Wherein Justice is Delivered to Firion the Skinner
Fivesday, Hand of Noyja (Readying), EE239
Tándir of Great Harbor
Liekland, Isle of Tymath
I had intended for Firion the Skinner to suffer doubly what he had inflicted on Bastion, my friend and agent, three cycles prior. I had intended to leave Saafiyah behind for this one job. She, of course, made that impossible.
I had trained the girl. Then adopted her as my own child. And now I had decided to apprentice her.
I watched the young girl from across the crowded great hall of Dapper Bard's Tavern in the small coastal city of Liekland on the Isle of Tymath. She moved with the grace of flowing water, relaxed. To the trained eye it might seem unnatural, the way her feet moved across the old hard packed dirt floor, barely leaving any trace of her passing, almost as if she floated just off the surface of the ground. Despite her age she blended into the crowd easily, moving between long tables filled with boisterous men relaxing after a day working the wharf or celebrating the day's catch. The Dapper Bard was a working class tavern, and despite the name probably had never had the luxury of hosting a bard of any quality. The innkeep and two barmaids, however, were becoming visibly upset with the young girl insistent on hawking her gaudy, overpriced and obviously fake jewelry. "This ruby, only for a gold piece, good sir," she would whisper in one ear. Rebuffed, she would flit to another table, to another prospective mark with a new spiel, offering, "This fine black pearl gemstone from a master cutter of Tyyst, just 5 gold pieces!"
I sat and drank from the mug of ale in front of me, picking at the questionable veal piled on a plate beside it. Saafiyah never left my sight, but I kept my attention on the meal before me, occasionally engaging the man seated next to me in a brief exchange of conversation so as not to arouse any undue suspicion. Firion, we had learned over the course of two hands of observation, was both perceptive and suspicious. Given the violence that we knew him to be capable of, as well as the streak of cruelty that ran through every bone in his body, Saafiyah was taking a great risk. I believed her to be ready, but watched closely nonetheless, ready to run interference if necessary or draw steel if worse came to worse.
Rebuffed once again by one of the dockworkers with a shove of annoyance she flitted easily back across the great hall, settling back down beside Firion as he laughed, drank and ate. Unlike her previous propositions she extended her hand, revealing the palm full of guady jewelry and low quality gemstones. "Please sir, just a gold piece, you can have any you want." I couldn't hear her but it was not difficult to read her lips. I saw Firion tense at her approach, his body coiling with anger at having had his meal interrupted by some pitiful guttersnipe hawking her wares. For a moment I thought he was going to stand and my hand went to the short sword at my waist, ready to spring to my feet as well. Then he stopped, his eyes fixated on the girl's hand.
The speed with which his hand flashed out and wrapped around Saafiyah's wrist was startling. Her fingers closed around her treasure instinctively. It was hard to tell whether Saafiyah was acting or truly in pain as she sank down to her knees as his grip tightened, his fingers digging harshly into the soft tissue of her wrist until her fingers loosened and fell open. He plucked a garnet, the only gemstone of any real value, from her open palm and laughed at her as she begged and pleaded for the man not to hurt her. His prize in hand he released his grip on her hand and pushed her away hard enough to send her to the floor. I suppressed the smile that threatened to cross my lips just as she suppressed her natural instincts to stay on her feet, choosing instead to let gravity leave her with a jarred and numb rump.
The disturbance raised the ire of one of the serving wenches beyond it's limit and a handful of beats later the portly older woman was marching Saafiyah out the front door by the scruff of her neck, threatening to call for the city watch if the girl returned and harassed their patrons any further. I remained silent, tension dissapating some, continuing to pick at my meal and take the occasional drink of my ale. Firion held up the garnet between his fingers, turning it between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it better in the light cast from the overhead candelbras. He said something to his compatriots at the table and laughed heartily. It had been his good luck that the girl had not known the value of what she had been selling, and not fearing any kind of reprisal from a child he had simply taken for free what she had offered for a mere gold piece. I could almost see the pleasure coursing through him at the thought of visiting a jeweler the following day and the 150 or more gold Dragons that would be added to his coin purse.
Minutes passed as the light layer of laphis taint that had been applied to the garnet, and subsequently transferred to the torturer's fingers, was slowly absorbed into the skin and eventually the bloodstream. Within ten minutes it was obvious he was feeling the effects, his boisterous antics becoming more and more subdued. He finally stood, wavering as if intoxicated, turning around and nearly stumbling across the table behind him. He looked ill, green in the gills as the sailors and dockmen might say. He held his stomach with one hand as if sick to his stomach.
He made it halfway to the tavern's door before he expelled his food and drink onto the dirt at his feet in a disgusting, wet pile of filth. His knees went out from under him and he fell forward, his head bouncing off the ground with a distinct "thunk".
I showed the expected interest in such a disturbance as other men circled around him to check on his condition. Dead, came the verdict of several of the men. I watched as plates throughout the great hall were pushed away from those eating, followed soon after by drinks. I followed suit as well before standing and making my way through the crowd congregating around the remains of Firion the Skinner and stepping outside onto the street that ran parallel with the waterfront. I started on my way back to the inn we had chosen to make accomodations at and Saafiyah slipped from the shadows several streets down, joining me at my side.
"You feel fine?" I asked, concerned about the effectiveness of the dusting of powder that had protected the girl's hand from absorbing the laphis taint as Firion's had.
I do," she said. She spit on the ground as we walked. "Krugrapi."
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