The Syliran Prisoner I

[Crismento Miren]

3th of Winter, 511 AV The Silver Sliver was lively as usual when the day was drawing to an end. The hungry ones came for their meals, the thirsty ones for their drinks and the tired ones to be refreshed or finished off completely. There were also some who chose the inn as a place to talk over some ale and then finally there were a few who had no other reason to be there than just following around those who liked to talk, because they liked to listen. At least that evening there was one such person sitting alone by the table enjoying a delicious meal while his mind and attention were sitting at another table in the company of two men he had first seen a few bells ago in town. ”What you say is all nice and well, but I know I have what it takes to make it big and successful,” arrogance in the raspy voice was above the subtle levels, yet not grand enough to offend the ears of his companion. ”There’s a reason I’m paying for our dinner tonight. The difference between you and I, Jason, is success, and I’ll build upon in. You’ll see.” ”Success or luck, mate?“ A chatting couple leaving the tavern passed between the table of the two men and that of the listener interrupting his immersion in the conversation. ”… carefully and just because you can, doesn’t mean you should piss everything away given the first opportunity.” ”I tell you, I can make my fortunes. What am I? Some sort of blundering idiot that will just throw all the gold at booze and whores? Is that what you think of me?” ”You’re paying for the meal right now…” Jason pointed out with little emotion in his voice. ”Petch off, mate,” the man grumbled. He carried on speaking something into his mug while taking another gulp. ”I tell you," his heavy hand wiped the bushy moustache, ”I know how business works and I can make it work for me. You’ve seen my plans, you’ve heard them many times. It’s perfect, it’s gonna work.” ”Listen, Mathial, you know that I more than anyone want you to succeed," Jason reached for his mate’s shoulder grasping it firmly with a slight shake. ”But why does it have to be Ravok? I’ve told you: bring your ideas and money to Zeltiva. It has the biggest harbour, once you hit success on the streets you’d soon go on to world-wide scale, shipping your stuff to other cities. ”Ah,” with the corner of his eye the amateur spy saw the man wave his hand dismissively. ”I was born and raised here. Ain’t no better city than Ravok, you and I both know that. Besides, I don’t know how things work down there in Zeltiva. Have no contacts there. Network, you know, it’s important stuff.” ”As if you do here, huh? What, the Nitrozian guy changed his mind? He was not even related by blood, right? And even he whisked you away, not that his word would’ve mattered much otherwise. And those two other self-starters? You told me some days ago you still haven’t heard from them. After a season and a half, nearly! Come on, mate!” ”Hey! That’s before I got into some money. They’ll change their minds…” mumbling made it hard to make out the words and the eavesdropper had to really strain his ears, ”… been told that they listen to him, so you can stick your mockery up your arse, Jason.” ”Alright, alright, I didn’t mean hurt your feelings or anything, I respect you, mate, you know that, right? I just want to say that I know some men in Zeltiva. Serious people, they know what they’re doing. Let me talk to them for you, see what they can offer and when I come back sometime in early summer we’ll talk and we'll see how it goes. All I ask is that you sit on this money for now, work your shop like you used to, no big expensive news or anything and, what do you know, soon we’ll set up a good thing going. Trust me.” ”Well, I can’t promise you that, mate,” if it wasn’t for the masculine, raspy voice, the tone would have led one to believe that Mathial was suddenly coquetting with his friend. ”I’m destined to be a self-made man. I tell you what, I’ll wait for you and your ideas, but if I see any good opportunity here, I won’t turn it down just because we talked today. I have some coin, my words weighs more now, so people will listen to me when I talk. And you know me, I know how to work people. Friends, acquaintances, contacts... You laugh at me today, but come this summer I might have hundreds coming to me for a favour when you show up on my steps.” ”I guess that’s fair enough,” the voice seemed to suggest different feelings, not that Mathial would have noticed. ”Anyway, petch these matters. How are you getting ready for this trip?” The conversation seemed to move on to other topics and it was probably going towards the end, since from what the eavesdropper gathered Jason’s caravan was setting out pretty early the next day. Crismento paid for his meals at the bar and left the tavern along with a few other patrons.

[Crismento Miren]

It wasn’t cold outside – it seemed the city wasn’t willing to give in to the whims of winter – but still Cris felt more comfortable under the hood. Leaning against a wooden pole at the ravosala dock he was just an ordinary man waiting for a boatman to take him home, though any observer who took some time to watch him would have noticed that Crismento refused the service when offered. Fortunately for him, there was nobody to pay such attention to him, as he only received a single sideways glance from a patrolling guard passing through. Cris turned down three ravosalamen while waiting for the mark to leave the tavern, realising that he had underestimated the time it would take for the two men to finish the conversation. His ears finally caught the sound of already slightly familiar voices and he turned his head slightly for confirmation. The con artist was too far to understand the words and instead read their goodbyes from big hugs and pats on the shoulders. After that Jason and Mathial split up and to Crismento’s surprise the man he was interested in was not planning to cruise down the canal to his home. Not only did that mess his opportunity to casually meet and talk to the man on a shared trip, but also set in a doubt that this man was worth the effort. After all if he actually lived at the Docks, how much could he have to offer? For all the swindler knew this Mathial had been lying to his friend. He certainly seemed to be of the kind who liked to boast. But a good part of the day had already been invested in this prospect and instead of simply retiring to his room at Tarsin’s Cris turned to follow the big-mouthed man. Trailing after into the alley and later a narrow street he feel at risk of being detected and exposed as his mark happily marched forward with little regards to this surroundings even as they tried to trip him. The only real way to fail was the possibility of losing Mathial from sight for good, but he would only disappear from Crismento’s eyes for several breaths at a time when turning around an occasional corner. The journey turned out to be longer than he had expected and after a while the con man could confirm his guess that they were no longer in the Docks when the two men, one after the other, passed the Spicy Lass . It was not long before the aspiring businessman stopped searching for his keys, so Cris steered left and around the corner of the shop a few buildings away. He heard metal jingling against the stone and a loud curse that sounded more like gibberish than actual words. After a few moments he dared to carefully peek from his hiding place only to see Mathial disappearing inside. With his back against a white stone wall, the swindler allowed himself a couple of chimes to gather his thoughts in order. His mind did not find any wise approach to act that same night, but at the same time it saw new attractive opportunities opening their doors. There was work to do, so it was time to return to his room. After waiting some more to make sure it was really the final destination of his mark Cris walked over to get the good look of the building. It was very simple, small, one story house, with cracks on the wall splitting from the corners of the wooden windows. Nothing out of the ordinary, not much to remember it by, except perhaps only for the unfittingly knew handle and lock on the clearly very old door. The con artist figured that a little piece of chalk would come in handy in such situations, but that was what one got for not preparing for every situation. Without waiting for the passers-by to take notice of him or any guards getting the wrong idea, that would be very far from the truth, Crismento turned around and tried to make his way back the way he came from while he still had the route fresh in his mind.

[Crismento Miren]

Back at his room the con artist was pacing around in what little area he had. While his legs were busy, his mind was racing even faster. One parchment with notes of what he had heard that evening scribbled on it laid on the table, while several other torn fragments with discarded ideas littered the floor. It was a good opportunity, he could make it work. With a little bit more effort he could piece this all together. At the core it was all very simple: find bait and build everything around it. Minds of the fools were simple and they could be punished for that. That was how the world worked and that was the way. Cris glanced at the notes again. This Mathial was not like his typical marks. He was ambitious, but the swindler could not tempt him with the usual lure of an investment abroad. Neither did he plan leaving the city, it seemed, so he would expect signs of results within reasonable timeframe. That was an obstacle, too. ’Or an opportunity,’ Crismento smiled rubbing his chin. But the question of the source of temptation remained. Mathial was interested in investing his capital in his own business, he wanted his word to have a say in the city, he wanted… status. He began walking circles in his room again. Cris was an outsider in Ravok, he had even less of those attributes than his mark and he couldn’t believably represent anyone who did. People were gullible fools, but one couldn’t drop the expectations too low and not get burned. The way spoke of manipulating them not commanding them like a parent would their children. No, he was an outsider and an outsider he would play. An opportunity from outside with rewards in Ravok… Doing a favour to be favoured… Cris sprang into his chair and grabbed the quill. An vision was coming together in his mind. “Dear Member of the Nitrozian Family,” He began the draft version on a fresh piece of parchment. The quill quickly snaked from left to right, its rhythm sometimes interrupted by moments of contemplation or intense strike-troughs. It seemed as if he only needed a single sparkle of a good idea to unleash the wildfire of what he not so modestly judged to be brilliance. “As you can imagine, in this hostile environment the risks growth greater with every breath and should the truth be discovered the situation would hastily turn even direr indeed. It is therefore with these factors in mind that I urge you to…” It had everything that could catch the mark’s eye: thrill, opportunity, reward; all very obvious and simple when he could see the hands of the puppeteer, but so exciting and enticing when pampered and disguised. And if it wasn’t so at first, it was Crismento’s job to make it appear so. After all it was he and not a piece of paper who was to punish the susceptible. “For the obvious matters of security I did not feel comfortable to disclose everything within this letter, however, I trust that the courier that delivers it will be capable to shed more light on the matter if required.” After putting the final dot and signing the letter Cris leaned back in the chair satisfied. He felt proud with the idea to the point of feeling confident enough to walk to the mark’s doors and present the con that very night. The swindler laughed at the thought before blowing out the candle and moving to bed. It was late and he would need to review and rewrite the letter on a clean sheet of paper. Not everything was perfect to pull this off yet, but he was getting closer and he felt excitement quivering in his chest.

[Crismento Miren]

6th of Winter, 511 AV It was already midday when Mathial left his house. Just further down the street Crismento rose from an empty crate that served as a reasonably convenient chair the past few days and followed the man in quick pace. He had seen the mark leave the previous noon as well but managed to lose him somewhere near the People’s Market. It would have been embarrassing to fail twice in two days in the same manner and so Cris was determined to initiate conversation as soon as they were far enough from the shop to avoid suspicion. At least the con artist had assumed it was a shop, though his initial guess wasn’t as firm now since there was a distinct lack of visitors or customers showing up at the doorsteps despite Mathial spending most of his time inside. The last part was also a slight obstacle, because simply barging in was not part of the plan – he thought that the illusion of random encounter held more credibility. People passing him with fruits and meats in their hands suggested that they were going the same way as yesterday and not wanting to repeat the mistake Cris jumped forward. ”Excuse me, sir! I have a feeling you might be the right man to help me with a peculiar matter.” Mathial stopped and turned to the stranger but the raised thick eyebrow was the only reaction given. Truth be told, the man didn't look like the right choice for such situation, not at least compared to his appearances on that evening in the tavern. Then he was wearing clothes that were probably not cheap to make, spreading coin around and drowning his throat in ale. Now his plain colourless pants were complimented by the bland jacket and his whole façade gave an image of a commoner after a few bells of hard work rather than of an archetypal businessman. Despite the lack of encouragement the con artist carried on. ”Are you, by any chance, familiar with the Nitrozian family or know enough about them to be of assistance?” ”An outsider, eh?” the man scoffed, although his eyes glimmered slightly when he heard the name. ”What do you want with me? I have things waiting at Trigol’s.” ”I promise not to keep you for too long. You see, sir, upon my arrival I was supposed to be directed towards the right faction in the family to deliver this letter, but that part of the procedure had suffered from unforeseen circumstances. Now lacking the critical information I am at risk of failing the task entirely. If I delivered the letter to the wrong people, I might have as well lost it on the way.” ”Ahh, petch your fuss and blabbering, you wimp,” he waved away. ”Go to the Nitrozian Plaza and someone will show you where you can find a Nitrozian. It’s in the damned name of the plaza.” ”But you don’t understand, I do not need any Nitrozian, I need one that is an ally of my employer. I want one that wants his family member alive and well; not all of them do.” ”Hah! What is this nonsense? If there was such rift in the family, believe me - I’d know. Rumours travel fast down these canals.” Mathial turned his back to the outsider and carried on walking away.

[Crismento Miren]

Such response was not enough to discourage Cris and without losing composure in his face he quickly caught up with the man to walk side by side. ”So I take it you do know them well enough to aid me? ”What is bloody wrong with you?” ”Sir, if you help me in this matter, let me promise you that my employer will not remain in your debt for long. Even as an outsider I know that a favour of a Nitrozian is worth enough to sacrifice a few chimes of one’s time.” Mathial stopped again and looked the swindler straight in the eye. Crismento sustained that gaze convincing himself that he could read signs of interest in the mark’s look. ”It is a rather delicate situation, you see. The member of the Nitrozian family that I currently work for has run into some troubles abroad and I was sent here to seek help. I was instructed, however, that not everybody in the family is keen on supporting the man in this state.” ”Well? the raspy tone sounded a little impatient. "So what’s the name of this poor Nitrozian.” ”I…” Cris shifted around uncomfortably. ”Revealing it just like this out here seems to be a poor decision.” ”A poor decision? How then…?” the man’s pitch went higher in disbelief. “Tell you what, lad, so far you’re doing a piss poor job at delivering a damned letter. Let me take a look at it, maybe then I can find something useful.” ”Sir, letter is signed across, they will see if it was opened…” ”Is everyone outside this lake banged on their heads regularly or something? Do you think through your questions and situation before opening your mouth? What good is a sealed letter if you don’t know whom to deliver it to? And from what you have to say, it doesn’t really narrow it down, does it? Just let me see this damned letter already or petch off.” The con artist tried to estimate how much of curiosity hid behind the irritation and decided to tease the mark further. His eyes went up and down Mathial’s body overly obviously examining him without any hint trying to hide that. ”I suppose you speak the truth, sir,” Cris produced a folded piece of paper from the inside of his coat. He was about to hand it to the man when he stopped and looked around. ”I would prefer, however, a more private place to do this. I’d feel more comfortable discussing the details away from any possible eavesdroppers.” Mathial released a loud sigh and looked around himself. It was clear the man was weighting trade-offs and deciding if this opportunity was really worth his time. ”Ah, petch it,” he shrugged eventually. ”Trigol’s shyke can wait a few bells, but I let you off and you will screw all this completely. Follow me, I have a place not far from here.” The man passed through Cris to lead the way and didn’t see a small smile appearing on the swindler’s face for a brief moment.

[Crismento Miren]

Smell of sawdust was the first thing to greet Cris when he entered Mathial’s house and he soon saw plenty of it all around the floor. The layout of the room reminded him of a shop: a counter by the side with a shelf behind it, plenty of space about to display the merchandise. It was the lack of that merchandise that suggested that the store was not in full operation. In fact, the only thing that could be sold in there seemed to be still in progress as a wooden head of a horse, a few planks and curved staves among scattered tools suggested. ”I see your work lies within the crafting area?” ”What, that?” he motioned towards the wooden horse pieces while passing across the room through sawdust. ”That’s something I’m doing for my nephew at the moment. Little bugger is turning five a few days from now.” ”Ah, that is most wonderful, is it not?” Cris smiled. ”My brother has a boy of eight back at home. Curious little things those kids can sometimes be… Mathial grunted somewhat approvingly as he dropped into one chair and gestured the swindler to take another one in front of him. ”Sometimes,” perhaps it was only the change of lighting once they got inside, but it seemed to Crismento that the man’s face became warmer at least for a little while. ”Those happy little bastards, you look at them and think that they are there just to remind you what miserably sorry bastards you’ve become since those days.” ”Your business isn’t doing too well then, I take it?” the con artist sat down trying to get comfortable and visibly looked around the room. ”I hope you don’t mind me saying that, but it does seem to be rather… empty… in here.” ”Don’t mind this - that was before,” the voice did not betray a change in emotion but Cris got the impression that he might have touched the right spot anyway. ”There’s lots of entitled sons of bitches in this city that can dictate the rules for new competition. It can be tough sometimes, you know? I thought I was in a bit of a rough spot a while ago, but good ol’ Rhysol always takes care of his own in the end, so things are going to change around hear real soon.” ”And I am sure my employer will be glad to put in a good word for you to ease that process of change,” Cris leaned forward to give the letter to the man. ”Your help in this matter will not go unmentioned, mister…?” ”Mathial Dilde.” ”Nicholas Raes,” he reached for a handshake but received no response as his mark seemed to be more keen in opening and reading the letter. ”What sort of amateur seal is this anyway?” he raised his eyebrows before he began. ”Snot of wax…” ”Well, I’m sure they make do with whatever they have access to,” Crismento’s voice did not reflect any hints of displeasure in his voice. He thought he did a bloody nice job sealing that letter. ”They do not find themselves in the friendliest territory after all.”

[Crismento Miren]

Cris leaned back in his chair and watched the man read. Big brown eyes darted from one side to the other following the lines of the letter, while chapped lips beneath brown moustache formed words that sometimes escaped into the room as intelligible mumbles. ”…afraid I am writing to you with some depressing news… been captured and at the moment of this… fortunately the identity has not been yet discovered… the caravan, although safe, is also… is not lost yet, because we have discovered a great window of opportunity… required for bribes, rewards and other arrangements… have been already gathered, but we still lack… risks growth greater with every breath… once again, I assure you that… capable shed more light on the matter if required… yours faithfully…” Mathial raised his eyes from the letter. ”Who is this D.Z.?” ”Our lead operative in Syliras at the moment. She is the one that has arranged all this procedure and the one with the plan.” ”I see… It’s quite the situation you have going on down there…” Brown eyes skimmed the letter once more. ”Well, it doesn’t mention the name in here…” ”It doesn’t?” Crismento’s eyes opened wider portraying surprise. ”Nope," Mathial coughed as if giving himself time to think. ”So who is this imprisoned Nitrozian? It says right here that the courier can 'shed more light on the matter if required'.” Crismento’s shoulders dropped as in admitting defeat while he reclined in his chair. ”I have been recruited for the cause after the event. I have more details to share about the process itself, but the basic information like this would have been known to the concerned parties and Deliene did not feel that some things were worth for me to know. There was a man whom I should have met in Ravok and who would have presented me to the addressee, but after arriving to the city I have learned that he had got himself involved in some murky practices that cost him his life... This letter should have been proof that the matter was genuine, since the Nitrozians know Deliene, and now the seal is broken…” ”Sounds like everything is pretty petched, huh? I guess you should just go to the Nitrozians and tell what you know, it’s probably for the best.” A weak, desperate sigh escaped the swindler’s mouth. ”I was clearly instructed that there are some family members who should not be informed of this. I do not understand the politics and all the intrigues but was made to see that the whole operation could be ruined by such mistake, and though I do not know to what ends exactly, I have been told in no uncertain terms that the stakes are high.”

[Crismento Miren]

Although his voice sounded weak, Crismento’s energy was refocusing to his mind. Essence of is soul gathered and rose in his throat, changing and transforming so that the con artist could almost taste it. He had always imagined that he could. Sweetness of strawberries would wrap his tongue every time djed touched his voice allowing him a glimpse to the childhood even if his mind wasn’t always quick enough to catch those thoughts. This was one of the many pleasures of indulging in the art and one that was the quickest to end as strawberries warningly changed into metal and blood. But now was not the time for these worries. It was so easy to forget about precaution when an attractive opportunity arrived. The liberating lies he used to tell himself. Just this one time… This time is special… I can control myself just fine… It’s been a while since Cris had made an excuse for himself. For too many times he had broken his own word. The swindler opened his mouth and magical strings of web yet to be spun shot out with his words to wrap around Mathial. ”It appears, my friend, that my father has been right all those times when he claimed that there is no such thing as an easy reward in this hard and unforgiving world. If only you had heard what they had promised for such an apparently simple task. After all, I’m assisting the rescue of a Nitrozian! And now I am closer to jeopardizing this whole mission that than to the gold and favours that attracted me to this job in the first place.” Crismento’s art was tickling the mark’s curiosity and greed as it slid and brush against his aura. The swindler looked up from his feet at the businessman and even though their eyes did not meet, he delivered an extra pulse of hypnotic djed with his words. ”It’s a shame you couldn’t help me, too. As a Ravokian merchant I’m sure you would have made an even greater use of Nitrozian favours if this poor damned prisoner was freed. Shame about him as well. Shame all around…” Crismento’s lips curved into a half-hearted smile. He waited a few moments for his words to leave a mark in Mathial’s mind before standing. Cris stepped towards the man and reached to receive the letter. The Ravokian didn’t look up at him. Instead his eyes were still fixed on the letter. But the brown beads in them weren’t moving from left to right. Focused on one point they weren’t moving at all, looking somewhere past the paper. The swindler smiled in his mind imagining the sounds of his mark’s busy brain. He thought of men relentlessly toiling deep in the mines, not unlike his ancestors. ”I believe I should take my leave now,” he nudged Mathial. Words tainted with magic danced around the big man, hypnotic tongues seducing his mind, urging not to throw away what has fallen into his lap. Hold on…

[Crismento Miren]

Thick eyebrows furrowed and strong carpenter’s fingers brushed along his big moustache. Finally he looked up at the con artist, who still appeared to be waiting for the letter. ”So, this Nitrozian,” words rolled out of his mouth slowly with deliberation. ”He disappeared and the word hasn’t yet reached the family?” ”I am the word, my friend. Or rather, you’re holding it in your hand. And he didn’t disappear. He was imprisoned under a different name and had a crew immediately working on his rescue. Ideally, he would’ve been freed without any word getting out about this embarrassment. You know those aristocrats and their efforts to save face. But as you’ve read it didn’t work out that perfectly and he needs help from outside. So here it is, the letter to his family.” ”Family of which some members would refuse to help one of their own? Talk about saving face…” Cris pondered for a while. ”Listen, friend, I’ve told you the version I’ve been told myself. I was to be paid not for asking questions but carrying out the task.” ”And a bloody well job you did at that!” Mathial interject with a mocking smile. ”Anyway,” the swindler shrugged unmoved. ”So, I kept my mouth shut and nodded quietly when spoken to. Honestly, I don’t think that asking the wrong person would result in such and unfortunate outcome as it had been pictured. Perhaps they just said so, so that I would spare no effort to deliver the best results. Who knows of those struggles and politics up there? Certainly not mere mortals like you and I, right, my friend? Perhaps getting help from certain Nitrozian would weaken our prisoner’s position within the family, perhaps he would end up in great debt to them, perhaps he might lose some or much of his business, or perhaps he would have to say thank you to an uncle he doesn’t particularly like… I don’t claim to know how they work and it wouldn’t surprise me if people like them don’t have their priorities straighten out in a proper order. All I know is that the crew was already reluctant to ask any help at all. I suppose being helped by someone one wished wasn’t involved at all would have cost even more pride,” Cris shoulders dropped tiredly when he paused.”Maybe you’re right. I should just find a Nitrozian, give him the letter and hope for the best. There’s probably not much of coin waiting if I get it wrong, but it’s still something. And at least the prisoner will be released, I guess. So three cheers to that, right?” Silence stood there as neither man seemed to have anything to say. The swindler had no intention of disturbing it now. He had always preferred elegantly throwing the hook rather than forcing it into the mouths of the blind. Just a little bit more patience and then a gentle but firm pull will show if today was a good day for fishing. A single chime has not passed but it felt long without any words. Two peculiar statues they were: one in the chair with a letter in his hands and another one standing with his arm outstretched towards the first. Cris quietly leaned forward and slowly pulled the letter out the carpenter’s hand. His frozen fingers did not resist as the paper slid through them but just when a single corner was left they clutched it. ”And you vouch that there’s good money and favours in this?” Mathial finally spoke. ”I wouldn’t rule out a slit throat now, to be honest.” ”I’m not talking about now. I’m not asking about you,” the man finally raised his eyes to meet Crismento’s. ”I’m asking about us.” ”How do you mean?” the con artist asked knowing the answer. ”I mean, what if you don’t need to deliver this letter at all?”