and Gbele went up the narrow, creaky stairs to Loupin's room above the shop, which was part of her agreement with Orimander, all seemed well enough outside - but Syd was instantly suspicious. He thought it looked as though someone had tampered with the lock.
            Inside, this became truth apparent. The room was cheap, but clean enough, aside from that things were messy, just a bit askew, as though someone had made a cursory check of the place for her - and for valuables.
            Loupin herded the other two out of her room for a few minutes, which she spent checking that the coins in her hiding spot hadn't been found. Maybe it was dumb to count them - who would take a few and leave the rest? - but she did it anyway, just to be sure they were all accounted for. She came out when she was done, relieved. At least, as relieved as you could be when someone had been in your home, looking for you.
            "You have had intruders into your home?" Gbele frowned, a facial expression that came very naturally to him, in several distinct variations. This particular one indicated both concern and Deep Thought. "Do you know who they were, or what they were looking for?"
            "It was that guy from the sage place," said Loupin, leaning her back against the shut door, like she wasn't exactly sure what to do now. "He's hot for my bod. What is this, Syd? You act like you know all about this kind of burglar crud. Why wouldn't somebody just throw alchemist's fire in there, or leave an evil note or something? What are they playing at?"
            Syd's frown hadn't left his face since they first espied the chaos of her room. "You're not going to find a note saying 'MWAhaha' or anything, Loupin. People like this... they don't advertise. Well, not in that way, anyway. Someone's looking for you. They tried to make it look like a random break-in, to keep suspicion away." He narrowed his eyes and stared into the middle distance for a moment. "We should set a trap. Find out what in the nine hells is going on. I think I might have an idea, though you probably won't like it."
            Syd continued with his thoughts, "We make some noise. Well, you make some noise. Make it known you're home, and you're pissed someone broke in. The Baba and I exit the public entrance, in case it's being watched, and/or your friend downstairs has been... talking. Gbele will watch the building for weirdos whilst I scale the outside in back and come in another way. I'll hide in the shadows, and we wait. Once whoever tossed your room comes back, we get the drop on them and get some information."
            The holy man made a soft tsk-ing noise, thinking that Loupin might be jumping to conclusions. He felt at the time that misrepresenting her intentions to the sage could lead to unintended but predictable consequences. Of course, Gbele always counseled that until the particulars of the exchange of livestock was set, there should be no expectation of nuptial agreements by either party. He found that approach led to more reasonable expectations on both sides. "Why would this sage not speak to Orimander in order to bring his suit? Why go to your room? There would be no goats there." The very idea made the holy man chuckle, then shake his head. "I do not think it was this sage."
            "Well, maybe not him, then," said Loupin, patting her forehead experimentally. She felt a little bit cooked from rowing around the damned canals all day. "It's not the worst battle plan, Syd, but if these assholes do have alchemist's fire, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to start a fight in a shop filled with magic books and powders and stuff -- I sort of owe this guy for teaching me. I might get fired if his whole place gets destroyed." She wasn't prepared to run off and be a professional whatever-the-hell-they-were. "Maybe just tossing things around a little bit is the evil note."
            She thought it over.
            "Maybe let's ask Orimander when they came, and what they looked like," Loupin suggested. "If Shefton came along, Lillia said she knows how to find him. She was probably bullshitting, but I'd rather burn down his house than mine, if that's an option."
            Syd smirked and shook his head briefly, "I knew you wouldn't like it." He shrugged away any doubts. "Yeah, let's see what we can find out first."
            "I'm more worried about him hating it," said Loupin. "If he doesn't, it's worth trying. In that case, I'll push you guys out into the street and yell and stuff. Maybe Conway can watch the opposite side."
            The holy man suspected that nothing would come from this hasty and ill-conceived plan, but he saw no harm in trying either. He expected to wander the street for a while, and then maybe pack it in for the night and finally get some sleep. "I will do my part," he responded, "May we have good fortune in our hunt."

            Lillia watched Talib and Parant depart, then turned her gaze to Jabari for a moment before returning her attentions to Lavinia. She nodded graciously at the noblewoman for handling the circumstances as compassionately as she had.
            “Sources say that the harbormaster was dispatched with foul play,” she said. “And efforts were made to ‘dissuade’ us from pursuing the investigation of your brother. It’s possible the forces at work behind both measures of discord are one and the same.”
            She shrugged and added, “We are gathering what information we can regarding the recent turn of events and to warn of potential hazards, if your brother’s…associates are as powerful as we believe. For now, simply be aware that stronger currents are in motion than initially believed.”
            “Is Master Brushcutter still a guest of yours?” she asked.
            "Master Brushcutter hasn't been staying here, but he has been visiting each day to help me decipher the documents we recovered," Lavinia said with a nod. "I'm expecting him in a few hours' time. Will he be helpful in this matter? I'm sure he'd be willing to go with you, so long as he could still return home to take care of that cat of his when needed."
            Jabari nodded his appreciation to his friend and watched them leave before turning back to Lavinia. "I know the Vanderborens aren't on the Dawn Council, Lavinia, but you don't have to be Lady Arabani to have an idea of what's going on." The young nobleman seemed a little annoyed, which was somewhat out of character for him.
            "I just... I don't know who would have murdered Lord Islaran if it wasn't politics. This is insane. And the Kellanis are the only ones I know who stand to benefit." Jabari shook his head and sighed. "Has anyone on the Council approached you, maybe with an offer to help or a threat to stay out of things? Anything. We're grasping at straws, but we don't have anything else to go on." He gestured in the direction Talib and Parant had gone. "This has to mean something, doesn't it?"
            "You're right, of course," Lavinia said heavily, dropping to sit on a decorative boulder by the stream. She put her head in one hand, a slight shake of her head descriptive of her disbelief of current events. "It's no secret that the Kellanis have been after the Harbor for some time. But murder? ...I suppose I'm being terribly naive. I just don't understand why all this is happening now. If they meant to murder Lord Islaran - the elder - why haven't they done it ages ago? Please, gods, tell me this has nothing to do with Vanthus."
            “We don’t have solid information either way, milady,” Lillia replied. “As to the timing of the Harbormaster’s demise, well, we believe those actions coincided with our investigation into your brother. We were approached with information about his whereabouts, but we now believe that was a ploy to get Talib into a situation where he may have perished as well, leaving the Islaran household’s fate even more uncertain.”
            Pulling herself together, she straightened and shook her head at Jabari. "No one has approached me from the Council. I'm sorry; I have no answers. But I suggest you sober Lord Islaran up, because they'll want to read the will soon, to ensure there's no scuffle about inheritance." She winced; her own inheritance had been contested by Vanthus, Jabari knew. "It wouldn't do for him to be drunk as a drake there, however understandable." She rose, beckoning to Kora. "Mrs. Whistlegap will see to making you comfortable while you wait."
            “Thank you, lady,” Lillia said. “We will keep you abreast of any information regarding your brother as we gather it, though we will be looking into the circumstances surrounding Talib’s family as well. Hopefully they will not be one and the same.”
            Jabari nodded at Lavinia as she rose and gathered herself. He recognized the dismissal even as it began. "We will. I hope the rest of this madness stays away from you, Lavinia." It seemed impossible to him that Vanthus might be involved in Lord Islaran's death, even after the clear ambush. Two things didn't have to be related just because they happened at the same time, after all.

            Orimander thought about the men who had come to "visit," and frowned at Loupin the whole time. "They were largish fellows. Two of them. One of them might have been a Calishite. The other looked a bit rough around the edges, like a dockhand or somesuch. They were polite enough, but a bit oily, if you ask me," he recalled. He mentioned a few details he could remember, but the men sounded like they'd be hard to pick out in a crowd - they didn't seem to describe Shefton. "Why were they asking for you, if you don't know them?" he queried Loupin, his gaze sharp.
            "Take a wild guess," said Loupin unhappily. She had been updating Orimander periodically since the beginning of the escapade and proceeded to explain as much as she could about Parrot Island, the bushwhackers, and the stupid trick Shefton had pulled. Syd and Gbele might have reservations about trusting an outsider, but from Loupin's perspective an outsider might end up being the only person who could bail them out of trouble, or at least explain to future generations why their entire party had wound up dead in a contour ditch.
            Explaining everything took a couple of minutes, but Loupin, like Gbele, was not necessarily anxious to try Syd's plan, even if it was better than anything she could come up with. She felt glad when Orimander grew quieter and more attentive as she spoke, since it might be necessary to take some serious time off from work.
            "They did find some stuff down in the tunnel," she added, fumbling clumsily around with her baggage. "I can't analyse it without resorting to a scroll, and I'm not sure we won't need to use it sooner than tomorrow morning, or that I won't need better spells."
            She dumped the junk from Parrot Island onto the counter. Nobody had told her anything about the man from which it had been taken, so she couldn't explain much about it to Orimander. Hopefully the mage would be able to help them. He usually charged his customers for this kind of work, and it was late in the day.
            His frown deepened as Loupin presented him with her handful of items to identify the properties of. "This would have been good practice for you," he lectured. "The Weave is the wellspring of all knowledge, if you were paying attention. No disrespect to Oghma, of course," he added, with a quick appeasing gesture, presumably the symbol of Oghma. "But the Weave lets us access the knowledge of the ages, and the true face of things..." He sighed. "And the properties of enchanted items."
            If Loupin had a flair for the dramatic, it was possible she'd gotten it from Orimander. He made a show of casting his spell, then peered closely at the three flasks and the dagger that they had found beneath Parrot Island.
            "Worthless, except to dice up what materials you need for a spell," he dismissed the fine silver dagger, his magical snobbery showing. "These vials are filled with elixirs of healing. Not strong, but if you've brought them to be sold, you can put them over with the other potions," he said, brightening slightly.
            "We need them," said Loupin, giving Syd his dagger back and Baba one of the vials. She slipped the other two back into her own bag, since she'd already split her own with the two of them, and figured she would be less likely to break them. "I'd like to buy another one, in fact, and a couple of other things -- if we have them. Then we've got to go to the Lighthouse. I can't stay here right now, boss. It's too dangerous. We've got to figure out what's going on, and what we're going to do about it. As long as Vanthus Vanderboren and his handful of goons are out there, it's not safe for me to stay in this neighborhood. It was risky even to come today, but I thought you should know what was going on. I'm not sure how much help we're going to get from Lavinia or the authorities. They've been practically no use at all, up to this point."
            "I knew this day would come," Orimander sighed gustily, placing his hands on Loupin's shoulders with pride. "All my work has not been in vain! You're an adventurer now. Great magics! Wild journeys! Villainous... villains! ...Just, try not to bring them here again, hmm? You should have come to me sooner, I'd never have sent them up if I'd known they weren't your... well, that they were trouble! I'll keep an eye out for them, and let you know if they come back." He waved a hand at her. "Go, go! Save Tashluta!" He beamed. "And mention to Lady Vanderboren that we have very reasonable prices for a wide selection of potions, if you can."

            Loupin pushed Syd and Gbele out into the street, and began yelling about being robbed, much to Orimander's horror. He rushed out to shush her while the two men (and parrot) kept an eye out for anyone who might be interested in their ruse.
            Unfortunately, while they gathered a small number of interested people, none of them seemed to be the men Orimander had described, nor did anyone slink off suspiciously.
            "The plan is to meet at the lighthouse." Gbele waited a few beats for any alternative suggestions.
            "No it isn't," said Loupin, looking around. "We can't walk there from here. We've got to meet the others at the pier where the boat is tied up. It's not far. Let me get the rest of my stuff and we'll go."
            "This is not the good marketing I imagined," Orimander lamented to Loupin as most of his customers scurried away. He sighed deeply, then began tidying up. "But you should go. I'll deal with this. Just make a good impression on the nobles, hmm?"
            Syd slipped the silver dagger back into his belt, next to Pretty Boy's Knife [tm] and Vark's Fancy Sword [tm]. He had hung back while Magic Negotiations were occurring. It wasn't his thing, and he had been as patient as he could while leaning against a sturdy-looking shelf, keeping an eye on the street.
            "Too bad nobody took the bait," he commented when they started moving again. "Would have been nice to get more information."
            "I'd settle for any information, myself," said Loupin as she tried to tug her heavier luggage into a more comfortable position while Conway scrabbled around on her with his creepy little rat-claws. "Vark and his guys said nothing. Shefton said nothing, at least not directly. You know Lavinia isn't going to tell us anything helpful. I mention Seekers in front of our devoted new comrades Jabari and Parant and neither says anything. Ten lions says Reginald is nowhere to be seen. Did you talk to Lillia about that, Baba?"

            Having fortunately guessed at which lighthouse Talib had meant for them to meet, Loupin, Baba Gbele and Syd found the rest of the party waiting at the Azure lighthouse, Talib looking particularly under the weather in the beating sun. The raucous noise of the waterfront slums probably wasn't helping much, either.
            Parant was actually standing a bit away from his companions when Loupin, the Baba, and Syd arrived. He had found himself a spot where he could see most angles of approach, and put a wall between himself and the areas he couldn't cover alone. He didn't acknowledge the new arrivals right away, instead watching to see if anyone had followed them. To Parant's hawk-eyed gaze, no one appeared to have trailed the three to where the rest of the party waited.
            Syd's head was on a swivel, as he trailed a step or two behind Baba and Loupin. He chewed his lip a little, his hand nervously resting on the hilt of Vark's Fancy Sword [tm]. While they didn't see anything untoward at Orimander's, he still wasn't convinced they were unseen. The urchins of the city were pervasive, and a few coin spread here or there would provide all kinds of information. Hell, he /was/ one of those urchins way back when.
            He relaxed a little when they approached the lighthouse, though he still eyed the alleys and niches. At least they had the strength of larger numbers now. He remained quiet for now, letting Loupin take the lead on sharing information.
            Loupin dug up a couple of potions to give to Parant and Talib. It seemed like the day was reluctant to end and they were about as far from anywhere safe that she could think of. The Azure District, especially the part they were in, was wholly unfamiliar to her.
            "Well, I don't guess anybody will be looking for us out here," she reasoned tiredly. "Leave a drop or two for me, will you -- my hands are messed up."
            It did not take too long to explain about their trip to the magic shop: the condition of her room, the oily dockhand and the Calishite to whom she could put no name. "There's no way they could have overlooked my stuff if they'd really been looking for it. Which might be a good sign -- like they can't push too hard, like they don't have enough guys. Either that or they know that bullying guild members is basically suicidal."
            Loupin wasn't actually a member of the guild yet, since she despised being at the bottom of any heap, but the Witchwarden tower was not all that far off, and it made her wonder if she should go there and take the test (or whatever you do) before this harbor crap got any worse.
            "I don't suppose Lavinia gave us any more money or anything," she said, without hope.
            Talib stared hard at the potion as he uncorked it slowly, steeling his body. The idea of anything else on his stomach at the moment was the most miserable possible experience, but he still gave Loupin a grateful raise of the bottle before tipping it back. Despite the curative nature of the alchemical wonder medicine, the sailor still had a long, silent moment where it was quite clear he was doing his damndest not to retch.
            When the nausea had passed, Talib nodded slightly to himself, affixing the stopper to the potion bottle and handing at least a quarter of its contents back to Loupin.
            "No, no money," Talib answered, a hand cupping his brow to shield his eyes from the bright sun. He still squinted beneath his fingers and winced occasionally at the sounds of the docks: his head was pounding and the dizziness had not yet quite faded.
            "No real leads, either, save a suggestion to ... Lillia, Jabari, you uh ... Were much more in a conversational state than I. But Lavinia noted that the ... The Will will be read sooner than later. Especially with the Azure at stake."
            Talib Islaran's tone had shifted dramatically - where before he was furious and fell-mouthed, ranting and drunk, now he seemed much more apologetic and quiet. The sobering process certainly had a hand in that, but without alcohol to dull the pain, Talib was slowly beginning to realize that circumstances had shifted dramatically for himself and the little band. He was not going to get to be Talib The Sailor any longer, off on some quest to find a missing brother and deal with shadowy sorts in Tashluta, no.
            He was an Heir now, a proper one, if Keltar had updated The Will before his passing, at least. The Azure needed a warden, and nobody else was able to step up and handle the monumental task, not within the Islaran family.
            Talib shrugged, frowning.
            "I have to be present for that - I've very little choice. I have to return to my family's Estate and make sure that affairs are in order. I'd ... I'd quite honestly, between you all, rather do anything else at the moment. But I don't have much of a choice here: my family needs me. Tashluta needs me, if for nothing else than to ensure a smooth transition of power."
            He sighed, leaning against the massive lighthouse that dominated the harbor. Long had it been a place of security and comfort to him. His first kiss was at the top of its peak, bathed in the twirling light. Many a time had he cheered when it came into sight after a long journey home across the Sea, bringing with it the relief of a voyage survived. Much could change in Tashluta, but that beacon never could.
            "Things are getting dangerous," he said after a moment, the idea that Loupin's home had been invaded being a jarring one. No wonder she was so habitually suspicious - apparently she had every reason to be.
            "But, I'm glad you three are safe," Talib admitted, throwing a small smile towards Syd, The Baba, and Loupin, "It seems we're being pulled in different directions, however. There's still the matter of Vanthus and his dealings, now people are looking for Loupin, and I have to see to my family."
            He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, the cool touch of his fingers feeling like ice to his burning head. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he had to give quite the consideration to moving his body before he did it.
            "I have to see my family," he reiterated again, as if trying to convince himself of the matter.
            "I know we have much else to attend to and personal interests we must see to. But this is important. Keltar Islaran was murdered - say what you will about the man, he kept the Azure together by himself until he was too sick to even keep his body hale. Without him, there will be a crisis over the District unless I ... unless I step up and claim it. It keeps the harbor functioning for now, keeps the ships and cargo moving, and stops any sort of fighting between Houses and bickering amongst the Dawn Council. Who knows: maybe it'll draw out my father's killer, too."
            Talib's fist clenched tight: it was clear he inwardly relished such an opportunity. The flash of anger passed and Talib's dark eyes settled upon the motley crew. They were a strange lot: a mixture of princes and paupers and those that were undefinable. And yet somehow, they had survived deadly dangers and intrigues that Talib was not sure many others could have. Certainly not some of the crews he had sailed with in the past.
            This crew, however.
            "I know I can't ask this of any of you, but I will anyway: I'd like you all to be present. If the Will names me Heir - which I can't imagine it being anyone else at this point, with my eldest siblings having been missing for some time - I can put the resources of my House towards addressing all of this. The corruption in the Harbor, Shadowshore, Vanthus, whoever is interested in Loupin, all of it. I give you my word, it'll be my first priority, even before investigating my father's murderer."
            Talib struggled with the oath - it would be difficult, to say the least, for him to delay any sort of chance to seek revenge and justice upon whoever struck down Keltar. But he owed his companions, his friends, loyalty and respect several times over.
            Perhaps surprisingly, The Baba was the first to respond to Talib's request. Gbele chose his words very carefully and haltingly, recognizing how easy it would be to misconstrue his meaning. He had no desire to cause pain to Talib, but it was against his nature to be anything but straightforward. "I will attend. It is to support you. Your well-being. I do not care about the politics of this place, or which families hold power in which interests, as it is not relevant to my mission." He shrugs, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "It is also possible that the deeper evil beneath these events will reveal itself at this gathering."
            Parant grunted. He would be going wherever Jabari went, and everyone knew it, so he didn't need to vocalize it. He'd caught the potion that Loupin had offered, and slid it into his bandoleer. The last thing he was going to do at this point was allow himself to be distracted while the others were talking out in the open.
            "I'm with you, Talib," Syd commented as he stepped forward. "Seems we're all wrapped up in this, whether we want to be or not." He shrugged at the statement, disarming any concern he might have. "We've gotta have our friends's backs, now more than ever."
            By her assessment, Loupin needed hardly any potion to sooth the spots on her hands, and gave Talib back the remainder. His situation seemed to warrant more than even a full dose, she thought.
            "Does that include Reginald, Syd?" she said wryly, rubbing her strange new callouses. "I suppose he's only allegedly fine with being absent here. If we're truly looking out for each other, fine, but I'm not going to die to preserve the good names of Houses Islaran and Vanderboren, no offense. I think there might be more than one person here, Syd, who would still rather see Lavinia happy than you healthy. I'm not one of them, but I'm also not in as deep as you guys yet, Calishite geeks notwithstanding. If I take another step further into this, it's because I'm convinced that friendship means more to you people than does revenge -- or money."
            The Baba's voice was entirely neutral when he simply offered, "A man and a goat can be friends, but it would be foolishness for the goat to pay the first visit."
            "Unless it's being chased by something worse," Loupin replied, eying him carefully. "A fiend spirit, say. I don't suppose anything would keep you around if Ubtao dictated otherwise. Are you going to beg our pardon if He commands you to leave us to die somewhere?"
            "No." Gbele seemed satisfied to leave the answer hanging there, but then seemed to reconsider. "Although, that would be an unusual command for Ubtao to make, perhaps."
            "That's reassuring," said Loupin. She looked at Talib and shrugged. "Looks like you've got a friend in Syd. Reginald would probably be your friend too, provided he actually mattered to anybody. The rest are silent, have overriding loyalties, or both. You'll want to manage your expectations in that case. Fortunately you'll have the entire Azure Watch at your disposal."

            Islaran Manor was a large, U-shaped building, with the prongs of it being the two piers that faced into the harbor. It appeared much as it had when they had visited before, but black drapes had been hung over the windows, as was tradition when someone died, and the servants seemed scarce.
            Talib got an inkling why when one came out to greet him, looking as though she wished she was being eaten by lions instead. "Welcome home, my lord. The Lord Harbormaster Islaran has been expecting you." She eyed the rest of the party, sweating. "I'll take your weapons, saers."
            "That won't be necessary, Aisha," a voice came from the stairs. A young man was coming down them, looking somber. The family resemblance to Talib was striking, especially since they both looked to be recovering from heavy drinking.
            And of course, Talib realized, his brother was wearing the official gold-and-blue brocaded sash of the Harbormaster.
            "It won't be necessary, will it, Talib? I hope this isn't how you've come to contest Father's will - with spells cast and blood spilled," Lord Najib Islaran, Harbormaster of Tashluta, said to his older brother, his tone careful, but his voice still rough with grief.
            Lillia was deep in thought. There were too many moving pieces, and missing pieces to sift them into any semblance of order. Too much, too fast, and much of it out of her hands. It was a disconcerting detour from her usual patterns. So she simply stopped talking and started listening. She didn’t want to miss anything, didn’t want to overlook something obvious. The wisest course then is to fall back on what was known to work, for her at least.
            She conveyed a great deal in posture and carriage. The angry eyebrow alone that she cast at Talib when he felt the need to ask her if she would come along spoke volumes.
            Now, in the heart of the harbor, or at the harbor’s power center at least, she didn’t care at all for the swagger of Talib’s brother, and she reflexively drifted back behind the Islaran with whom she was familiar.
            Even Talib seemed off-put by the welcoming party, giving a small nod to Lillia to assure her the situation was not dangerous ... well. Not yet, anyhow. Regardless, he moved to impose himself between the party and his brother, unsure how to arrange his facial features quite yet. Seeing the sash of Harbormaster around Najib of all things was ... Impossible, to Talib. Absolutely impossible. Something was wrong, as it was barely a few nights ago that the pair of siblings had sat within their estate, drinking and commiserating over their father's opinions of them. Najib had even admitted that the title of Harbormaster was beyond his reach: An Islaran afraid of water! How could such a man, no matter his other qualities, run a port? Talib had done his best to comfort his younger brother, but the way he addressed him now was ... odd. To say the least. They should have been embracing, not posturing. Not accusing.
            Talib cleared his throat and shook his head, his hand as far from the hilt of his scimitar as he could manage it while still maintaining a calm bearing.
            "Come, shaqiq: This is a time of mourning, so I'll forgive the insinuation. Do you so distrust me that you think I would bring violence to our home? I may be many things, Najib: a salt, a drinker, a gambler, and a womanizer, but never have I once raised a fist to you nor any other of my blood. That does not start today."
            He took a cautious step forwards, trying to read Najib while gesturing behind him.
            "These are Friends of mine, Brother. Not sellswords or ruffians. And you know as well as I that I never desired this title," Talib pointed out, even physically pointing his finger at Najib to get the message across before he relaxed again, "But last we spoke, neither did you. I have not even read Father's last wishes yet. So why don't we, in this dark hour, put aside talk of Wills and Titles and Sashes for the moment, eh?"
            Unsettled and off balanced as he was, Talib still assumed positive intent from Najib. They had just lost their father - a confusing, infuriating man that had surely done much damage to their psyches - and no matter their opinions of the matter, they were still to come together as a family at such a time.
            "These people have traveled with me these past few days - they even helped resolve a small crisis within The Azure. We owe them our thanks, Najib. Lord Jabari Damarthe and his associate, Parant, both noble, powerful, and loyal. Syd, a finer swordsman I've yet to see. The Baba, Gbele, stoic, devoted, and irrepressible. Loupin, as savvy as Tashluta could ever hope to be and cleverer than Savras himself. And Lillia, a woman of so many talents they've yet to give names to them all."
            He indicated each of them with a hand as he introduced them, Talib using the moment to reinforce that he trusted these folk and so, therefore, should Najib.
            "May we come inside and talk further? I've apparently much to catch up on."
            The starch seemed to run out of Najib then, naked relief taking its place in his face and posture. Looking at him now, it was clear that he wasn't that much older than Lillia. He opened his arms and stepped forward, red- and hollow-eyed but smiling at last. "Talib! You don't need to ask! This is your home too!" He pounded his brother's back, then pulled back to regard him with laughter that was just a touch hysterical. "You're a crazy man, brother! Coming here with a gang of adventurers after I was... after Father..." He swallowed his laugh, looking like he was choking on it. "Well, you might have been looking to contest it. I haven't seen you in a dog's age, but for the other night. Forgive me, brother."
            Shaking his head, he finally regarded the rest of the party. "Be welcome here, of course. Any friends of Talib's are friends of mine, I hope!"
            Looking around at the assembled party, he clenched his fist and raised it. "Are you here to seek justice for our father, then? Yes! Let it be done!"
            Syd felt out of his depth here. Machinations of the nobles weren't his forte. In fact, he kind of hated it. Nobles sat in their great manors, eating their great feasts, while everyone else scrambled for scraps and starved in the streets. In his long memory of the streets, he had only known the hurt done by the upper classes, whether by ignorance or malice.
            Talib had proven himself to the elf and Syd indeed counted him as a friend. He began to not see the man as a noble, but as a comrade in arms. But now... he was just paranoid enough to think this meeting might not go the way they expect.
            He held back slightly, keeping his eyes on side passages and other ambush sites, though he put up an effort to be non-chalant about it. He didn't lean against a wall like he was wont, but stood a little stiffly, hand resting on his belt near to the hilt of Vark's Fancy Sword [tm].
            Justice. Where was the justice in the streets, when a family is made homeless when a noble wants their land for a new extension to their manor? What for the urchin, exploited for a few copper so he can afford a crust of bread? What for the tieflings and other half breeds discriminated against and denied work?
            Syd realized his facial expression was betraying his thoughts, and he made an effort to neutralize it. A blank face turned and regarded the reunited brothers. "We are here to support our friend," he commented cryptically.
            Loupin glanced briefly at Syd -- she thought she heard something unusual in his voice -- but for once didn't add anything. She was as concerned about ambushes as he was, of course, but the family drama was very interesting and the fretful parrot perched atop her pack was proving to be a capable sentry.
            If Talib turned out to be unwelcome in the Manor, it was all to the better, Loupin thought. The idea of using this place as a redoubt gave her indigestion. It was too easy to find, and if Keltar had been murdered here, it was only a matter of time before they all were. The Cudgel District was now far off, but she assumed that Syd would not be interested in hiding there if he thought the idea might wind up being held against him.
            Talib's compliments had not escaped the young mage's notice, but she would have said something similar, if for no other reason than to forestall a confrontation. Like the others, she wondered what to make of this adolescent nobleman, and felt glad that she could still do a bit of damage even if the group's weapons had been demanded.
            The Holy Man gave a placid Holy Man Half-Smile, neither joining nor rejecting the call for justice. He did not know what justice would look like in this instance, and had neither the resources nor the inclination to find out. The Islaran nobleman he had met might have deserved murdering, if that was in fact what happened. And it now appeared that Talib was not inclined to confront this blatant usurpation of his birthright, at least immediately. That choice was, he observed, in alignment with Gbele's mission.
            Talib showed off the scar he had made upon his palm the moment he had heard of Keltar's death, one hand still clasped tight upon Najib's shoulder to keep his brother close. His darling younger brother, terrified of the sea and now Harbormaster.
            Shaundukaal moved on mysterious winds.
            "I have made the blood oath," Talib reassured his sibling, "Father will be avenged, yes - you've my word on it. But in time, shaqiq, in time. For the moment, I'm still in the dark, and much has changed with the tide. Father's death only reached me after an expedition to a nearby island - I was blindsided by the news, or I would have been at your side immediately."
            Tears flowed down his eyes as he looked upon his younger brother and their estate. He should have been present. Maybe he could have stopped the assassins. Had he been a better son, a more devoted son, a less wild son ... Even Najib called him a "Crazy Man". His reputation, as always, preceded him, and Talib was coming to regret that this was how others saw him.
            "If father truly passed on this honor to you, my sweet Najib, who am I to argue with the will of the waves, hm?" he asked, giving his sibling an affectionate slap on the cheek and drawing him into an embrace again.
            "I'm proud of you, brother. Overwhelmingly so."
            There was no need to lie there: Talib truly was grateful that at the very least, the Harbor would pass to someone trusted. However, Talib still recalled that he had sworn to Keltar that he would take over the duties, and only shortly afterwards the man was killed. Maybe the Will had not been updated by then? Keltar must've thought he had more time. Paranoia welled up but was quickly beaten back down: This was Najib, and they were both emotional after an extremely trying event. Maybe more would be revealed once he read father's papers.
            "Right now, what I think we'd all like is some khave and to find out what happened," Talib reasoned, looking back towards his assembled compatriots and then to Najib again, "And I'd like to look over father's Will. Tell me - who found our alab and what leads do we have?"
            There was still something ... off, to Talib. A sensation he shared with the others through a glance and a furrowing of his brows behind his brother's back. He did trust his younger sibling for the moment: there was no reason not to. But details were not adding up and, with more information on how Keltar had been killed, perhaps that would lead back to information on the Vanderboren's trouble too. It seemed too coincidental not to be linked.
            "Daries found him," Najib told him, swallowing the lump in his throat. His voice was thick as he added, "The servants are all distraught, and we've told the Council everything we found, but... we have nothing to go on but rumors. There was no trace of his murderer."
            Najib led the way to the Harbormaster's study, where he gestured for them to sit as he flopped into a chair, exhausted. When the shaken servants brought them kahve, he gulped his down, then pointed at the heavy desk where their father had once sat, night after night, watching over the business of the Harbor. "The will is there. In the map drawer. There was a second copy, but it's gone to the Council."
            He rolled his empty cup in his fingers. "I know there are those who have reservations about my taking this post." He glanced at the other members of the party, then at Talib, choosing his words carefully. "I may have been Father's last hope, since you weren't here, but I can do this. I can."
            Parant, as the situation had seemed to become more calm - or at least less overtly threatening - had not relaxed in the slightest. In fact, the more relaxed Talib and his brother became, the more alert Parant forced himself to be. Politics.
            Parant did allow himself one moment of lowered guard, however. As they were walking into the study, Parant quickly swallowed the contents of the healing potion Loupin had given him outside. As the Khave was being passed out, however, Parant was watching the servants carefully.
            The wounds he had suffered melted back together, leaving him feeling better than he had since the morning, but he hardly noticed, such was his attention on the servants. Yet as far as he could tell, none of them were behaving in a suspicious manner.
            This wasn't Jabari's house or his staff and the Harbormaster's family was several echelons above his own in rank, so the young nobleman had kept his mouth carefully shut until now. When Najib gestured at the desk, Jabari looked at Talib and Najib both, gesturing at Parant. "May I? My friend here is something of a legal expert."
            Najib frowned, but waved for them to proceed. "It is completely legal. I recognize my father's writing."
            Jabari went over to the desk and pulled open the indicated drawer, intending to take out the will and spread it out on the desk where multiple people might read it at once.
            The will was a sheaf of papers in a leather ledger, the writing of which Talib could also recognize as his father's strict hand. It was dated over a year before his death, and did indeed name Najib as the next Harbormaster.
            Parant had managed not to frown right along with Najib. He tore his attention away from the servants, and did as his friend clearly wished him to do. Parant set to examining the will. "I expect that you are correct, lord Islaran," Parant's voice was inflected with calming tones, wrapped in the modulation of a professional at work. "Although handwriting is immaterial to the legality of a document. It is the signature and seal - and preferably witness signatures and seals - that matter. It is entirely legal to dictate a legal document to a scribe." Parant's words were those of a legal expert clarifying a minor detail in passing as he read through the sheets. "It can only strengthen your position to have a legal opinion agree with your understanding," Parant said, as if merely noting one more fact.
            "As long as this is the most recent will extant, of course."
            Najib's frown deepened, but mainly in bemusement. "Well, it must be! Why would they read an old will? Besides, Talib was gone for so long.... though I'm still a bit surprised that Father named me."
            As Parant perused the will, his suspicions that it was binding were confirmed. The witnesses were named as they should be, their positions listed, and besides the seal that had been broken to open the will, there was another seal at the end, where Keltar Islaran had signed his name. Both seals were the seal of the Harbormaster, if Talib's expression could be read correctly.
            Loupin was a little surprised by their boldness -- she knew nothing of wills, but assumed they weren't the sort of thing strangers were normally invited to peruse, especially when the testator had been assassinated by parties unknown -- and wondered whether Parant would even tell the truth if he suspected the documents were forged. Najib couldn't have needed the command of the Azure Watch as much as they did just then; had Keltar died for just that reason? If only there were fewer reasons to kill Keltar, she thought. If only Talib had spent enough time with his family to know which of its members were actually trustworthy.
            Most of the group seemed wary for a change -- maybe the zombies had done that much good -- so Loupin paid more heed to the actual condition of the manor. The House of Islaran appeared to be something of a mare's nest, at least in recent years; they might want to draw an independent conclusion about the state of its wealth and influence.
            The manor still appeared as it had under Keltar's reign - wealthy but not ostentatious, ship-shape and business-oriented. If it hadn't been for the grieving sons and servants, and the black drapes and bunting, it would have looked exactly as when she visited it last. It was hard for her to judge just how wealthy the family was... certainly, to afford a manor and servants, they had more money than she'd ever had her hands on. The manor was by no means opulent - it was rather spartan, in fact. The study was the richest-seeming room she'd seen by far, with books and sea-tools on shelves, a thick and intricate carpet, and comfortable leather chairs.
            What was unusual, she had noted as they entered, was that the main entrance was by the piers jutting from the building into the harbor. The landward entrances were little more than servants' entrances. It seemed fairly defensible, should anyone lay siege to it, and ignore the windows.
            Parant looked up from the will and gave a nod. "Unless your father had another will written up in the last year, this is definitely in order," he said. "And to answer your question, Lord Islaran, there are many reasons to read an old will. The most common is that someone doesn't like what the new will says, and so hides it away before it can be found and read." Parant shrugged and waved a hand as if waving away a bothersome insect. "Clearly not the case, here, obviously," the former judge said with a smile that did not touch his eyes. Eyes that watched the young Harbormaster's expressions carefully.
            Lord Islaran the Younger seemed taken aback, more than anything. His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth to reprimand Parant - but then paused, giving his words more thought.
            "I suppose the insinuations will come eventually. Why not start now," he sighed. "But the copy of the will given the Council archives must read the same, or I'd have heard from them by now. Besides... Talib, you were gone. No one thought you would ever come back and stay. If anyone had, I probably wouldn't be wearing this sash now." His gaze roved over the rest of the party, not really taking note of anyone but Jabari. Eyeing the other noble, Najib ameliorated, "Well, I mean... I suppose we would have stood before Father and heard it from him himself."
            Jabari noted Najib's consideration but, still mindful of his station, kept his mouth shut for now. Besides, he was still looking through the will's clauses to see if anyone surprising showed up in the bequests. He couldn't read the legalese nearly as quickly as the former judge.
            It all appeared normal enough, but for naming Najib the Harbormaster rather than Talib; Talib and his other siblings were awarded some minor holdings and heirlooms. The will named another brother, and four sisters.
            Talib frowned with a touch of sadness at Najib's confusion, sitting in silence for a moment as Parant probed. He knew Father's will was, indeed, legal, true, and binding ... but he also knew that it was not Keltar's last intent. The private conversation between father and son where both swore to uphold the Islaran name and Harbor may as well have been a scream beneath the waves: none that needed to have heard it, would. Telling Najib that now would do nothing other than put a rift between the brothers, and Talib was not keen on once more being separated from his family. Not now. He may not have been made Harbormaster by parchment, but he had agreed to protect the Azure in word to his father.
            Talib would not abandon that promise. And Najib was going to need all the help he could possibly get.
            "Shaqiq, we shall need to speak to Daries about father's death," Talib finally said, leaning forwards on his seat to sip khave to clear his throbbing head and dry throat.
            "And I've another favor to ask, and I need you to trust me that I only have our best interests in mind, savvy?"
            He gave his brother a measured look - a similar one that he had shared the previous night when he meant to indicate that Najib should have stayed the Hells away from Rowyn Kellani. A look that was filled with overwhelming protection of his younger family member.
            "I know this position has only just fallen to you ... but I need temporary command of The Azure Watch."
            "Uh, Talib-" Najib began, but was cut short.
            Talib held up a hand quickly to indicate he was going to explain and would not be stopped.
            "We few have been wrapped up in a scandal throughout Tashluta. Troubling news of pirates and smugglers, indications of possible Snake Cultists, a missing noble, and now our father dead with no trace of who committed such a foul deed. Something is terribly sick within our Harbor, Najib, and I plan to find out what. So - I suggest we split the work for now. Focus on the administration efforts: you've a mind for numbers and carousing, yes? Keep The House in order. Cement your relations with the other Houses on the Dawn Council, and reach out to Lady Vanderboren - her family has always been keen on ours, they would be good allies to reaffirm in the coming days."
            Talib sat back slowly, looking out towards the harborside exit - where he first learned to sail from.
            "Meanwhile, I will conduct an investigation of our poor Azure. Find out what ails her, and cure it if we can. We have uncovered much in a short time, brother, but pieces only - pieces, with no frame to put the puzzle within. With the assistance of The Watch, I'd have the entire picture done in less than two suns, and then I relinquish it all back to you."
            His tone was heavy, but sympathetic. He knew this was a lot to ask for within practically hours after Najib's "promotion" and their father's murder, but Talib was feeling guilty over having wasted so much time already on his own wallowing pity. Action was needed now.
            "You may be Harbormaster now, shaqiq, but I'm still your older brother," Talib added, a sad, fond smile thrown Najib's way, "And I only want what is best for you and our family. If I can resolve this crisis quickly, you'll be on your way to a long, prosperous command, of which I will be proud to raise a glass to your name across the entire Azure."
            "Thank you, brother," Najib smiled, genuine affection for Talib in his eyes. "You know I'd grant you the Azure Watch if I could... but..." He sighed. "Contrary to what we thought as boys, they don't actually serve our house, or any other. They serve the Dawn Council. I found that out when I tried to command them in the matter of finding Father's killer. But I can make a request of the Council, if you wish?"
            That was an interesting piece of information. Jabari filed it away for later use. He nodded and said quietly "That does make some sense."
            "Does it?" Loupin asked casually. "The Watches have limited jurisdiction. Why? If they all report to the same Council?"
            Jabari looked curiously at Loupin. "Are any of the districts run by someone who isn't on the Dawn Council? Why would we want each district acting like its own independent fiefdom? At least if their loyalty is to the Council and not a House we can hope they'd act in the best interest of the city rather than just do whatever's best for their neighborhood."
            He glanced at the two grieving brothers and shook his head. "But we can probably talk about how best to run a city some other time."
            "When units of armed forces aren't used to working together - and, in fact, have rivalries and power struggles amongst one another - it's much harder for any one person to gather them all together to stage a coup," Parant said. "Reporting to the same council is not the same thing as reporting to the same person," he pointed out.
            "I imagine that's probably one of the main reasons," Najib agreed candidly. Then he set his cup down and leaned forward to regard them all. "Where do you plan to go to find justice for our father? No one seems to have seen anything the night he was murdered." He clenched his fists, frustrated. "But the killer has to pay!"
            "Look -- before we get into all that -- I'm not sure that I explained very well this afternoon," said Loupin slowly, with a wary look at those clenched fists. "I went to a Merchant Watch patrol for help once I suspected we were all in trouble. They said that I would have to ask Shadowshore Watch if I wanted official help in rescuing anybody from Parrot Island, as it was Shadowshore's jurisdiction. I thought that would be pointless, since even I know that Shadowshore Watch is useless at best. But I offered this same patrol money to go; they wouldn't go. So I threatened to complain to the Dawn Council, on the grounds that some kind of smuggling operation was going on out there and the Watch wasn't doing anything about it; they wouldn't go. I told them it was the Future Council Member Talib Islaran they would be rescuing; they wouldn't go. I appealed to them as a helpless local girl; they wouldn't go.
            "They did agree to alert the Dawn Council about everything I'd told them," she conceded, "but that was several hours ago. Now we arrive to find his New Lordship here -- calm, alone among all his family -- dusting off the old black drapes. So either that Watch patrol didn't bother to alert their Captain, their Captain didn't bother to alert the Council, the Council didn't bother to alert the New Harbormaster -- about his own brother's mortal peril -- or something prevented all of it. Now I invite you all to continue reassuring me that this time concerns are totally unwarranted. Maybe we should just wait here while the brave Dawn Council and its loyal Watch patrols diligently resolve the matter? I brought a book."
            Talib wasn't quite sure where Louping was going with all this, but her concerns were certainly valid. Leaning forwards and rubbing his temples, he tried to shake his head awake.
            "There's a blockage in the pipeline here, then," Talib agreed, "Guards that won't take a bribe and yet also their jobs don't get done. Yeah. Something else is at work here." He tilted his gaze towards Loupin. "What do you suggest we do to unmask this?"
            "Wait, maybe," said Loupin with a small shrug. "If those tunnels on Parrot Island aren't being cleared out by any Watch within a couple of days, we'll know something is wrong. There's no regular presence there, we saw that; nobody to stop someone from blundering to their deaths.
            "Your Lordship has observed that Talib 'wasn't around' to take your job," Loupin said to Najib, "but he is now, and there are witnesses right here who saw your father offer it to him. Why don't you just pass your title to him? He is a worldly man, suitably charismatic, homicidal in various situations. He may be able to wring more help from the Azure Watch than you can. I believe I could help him do that, in fact, being a mage. If you stay in this position, Milord, your life is in mortal danger. We can't stay here to guard you from your father's fate if we're just lowly Vanderboren employees. Isn't it more appropriate that the eldest Islaran heir -- the one Lord Keltar truly wanted in the position -- stand between his family and the assassins? Doesn't Talib deserve the chance to carry out your father's last wishes? It would shame him, maybe, to leave his father's house now with nothing but a few baubles and trinkets... especially if he must also be the one to avenge the family."
            Nobody might have noticed, but one of Loupin's hands fiddled idly with the contents of a certain pouch secured to her belt.
            Najib stared at Loupin, utterly stunned. "My father... Talib... what?"
            The holy man frowned when Loupin began to speak - a frown that only intensified as she continued. He made no effort to hide that he was displeased with this line of discussion. His frown turned to a humorless smile as he suggested, "It has been a long day. We should retire and get some rest, maybe."
            Loupin glanced his way long enough to register his mood. She wasn't trying to seem tense or threatening, only curious, but all the same, she caught something of Gbele's drift and adjusted her own, if only a little.
            "It's just a thought, Milord," she said to Najib with a harmless smile. "I don't mean to sound insistent. There's only so much Talib can do as you see him now, you understand. If nothing else, he cannot pay us for our help."
            Najib turned to Talib, his voice still raw with grief. Seeming to disregard the rest of Loupin's questions, he focused on the one that had stood out to him. "Talib... is this true? Did Father tell you that you would be the next Harbormaster?"
            Talib could not believe his ears. After taking the time to assuage his brother's fears, to insist he was not about to instigate a challenge for succession, that his companions were not mercenaries meant to oust Najib, Loupin destroyed all of that with 'just a thought'. She spoke of his family as if she had not constantly besmirched his dead father's name, spoke of what Talib deserved as if she had not contradicted him at near every turn, and twisted the knife in Najib's already already weakened self-confidence by claiming that Keltar never wanted the boy in this position. Worst of all, she made a mockery of his oath of vengeance by insinuating that he would be ashamed to carry out justice if he wasn't being compensated for it.
            "That's enough," Talib declared, dark eyes settling hard on Loupin before turning towards Najib. His tone was sympathetic, embarrassed even.
            "Brother, the title is yours and yours alone. I'd sooner renounce my name than take it from you."
            "It's true?!" Najib croaked, sinking into his chair. "Brother, when-? Why didn't you say anything-"
            Talib stood swiftly, caught his balance as he stumlbed for half a step, and then began for the door. He didn't look back, but his hands were clenched tight. "Keltar Islaran will be avenged," he called over his shoulder, "And I need nothing more than my hands to do it."
            Loupin studied this reaction with interest, especially to see if he actually walked out.
            "Your brother brought us here with the intent to take up the mantle, Milord," she explained quietly. "He has expressed some ambivalence about being Harbormaster before, but has also spoken about the importance of cleaning up the Azure District -- even before your father was murdered. He seemed resolved in this. I see now that he is not. Unfortunately that puts us -- his friends, as he calls us -- all in slightly greater jeopardy. Our own resources are decidedly limited, and we were counting on the Azure Watch's aid. We are all contracted to the Lady Vanderboren, you see, and she has assigned us a task which is proving difficult, especially so now that we cannot count on Talib's wholehearted attention. It puts us in a complicated situation. We are not sworn to serve your House, unfortunately, and it is hard to see how you will succeed here if the Dawn Council is uncommitted to solving the murder of one of its oldest members. Your brother has a good heart, but he is passionate. I do not think he will be able to accomplish it all without us, frankly, but we stand to lose a great deal in this endeavour, and we will have to set our other responsibilities aside. It would be nice to think there was something in it for us. Surely Islarans do not expect professionals like us to risk their lives merely for the chance to be called friend?"
            Already poleaxed by the news Loupin had let slip, Najib turned incredulous eyes on this new mercenary claim, but before he could respond, Jabari spoke.
            Jabari had sat through Loupin's word vomit in silence, aghast and barely managing to keep his mouth from hanging open. When Talib stood and made for the door, Jabari also stood and as Loupin kept talking the young nobleman moved in between her and Najib, moving his hands ineffectually to unsuccessfully stop her from talking. He shook his head, turned fully toward the new Lord Islaran and not looking at Loupin. "I am so sorry for this, Lord Islaran. This... person does not speak for your brother, of course, and does not speak for us. Please forgive us any offense for her words. I, for myself, am embarrassed and mortified and will be leaving. We are done here. My apologies again, Lord Islaran, and I will send a formal apology for my... participation in this as soon as I can get home."
            He turned back to the group, still not looking at Loupin, his expression a mixture of deep embarrassment and anger that nobody was stepping in. "We need to go. This is over. Somebody get her out of here."
            Parant had moved with Jabari, and though he did not engage in any of the antics his friend did, Parant did stand with him between Loupin and Najib.
            "I think it is important to note, Lord Islaran" his baritone rumbled into the stunned silence, "that while your brother's expectation was that he was coming here to assume the mantle of Harbormaster in accordance with your father's wishes, his intent was only to fulfill what he thought was his duty to your House, and that, the moment he saw you wearing the Sash, he knew his duty was to support you - even before the will had been verified - and he has acted as such."
            Parant gave a deferential half-bow to the Harbormaster. "We will withdraw now, with your permission, Lord Islaran."
            "You may go," Najib said weakly, his stare now tranferred to the gold-embroidered blue sash he wore.
            Syd had sat in silence, surprised by the current turn of events. From what little he knew of Loupin, he really shouldn't have been. Still, this was getting out of hand, and fast. As much as he himself distrusted the nobility, this wasn't doing them any favors.
            The lithe elf stood in a fluid motion and sidled to Loupin's side. He didn't meet anyone's gaze, instead looking into the middle distance behind her, his rear against the table. His voice was low, and only for her, though anyone standing close could hear. "We're out of our depth, Loupin. Time to go." By 'we,' he meant the pair of them - they were of the street, and this was decidedly not the street.
            "What was that, Syd?" asked Loupin, frowning a little and leaning towards him as he came nearer. She obviously couldn't clearly hear what he said over Jabari's yelling, but read his face well enough, and consented to following him. "It's hard to hear you over all this, sorry. You can tell me outside."
            She would have made some excuses to the Harbormaster, probably offered him her condolences too, or something similar, but this would not be allowed, seemingly, so she just bowed a bit, as Parant had done.
            Najib watched them go in shocked silence, the sash held in his hands.

            Exiting the study where Najib sat, the party found that Talib wasn't heading outside, as they had expected. Rather, he was stomping up the stairs, higher into the manor.
            Following him, they soon found what he had been looking for.
            Even this late in the evening, there were servants still scrubbing blood from the floor, walls, and even the ceiling of the master bedroom. The bed had been stripped, and the mattress removed, and the servants were in the process of removing the bloodspattered curtains as well.
            When they saw Talib in the doorway, they stilled, looking at him with pity and caution. There was no telling what the dark-faced non-Harbormaster might do.
            Had he run away again?
            The question burned in the mind of Talib Islaran as he took in the gory scene, his jaw set in stone at seeing that his father did not die peacefully, no.
            It had been a bloodbath. Fury and sorrow welled in him, each strangling the other for control over the moment. In their own home. In his bedroom. And it was not quick nor painless, it appeared, but a slaughter. In a darkly amusing way, Talib half suspected such: even on his deathbed, he assumed Keltar Islaran would have cudgeled Kelemvor for three days before he allowed the Judge of The Damned to take him. A mortal would certainly have had a shark to contend with.
            Had he run away again?
            His father had told him to assume the family titles and responsibilities. To take over the business, guide the Azure, sit upon The Dawn Council. He was moments away from becoming one of the most powerful and influential people in the entirety of Tashluta. Had the Will read as such, Talib knew in his heart he would have done so. But it did not. And now, seizing control of the House and its assets meant stepping on Najib - sweet, young Najib, whom father had always made feel like the lowest of the three brothers. For one, brilliant shining moment, Najib was not the lesser of them, no. He was the first. The Lord of The Azure.
            Talib had had measures of power before. Out at sea he had been a pirate bold. To some in Tashluta he was even a hero. Yet all of that came from abandoning his family, abandoning responsibility. Was taking the House back from Najib fulfilling his duty, or merely him seizing from his brother once more? He had already robbed Najib of his own accolades and laurels, becoming the son whose name was on the lips of the docks while the youngest was afraid of water. Najib had never truly had a chance to grow into his own: Talib had.
            Now Loupin, Loupin who thought to put Talib in his "proper place", had attempted to shatter any chance of Najib ever becoming a man, coming into his own. Islarans understood Islarans, and it was nobody else's place - not Loupin's nor Lillia's, not The Baba's, not Syd's, not Jabari's and Parant's, not even The Dawn Council itself to tell them otherwise. Talib had not made to impress upon the others his family values, had not forced others to address their problems in the manner he saw fit. It was an insult to House, Family, and Pride, and it was only his dour melancholy and Najib's shock that prevented a more visceral response.
            Had he run away again?
            A question for later. For now, Najib was Harbormaster - their Father had decided such long ago, and that original wish would be respected. Talib was not about to usurp his own brother, no. He could assist in family matters and make sure Najib was the greatest Harbormaster that Tashluta had ever seen, without Talib actually occupying the post. It was still adhering to his promise that the Islarans would be taken care of. That the Azure would be secure and prosperous.
            He did not need title to accomplish duty.
            "Please cease what you are doing, and depart for the moment," Talib asked of the servants, his voice wavering but finding its foundation quickly, "And summon Daries, the one who discovered my father. I wish to speak with them. Clean no more until I am done with this room."
            His tone was as polite as it could be, a torrential wave of emotions rolling within him. The crime scene was not what he expected, not at all, and after everything downstairs it was a daunting challenge to remain calm. His hands shook, and sweat beaded his brow, even within the relatively cool Estate.
            The servants obeyed without a word, quickly gathering their buckets, cloths, and scrubbing brushes, and filing out past Talib.
            There was sound behind him. The others - the little band that had formed originally to deal with a missing fee from a docked ship, and now was embroiled in scandal throughout Tashluta. Had any of them ever expected such ... such grandiose villainy? Originally Talib had signed on for easy gold and the chance to perhaps gain a patron that was not his father, and now the gold and assistance was inconsequential to the bloody scene before him.
            Talib took in a shaky, steadying breath.
            "If any of you see fit to criticize my brother, leave," Talib said quietly, not turning around, his eyes fixated on the crimson stains of the bedroom, "If any of you see fit to criticize myself, then speak. Otherwise, my father, The Harbormaster, a member of The Dawn Council, was violently murdered within his own bedroom. I will find those responsible and deliver them to The Council for justice. Lavinia and the matter of Vanthus will be addressed in time - I only hope that her brother is not somehow mixed in with this."
            Syd frowned deeply at the scene. Clearly a grisly murder most foul had taken place in here. The coppery tinge of freshly spilled blood turned up his nose. He wasn't put off unduly by the scene before him; his past held certain scenes of a similar vein. Still, it was not something he would ever get used to.
            The momentary hesitation gone, he cast a critical eye across the tableau, taking in any clues he could find. He looked for some sort of ingress, immediately casting his eyes on the glass doors leading to the attached balcony. He lithely stepped over to them, careful not to tread upon blood or anything else on the floor. He examined the latch mechanism, checking to see if it had been jiggered with. Then he carefully cast them open, examining the outdoor portions.
            The holy man's face was a study in neutrality as he considered his options. He chose to watch Syd carefully and wait for the servant to arrive. There was no need to make his decision immediately, and he couldn't help but be curious as to what they might learn here tonight.
            With Gbele aiding him, Syd examined the latch inside and outside. Nothing inside, or out on the balcony, seemed suspicious. But then, what was the likelihood of the doors having been closed in the muggy heat? Even now, a faint harbor breeze blew in to stir the spattered curtains and ease the thick warmth in the room that made the smell of blood and death stronger.
            On the balcony, he leaned over to note that there was a rose trellis below it, as there were on many balconies of the rich - a fact he himself had used more than once.
            "No man is above critique, Talib," Parant's voice rumbled softly at Talib's elbow. "And if your brother's single most important advisor is unwilling to hear of his errors or blind spots, then what hope has he of succeeding at his post?" Parant's tone was quiet, reasonable, not at all cajoling or defensive. Simply stating facts. "The very last thing that your brother needs now are yes-men surrounding him. He needs a strong voice. One that will support him, yes, but that will also tell him truth. He will need his brother, before all is said and done."
            Jabari had been nodding along with Parant but didn't add anything about Najib. Jabari's family was rich but not powerful- they dabbled in politics but not at that level. It seemed to the young nobleman that it was in his interest to keep his mouth shut about the Harbormaster. For better or worse, he was now the Harbormaster and Talib didn't seem inclined to challenge him. Fine.
            Lavinia was another matter, though. He added quietly "If Vanthus is involved in this, I can't see the Vanderboren name surviving it. Lavinia doesn't have the resources to weather something this... dire."
            Parant took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled as if releasing a heavy load.
            "For now though, you are correct. There is work to be done. Would you have me see what tales scent may tell?"
            Jabari just did his best to stay out of the way while the others investigated. This wasn't his strong suit.
            Talib mulled on Parant's words, pondering. He didn't detect any of the biting criticism of before, just ... just what was stipulated. In his eagerness to shield his brother, Talib certainly did Najib no favors. It was something worth considering, certainly, and if Najib were to be a true Family Leader, uncomfortable truths would have to be confronted.
            For now, he merely nodded to Parant's advise and suggestion.
            "Any trace of treacherous stench, root out if you can," Talib asked of Parant, even as he moved towards some of the furniture within the room, looking about for any sort of evidence of tampering. Mayhaps murder was not the only goal - what if something of import had been lifted from the crime scene?
            At Talib's words, Parant shifted again, returning to the feline form he'd used before. Carefully, he began to examine the room for tell-tale scents.
            As he had expected, there was a confused melange of scents all over everything, thanks to the servants and their cleaning supplies. The only thing he could make out that was out of place was... a reptilian kind of smell. Like something that he might have smelled in one of Jabari's family warehouses. Something musky and animal-like.
            "I certainly hope Vanthus is not involved," Talib muttered to Jabari, sighing heavily and feeling some of the fight and tension leave his shoulders. Being within the room where it happened was ... jarring. Almost surreal. He kept his mind focused on the task at hand to ease his anxieties. "I certainly hope."
            He looked up from a dresser, smiling sadly at the fellow noble. "We'll let the evidence speak for itself."
            He gave a small nod to Gbele and Syd as the large man and lithe elf participated in their individual ways, grateful for their assistance.
            "What say, Syd?" he asked curiously as the acrobatic swordsman cased the place, "Any ideas as to how this happened within the bedroom, of all places?"
            "Has anyone seen Lillia?" Loupin asked from the doorway, where she was lingering. "I mean, she doesn't have permission to wander around, I assume, so it might be a good idea to tell her not to do anything obviously traceable back to us. If she needs that." She didn't appear too concerned about Talib's state of mind, instead keeping an eye down the hallway.
            Mentally grumbling about the strength of various soaps and scents the servants had been using, Parant did his best to hone in on the reptilian odor. He went around the room again, looking specifically for the track. Where did it come from? More importantly, where did it go?
            Syd nodded to himself as he confirmed his initial suspicions. He leaned forward a bit against the balcony railing, gazing out towards the balance of Tashluta. The heightened vantage point was a familiar one to him, and he lingered a moment relishing the breeze that diluted the smell of death, if only briefly.
            "You know," he said to nobody in particular as he turned back towards the bedroom, "one would think those of means would take out those popular rose trellises, since it's an easy access to open balcony doors on hot summer nights." He shrugged towards Talib, "Nobody's messed with the latch, which means these doors were probably already open and someone scaled the balcony to gain access. They then likely retreated the same way. If we are to track them, we'll need to return to ground level and make haste. Dallying here will only diminish the trail." He added, "I can get down there now, but I'm not much of a tracker." A rueful grin crossed his features.
            While the others talked, Parant circled the room. He started at the bed, and worked his way out from there in circles, his nose close to the ground. Back and forth he went, eventually settling down on his haunches next to the door that led to the balcony, his face pointed towards the opening, and a soft hiss escaping his lips.
            Jabari would recognize the pose as Parant's indication that who or what ever he was tracking had gone to the balcony, but not an expectation that it was still present. If Parant had thought danger near, his pose would have been much more aggressive, and there would have been no warning hiss.
            "The doors were already open ..?" Talib repeated Syd's declaration, frowning and pondering.
            "... Probably for his cough," he assumed sorrowfully, "The sea air always does the lungs good, and last I saw him, Father ... Father was struggling to breathe easily. He might have left them open himself."
            Talib scowled as he moved towards the balcony as well, staring out across the cityscape of Tashluta. "Damn fool, he should've ... "
            Should have what? Expected an assassin's blade through his own window as he already laid on his death bed? Perhaps, but such instances within Tashluta were rare - this was not the uncivilized realms of the Sword Coast after all - and Keltar had never been one to fear any foe. Had he not been weakened by illness, Talib was quite sure the attack would not have gone in the murderer's favor.
            With Parant's animal form also sitting and staring towards the balcony, that told Talib all he needed to know. The sharpest eyes and nose within the group had a direction in mind. Talking to the servant could wait - if they had a trail, they needed to follow it.
            "Alright. Syd, you're right - we can't lose time. Let's head down to beneath the balcony and follow whatever we can. Winds Willing, a murderer dies today."
            The hand he had cut curled tightly into a fist, squeezing at the scabbing wound. He had made a vow, and he would honor it.
            The young nobleman nodded at Talib. "That's what Parant thinks, too. We're with you."
            "Come on," Talib waved towards the door, already moving for it, "Let's make haste." As he passed by Loupin, however, he stopped. Thought briefly on the comment she had made while he was preoccupied with his father's murder (amongst other things).
            "... Lillia is missing?" Talib rephrased her concern, raising a brow. "I'm sure she couldn't have gotten off far," he noted, asking a nearby servant if they had seen the ravishing rogue.
            Then again, she had a tendency to be rather independent ...
            "Shit," he muttered under his breath. The last thing he wanted after the unnerving realizations, the instigation with his brother, and Loupin's behavior, was a missing friend. He could only hope that Lillia found something of importance that had caught her keen senses.
            Jabari had been following along, distracted by something, letting Parant and the others lead. He hadn't noticed Lillia's absence. "Missing? Since we went upstairs? When was the last time anyone saw her?"
            The holy man was torn between helping his new-found companions and staying on mission. An eyebrow raised involuntarily as Syd made his analysis of the clues in the room, and he found himself interested in spite of himself. It was no longer clear to The Baba upon which path his mission actually laid. He allowed himself some time to follow this lead, confident that the Deceiver's will would be revealed to him in due time. It always did.
            Wordlessly, a placid expression returned to his face, Gbele followed Talib, Syd, and Parant's wondrous form.
            "Marvelous," Loupin complained sardonically, shaking her head. Still, she followed the others outside.

            Below the rose trellis, which appeared a bit the worse for wear and, in places, the most perceptive of them noticed some paint scratched off in a clawlike pattern under some of the rose thorns. Parant followed the scent out to Harbor Street, but there the scent became subsumed by the passage of so many other people during the day, and he lost it.
            Parant still wasn't sure just how much their enemies knew about him, so he didn't want to shift his form out on the street. Instead, he ducked back behind the gates, away from prying eyes. After a moment or two, Parant the man came out to greet the others.
            "Something reptilian," he told the others, "but I lost the trail among all of the traffic on Harbor Street. I don't know what else there is to learn here, but whatever killed him - it was reptile."

            Back on the streets, the party made their way back to Jabari's apartment to discuss their options.
            The holy man followed the consensus of the group as to where they should reconvene for their discussion. As he had previously stated, it did not concern him if they were found, as such a result would provide more intelligence about their opponents.
            He kept his jaw clenched shut until they were someplace they could talk without being overheard by prying ears, but then spoke up almost immediately. He addressed Loupin first. "It is said that one who causes others misfortune also teaches them wisdom. I have sought wisdom from your decision to tell Najib that his father bequeathed the office of the harbormaster to Talib. For one, that was Talib's truth to tell, not yours. Also, Najib need not recognize such a claim as truth, might believe it to be a falsehood Talib would use to strengthen a claim to the position. This would make us a threat to Najib, and therefore his adversary. We do not need more adversaries." Gbele sighs deeply. "However, I misread the situation. Najib believed Talib, and instead of anger and entrenchment, I saw pain and self-doubt in his eyes. The man may have lost faith in himself, and I can not predict his next actions."
            He tuns to Talib. "My mission is clear. I serve Lady Vanderboren. What is your mission?" He looks at all members of the group in turn, hoping to hear clear, honest answers.
            Jabari was young, but apparently he was trained to be a good host. He had been bustling around and coordinating with the staff to have food and drinks sent up while his guests settled in. The young nobleman had just come in with a Lionsworth servant holding a tray of refreshingly cool drinks while they waited for the refreshments to arrive. Jabari gestured at the table in the middle of the sitting area where the group had gathered.
            Parant met the Baba's eyes, then nodded at Jabari. "I go where he goes," he said simply.
            Jabari shrugged and nodded. "That's a simple way of putting it, but sure." He looked at Baba Gbele as the servant unobtrusively left. "Lavinia's a friend of mine. Even if she hadn't asked us to join you, I would've butted in as soon as I heard about everything that was happening with Vanthus." He sighed and took an empty seat, plopping down onto the comfortable cushions with no respect for how much the furniture might have cost or might cost to replace.
            He glanced at Talib. "My family doesn't sail in Council waters, but I'd also like to say that if we heard about what happened, and we were welcome, we would have butted in on that, too." Jabari looked at Parant and then back at the Baba. "We've been making a bad habit of jumping into deep water before looking to see if it was safe. If something needs doing, we're here to do it."
            "My mission?" Talib repeated, finding the query puzzling but, in light of recent events, valid. He rubbed at the soft hair of his jaw and chin as he pondered on how best to answer The Baba.
            "Protect Tashluta," he said simply after a moment, "It is clear something devilish is at work here. Between the Vanderborens, my own family ... I may not actively sit on The Dawn Council, but this city is my home and she is clearly troubled. Find Vanthus. Find my father's murderer. Put an end to the corruption that lurks beneath the streets."
            "Look, you guys, I don't think I'm cut out for this. Some guys came by the Emporium and wrecked my room, and even Lillia has apparently cut and run," Loupin said, hovering near the door with Conway on her shoulder. "It's not that I don't feel bad for your family, Talib. I'd just feel worse if I suffered the same fate, if you see what I mean. No hard feelings."
            "The banana that leaves the bunch gets skinned," Parant said, somewhat cryptically. At the others' looks, he shrugged. "We're much easier targets alone. I'm not saying that you have to stay with us, or even that you should. Just... if you're going to go, you should really go. Far from here. Don't stay in the city."
            "Yeah, I'll just head out to my summer home," Loupin drawled sardonically. "Seriously, I've been to the plantations. I'm not eager to go back. Anyway, no offense, but I think hanging out with you guys was what put a target on my back. If I'm not with you anymore, I think it'll be easier to convince them to leave me alone. But I'll be careful. Thanks. I'll try not to be a banana. Let Lavinia know that... I used all the money already, so there's no point in trying to get it back." She nodded to them, then headed out into the night.
            Jabari nodded at the woman. "We will. Be safe out there."
            Syd pulled a face at Loupin's pronouncement. He didn't say anything, knowing the headstrong mage would do what she thought best regardless. He also understood. They seemed to be involved in a conspiracy that encompassed much more than just the Vanderborens and Islarans. He didn't fault Loupin or Lilia for cutting and running.
            "Reptiles," he said at last with a shake of his head, "anyone else immediately think back to the Yuan-ti statues in the vault?"
            Jabari looked over at Syd. "Yuan-ti is the first thing I thought when parant told us what he smelled. But how would they have gotten into the Harbormaster's room? Or moved around the city without being seen? They're huge half-snake things with tails for legs. They can't exactly blend into a crowd."
            Talib stared hard at Loupin's proclamation, waving a hand dismissively. After the rift she surely had caused between himself and his beloved brother, for her to flee was just a hallmark of her character: flighty and irresponsible at best.
            "No hard feelings," he replied flatly before Syd caught his attention.
            "... Yes, with a metal snake of all things guarding it," Talib recalled, snapping a finger in recognition.
            "And Lavinia for her part was utterly unawares of any association her family would have had with snake cultists or their ilk. Mayhaps Vanthus's disappearance and my father's murder are connected."
            He grew quiet and distant, a cold shiver running up his spine as his gaze failed to leave the floor.
            "... What if there's a yuan-ti cult in Tashluta right now. One beneath the gaze of the Guard. Smuggling growing along the docks, snake statues in aristocratic vaults, something reptilian murdered the harbormaster, something appears to be trying to destabilize Tashluta. Who else but our most ancient enemies? What if Vanthus plundered the vault to provide such scaly allies with coin to further their plans?"
            Talib shook his head and pulled at his hair. "But it doesn't make sense! Why my father, why ... why the harbormaster? Unless he ... Unless he knew something? What if he discovered something after I told him of Vark and how bad the Azure had gotten?"
            It was all speculation, but Talib's thoughts were running rampant now. The very notion that a snake cult could have been behind everything was certainly disturbing to him - he even seemed afraid, shattering the anger and sorrow that had been drifting about him since they returned from Parrot Island.
            Parrot Island ...
            "We need to return to that smuggler cave," Talib declared, "There must be more there, beyond the undead, that we missed. Something left behind, some scrap of evidence to tie these plots together."
            Syd nodded to Talib, "Yes, we should go back there. We can prepare for the undead, maybe get some better weapons and sundry." He cringed a little at the memory of their last encounter down there.
            He idly wondered what magics Yuan-ti controlled. How one could disguise itself to melt into the Tashulta populace. Or maybe they just used human agents who happened to carry the scent. Either way, it didn't matter overmuch; they'd still have to find them in the first place.
            "I am not the only one who can shift my shape," Parant said, pointing out the obvious to Jabari's previous comment (and, unknowingly, to Syd's thoughts).
            "We should rest, figure out how to gear up appropriately, and go to the tunnels again tomorrow. Possibly at night. I suspect we're more likely to see living people after dark."
            The Baba is slightly surprised, but pleased, by the consensus to return to Parrot Island. He says nothing, however, simply nodding slowly along with the discussion of preparations.