Are you going to finish that?

[Inoadar]

12th of Winter 512

It nagged at Inoadar. It was almost as though this new assistant, this 'Marcus', if that was truly his name, was TOO clean and innocent. He'd made his inquiries and there was nothing. He'd already gone through, in his mind, all the pros and cons supporting suspicion or acceptance dozens of times, but there was no resolution. Everything was at it should be. And that bothered him. How could there be NOTHING to hide in the past of ANY citizen of Ravok?

'Damn it, where was I going again?' he asked himself. His distraction over the possibility that his new assistant was a plant was becoming exceedingly detrimental to his concentration. He had no doubt that Marcus was aware of his suspicions. How could he not? He seemed a bright enough fellow.

Inoadar was glad that he had not had anything incriminating in his shop when the Ebonstryfe had picked up his original assistant, 'Burke'. Even now, his imagination conjured images of Marcus, back at the shop, ransacking cabinets, looking for hidden compartments, knocking on walls, listening for hollow spots, crawling on the floor, digging at the cracks for loose cover tiles, concealing secret niches. For all he knew, he may have even FOUND some. That was an even more infuriating thought!

'Damn it, where was I going again?' he stopped, shaking his head to disperse the aggravation. 'Oh yes', he remembered, the new season might have seen a new book or two brought to the shelves of 'Odds and Ends' or 'Tine's Exotic Goods'. Even the People's Market might have someone with some old reference books or texts on herbalism or toxicology. Even old history books might have subtle hints about suspicious deaths in areas that might give hints as to sources of poison crafting materials. You never knew where or when opportunities for discovery might arise.

[Marcus Ahysen]

Marcus was indeed aware of Inoadar's suspicions, but he did not imagine they were as strong as they were. The fact that Inoadar was having such a mental dilema might have actually concerned Marcus. He thought he was doing a good job, but of course, he had very little field experience, at could not count himself a good judge of such things. Technically, his skill had been in impersonation, which was why he'd learned the arts of morphing and disguise. What he was doing now was technically acting, and making things up as he went along. Improv, they called it in the theatre. The game Marcus was playing was a game of constant improvisation, and while he did have a basic script to go by, all the finer details had to be made up on the spot. Not like when he was impersonating someone, and was able to research every tiny bit of their life. Then all he had to do was pull from the facts, not make up facts out of thin air. Inoadar was gone again, leaving his assistant to keep the shop once more. Marcus had been taking his time with his snooping, he didn't want to be obvious. Each time he was left alone he would check one small part of the shop. He did not spend too much time on it either, he didn't want to get caught in the act when Inoadar came back, or if a customer came in. Eventually his plan was to have Aurum keep watch, and possibly even tail Inoadar, while in her animal form, but she was proving difficult of late. The kelvic was a strange one, and at times she was an excellent slave, but there were other times when she was terrible. Marcus had seriously considered selling her more than once, but he'd already called her his wife, and to sell her now would only put a hole in his story. Still.. Inoadar, or Nolan as Marcus knew him.. or Trandino, had not yet met Aurum. If he wanted to, he could find a replacement. Aurum was a thought for another time, however. Marcus was busy cleaning shop, and he was paying particular attention to a certain corner. There was nothing particularly special about the corner, so far as Marcus could tell, but he was being methodical. Clues could be hidden anywhere. Codes on the labels of jars, floorboards that looked slightly askew (not that there were any, he was just watching for them), and perhaps even small compartments in the wall. They could be anywhere, hidden in almost anything. Marcus had to be thorough. His first report was due that day, and it would be nice if he could tell them something other than that he hadn't found anything yet.

[Inoadar]

There were no new additions to the shelves of books that held any interest to him. Strange, though, that he felt more upbeat now than he had when he left. He had seen a slaver crew grab a young man right off the street in front of 'Odds and Ends'. Though he was not yet planning to use his false citizenship papers with any city officials or Ebonstryfers yet, it was nice to know they were there to flash in the face of any slavers that might eye him. They wouldn't have the kind of authority to ignore citizenship.

Thoughts of slavers cycled him through thoughts of Burke, which brought him back to Marcus. 'May as well quit dwelling on him.' he shrugged to himself. 'What's done is done. There's nothing at the shop to incriminate me.' He wondered about his room at Tarsin's Boarding House, though. If the Stryfers were onto him, they would have surely been curious where he lived. yet they hadn't asked him about it.

If they had any indication of his evenings spent there, and checked on it, they would certainly note that there were no rooms rented under "Nolan Parnell". That alone would draw suspicion. But again, there had been no mention. 'Am I worrying for nothing?'

'Damn it!' he sneered under his breath. Now he wanted to go ask the desk if any city officials came looking after that name. He didn't want to have to go so far as to rent a second room for appearance's sake. With his shop payments, that would be a real hardship.

He decided not to do anything that drastic yet. He would go see if the name had been the subject of any questions. If it came to it, he could give some shyke about being in the middle of finding a new place and the name was taken prematurely off the ledger. Mr. Tarsin would expect a bribe, no doubt. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

He turned his path in the direction of the Boarding House and had gone a couple blocks when he heard a shout and a crash from a nearby tavern. His shock was matched by his morbid amusement as a large, barrel-chested man stumbled through the door, clawing at his own face! He was screaming something about worms 'beneath his skin' and 'crawling on his skull' and 'boring into his eyesockets!'

The frenzied resolve with which he was destroying his face in an attempt to get at the imagined 'worms' reminded Inoadar of something he had read when he was in Sunberth years ago. That was back when he was first studying poisons to decide which ones to learn about first. He was not sure what it was derived from, since it was not one from any of the categories he had learned about. But as he saw the web-like streaks of dark veins on the skin the man was clawing at, he decided it must be from something related to spiders. Either that, or the man's screams of 'worms' might reflect some vision, in connection with the obvious madness, generated by some sort of worm residue.

People were scattering in panic. 'They probably think it's some sort of contagious disease.' He smirked, shaking his head at the shallow ignorance of common folk. In his view, poison was an extension of the science of chemistry, not just some brute killer's tool.

There were also, however, a trio of unsavory looking men, not panicking. They were, instead, looking with malicious satisfaction at the sorry victim. Inoadar felt no outrage at these men, any more than he felt pity for the poor fool disfiguring himself at their feet. What he DID feel was great interest in what the man had been eating.

[Inoadar]

The table had been overturned and the food was spilled all over the floor. Inoadar made his way nonchalantly towards it, grabbing a couple of cloth place mats to wrap a sample in. As soon as he reached it, several things grabbed his attention.

The first was that the trio of apparent perpetrators had taken notice of him and had not shown any concern. If some victim of HIS was thrashing around in front of victims, he knew HE would not want anyone else getting near the tainted item. Their lack of concern was very odd.

The second was that the victim was only clawing at his face, not his throat or abdomen. If it was something he'd eaten, the effects would be widespread, not localized, to the face.

Additionally, the food was very spicy, now this could be effective to mask the odor, if any, that the poison may give off. But it contradicted what he understood about 'ingestion' types of poisons. Acids triggered the effects, which quickly peaked and then diffused, which was why they needed to be IN the stomach to be triggered by that acid. Strong spices often had a high degree of acidity to them and were not commonly used to apply poison to a victim since they triggered the toxin prematurely and had diminished effects.

Then it all added up, and Inoadar had to give a mental nod of appreciation to the three villains. The spicy food made the victim sweat, so he grabbed the cloth to wipe his face. The poison was on the cloth! This last observation stemmed from the fact that one of the trio was tightly gripping one of the cloths, and the hand he was holding it in was gloved.

Three to one...no problem.

[Inoadar]

He grabbed a towel and walked over to the table behind the man with the cloth and began clearing it as though he worked there. Everyone else was watching the poisoned man writhing in front of the tavern. He dropped a mug on the floor and crouched down as if to retrieve it. Instead he slipped under the table and swung his right arm around the man's ankles, pulling them in at the same time as he slammed his left forearm into the back of the man's knees.

The man crashed to his face, instinctively dropping the cloth to brace his impact with the floor with open hands. Inoadar rocked back on his heels and stood up, upending the table and flipping it to bring it, upside down, on top of the man.

The man was already starting to get into a crouch, the table rocking above him with the effort. Inoadar jumped on top of the overturned table, slamming it back down and cracking it down the middle where it peaked over the body beneath it.

One of the man's two partners charged Inoadar, who snapped off one of the table's legs and cocked it back to swing it. The approaching thug slowed his momentum to gauge his defense, but still got close enough for Inoadar to kick him in the stomach. The man grabbed his leg as he doubled over, wheezing from the impact. Inoadar leaned back, buckling the held leg to pull the man forward, off balance, and then swung the table leg.

The man managed to block it with his arm, but swinging it was only an excuse for Inoadar to lean forward without the man realizing that he was really only wanting to grab his head. He pulled the man's face down into his knee, stunning him long enough to dump him on top of the table in his place.

He jumped off, sweeping the poisoned cloth up from the floor with the towel and grabbed a chair. He swung the chair up to keep the third man away from him as he slipped around to the man's side and made his break for the street with the man in pursuit. A pair of Ebonstryfers came around the corner, reacting to the commotion, and Inoadar immediately hailed them, accusing his pursuer of trying to steal his wallet, which he pulled out, displaying his "Nolan Parnell" citizenship papers.

The man hesitated, eventually making the excuse that he thought "Mr. Parnell" had neglected to pay his bill for the last round of drinks and that it had just been a misunderstanding. Inoadar made as if he felt pretty sure he had paid, but offered to pay it again, right there in front of the guardsman, so there'd be no doubt. The man, joined now by his two partners, who were inwardly seething over their inability to take any action, had no choice but to accept. Inoadar handed them 10 silver mizas, a friendly grin taunting them, and told them to 'keep the change' by way of an apology.

The Ebonstryfe guardsman asked loudly if anyone in the crowd knew what had happened to the original victim, who was still shrieking and disfiguring himself. Neither Inoadar, nor his three adversaries indicated any knowledge. But what DID pass between them was an understanding. Inoadar only wanted the cloth for his own purposes and had kept his mouth shut about who had poisoned the man. One of the three thugs gave him a subtle nod and suggested to his associates that they head elsewhere so they city guard could go about their business.

Inoadar agreed that this was probably best and they all dispersed. Inoadar kept his eyes behind him as he hurried back to the shop, but no one tailed him. it appeared the three men were also satisfied with the outcome.

[Marcus Ahysen]

While Inoadar was busy brawling with a trio of killers, Marcus was conducting his own personal business. A man entered the shop, dressed in the attire of someone who did not want to be recognized, but Marcus did. A sword could be seen dangling at his hip, but Marcus knew the man was armed to the teeth. He had been chosen as the agent's contact because of his particular line of business in the Ebonstryfe. The man was a killer, and any digging into his background would turn up exactly that. He was exactly the type of person who would visit a shop like Ino Vations, and he knew his stuff. "He's not here right now, we can speak freely," Marcus said when the man approached. Technically, as a member of the Black Sun, he outranked the soldier, but Marcus was no fool. He knew the soldier could kill him in a heartbeat if he wanted to. Any Ebonstryfe, even an apprentice, was a deadly warrior. "I know," the man responded. "Do you have anything yet?" "Nothing concrete.. yet. But there were some suspicious notes in his business ledger. I can't get it to you without him noticing.. but perhaps you could arrange something later." "Perhaps... but," the Ebonstryfe started to say something else, but at that moment Inoadar walked through the door, and with the ease of someone who did his job well, the Ebonstryfe switched subjects. "But I would like something quiet. I don't want to make a scene. Do you have anything like that?" Luckily Marcus was positioned to face the door, and he saw Inoadar enter as well. His response was a little less graceful, but it played into the aspect of being a new employee quite well. "Oh, um.. yes, I'm sure we do. I know Pillowsap would put them to sleep," he said, casting a glance toward Inoadar for assurance, and also to make sure he was buying the conversation. "And then you could do your.. um.. business in peace. But if you were looking for something more permanent, um.. maybe my boss can help you?"

[Inoadar]

"Hmmm?" Inoadar switched his attention to the customer, hoping for signs of how long the man may have been present. He now wished it had been raining so he could gauge the degree of evaporation from any lingering footprints to get a rough idea of how long he had been standing there. The current vein of conversation indicated the man had just walked in, but he'd gotten just the barest hint of an altered conversation as he walked in.

But without any clues, it was best to act as if it was the furthest thing from his mind. There were other ways to get clues. "Pillowsap? Why yes, we have Pillowsap. A very effective sleeping aid. We have a number of medicines to enhance a person's condition. Mostly I work to develop counters to the effects of well known toxins. But, of course, this requires samples of the toxins themselves to have as 'controls' for comparatives at each stage of research and development."

He handed Marcus the towel encasing the sample of the newly acquired contact toxin, telling him to place it in the vacuum pump. "Put on a glove first." he snapped, withholding the item until Marcus had complied. "You'll be clawing your own skin off if you're not careful." he called after his assistant as Marcus disappeared into the back.

He sauntered over to a corner, coaxing the man to follow. "Honestly, the service I do this city, and I swear they are trying to put me out of business. Taking my original assistant to The Hole on some trumped-up nonsense and then depositing this half-wit to...uh...as...a replacement."

He had been about to blatantly accuse Marcus of being a spy. But it occurred to him that it would only have been to observe the customer's reaction. And he was actually far from sure of any such intent on Marcus' part. But if it WAS true, it would be best to leave him in place. As well not to give away his own suspicions. Time to switch conversational directions. He had another approach. So far, the customer had been all smiles and nods. Time to see if it was just a facade.

"I mean, the man has no realistic understanding of my business. I don't mean about using the beakers and burners, or how long to boil a sample to achieve a 'syrup' as opposed to a 'resin'. It's the approach to a customer." he leaned in close, whispering. "Not every customer wants an antidote, if you know what I mean. Not every customer is going to want to wait for these glorified thugs we call 'the law' to see past their own personal agendas to provide a more...hidden...brand of justice. I mean, all too often, these city guards let rank and status supersede right and wrong, and people need to take things into their own hands. You know what I mean?"

Inoadar's eye was on every facet of the man's reaction as he made these remarks. A twitch, a flared nostril, a clenched jaw muscle, a stymied move to draw the sword at his side. But no, if the man was a contact, he was very disciplined. The smile remained. He gave away nothing. But Inoadar was unconcerned, he suspected he was already under scrutiny. His comment would make no difference. It may even serve to inspire the man into making a purchase, for the 'thrill' of being conspiratorial. Or, if he WAS an agent, as cover for his real purpose.

Inoadar spent a few chimes running down his list of toxins, antitoxins and accessories, then stood. "Well, I'll let you consider things. My assistant is fully capable of taking your order. I, however, have some delicate work to do in the back and was intending to be about it when I first walked in." He walked to the door, calling as he opened it, "Marcus? if you've got the air pumped out around the sample, you can return to the counter. I've got work to do."

[Marcus Ahysen]

Marcus quickly put on the gloves as requested, having no desire to poison himself with whatever strange substance Inoadar had brought into the shop that day. In the back of his mind, Marcus made sure to never again work undercover in a poisoncrafter's shop again. Too many simple things could kill him, Marcus would much rather work in a place where the deadly stuff was obviously deadly. He knew what the vacuum pump was, though he honestly had very little idea how to use it. It was some sort of strange, cylindrical device with clips and pumps and plungers and valves which somehow sucked the air out of the cylinder and apparently allowed a sample to stay pure for a longer period of time. Marcus didn't know how or why that happened, what did air have to do with anything? But he did know that it worked. The science behind it was of no value to the agent, let the quacks who exposed themselves to poison for a living worry about that... oh wait, he was such a quack now. Sighing, Marcus too the sample carefully in his gloved hands and placed it inside the cylinder, clamping it down in place as best he could. Meanwhile, Inoadar was busy trying to coax some information out of his customer. It was hard to read the man's face, next to impossible in fact, but when he did speak he allowed some emotion to shine through. "Peh," the soldier scoffed, a smirk coming over his face, "Often 'the law' is my best customer. They can't always do what needs done, so they hire me to do it." The soldier paused as Inoadar ran through the list of available goods, nodding from time to time. "Pillowsap will do. I'll be honest, my last.. supplier, well, he had an accident, and is no longer supplying. I stay away from the Black Tar, too much of a tourist attraction these days, but I was pointed your way. If your merchandise.. helps me sleep good, then I'll be back for more." Back in the back, Marcus was busy figuring out how to use the vacuum. He successfully secured the sample in place and put back on the lid. After examining the device a moment, the agent pushed down on the plunger. It made a noise sort of like a wheezing sound, and Marcus could feel air coming out the release valves. Well, I suppose it's working then, he thought to himself, and continued to pump until the air stopped blowing out. Figuring that was enough, Marcus headed back to the front desk just in time for Inoadar to call for him. Marcus handled the rest of the soldier's order, quickly procuring the pillowsap for the man, and taking the required coin. "I do hope this helps your friend sleep, sir. Have a good day." After the man left, Marcus let out a sigh of relief. Soldiers always made him a bit nervous, especially when he had to pretend that he didn't know they were soldiers. Marcus was an agent of the Black Sun, but sometimes he wondered why the deadly warriors even bothered to listen to his order. They could easily rule Ravok by themselves, yet they deferred to defenseless men in robes. Well.. maybe not defenseless, but Marcus was fairly certain if the Ebonstryfe wanted to, they could easily take control. The fact that Lazarin seemed to be doing just that with the city in the absence of Gru'tral and the apparent lack of interest from the Voice only confirmed his concerns. Still, it wasn't his mission to worry about that. He'd reported about the ledger, and a small part of him wondered if that pillowsap wasn't going to find it's way back to his pretend employer, so that the soldier could look over the ledger at his leisure. Either way, Marcus would just have to wait and see.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar cast a sly glance at his assistant, noting the nervous sigh of relief. "What's got you on edge, Marcus? There aren't going to be many customers in this place that don't have something to hide. Probably wants to put some guard to sleep so he can steal something. Not my business. Or yours. I wouldn't worry about anything coming back to incriminate you. The Vitrax placed you here. They're not going to hold your employment here against you. Shyke, he may have even been one of them."

Inoadar stepped into the back as he spoke, stopping to examine the sample in the vacuum chamber. Apparently satisfied, he went to a box on a shelf and selected a small vial with some white powder in it. "Now, if you're worried that you may have just poisoned yourself, THAT I can understand. But I think you'd know by now if you had. This poison is a little different. IT doesn't do any damage by itself, but it...teases...the nerves, and affects the mind to make the victim believe he's got some kind of parasites under his skin. I've seen victims gouge their own eyeballs out trying to 'keep the worms from getting into their brains."

He chuckled to himself at the shuddering gasp that escaped his assistant. "All you really need is some kind of anesthetic to numb the skin. There's still the neurosis to deal with, but..." his voice became distracted as he tinkered with an attachment, aligning and realigning a narrow glass tube, held inside a larger tube by clips and grommets.

He held it up to the vacuum tube to compare his positioning. It became clear that he was going to attach it to the fitting on the opposite side from the plunger fitting and wanted it preset. He then attached a small glass bulb to a fitting on the underside of the attachment. The bottom of the bulb looked discolored from repeated heating. He attached this assembly to the vacuum chamber and checked that the seals were still good.

He rambled on as he was doing this. "The only thing I'm sure of, in regard to this...product...is that it is made from a certain kind of spider's web. You may not know this, but spiders eat their own webs. Not in the digestive sense, but somehow, through their mandibles, they reintroduce it to their spinneret system so they can spin it again." He straightened a moment, and looked at Marcus, who actually looked interested.

He detached the newly attached fitting and loosened the bulb, placing a small metal disc inside, which nestled neatly in the bottom curve of the bulb, going on as he did. "So, the trick is to discover which variety of spider we need to locate. Now, of course, I could spend considerable time and mizas locating and bribing a master crafter to divulge this information. But not only do I not care to spend either of these assets, I enjoy the satisfaction of discovery. Every time I see someone suffering the effects of poison I see it as a possible opportunity."

He had no idea if Marcus found his attitude distasteful, nor did he care. He opened and held up the vial of powder, carefully tapping a tiny bit of it into the metal disc. "No, Marcus, this is not poison. it is a reactive enzyme that will turn color based upon the unique chemical base of the webbing, which is, in turn, uniquely affected by the diet of the spider."

He held up his hand in anticipation. "No. Do not say 'spiders eat bugs'. It is to gauge which TYPES of bugs they have been eating. They, in turn will give a significant clue as to where these spiders are found, and, therefore, where their webs are to be found. This is only the first phase of discovery."

[Inoadar]

Marcus seemed content to let him ramble, and to hand him occasional implements like a nurse would hand a healer. This last being a simple eye-dropper of water. The small burner was already lit, but not placed anywhere yet. Inoadar leaned in, holding his breath to be sure he did not accidentally blow the powder from the disc, and very carefully allowed a single drop of water to hit the powder.

The powder took a moment to dissolve. When it did, Inoadar carefully reattached the glass bulb to the fitting on the side of the main chamber, twisted the rubber grommet to seal it and slid the lit burner beneath it where the now-dissolved powder sat in the curved metal disc.

In a moment it evaporated, filling the small sealed glass bulb with steam. He then released the seal between the side fitting and the main chamber. The effect of vacuum in the main chamber sucked the powder-infused steam through the glass tube, which directed the flow of steam onto the sample rag as the air pressure returned to normal.

Inoadar snuffed the burner and nodded with satisfaction, "Now, we wait." He turned to Marcus, "You may be wondering why I don't simply dump the powdered water on the rag. The concentration would be too high in some spots, too low in others. I'd get conflicting readings. This vaporizes the powder and spreads it lightly and evenly. The powder reacts to subtle changes in chemistry inherent in certain environments. For the most part, bugs eat dead flesh. But the rotting remains they are attracted to have unique characteristics depending on the manner of the death and the effects of local conditions.

"A deer killed by wolves in a forest will be torn apart, but the flesh will be normal, aside from routine decay. So the insects will be in a normal spectrum. Something killed in a swamp is far more likely to be killed by some kind of venom, so the flesh is broken down differently, and the insects, naturally, have altered traits to deal with it. Desert bugs have metabolic differences to deal with the heat and so on and so on" he waved his hand dismissively.

"I don't claim to know what all these anatomical insect traits entail, but the makers of the color chart that comes with the powder apparently do." he waved a small sheet of parchment as he spoke. He turned back to the glass chamber and his sample. "Well let's see what we've got." he said, putting on his gloves and removing the stained sample rag.

He muttered to himself something about '...just inside the band of initial color registry, but well outside of center..' and turned his back to the lamps, but let the light play across the surface, unimpeded by his own shadow. '...avoiding back lighting the sample to get proper color band reading...'

He put down the sample and stated simply and definitively, "Dark amber...swamp. Honestly, I suspected as much. Well, that's that then. Put this stuff away would you, Marcus? I'm going to go see about procuring a cart, or at least a horse. Unless there's some other pressing business, it's off to the swamplands."