Bright Days and Dark Words - the First Day

[Eclecticon]

Her footsteps hidden beneath the creaking of timbers and piles, and hiding in the shadows from the sight of moon and Men alike, Laeral comes closer and closer to the tollhouse.  Finally, she is near enough to mark the voice of the toll collector.  "What business keeps you upon the water at this damnable hour?" 

"I come on the business of Caewin, Lord of the Sunstead," comes the reply from the boat's captain.  "Who was most insistent that our cargo be brought here as soon as we had unearthed it?"

"Unearthed it, you say?" says the toll collector, clearly intrigued despite the chill, the damp and the dark. 

The captain, relieved perhaps to have arrived after a hard journey, tells his tale.  "Aye, and what a business it was!  We were ferrying the man north along the river when all of a sudden he leapt to his feet, eyes shining, and pointed to a place on the riverbank that looked just the same as any other to us.  But he declared that the spot was the resting place of three great heroes of the Lake-folk and, well, he has an uncanny knowledge of such things.  He bade us remain behind to dig them out, that he might return their ancestors' bones to his hosts." 

"And that's them, then, is it?" 

"As well as I know.  We found the bones of three men, and a damn sight more rusty mail.  True to our word, we packed them in barrels to bring them here.  Them, and much reeds and river muck besides, for stars above did it cling to them!" 

"All to the good!  Heave them up, then.  As they're official gifts, I'll waive the toll to bring goods into town.  Know you where they might be bound next?" 

Laeral holds her breath, unwilling to risk missing this vital detail. 

"My Lord mentioned a warehouse, but said not precisely where." 

Rolling her eyes in the shadows, Laeral exhales once more. 

"Fear not.  You may leave them here to-night.  His nibs can come collect them once dawn has broken." 

Is this the sign she was awaiting?  Unsure, but unwilling to risk further investigation on her own, she takes some time to search the inns and alehouses for the Men who shared her recent captivity.  Surely, she thinks, I can rely upon them.

In the end, it is the loud voice of the long-bearded one that she recognises.  "... taking counsel of them, see who wants what." 

"Your pardon," she interrupts, and tells her tidings. 

[Telcontar]

"Sunstead!...."

Hathcyn grew noticeably pale in the company of his friends when the tale was all told.

"I do not like that place, and my experience in the woodhall weighs heavily on my heart. It's lord is queer and it's lands cursed. Nah this cant be good, why would one dig up the dead? If they were lakemen then leave them along the lake. This troubles me."

Hathcyn pushed the smoked fish away from himself.

"I do not like the sound of this at all." His hand trembled and his face was pale.

He spoke again, but almost to himself.

"...I still see the vile creature of the hall in my dreams and in the face of one I once loved. The hall of the dead king..."

[Eclecticon]

Arbogast listens to Hathcyn's words, and cannot bring himself to disagree.  His mind elsewhere, his hand traces the long, jagged scar where his belly was cut open beneath the barrows of the East Bight.  "Much ill may come from disturbing the bones of the long-dead," he says.  "But who will stand against it if we do not?"

[GandalfOfBorg]

"None here have likely encountered such vile creatures," said Grimbeorn.  "Laeral, thank you for this news; it is certainly the kind of news we've been awaiting.  Yes, Hathcyn, that is where I am off to next, while you all have a bit of fun without me chasing down barrels full of what we hope remain, er well, remains. I will at least seek their support in keeping an eye on the city as well; we cannot be less watchful."

[Telcontar]

Hathcyn took another swig if ale and drummed his fingers on the table.

"The tollman knows what's in the crates....What if we haunted him to get him to remove them or ask us to take them from him? Or do we attempt simple theft?"

[Eclecticon]

Laeral grins sardonically, her teeth flashing bright in the dim light of the common room.  "No theft is ever simple, in my experience," she says, "but I can certainly find a way in to the storehouse." 

"Nor might there be any need of stealing," Arbogast adds.  "Though Caewin has been touched in the head since the night beneath the barrows, it may be that he has brought nothing but old bones and river muck.  But I will not rest well until I know for certain." 

[Telcontar]

"So we plan to break in and look around? Maybe you should sit this part of the mission out Grimbeorn? Or at least not be inside the warehouse."

[Eclecticon]

Grimbeorn's brows close in on each other as his countenance darkens.  Though he sees the wisdom in his friend's words, still it goes against his nature to hold himself in reserve while others venture ahead into peril. 

Arbogast, pushing his unfinished tankard away, does not mistake his companion's turmoil.  "You need not decide yet," he says.  "Mull it as we go, for I fear to tarry when an opportunity might be missed."