OOC: This scene was played live on RC by Eeri, Azazor and Finaen (lorist playing NPCs). Only the layout and some micro changes have been made.
Ostini opens the door to his office. He curtly addresses the two guards accompanying him.
"Make him sit down."
The two guards obey, ready to strike the Fyros if he tries to resist. Azazor sits down with a mocking look on his face. Ostini closes the door, walks around his desk and sits down in turn. He taps the solid wood desktop for a few moments, staring into space, then finally pulls an object out of a drawer. A finely crafted dagger. Azazor looks at the Matis and the dagger in turn, without losing his slight mocking smile.
"Well you comic, I want you to explain me precisely this story about a 'deal'."
"Or what? Are you going to play the dagger?"
Ostini plunges his hand into his desk again. When it reappears, it holds a small vial filled with a greenish liquid. Azazor's smile immediately fades at the sight of the vial. The Matis uncorks the vial and lets fall a few drops on the dagger's curved blade. A few wisps of smoke are born from the reaction between the liquid and the hardened amber.
"What is it? Poison? If you kill me, you will not know anything!"
"Indeed, it is poison. In case you have forgotten, you should know that you have left the resurrection behind when you undertook this journey. In this desert, no Power will come to help you. So I urge you to cooperate, and not to try to trick me. Am I clear?"
As Azazor remain silent, Ostini goes on:
"I am in charge of the security of the Outpost. I have to understand what you are up to. And believe me, I'll get you to talk, if you try to resist."
The Matis seems particularly calm. The two guards remain flanked in front of the door. Azazor shrugs his shoulders.
"You know, Matis, I'm not the type to lie. And I'm willing to tell you everything. But you see, I don't like those of your race. Back home, the Matis are a bunch of smelly, vile pretentious people. I want to believe that here, it is different. But talk to me offensively again, threaten me again, and all you can get from me is a good spit on your pallid face."
Azazor can't help but look at the vial, the dagger, and the Matis, alternately.
"'Those of my race'? Have you not yet managed to get rid of the racism of our common ancestors? Your civilizations are definitely way behind…"
"You don't know the Matis of the New Lands…"
Ostini lets out a small chuckle, cut off by Azazor.
"I know a few rare Matis…. well, I know two, that are acceptable, out of a whole bunch of boot scrapings."
The Fyros pretends to remember another Matis.
"Ah no, three."
"You confirm what I thought: you are generalizing. But it's not your fault, that's what they want. Don't forget: you are playing into the hands of the Powers by waging war against each other for racial, political, religious, or whatever reasons… And meanwhile, you are divided. Facing them, and facing the kitins."
Ostini makes the dagger disappear under the desktop.
"Anyway. So you are willing to talk. That's fine. I am listening."
Azazor takes a breath.
"Didn't you guess? The bag that smells like meat, the poison you just pulled out… You have all the elements."
He watches Ostini's face, waiting to see the light.
"The poison?"
Ostini looks at the vial that was left on the desktop.
"What's the connection? That vial belongs to me."
[b]Suddenly, Azazor's face breaks down.[/i]
"Ah… ramèch! Well… What was said is said, he adds while tapping his foot on the ground."
Ostini starts tapping his fingers on the desk again.
"We had a deal with the Atakorums. In exchange for some of the meat we would go out in the morning to hunt for Pelorus, they would give us a vial of poison of their own creation."
The Fyros pauses and then continues:
"Given the danger of the road, Eeri and I thought it would be prudent to carry this kind of stuff with us for the rest of the trip. I know, it is a detour of matter which belong to you, but we had figured that, well, on the one hand, we were the ones who brought back this meat. Bodocs and armas are not easy to kill here."
"You're telling me that strangers who everyone distrusts, because of where they come from, are trafficking poison in the very resting place where they have been generously welcomed?"
Azazor has difficulty hiding his embarrassment.
"Not here, no, they didn't want to. They said you would not agree. So we were doing it in the desert, further east. We had agreed on a meeting point."
"If I was paranoid, I'd think that this poison was meant for use against us."
"Are you crazy? Why would we do that?"
"To avenge all the horrors that Akilia's goons did to you on your home lands, at random? There is no reason why Akilia is the only one to send agents to operate in foreign lands.
Ostini marks a pause, then goes on:
"Fortunately, I am not paranoid. I am simply the chief of the guard. An extremely cautious chief of guard, taking his job to heart. The Atakorums, you said?"
"You can't blame them. They have nothing to do with it. We give them meat that we hunt in exchange for poison. They could not know that the meat was prepared in the tavern. What? We used your knives? Big deal!"
Ostini taps faster and faster on the desktop. Maybe he's a little paranoid after all.
"I need to analyze this poison. Where is it? Luckily, I happen to have a little expertise in poison. A knowledge that comes from my former clan."
"You'll have to ask Eeri. She's the one who stashed it."
"I see."
"And don't worry, we don't look like killers. As for the horrors of Akilia, well, we gave it back to her."
Ostini makes a sign to the guards.
"One of you take him somewhere else, and the other one get the girl back to me. Make sure they don't cross paths."
The two guards nod and signal Azazor to get up. He stands up without any resistance and turns to the chief of the guards.
"Ostini? If you want to make Eeri talk, be polite to the lady. She too, vomits the Matis."
"Racist too? Surprising."
"You really don't know the Matis of the New Lands…
One guard accompanies Azazor and the other one goes to the cell where Eeri is locked up. As requested, the two Fyros will not cross paths.
"Follow me," says the guard to Eeri.
Eeri grumbles something, then stands up without a word. She obediently follows the guard to Ostini's office where her gaze searches the whole room for Azazor, without success. She puts on a determined and pugnacious face.
"Good. Sit down."
He pauses and adds:
"Please."
Eeri complies, giving a sidelong look at the Matis, trying not to face him.
"I'd like you to explain to me what you and your comrade were up to with those meat-smelling bags. And what is this 'pact' that he mentioned, and that caused your fight."
Eeri remains silent for a moment, and looks at the Matis again, with a smirk on her face.
"What, he didn't say it all already?"
"I want to confront your versions."
Ostini looks closely at the Fyrossa's face.
"A Fyros does not lie. talen, the truth.
The Matis starts tapping on the desk again.
"I am listening."
Eeri fixes his eyes on the Matis' fingers for a moment.
"About what? What we were doing with that meat?"
"I'll repeat my questions: I'd like you to explain to me what you were doing with those bags that smell like meat. And what is the nature of this 'pact' you made with whoever. I expect answers, not questions.
Eeri holds back a grunt.
"I can't say anything about this pact, I don't know what you are talking about. What I can say, is that we exchanged some pieces of meat with some Atakako… dey… Atakorums."
Eeri continues, not waiting for the Matis to ask against what.
"In exchange for a very powerful poison."
"May I see this poison?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No, says the matis with a sigh."
"We will have to go to the stable."
"Just tell me where it is hidden."
"You won't find it without me."
Ostini grits his teeth… Then he calms down. He stands up.
"Right."
[b]He straps a dagger to his belt and signals to the guard."
"Direction to the stable then."
As she stands up, Eeri remembers that the poison is in a matis-made vial. She stammers:
"It is on my mektoub. I changed the vial, the one of the Ata…takorum was too fragile."
Eeri gets up and follows the guard. The three homins head towards the stable, located next to the dormitory. Then she adds, in a not too confident voice.
"I don't know where they got that poison from. It probably didn't come from their place."
"If it didn't come from their place, then it came from our. But don't worry, that's a question I can answer."
The adrenalin going to her head, Eeri doesn't answer. The three homins finally arrive in front of the mektoub. After the terrible journey he went through a few weeks earlier, he seems to be living a better life.
She grabs the mektoub's harness, unties two straps, which frees the pack a bit. She reaches behind it and delicately pulls out a small black box, the size of a dagger. She adds:
"I put it in the vial I brought with me, with a Matis paralytzing poison. Nothing too harmful. This one seems much more powerful."
Meanwhile, in his cell, Azazor is having scruples and is walking around in circles. Eventually he calls for a guard.
"Yes?"
"I have something else to tell your boss."
"He is busy. But I don't think he's done with you. You can ask him later."
Azazor grunts a little, perfunctory.
"And what did you do with the previous poison?"
Eeri opens the box, and reveals a vial, and a living dagger.
"Spilled. But the vial was intact, luckily."
Eeri looks at Ostini with his most convincing look, thinking that the bigger it is, the better it goes.
"We wanted to test in on the kitins of the Old Lands. Paralytic poison. It works pretty well our place."
Ostini gently picks up the vial and looks at it.
"I'll keep this. I'll keep this. And you go back to your cell."
He waves to the guard again.
Eeri replaces the straps of her mektoub and follows the guard. She turns and says to the Matis, in a squeaky voice:
""Be careful, though. They told us that one drop would kill a homin in two minutes. Not that I'd cry about it…"
"I know poisons well, don't worry. But this one… It doesn't look familiar," he says, looking at the vial.
Eeri is led back to the cell. Azazor is still in a room adjacent to the cells with the other guard. Minutes pass and the two Fyros are finally led back to the Matis' office. The two guards seat them next to each other, but these don't exchange any glance.
Ostini, sitting behind his desk, seems colder than before. He rolls Eeri's vial between his hands. A guard whispers something in his ear and his gaze falls on the Fyros.
"Did you want to tell me something? The truth, perhaps? That might be useful, indeed."
Eeri remains silent, and gives a sidelong look at Azazor, who begins to speak:
"ney… But first, tell me the Truth. You told me about Akilia, about her goons. Tell me if I'm wrong but… you don't seem to be too fond of her, do you? I know well that she is your leader, but you have nothing to fear, we won't repeat."
"Indeed, I don't hold her in my heart. And no, she is not my 'leader'… But I am not in the mood to speak about Akilia."
"Yet she declares herself the leader of the Marauders," Azazor continues.
Ostini ignores Azazor's last remark and continues:
"You see, I showed your vial to three Atakorums present at this very moment in the tavern. Do you know the rest?
Azazor loses his smile and, looking grave, looks at Ostini. The Matis lets a few seconds pass, then repeats himself, emphasizing each word.
"Do. You. Know. The rest?"
"The Atakorums had nothing to do with that, says Azazor. We just hijacked some food that we stashed in the desert for the rest of our trip. And the vial is from the New Lands. I can't say anything about it, having discovered its existence by chance in the Sea of Wood."
Eeri lets out a loud, upset sigh.
"We arrived here with a full loaded mektoub. We gave you everything…"
Ostini shows a satisfied smile. He seems proud of himself.
"Or rather, you took everything from us," she adds.
Azazor turns to Eeri.
"They're merchants here, what did you expect?"
"You paid for your stay here. And you could have kept working to get food. But you chose to steal from us instead."
"We didn't steal anything," Azazor growls.
"To get food? We work like crazy, and that's just enough to pay for your dorm!" adds Eeri.
Ostini raises his hand and beckons the two Fyros to silence.
"This food, we hunted and prepared it," Azazor adds anyway.
"Save your plea for my boss. My real boss, not Akilia. I did my part of the work."
Ostini gets up and heads for the door.
"I'll be right back."
Azazor turns to Eeri.
"You and your stupid ideas…"
"The Atakorums was your idea," she whispers to Azazor.
"You had a better idea?"
"dey! But sometimes it's better to just keep silent…"
"You think that saying nothing would have made a difference? Pfff !"
A few minutes later, the door opens. Ostini is accompanied by a Trykeri. A Trykeri that the Fyros have already crossed very often.. O'Teelo, the tavern keeper. The two Fyros are astonished. Eeri widens his eyes and gives O'Teelo a tense smile, in doubt. Azazor imitates Eeri like a mirror.
"Thanks Ostini, I'm borrowing your office. Can you take care of the bar while I take care of them?"
"What? Uh, yes. Sure."
Ostini sends an angry smile to the two Fyros and then leaves the room. The two guards remain present. The Trykeri slumps down on the seat and puts her boots on the desk of the Matis, who would probably not appreciate the gesture if he were present. She seems far less friendly than usual.
"I hear you've been embezzling goods that belongs to us."
"Embezzling? No… We have produced more than enough," Eeri protests.
"Technically, it's not your belongings since we're the ones hunting and cooking," adds Azazor.
O'Teelo does not pick up Azazor's remark and continues:
"I've been watching and listening to you a lot over the past three weeks. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to like you. Especially since you're an extremely good cook! But this… This is serious."
Eeri, perplexed, looks at Azazor and, doubting that this is the right strategy, tries to get her neuron to work out a better one. O'Teelo continues:
"You want to talk 'technique' with a merchant, Azazor? If I understand correctly, your thing is politics, alcohol and fighting."
"And a sense of justice," says Azazor.
"And the cooking of the bodoc," adds Eeri, half-heartedly.
"You think it's fair to exploit people? We just wanted to pay ourselves properly by taking some extra meat," says Azazor.
"Otherwise, we won't last two days in the desert," added Eeri.
"So why cover it up? Why didn't you discuss it?"
"Because you are rascals," the Fyros almost shouted. "We too have been watching you. We had to give you all our stock of dried meat just to enter the camp and sleep for two nights in your dormitory."
[Eeri winces at Azazor's words and elbows him, hoping he will shut up.
"So you both survived two more nights thanks to us. Then three weeks more," says O'Teelo.
"Ostini, whom we thought was the leader, did not seem open to discussion," Azazor points.
"Or rather, he was happy to take all the stock we had, adds Eeri. After three days, we had nothing left. And nothing left to buy anything…"
"Ostini, the boss? O'Teelo sneers. He is only the chief of the guard. A good chief, by the way, paranoid as can be. It's often very useful."
Eeri raises an eyebrow at "good chief, by the way". O'Teelo continues:
"That's why we hired you. To help you."
"We have the experience with the Marauders of the New Lands. So don't be surprised if we didn't play it straight from the start. Especially after being racketed at the entrance."
Eeri nods in support of Azazor's words, who is ruminating alone in a low voice: "Merchants, thieves, like the Trykers, all of them are…."
O'Teelo grimaces.
"Don't compare us to those barbarians. And you two don't talk to me about racketeering, you don't know anything about this country. You come from a world where everything seems easy. Haven't you wondered how hard it was to create this outpost, and to keep it going for all these decades? Yes, life is hard here. That's a fact. But better that than death.
Eeri takes a deep breath:
"Well, we screwed up. What can we do now to make up for it?"
O'Teelo looks at the Fyrossa.
"That's a good question."
"You have Eeri's vial of poison, isn't that enough for a few pieces of meat? Or do we have to give you our armor and underwear too?
O'Teelo looks at the Fyros armor.
"No thanks, I'm fine."
Eeri turns to Azazor.
"Don't add to it. They have no use for a poison like that, either."
"If you say so…"
Eeri arouses O'Teelo's curiosity.
"And what is its use?"
Eeri points to the palm of his hand, which shows a black spot.
"I never tested it. But I can tell you that I suffered to get it."
"Who do you want to poison, asks O'Teelo?"
"Yes, who do you want to poison," squeaks Azazor, turning to Eeri.
"No one in particular," answers Eeri. "If I came across your Akilia, I might not mind. It was just a matter of not to leave unequipped, and at worst it could have been a bargaining chip. I intended to try this on kitins from the Old Lands, too."
"If you're looking for Akilia, head back west. She must be somewhere between the New Lands and her headquarters."
Eeri shakes her head.
"We're not looking for her."
"In any case, it is certain that I will not let you progress to the east with an unknown poison. Ostini thinks you are assassins sent on a mission to the Citadel," O'Teelo sneers.
[b[Azazor turns to Eeri.[/b]
"And another toubshit from Eeri, one!"
"Oh, hey, it's okay… We wouldn't be here if you hadn't thought of saying that."
"Okay, then. What do you have to offer, then? For this stolen meat supply."
"That's not even worth the armadai meat we brought in," Eeri grumbled.
"Sorry, I know, it doesn't matter," she adds, lowering her eyes.
O'Teelo seems to be thinking.
"You know what? Maybe you could do us a favor…"
"That's all we can do. We don't have anything else to offer."
"A delivery mission. You'll get to keep the meat, and even get a little extra for the… long detour you'll have to make."
"Will this detour go through the place where we stashed the meat?" Azazor asks.
Eeri nudges him again.
"Aza… that's a detail."
"If you don't make it to the indicated point, I will know. Either it will mean that you died on the way, or it will mean that you preferred to rip us off a second time by continuing on YOUR way. If this is the case, try not to pass by the Outpost again on your way back… Also try to avoid Sentinel and the Citadel…."
"Where is the delivery located?"
"In the south, on the coast. The network of Zinuakeens does not yet cover the southwestern part of the desert, which makes it difficult to communicate with our relic hunters."
"It can't be worse than going back to the Oflovak Halt. We'll do it. I guess you agree, Azazor?"
"What should we deliver?" he asks in a grumble.
"A trinket."
"On one condition," Azazor replies. "We need a map of this detour."
"It might help… At least for knowing where to go.
"Of course you'll have one. I don't intend to send you to your death," says O'Teelo, a satisfied smile on his face.
The two Fyros, still sitting side by side across from the Trykeri, find it hard to hide their relief.
"While we're there, is there anything in particular you need us to bring back?" Eeri asks.
"Perhaps someone will give you another delivery mission, yes. It's up to you whether you take it or not. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm only hiring you for this delivery."
"akep. Uh… thanks."
"What I'm curious about is how you'll know that we made this delivery," asks Azazor… "What's this trinket?"
"I'll know, because if you do, there will be a new Zinuakeen."
Azazor nods, trying to hide his extreme interest in the 'trinket'.
"The object, in itself, is not particularly valuable. I would hate to lose it, of course. But the main problem is its delivery in those hostile lands."
Eeri prefers not to know what it is about, and is almost smiling in front of O'Teelo.
"So we're free to go?"
"If you want us to make this delivery, we're going to need equipment," cuts in Azazor.
Eeri chuckles slightly, well recognizing Azazor in this words.
"We can't ask for too much, can we?"
"I say that in the interest of the mission," says Azazor, taking a serious look."
"You are free to go back to the kitchen and work. I still have a couple of things to take care of on my end before you leave. Again, I'm not sending you to your death. You will have what you need to travel to the coast, both in terms of information and equipment. But it is mostly your resourcefulness that you will have to rely on." While saying so, O'Teelo puts Eeri's vial in his pocket.
"Be careful with the vial. And I must give you something else. On the one hand, an antidote. And on the other hand, a piece of advice… Never touch this dagger without first putting on a glove…" Eeri adds, shaking his head "… because I like you after all."
"What dagger?"
"The one in the box on the table there."
O'Teelo cautiously opens the box and observes the dagger. Eeri shows the palm of his hand again.
"This is a Matis weapon. And, in our regions, Matis are foolish enough to make weapons more dangerous to those who carry them than to those who are hit with them. There is no antidote for the poison of the handle."
"Um, okay. Now that our 'friendship' is sealed with a contract, can you tell me why you're traveling? Simply science and a thirst for adventure, truly?
"How much are you paying for this information?" Azazor asks.
Eeri sighs.
"Azazor… you are despairing."
"Eeri, we talk to hagglers here. So we haggle."
O'Teelo smiles.
"How much do you estimate its value?"
"A Marauder's armor. But we can negociate."
"A suit of armor? Um, I'm fine with that."
"One for of each of us, that goes without saying, since we each have a different reason for being here," adds Azazor.
"I don't mind. That's not a big deal."
"It's worth a lot to us. Home, we even have Marauders waging war to other Marauders for them to get. But I don't want to tattle…"
O'Teelo scratches her head.
"If it helps you understand why we have a bad opinion of you…" Eeri adds.
O'Teelo sits back in the chair and looks at the two Fyros with a concerned look.
"The Throat Cutters' Clan, the Black Sawdust Clan, the Ashes Clan, and more generally all the goons of Akilia, represent only themselves. Well… This is my opinion. That's not shared by all. One thing is however certain: Akilia does not represent, in her behavior at least, the whole of the Marauders. If by miracle, you find a way to reach the Citadel, you will be able to see that with your eyes. We are not savages. And I hate to think that some people think that about us, while in the east many of us are fighting day and night against the kitins."
The leader then rests her elbows on the table and lifts her chin toward Azazor.
"If I have your word, then it's okay," he says. "The reason I am here is to go to the lost city of Coriolis, in the desert of my ancestors. I want to find out the mystery of the Fire reported in our chronicles. I also want to study the kitins there, and of course make a map of the place. A little more too, even if I don't have too much hope about that: I would like to establish a first contact with the Marauders to discuss with them about a possible exchange of knowledge with the Empire."
Eeri speaks in turn, after a moment of spinning her words in his head.
"My reason will not be easy for you to understand, I imagine. Back home, I am a Trytonist. We are also called Elias seekers."
"I see," replies O'Teelo.
"I guess I have no reason to hide my beliefs here. I'm looking to verify some old theories, some evidence. Just like Azazor the fire of Coriolis, among others. Also to meet scientists, in the east. And… An old dream. I wouldn't want to die without having seen the city of Fyre with my own eyes. Or what's left of it…"
O'Teelo takes a serious look.
"You know that you have a very high likelihood of dying? The Oflovak Road is but a pleasure garden compared to what lies beyond the Citadel."
"We are Fyros," says Azazor.
"We'll see in due time," says Eeri, shrugging his shoulders.
"No, you are, above all, homins from the New Lands, used to being brought back to life by the Powers. Whether you believe it or not, thatt affects the way you act and think. I mean no disrespect, but you have grown up in an 'under-bubble' world."
"After several years on the Road, I can assure you that's changed", says Eeri.
"That's possible, yes, but the day when we'll back off has not yet come," adds Azazor.
"I speak with all the facts. I've seen the new generation, both in Sentinel and in the Citadel, start to get used to resurrection… It changes the way one looks at life."
"You have resurrection at the Citadel?" Azazor choked.
O'Teelo raises her eyebrows.
"Akilia and her goons would have brought the Marauders' resurrection system to the New Lands without it existing at the Citadel? That doesn't make any sense. Well, anyway…"
O'Teelo stands up, and walks towards the door, waving the guards to leave.
"… To the kitchens, you two!"
Eeri whispers to Azazor:
"It's Ostini who's going to make a face…"
"Yep, so much the better."
Eeri smiles with all his teeth. Azazor returns her smile.
"By the way Eeri, you are a very poor trader. The information about the dagger, you should have sold it…"
Azazor leaves the room whistling, followed by an Eeri too relieved to protest.
Ostini opens the door to his office. He curtly addresses the two guards accompanying him.
"Make him sit down."
The two guards obey, ready to strike the Fyros if he tries to resist. Azazor sits down with a mocking look on his face. Ostini closes the door, walks around his desk and sits down in turn. He taps the solid wood desktop for a few moments, staring into space, then finally pulls an object out of a drawer. A finely crafted dagger. Azazor looks at the Matis and the dagger in turn, without losing his slight mocking smile.
"Well you comic, I want you to explain me precisely this story about a 'deal'."
"Or what? Are you going to play the dagger?"
Ostini plunges his hand into his desk again. When it reappears, it holds a small vial filled with a greenish liquid. Azazor's smile immediately fades at the sight of the vial. The Matis uncorks the vial and lets fall a few drops on the dagger's curved blade. A few wisps of smoke are born from the reaction between the liquid and the hardened amber.
"What is it? Poison? If you kill me, you will not know anything!"
"Indeed, it is poison. In case you have forgotten, you should know that you have left the resurrection behind when you undertook this journey. In this desert, no Power will come to help you. So I urge you to cooperate, and not to try to trick me. Am I clear?"
As Azazor remain silent, Ostini goes on:
"I am in charge of the security of the Outpost. I have to understand what you are up to. And believe me, I'll get you to talk, if you try to resist."
The Matis seems particularly calm. The two guards remain flanked in front of the door. Azazor shrugs his shoulders.
"You know, Matis, I'm not the type to lie. And I'm willing to tell you everything. But you see, I don't like those of your race. Back home, the Matis are a bunch of smelly, vile pretentious people. I want to believe that here, it is different. But talk to me offensively again, threaten me again, and all you can get from me is a good spit on your pallid face."
Azazor can't help but look at the vial, the dagger, and the Matis, alternately.
"'Those of my race'? Have you not yet managed to get rid of the racism of our common ancestors? Your civilizations are definitely way behind…"
"You don't know the Matis of the New Lands…"
Ostini lets out a small chuckle, cut off by Azazor.
"I know a few rare Matis…. well, I know two, that are acceptable, out of a whole bunch of boot scrapings."
The Fyros pretends to remember another Matis.
"Ah no, three."
"You confirm what I thought: you are generalizing. But it's not your fault, that's what they want. Don't forget: you are playing into the hands of the Powers by waging war against each other for racial, political, religious, or whatever reasons… And meanwhile, you are divided. Facing them, and facing the kitins."
Ostini makes the dagger disappear under the desktop.
"Anyway. So you are willing to talk. That's fine. I am listening."
Azazor takes a breath.
"Didn't you guess? The bag that smells like meat, the poison you just pulled out… You have all the elements."
He watches Ostini's face, waiting to see the light.
"The poison?"
Ostini looks at the vial that was left on the desktop.
"What's the connection? That vial belongs to me."
[b]Suddenly, Azazor's face breaks down.[/i]
"Ah… ramèch! Well… What was said is said, he adds while tapping his foot on the ground."
Ostini starts tapping his fingers on the desk again.
"We had a deal with the Atakorums. In exchange for some of the meat we would go out in the morning to hunt for Pelorus, they would give us a vial of poison of their own creation."
The Fyros pauses and then continues:
"Given the danger of the road, Eeri and I thought it would be prudent to carry this kind of stuff with us for the rest of the trip. I know, it is a detour of matter which belong to you, but we had figured that, well, on the one hand, we were the ones who brought back this meat. Bodocs and armas are not easy to kill here."
"You're telling me that strangers who everyone distrusts, because of where they come from, are trafficking poison in the very resting place where they have been generously welcomed?"
Azazor has difficulty hiding his embarrassment.
"Not here, no, they didn't want to. They said you would not agree. So we were doing it in the desert, further east. We had agreed on a meeting point."
"If I was paranoid, I'd think that this poison was meant for use against us."
"Are you crazy? Why would we do that?"
"To avenge all the horrors that Akilia's goons did to you on your home lands, at random? There is no reason why Akilia is the only one to send agents to operate in foreign lands.
Ostini marks a pause, then goes on:
"Fortunately, I am not paranoid. I am simply the chief of the guard. An extremely cautious chief of guard, taking his job to heart. The Atakorums, you said?"
"You can't blame them. They have nothing to do with it. We give them meat that we hunt in exchange for poison. They could not know that the meat was prepared in the tavern. What? We used your knives? Big deal!"
Ostini taps faster and faster on the desktop. Maybe he's a little paranoid after all.
"I need to analyze this poison. Where is it? Luckily, I happen to have a little expertise in poison. A knowledge that comes from my former clan."
"You'll have to ask Eeri. She's the one who stashed it."
"I see."
"And don't worry, we don't look like killers. As for the horrors of Akilia, well, we gave it back to her."
Ostini makes a sign to the guards.
"One of you take him somewhere else, and the other one get the girl back to me. Make sure they don't cross paths."
The two guards nod and signal Azazor to get up. He stands up without any resistance and turns to the chief of the guards.
"Ostini? If you want to make Eeri talk, be polite to the lady. She too, vomits the Matis."
"Racist too? Surprising."
"You really don't know the Matis of the New Lands…
One guard accompanies Azazor and the other one goes to the cell where Eeri is locked up. As requested, the two Fyros will not cross paths.
***
"Follow me," says the guard to Eeri.
Eeri grumbles something, then stands up without a word. She obediently follows the guard to Ostini's office where her gaze searches the whole room for Azazor, without success. She puts on a determined and pugnacious face.
"Good. Sit down."
He pauses and adds:
"Please."
Eeri complies, giving a sidelong look at the Matis, trying not to face him.
"I'd like you to explain to me what you and your comrade were up to with those meat-smelling bags. And what is this 'pact' that he mentioned, and that caused your fight."
Eeri remains silent for a moment, and looks at the Matis again, with a smirk on her face.
"What, he didn't say it all already?"
"I want to confront your versions."
Ostini looks closely at the Fyrossa's face.
"A Fyros does not lie. talen, the truth.
The Matis starts tapping on the desk again.
"I am listening."
Eeri fixes his eyes on the Matis' fingers for a moment.
"About what? What we were doing with that meat?"
"I'll repeat my questions: I'd like you to explain to me what you were doing with those bags that smell like meat. And what is the nature of this 'pact' you made with whoever. I expect answers, not questions.
Eeri holds back a grunt.
"I can't say anything about this pact, I don't know what you are talking about. What I can say, is that we exchanged some pieces of meat with some Atakako… dey… Atakorums."
Eeri continues, not waiting for the Matis to ask against what.
"In exchange for a very powerful poison."
"May I see this poison?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No, says the matis with a sigh."
"We will have to go to the stable."
"Just tell me where it is hidden."
"You won't find it without me."
Ostini grits his teeth… Then he calms down. He stands up.
"Right."
[b]He straps a dagger to his belt and signals to the guard."
"Direction to the stable then."
As she stands up, Eeri remembers that the poison is in a matis-made vial. She stammers:
"It is on my mektoub. I changed the vial, the one of the Ata…takorum was too fragile."
Eeri gets up and follows the guard. The three homins head towards the stable, located next to the dormitory. Then she adds, in a not too confident voice.
"I don't know where they got that poison from. It probably didn't come from their place."
"If it didn't come from their place, then it came from our. But don't worry, that's a question I can answer."
The adrenalin going to her head, Eeri doesn't answer. The three homins finally arrive in front of the mektoub. After the terrible journey he went through a few weeks earlier, he seems to be living a better life.
She grabs the mektoub's harness, unties two straps, which frees the pack a bit. She reaches behind it and delicately pulls out a small black box, the size of a dagger. She adds:
"I put it in the vial I brought with me, with a Matis paralytzing poison. Nothing too harmful. This one seems much more powerful."
***
Meanwhile, in his cell, Azazor is having scruples and is walking around in circles. Eventually he calls for a guard.
"Yes?"
"I have something else to tell your boss."
"He is busy. But I don't think he's done with you. You can ask him later."
Azazor grunts a little, perfunctory.
***
"And what did you do with the previous poison?"
Eeri opens the box, and reveals a vial, and a living dagger.
"Spilled. But the vial was intact, luckily."
Eeri looks at Ostini with his most convincing look, thinking that the bigger it is, the better it goes.
"We wanted to test in on the kitins of the Old Lands. Paralytic poison. It works pretty well our place."
Ostini gently picks up the vial and looks at it.
"I'll keep this. I'll keep this. And you go back to your cell."
He waves to the guard again.
Eeri replaces the straps of her mektoub and follows the guard. She turns and says to the Matis, in a squeaky voice:
""Be careful, though. They told us that one drop would kill a homin in two minutes. Not that I'd cry about it…"
"I know poisons well, don't worry. But this one… It doesn't look familiar," he says, looking at the vial.
***
Eeri is led back to the cell. Azazor is still in a room adjacent to the cells with the other guard. Minutes pass and the two Fyros are finally led back to the Matis' office. The two guards seat them next to each other, but these don't exchange any glance.
Ostini, sitting behind his desk, seems colder than before. He rolls Eeri's vial between his hands. A guard whispers something in his ear and his gaze falls on the Fyros.
"Did you want to tell me something? The truth, perhaps? That might be useful, indeed."
Eeri remains silent, and gives a sidelong look at Azazor, who begins to speak:
"ney… But first, tell me the Truth. You told me about Akilia, about her goons. Tell me if I'm wrong but… you don't seem to be too fond of her, do you? I know well that she is your leader, but you have nothing to fear, we won't repeat."
"Indeed, I don't hold her in my heart. And no, she is not my 'leader'… But I am not in the mood to speak about Akilia."
"Yet she declares herself the leader of the Marauders," Azazor continues.
Ostini ignores Azazor's last remark and continues:
"You see, I showed your vial to three Atakorums present at this very moment in the tavern. Do you know the rest?
Azazor loses his smile and, looking grave, looks at Ostini. The Matis lets a few seconds pass, then repeats himself, emphasizing each word.
"Do. You. Know. The rest?"
"The Atakorums had nothing to do with that, says Azazor. We just hijacked some food that we stashed in the desert for the rest of our trip. And the vial is from the New Lands. I can't say anything about it, having discovered its existence by chance in the Sea of Wood."
Eeri lets out a loud, upset sigh.
"We arrived here with a full loaded mektoub. We gave you everything…"
Ostini shows a satisfied smile. He seems proud of himself.
"Or rather, you took everything from us," she adds.
Azazor turns to Eeri.
"They're merchants here, what did you expect?"
"You paid for your stay here. And you could have kept working to get food. But you chose to steal from us instead."
"We didn't steal anything," Azazor growls.
"To get food? We work like crazy, and that's just enough to pay for your dorm!" adds Eeri.
Ostini raises his hand and beckons the two Fyros to silence.
"This food, we hunted and prepared it," Azazor adds anyway.
"Save your plea for my boss. My real boss, not Akilia. I did my part of the work."
Ostini gets up and heads for the door.
"I'll be right back."
Azazor turns to Eeri.
"You and your stupid ideas…"
"The Atakorums was your idea," she whispers to Azazor.
"You had a better idea?"
"dey! But sometimes it's better to just keep silent…"
"You think that saying nothing would have made a difference? Pfff !"
***
A few minutes later, the door opens. Ostini is accompanied by a Trykeri. A Trykeri that the Fyros have already crossed very often.. O'Teelo, the tavern keeper. The two Fyros are astonished. Eeri widens his eyes and gives O'Teelo a tense smile, in doubt. Azazor imitates Eeri like a mirror.
"Thanks Ostini, I'm borrowing your office. Can you take care of the bar while I take care of them?"
"What? Uh, yes. Sure."
Ostini sends an angry smile to the two Fyros and then leaves the room. The two guards remain present. The Trykeri slumps down on the seat and puts her boots on the desk of the Matis, who would probably not appreciate the gesture if he were present. She seems far less friendly than usual.
"I hear you've been embezzling goods that belongs to us."
"Embezzling? No… We have produced more than enough," Eeri protests.
"Technically, it's not your belongings since we're the ones hunting and cooking," adds Azazor.
O'Teelo does not pick up Azazor's remark and continues:
"I've been watching and listening to you a lot over the past three weeks. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to like you. Especially since you're an extremely good cook! But this… This is serious."
Eeri, perplexed, looks at Azazor and, doubting that this is the right strategy, tries to get her neuron to work out a better one. O'Teelo continues:
"You want to talk 'technique' with a merchant, Azazor? If I understand correctly, your thing is politics, alcohol and fighting."
"And a sense of justice," says Azazor.
"And the cooking of the bodoc," adds Eeri, half-heartedly.
"You think it's fair to exploit people? We just wanted to pay ourselves properly by taking some extra meat," says Azazor.
"Otherwise, we won't last two days in the desert," added Eeri.
"So why cover it up? Why didn't you discuss it?"
"Because you are rascals," the Fyros almost shouted. "We too have been watching you. We had to give you all our stock of dried meat just to enter the camp and sleep for two nights in your dormitory."
[Eeri winces at Azazor's words and elbows him, hoping he will shut up.
"So you both survived two more nights thanks to us. Then three weeks more," says O'Teelo.
"Ostini, whom we thought was the leader, did not seem open to discussion," Azazor points.
"Or rather, he was happy to take all the stock we had, adds Eeri. After three days, we had nothing left. And nothing left to buy anything…"
"Ostini, the boss? O'Teelo sneers. He is only the chief of the guard. A good chief, by the way, paranoid as can be. It's often very useful."
Eeri raises an eyebrow at "good chief, by the way". O'Teelo continues:
"That's why we hired you. To help you."
"We have the experience with the Marauders of the New Lands. So don't be surprised if we didn't play it straight from the start. Especially after being racketed at the entrance."
Eeri nods in support of Azazor's words, who is ruminating alone in a low voice: "Merchants, thieves, like the Trykers, all of them are…."
O'Teelo grimaces.
"Don't compare us to those barbarians. And you two don't talk to me about racketeering, you don't know anything about this country. You come from a world where everything seems easy. Haven't you wondered how hard it was to create this outpost, and to keep it going for all these decades? Yes, life is hard here. That's a fact. But better that than death.
Eeri takes a deep breath:
"Well, we screwed up. What can we do now to make up for it?"
O'Teelo looks at the Fyrossa.
"That's a good question."
"You have Eeri's vial of poison, isn't that enough for a few pieces of meat? Or do we have to give you our armor and underwear too?
O'Teelo looks at the Fyros armor.
"No thanks, I'm fine."
Eeri turns to Azazor.
"Don't add to it. They have no use for a poison like that, either."
"If you say so…"
Eeri arouses O'Teelo's curiosity.
"And what is its use?"
Eeri points to the palm of his hand, which shows a black spot.
"I never tested it. But I can tell you that I suffered to get it."
"Who do you want to poison, asks O'Teelo?"
"Yes, who do you want to poison," squeaks Azazor, turning to Eeri.
"No one in particular," answers Eeri. "If I came across your Akilia, I might not mind. It was just a matter of not to leave unequipped, and at worst it could have been a bargaining chip. I intended to try this on kitins from the Old Lands, too."
"If you're looking for Akilia, head back west. She must be somewhere between the New Lands and her headquarters."
Eeri shakes her head.
"We're not looking for her."
"In any case, it is certain that I will not let you progress to the east with an unknown poison. Ostini thinks you are assassins sent on a mission to the Citadel," O'Teelo sneers.
[b[Azazor turns to Eeri.[/b]
"And another toubshit from Eeri, one!"
"Oh, hey, it's okay… We wouldn't be here if you hadn't thought of saying that."
"Okay, then. What do you have to offer, then? For this stolen meat supply."
"That's not even worth the armadai meat we brought in," Eeri grumbled.
"Sorry, I know, it doesn't matter," she adds, lowering her eyes.
O'Teelo seems to be thinking.
"You know what? Maybe you could do us a favor…"
"That's all we can do. We don't have anything else to offer."
"A delivery mission. You'll get to keep the meat, and even get a little extra for the… long detour you'll have to make."
"Will this detour go through the place where we stashed the meat?" Azazor asks.
Eeri nudges him again.
"Aza… that's a detail."
"If you don't make it to the indicated point, I will know. Either it will mean that you died on the way, or it will mean that you preferred to rip us off a second time by continuing on YOUR way. If this is the case, try not to pass by the Outpost again on your way back… Also try to avoid Sentinel and the Citadel…."
"Where is the delivery located?"
"In the south, on the coast. The network of Zinuakeens does not yet cover the southwestern part of the desert, which makes it difficult to communicate with our relic hunters."
"It can't be worse than going back to the Oflovak Halt. We'll do it. I guess you agree, Azazor?"
"What should we deliver?" he asks in a grumble.
"A trinket."
"On one condition," Azazor replies. "We need a map of this detour."
"It might help… At least for knowing where to go.
"Of course you'll have one. I don't intend to send you to your death," says O'Teelo, a satisfied smile on his face.
The two Fyros, still sitting side by side across from the Trykeri, find it hard to hide their relief.
"While we're there, is there anything in particular you need us to bring back?" Eeri asks.
"Perhaps someone will give you another delivery mission, yes. It's up to you whether you take it or not. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm only hiring you for this delivery."
"akep. Uh… thanks."
"What I'm curious about is how you'll know that we made this delivery," asks Azazor… "What's this trinket?"
"I'll know, because if you do, there will be a new Zinuakeen."
Azazor nods, trying to hide his extreme interest in the 'trinket'.
"The object, in itself, is not particularly valuable. I would hate to lose it, of course. But the main problem is its delivery in those hostile lands."
Eeri prefers not to know what it is about, and is almost smiling in front of O'Teelo.
"So we're free to go?"
"If you want us to make this delivery, we're going to need equipment," cuts in Azazor.
Eeri chuckles slightly, well recognizing Azazor in this words.
"We can't ask for too much, can we?"
"I say that in the interest of the mission," says Azazor, taking a serious look."
"You are free to go back to the kitchen and work. I still have a couple of things to take care of on my end before you leave. Again, I'm not sending you to your death. You will have what you need to travel to the coast, both in terms of information and equipment. But it is mostly your resourcefulness that you will have to rely on." While saying so, O'Teelo puts Eeri's vial in his pocket.
"Be careful with the vial. And I must give you something else. On the one hand, an antidote. And on the other hand, a piece of advice… Never touch this dagger without first putting on a glove…" Eeri adds, shaking his head "… because I like you after all."
"What dagger?"
"The one in the box on the table there."
O'Teelo cautiously opens the box and observes the dagger. Eeri shows the palm of his hand again.
"This is a Matis weapon. And, in our regions, Matis are foolish enough to make weapons more dangerous to those who carry them than to those who are hit with them. There is no antidote for the poison of the handle."
"Um, okay. Now that our 'friendship' is sealed with a contract, can you tell me why you're traveling? Simply science and a thirst for adventure, truly?
"How much are you paying for this information?" Azazor asks.
Eeri sighs.
"Azazor… you are despairing."
"Eeri, we talk to hagglers here. So we haggle."
O'Teelo smiles.
"How much do you estimate its value?"
"A Marauder's armor. But we can negociate."
"A suit of armor? Um, I'm fine with that."
"One for of each of us, that goes without saying, since we each have a different reason for being here," adds Azazor.
"I don't mind. That's not a big deal."
"It's worth a lot to us. Home, we even have Marauders waging war to other Marauders for them to get. But I don't want to tattle…"
O'Teelo scratches her head.
"If it helps you understand why we have a bad opinion of you…" Eeri adds.
O'Teelo sits back in the chair and looks at the two Fyros with a concerned look.
"The Throat Cutters' Clan, the Black Sawdust Clan, the Ashes Clan, and more generally all the goons of Akilia, represent only themselves. Well… This is my opinion. That's not shared by all. One thing is however certain: Akilia does not represent, in her behavior at least, the whole of the Marauders. If by miracle, you find a way to reach the Citadel, you will be able to see that with your eyes. We are not savages. And I hate to think that some people think that about us, while in the east many of us are fighting day and night against the kitins."
The leader then rests her elbows on the table and lifts her chin toward Azazor.
"If I have your word, then it's okay," he says. "The reason I am here is to go to the lost city of Coriolis, in the desert of my ancestors. I want to find out the mystery of the Fire reported in our chronicles. I also want to study the kitins there, and of course make a map of the place. A little more too, even if I don't have too much hope about that: I would like to establish a first contact with the Marauders to discuss with them about a possible exchange of knowledge with the Empire."
Eeri speaks in turn, after a moment of spinning her words in his head.
"My reason will not be easy for you to understand, I imagine. Back home, I am a Trytonist. We are also called Elias seekers."
"I see," replies O'Teelo.
"I guess I have no reason to hide my beliefs here. I'm looking to verify some old theories, some evidence. Just like Azazor the fire of Coriolis, among others. Also to meet scientists, in the east. And… An old dream. I wouldn't want to die without having seen the city of Fyre with my own eyes. Or what's left of it…"
O'Teelo takes a serious look.
"You know that you have a very high likelihood of dying? The Oflovak Road is but a pleasure garden compared to what lies beyond the Citadel."
"We are Fyros," says Azazor.
"We'll see in due time," says Eeri, shrugging his shoulders.
"No, you are, above all, homins from the New Lands, used to being brought back to life by the Powers. Whether you believe it or not, thatt affects the way you act and think. I mean no disrespect, but you have grown up in an 'under-bubble' world."
"After several years on the Road, I can assure you that's changed", says Eeri.
"That's possible, yes, but the day when we'll back off has not yet come," adds Azazor.
"I speak with all the facts. I've seen the new generation, both in Sentinel and in the Citadel, start to get used to resurrection… It changes the way one looks at life."
"You have resurrection at the Citadel?" Azazor choked.
O'Teelo raises her eyebrows.
"Akilia and her goons would have brought the Marauders' resurrection system to the New Lands without it existing at the Citadel? That doesn't make any sense. Well, anyway…"
O'Teelo stands up, and walks towards the door, waving the guards to leave.
"… To the kitchens, you two!"
Eeri whispers to Azazor:
"It's Ostini who's going to make a face…"
"Yep, so much the better."
Eeri smiles with all his teeth. Azazor returns her smile.
"By the way Eeri, you are a very poor trader. The information about the dagger, you should have sold it…"
Azazor leaves the room whistling, followed by an Eeri too relieved to protest.