everything.
5854 – Thon – Quebal – Ginof
Rogen entered the Merchant’s Guild Hall through a back passage. He didn’t like people tracking his movements, and though he was smaller than most men, he stood out in a crowd. The Rokairn had bathed and changed clothes from his desert robes into more traditional trousers and shirt. He still wore his standard leather girdle, pouches, tools, and weapons. He had pulled his hair back into short ponytail and braided his beard into a single braid to help keep him cool in the afternoon heat.
He could see the dust dancing in the yellow light that filtered through the slats that served as windows in the warehouse. Three men and a woman stepped forward from the shadows, each bowing to him and greeting as ‘Master’.
“Jandice,” Rogen gestured to the woman, who raised her eyes to meet his, her face proud but lined, “as mistress of my financial interests I will sign over full power to you in this meeting, prepare the papers.
“Yes, Master,” the dark haired woman said. She turned, and using a crate as a table, drew a writing box from her shoulder satchel and began writing up the document.
“I will need you to sell three properties here. The Dastilist Brewery, the Cantil Estate, and the place on the docks that repairs nets. Sell them at a price that will give me money very soon. I will need the smallest sum by this evening, and will give you list of merchants that require payment. The other two sums should be sent to my financial contacts to the west within five days. Only send the papers though, whichever moneylender I withdraw the coin from can petition you for the repayment with interest, as usual.
“Kilven,” Rogen said to a skeletal man dressed in rags with a wild beard and a gnarled staff, “I call upon you to rouse my network. As Chief Spymaster of the central region of Teurone you will alert my contacts to my needs. Find me the information about the insects; where they are appearing; how often they come; how long they stay, etc. Also, look into movements of priests of Khelikian, Obsidian, and Verl’zen-luk. Find out if there are any major campaigns going on.”
“It will be as you say, Master,” the thin man said as he scratched at a scab on his rough shorn head.
“Wasian,” Rogen turned to a short man whose Aeifain mixed heritage was obvious, “I will need cigars and pipes for a long journey. Also a steel flask of good brandy.”
“Of course, Master,” Wasian said in the musical tones of his lineage and bowed gracefully. “Will there be anything else for me? Perhaps a few items of more ethereal nature?”
“Yes,” Rogen growled, “have the flask enchanted to give me protection, three cigars whose smoke makes people speak only the truth, and tobacco for the pipes that makes people sleep. Also, I need my special pouch bandolier, fully loaded with equipment for a sea voyage, then an extended land journey. But I will only need two noble outfits inside it. Oh, and shrink the hats this time, don’t just let some idiot fold them and stuff them into a pouch. The magic that expands the inside of those things do no protect my clothes from wrinkles.”
“As you wish, Master,” Wasian bowed again and turned to go.
“Tantalus,” Rogen turned to the third man, who was dressed in desert robes, “bring me a tall glass of whiskey, three goats, a silver knife, a mortar and pestle, a flask of wine aged at least one hundred years, and a pound of flawless pearls. Did you prepare the room for my other meeting?”
“Yes Master. All this is already done, as per your instructions in the letter you sent to call this meeting. If you will just sign the documents that Mistress Jandice has prepared, I can take you to your next meeting. Two burly deaf men with no tongues are already guarding the door of your ritual chamber.”
“Very good,” Rogen said as he crossed the room to sign the papers. Over his shoulder he added, “I will tell Jandice
5854 – Thon – Quebal – Ginof
Rogen entered the Merchant’s Guild Hall through a back passage. He didn’t like people tracking his movements, and though he was smaller than most men, he stood out in a crowd. The Rokairn had bathed and changed clothes from his desert robes into more traditional trousers and shirt. He still wore his standard leather girdle, pouches, tools, and weapons. He had pulled his hair back into short ponytail and braided his beard into a single braid to help keep him cool in the afternoon heat.
He could see the dust dancing in the yellow light that filtered through the slats that served as windows in the warehouse. Three men and a woman stepped forward from the shadows, each bowing to him and greeting as ‘Master’.
“Jandice,” Rogen gestured to the woman, who raised her eyes to meet his, her face proud but lined, “as mistress of my financial interests I will sign over full power to you in this meeting, prepare the papers.
“Yes, Master,” the dark haired woman said. She turned, and using a crate as a table, drew a writing box from her shoulder satchel and began writing up the document.
“I will need you to sell three properties here. The Dastilist Brewery, the Cantil Estate, and the place on the docks that repairs nets. Sell them at a price that will give me money very soon. I will need the smallest sum by this evening, and will give you list of merchants that require payment. The other two sums should be sent to my financial contacts to the west within five days. Only send the papers though, whichever moneylender I withdraw the coin from can petition you for the repayment with interest, as usual.
“Kilven,” Rogen said to a skeletal man dressed in rags with a wild beard and a gnarled staff, “I call upon you to rouse my network. As Chief Spymaster of the central region of Teurone you will alert my contacts to my needs. Find me the information about the insects; where they are appearing; how often they come; how long they stay, etc. Also, look into movements of priests of Khelikian, Obsidian, and Verl’zen-luk. Find out if there are any major campaigns going on.”
“It will be as you say, Master,” the thin man said as he scratched at a scab on his rough shorn head.
“Wasian,” Rogen turned to a short man whose Aeifain mixed heritage was obvious, “I will need cigars and pipes for a long journey. Also a steel flask of good brandy.”
“Of course, Master,” Wasian said in the musical tones of his lineage and bowed gracefully. “Will there be anything else for me? Perhaps a few items of more ethereal nature?”
“Yes,” Rogen growled, “have the flask enchanted to give me protection, three cigars whose smoke makes people speak only the truth, and tobacco for the pipes that makes people sleep. Also, I need my special pouch bandolier, fully loaded with equipment for a sea voyage, then an extended land journey. But I will only need two noble outfits inside it. Oh, and shrink the hats this time, don’t just let some idiot fold them and stuff them into a pouch. The magic that expands the inside of those things do no protect my clothes from wrinkles.”
“As you wish, Master,” Wasian bowed again and turned to go.
“Tantalus,” Rogen turned to the third man, who was dressed in desert robes, “bring me a tall glass of whiskey, three goats, a silver knife, a mortar and pestle, a flask of wine aged at least one hundred years, and a pound of flawless pearls. Did you prepare the room for my other meeting?”
“Yes Master. All this is already done, as per your instructions in the letter you sent to call this meeting. If you will just sign the documents that Mistress Jandice has prepared, I can take you to your next meeting. Two burly deaf men with no tongues are already guarding the door of your ritual chamber.”
“Very good,” Rogen said as he crossed the room to sign the papers. Over his shoulder he added, “I will tell Jandice
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