Completed On the Books (Amolina)

[Inoadar]

'Oh yes, life is indeed good!' The thought sprang back into Inoadar's mind, generated by a different stimulus than a moment before. The woman was right, the place was not populated at all. There were several empty tables where she could have chosen to sit. Yet, she selected to sit at his table. Her very first words focusing on cause to remove clothes. She slid herself flatteringly out of her cloak, and held it draped over her arm. Her pouting expression making her full lips prominent beneath the mask as she began to comment as if unsure of her welcome.

Inoadar directed a wave to the one chair uncluttered by his cloak and smiled. "Disturbing me'? Only if I was working. Or trying to work with those eyes distracting me." He stood to hold her chair as she sat. "If I did this for a living, I would be a lucky man indeed." He didn't take much notice of where she laid her cloak as he returned to his seat.

"Perhaps a nice, cool drink would help." without waiting for a response he waved to bring a waitress over. He looked her over appraisingly. "So, if I may ask, other than my rakish good looks and boyish charm, my trend-setting fashion and inexhaustible wealth, what attracted you enough to sit with a complete stranger?"

The waitress arrived before she could respond. Inoadar ordered another of the same mixed liquor and fruit juice, indulging his sweet tooth for the first time in over a season. He assured his spontaneous companion that she could order whatever she wished.

[Amolina]

~ Amolina Moletta ~ With a laugh and a nonchalant gesture Amolina threw her dark cloak next to Nolan Parnell’s dark cloak, the two dark cloaks uniting in a heap of dark cloth. She and sat down on the chair he offered her. She smiled back at him, encouraged by how simple it had been. The man had not hesitated for a second to jump at the opportunity to get company. While he so politely stood to hold the chair as she sat, giving her compliments in an elegant way, she thought this would perhaps be easy case. “Thanks” she said pleasantly. She ordered a glass of wine. Why not. She could have a glass of wine and a chat while Parnell had yet a few more of his own special and heady drinks. The waitress returned as quickly as a waitress that has been generously tipped returns, and Amolina promptly took the glass, tasted the wine and found it good. This was not a surprise. Just like the weather in Ravok was always good, there was no such thing as bad wine in the city. Nolan Parnell’s question about what had attracted her enough to make her want to sit with him could be a drunken fool’s bragging, or a joke, or even scorn and sarcasm if he was the kind of personality that thrived on that. Or it could be an adequate question indeed, from an analytical and cautious man that wasn’t into leaving things to chance but used to asking for details and evaluating information and situations. What now. She was good at acting, and she could simply take on the role of a prostitute at work, looking for a customer. She could smile a promising smile, flaunt herself and flatter him, confirm all the praise he had given himself and top it with more. However, the quick way this man was acting, there was an obvious risk that it would make him either decline and tell her to leave, or want to make a deal and get things done at once. This didn’t agree with what she aimed for. Also, it could lead to things she didn’t aim for at all. She wanted to stay with him and eventually get him dead drunk, then discreetly steal his keys and rob his shop. "Boyish charm" was the only thing she found safe to confirm of the things he had suggested she might find attractive. Now when she sat next to him at the table she could see that he was still a young man, though perhaps nearer to thirty than to twenty. “You seem to be so happy and you were laughing like a man having a good time” she said to Parnell. “Perhaps that was why I noticed you. Your laugh. I wouldn’t want to spend an evening in the company of some decrepit old bore. ” She made a pause and met his gaze before she continued “Whatever I wish? That is very generous of you. But are you sure you are able to pay the bill?”

[Inoadar]

Inoadar's head rocked just a little and it seemed he didn't hear the woman speaking at first. "Hmm? What? Oh sure, I can afford it. We're not talkin' diamonds here, just a few drinks...and maybe a few more after that." he chuckled.

He scooted his chair a little closer, making sure to leave his leg touching hers. "The real question is whether I can afford whatever I wish." He did not wait to see if she would be offended. He assumed she was a prostitute and wouldn't object to any comment that would lead to business."And yes, in fact, I AM happy tonight. Tonight I have secured the means to protect my interests. And my business. And very possibly my... my... goodness, what am I going on about?" He grimaced at the realization that he was speaking far too freely.

"Well, enough about that. I'm ssimply out ss-celebrating." he waved his mug with a subdued belch. "Excusse me! *hic* Where was I? Oh yes. Mizas are no object. Time is no object! *hic* Creativity is no object! In fact..." His eyes turned with a hungry leer upon her, spending only half the time on her eyes. "The only object here is you...the object of my dreams!...Unless you OBJECT!" He laughed at his play on words, having completely lost touch of how drunk he had gotten.

[Amolina]

~ Amolina Moletta ~ Nolan Parnell’s words laid his mind so bare, so bare, so embarrassingly bare. His bad sense of humour was as miserable as only a dunken man’s bad sense of humour can be, but Amolina managed to act a smile at him, like she found it fun. And perhaps she did, albeit likely not the way the poor Parnell assumed. While time passed, the sun had set, and the candles in the coloured lanterns had been lit, giving the otherwise plain place that darkly seductive atmosphere of romance and beauty that was Ravok’s hallmark. They sat at the table like they were having a date. But Nolan Parnell was a drunk loser in "love" and about to be cheated, and she was an actress there to decieve him and rob him. The way he eyed her like a dog eyeing a beef, moved up close and pushed his leg against hers, did nothing to promote him. The lack of style and finesse was total. Amolina concluded he was clearly experienced with “objects”. Only. But Parnell was also putting in more effort than would be needed for the kind of business deal he seemed to consider with the “object”. It seemed to her that he sort of pretended he was courting her, charming her, seducing her. It made her think of a few lines from one of all those theatre plays she had studied at work. I bought my love for money there was no true love for me sing a song though the strings are untuned sing a song about love that can’t be Object? As an actress, it was her job to be an object of dreams, every time she was on stage. Whichever role she played, beautiful lady, old crone or comical fool, she was always the canvas the audience painted their dreams on. It was her profession to make people believe. Oh, well. She laughed a carefree laugh, called for the waitress and ordered more drinks on Parnell's expense. One of the taverns “Grand Celebration Speziale” drinks for him and sweet fruit juice for herself. “To your success in business!” She drank some of the juice looking at him over the glass, through the eye slits of her mask. Discreetly, secretly she glanced at the dark cloaks. "There is many tasty stories about this tavern" she said. "But I guess you have heard them already, most people in Ravok have."

[Inoadar]

'Ahhh, she's eating out of my hand.' Inoadar told himself. She was clearly attracted to him, prostitute or not. He was sure of it. He had been just about to suggest they go rent a room, when she waved down the waitress to order some "Special" drink. He assumed her mention of fruit juice referred to the mixer in whatever she was having, but he wasn't sure he'd heard right. He wasn't sure of much of anything right now.

But it didn't matter! He had his drink and his meal had been delicious...as far as he could remember...He had his shop and decent money. He could do whatever he wanted, as he had been when he went out tonight. He had gone out...to...what was it again?...She interrupted his attempt to recall what he had been planning to get done, with a toast to "success in business".

"SUCCESS IN BUSINESS!" he cried, jumping to his feet in a clumsy salute, spilling some of his drink and guzzling the rest. The room started to tilt and he fell back into a chair at the neighboring table, which was, fortunately, empty. He started to laugh, certain that he was charming her with his unrestrained celebrating.

"Drink up-bb*burp*, baby, L-l-l-let'ss go w-wwr-rite a sstory of our *hic* our own!" he staggered back to his table, his face suddenly growing pale. His cheeks fluttered a few times as he took several rapid breaths. it seemed that he finally realized that he done something incredibly stupid, but was unable to salvage the situation.

His eyes were wild just before they rolled back in his head and he fell atop the table, only to tilt it to the point of slipping out from under him. He fell gracelessly to his face in a heap of napkins and ice.

[Amolina]

~ Amolina Moletta ~ Not long after Nolan Parnell had passed out, Amolina Moletta arrived at the simple brick building with the sign “Ino Vations” over the window. She quickly opened the unadorned dark wooden door, sneaked in and shut the door behind her again. It was dark in the shop. In the confusion in the diner she had nicked one of the candles on a table nearby and the small flame of that candle was the only light she used when she searched the shop. When Parnell fell she had given an upset scream of worry and immediately gotten to her feet. She had called for help in a quite hysterical way that had made everyone focus their attention on the drunken poision maker. It had been a great show. Amolina had put in all her professional actress skill and made an exaggerated grand drama of it, telling everyone the story that Parnell was a tremendously successful, wealthy young businessman out to celebrate his good luck, but had managed to celebrate far too much, the way very happy men happen to do now and then. She had told the staff to take him to a good room suitable for a man of his standing, undress him, put him to bed and let him sleep it off. “He is a rich man and can afford the best!” In the confusion she had taken Parnells cloak and given it to the diner staff, after discreetly picking the keys. And then she had taken her own cloak and been off, without staying to see if they had taken Parnell upstairs or not. She had walked away in a slow and ladylike style, until she had been out of sight. Then she had hiked up the skirt of the violet dress and started running, the way only someone that has grown up in the Docks and would know her way there blindfolded can run at high speed in darkness. She had done a lot of running in her life. Now she just needed to run some more. Well, now she was inside the poison shop ! Obviously she had entered the part of the shop where customers were received. There were a few tables and chairs, and a cut out counter window where she supposed orders were taken. She could see products on display, but being in a hurry and with only the candle for light, she missed the warnings strongly suggesting having an employee handle them for you. She crossed the room. She could now see shelves with a variety of bottles in part of the counter window, and in the room behind was a laboratory table. She could also see a businesslike desk at the wall to the left of that inner room, and a few cabinets. She bet Parnell kept his ledger in the desk or in one of the cabinets beside it. On the right side of the customer area was a door. She went through that second door and into what lay behind. The shelf unit she had seen through the counter window continued behind the door and blocked her way. She turned left to get past it and entered the lab area. There was one more lab table, that had not been visible through the counter window. There was only lab equipment on this hidden table, and a locked cabinet beside it. She inspected it briefly, but assumed it held ingredients for poisons. After this she went over to the businesslike desk and started trying the keys on the locks on it's drawers and on cabinets nearby .

[Inoadar]

'Cushions?...Lace bedspread?...Flower curtains?...' Inoadar's thoughts spun along with his equilibrium. He started to roll over and found a large wet spot on the mattress beside him. He was greatly relieved to find it was only the melted remains of an ice pack. He began to remember something about getting too drunk and making a complete fool of himself in front of a woman.

'That woman...Was she a prostitute or not?' He'd certainly dropped enough innuendo for her to pick up on, yet she'd made no sort of effort to initiate any agreement on compensation. 'Was this room rented by her, for us to get down to business?' His vision cleared enough for him to see expensive furnishings and elaborate decorations. 'What is she thinking? We don't need some Honeymoon Suite for a half-bell roll in the hay.'

Another detail caught his notice. None of her clothes, accessories or...really anything indicative of the presence of a woman was in evidence. 'Where did she go?' He suddenly sat up, alarmed. This had all the earmarks of a seduction robbery. The whoosh in his ears wasn't extreme enough to warn him against leaping to his feet in anxiety. Vertigo grabbed the floor and pulled it out from under him, just enough for him to hit it face first.

A surge of desperate adrenaline offset the dizzy nausea and he scrambled to his feet and bulled his way out into the hall and down the stairs. The clerk met him at the bottom, surprise and concern on his face. "Sir! I...I am surprised to see you up and around so soon. Are you sure you - ..."

"Where is she?!" Inoadar demanded, reeling slightly, but not seeming to be aware of it. In truth, he was collecting himself quickly. His years of experimentation and testing with toxins had made him far more resistant to chemical afflictions than most people. His head was clearing as rapidly as his anger was growing.

"Your companion? She left shortly after you collapsed. We fetched a healer to ensure you were no more than simply taken with too much drink, but she left before he arrived. We assum - ..."

Inoadar whirled in disgust. "She's no companion of mine! She's a damned thief! She took my cloak with all my money in it!"

"No sir, she gave us your cloak for safekeeping." The clerk crowed as though a humble apology would now be forthcoming. He reached behind a door and pulled out the cloak, extending it across the bar. Inoadar snatched it from him with no such courtesy and threw it on, checking the pockets. Horror and rage warred for dominance across his face as he realized what was missing and what it forebode.

"My keys..." he hissed and started for the door.

A voice, void of importance, began sniveling about unpaid drinks and room rentals, but Inoadar ignored it. The voice became insistent and followed its routine with the shout of a single name, "JIMBO! Stop that man!"

A side of beef appeared at the door, cracking knuckles and slamming a fist into a palm. Without stopping, a handful of gold mizas appeared in one hand and a dagger in the other as Inoadar's eyes hardened into wells of pitiless resolve. "That WILL be enough, or I will pay the balance with your spine, fatboy! OUTTA MY WAY!" He dropped the mizas with contempt and strode directly at the bouncer, his knuckles white on the handle of the dagger.

Something about the level of absolute certainty of the outcome, coupled with the alcohol-reinforced recklessness, blazing in the wiry knife-wielder's hands gave pause to the big man in the door. He made worried eye contact with the clerk, who nodded, and stepped out of Inoadar's way.

Inoadar flew the alleys of Ravok in dread apprehension. He knew somehow that this was all about his ledger. If the woman wasn't stealing it herself, she was certainly in on it. He was still more affected by the alcohol he had consumed than he acknowledged to himself. For every corner he cut too closely, to slam off a brick corner, there was another he took too wide to crash and roll over upended garbage crates.

But within ten chimes, he reached the last corner, spent and gasping for breath. He turned the corner and stopped. The lamps were unlit as he had left them, but the door to his shop was ajar.

[Amolina]

~ Amolina Moletta ~ Searching the desk and it’s nearby cabinets had taken lots of time to no avail. The ledger wasn’t in the shop and all her efforts to get in there had been for nothing? What if the man had hidden his ledger somewhere else, perhaps taken it home ? In that case she was in trouble. She felt a feeling of desperation, caught between her fear of the employer’s reactions if she didn’t succeed, and her fear of getting caught during the mission. Her last hope was the cabinet beside that second laboratory table that she had not seen from the counter window. After fumbling a bit with the keys she opened it and – found a book. She opened it and saw lots of notes on business transactions. It was the ledger. In a rush, but also nearly giddy by relief she looked around. She had been told to make it look like a robbery, but wasn’t sure how to accomplish that. Quickly, she picked a small but expensive looking glass item and some kind of small, intricate instrument from the laboratory table, and on her way out she also acted on impulse and snatched a bottle at random from one of the shelves. Small things she could put in her cloak pockets, easy to carry, leaving her hands free to hold the ledger. Then she blew out the candle and threw it on the floor and was off. She left the door ajar when she left, and she had planned to throw the keys into the water and let them sink all the way down the abyss below lake Ravok at first opportunity. That way it would have been impossible to know if the lock had been opened with keys, or picked or perhaps torn open by some unknown magic. But she had started to feel oddly weak and ill now, perhaps a reaction to the stress. Not far from the door she stumbled over nothing at all, and was down on her knees before she managed to stop falling and got up on her feet again. At the same time she heard a sound in the darkness, like footsteps approaching, perhaps some city guard out to cause trouble for citizens that needed extra money. She didn’t have time to notice that she had dropped the poison maker’s keys on the street. She hiked the skirt up and ran along the dark walkways. But she ran slower than before, her steps less sure, her breath laboured. She ran all the same, until she found a ravontala and took the boat to the Temple.

[Inoadar]

He saw her! He was sure of it. A woman of the same height and build, running unsteadily away from his side of the street. She had clothes that matched as best as he could recall. The same hair, the same hood flapping behind it. he would be around the corner in moments. He started to run, wheezing noticeably.

And stopped...

'Wait a moment, she could be a ruse, a distraction...' he glanced at the dark shop, the door still ajar. The lock was no great concern, he had backup locks at his room. it was a nuisance that the cabinets would have to remain unlocked until he could replace their locks, but as long as the door was locked, they were secondary. 'She could have been deliberately intending to be seen, so I would give chase, giving the real thief more time inside. As well, she could be leading me into an ambush.'

But he also knew she could be carrying the ledger, with all it's information, contacts, times, dates, everything...Coded or not, there was irreplaceable value there. Details on the network he had spent so much time and effort building. He would be starting nearly from scratch with some of them. Worse yet, whoever hired this woman and her possible accomplices may be intending to sell them, or sell them out.

But there was no point running recklessly in his condition, he could hardly stand. What's more, he knew what she looked like, how she walked, knew her voice. Her scent. He had been aware the moment she first spoke to him that she was in 'professional disguise'. It was not difficult for him to see through her affectations and gauge a reliable approximation of her true appearance. Disguise was part of his skill set as well.

He approached the shop, unexpectedly spotting his keys. Pocketing them, he entered the shop, dagger in hand, no sound but the stealing of his shadow over some scattered objects and a few spilled vials. He was furious to find no intruder. So, whatever was missing HAD been on her. He cursed himself for his indecision. He was almost afraid to look, but yes, the cabinet was open, the ledger gone. He lost composure, grabbing one of his beakers and shattering it with a roar of anger, he kicked a chair and threw his dagger into the wall, pounding his fists on the lab table.

Then he noticed, his pressure pump was gone, and his 'sparkler'! That was not standard equipment, he had crafted that himself! A man in Sunberth had helped him with that. He had said it was part of better poison and medical lab sets, but could be imitated easily enough. Suddenly, this took on a different light and he was partially relieved, though still sworn to vengeance against this woman, this slut!

If someone was out to implicate him for arrest, what reason would they have to take his two best pieces of gear? They had no relation to rebel actions. Now it appeared this was the work of some rival crafter. Yes, it all added up, They take his best, hardest to replace items of lab gear, and his book of contacts and suppliers. It all added up, this was not a political move, this was a plain robbery!

Ohhh, yes, he would have his revenge. He would find this woman. He would carve the information out of her, inch by inch. Then when she gave up the names, those names would become legend for the horrible fates they would suffer.

[Amolina]

~ Amolina Moletta ~ The ravontala glided on at high speed, the ravontalaman saying nothing. Amolina was feeling worse now, quesy, dizzy, very dizzy. Scared of dropping the ledger in her dizziness, she held it in her arms like a baby, and crushed it to her. Her body had started to shiver like in fever, and a painful ache seemed to be growing slowly in her chest. The events of the day and the evening flashed past in her memory, like a collection of paintings. Herself in her violet dress and black mask, waiting by the small altar in the wall niche of a house near the poison shop. Her hair had been perfect. Perfect. Nolan Parnell in the diner. Darkhaired, and wiry, a happy man. He had been celebrating his good luck. And he had welcomed his bad luck too, a painted lady in a violet dress - herself. Oh, all the spiked drinks she had brought him, the desire and the dreams he had turned on her, the utter fool she had made of him ! Through the increasing pain and the dizziness she realized she might have been poisoned. She might have touched something in the poison makers shop and it was getting at her now, like invisible revenge from afar. Oh, what an utter fool she had been, going into that shop for this ledger! The ravontala reached the Temple and she started walking towards the final destination. Never before had she heard the voice of the god, never had he deigned to speak to her, a mere actress of no importance whatsoever in this world. But now she imagined she heard him urging her on, to deliver the ledger on the altar of the black shard at all cost. She still had a last reserve of energy and life in her body, had she not? She could do this, for the sake of the god that loved her so much that she had been trusted with this task. Awed and overwhelmed she made her way into the temple like carried by a power outside herself. Feeling like her life was leaving her like a flood of blood pouring out of a pierced heart she put the business ledger of Ino Vations on the altar, like she was making a sacrifice. She was feeling really, really, really ill now. But she could rest after she had collected her money. She turned around, went out and headed to The Spot to report that her mission was done.