Juniper stopped once their feet found purchase on solid ground, the dock firm beneath their feet. There was a chill in the air, but that was to be expected of grim Leimor. They'd heard of the place, but it was always whispers and rumors, nothing ever so concrete. The air felt almost grimy to breath, notably less fresh than the air high above, and everything felt darker, even despite some of the more colorfully dressed people around. Still, though, a city was a city, and they were determined to enjoy it for as long as they would be there.
Beck spoke just as Naveen passed. The sorceress gave the vampire a glare, but only once he had passed, as not to grab his attention. They didn't want to grapple with that today. Instead, focus fell on the girl. "Oh? That's- good. Can't say you chose the best place to stay, but... well, it's better than the Nox." They shrugged, glancing over the ship towering behind Beck.
"I don't hate you. I do think you should think a bit more before jumping all over someone who's nice to you, though. Take care of yourself, okay? Didn't risk my life to save you from that construct just for you to get gutted in a Leimor alleyway," they said, with a morbid kind of smirk. Stories of such a thing had spread, but the changeling figured anyone stepping off the Hard Nox could likely handle themselves.
"Chamomile and ginger," Emer addended once Alys explained the situation. "Chamomile has relaxant properties, and ginger aids with the swelling."
Picking up a root, she ground it down in a pestle, adding chamomile leaves beside. Bundling it in a cheesecloth, she set the sachet in a tin and poured the hot water atop it.
"Is there any spotting, dear? I can give some bloodroot to chew as well."
The wisewoman glanced at Alys, furrowing her crest.
"You're a tad later than I usually see you, aren't you? Are you feeling alright?"
Absentmindedly, Alys murmured a brief response to the suggestion of ginger, watching as Emer began the process of grinding up the ingredients to her tea. Such delicate, yet hardened work to be a healer, especially in a place like this. A light amongst the darkness. But they needed her. They needed some of the light.
"Hmm?" Emer's words broke through her train of thought, one that had lingered since her conversation with Emryk.
"Oh, yes - if you can spare some." Who knew what the wise woman's stores looked like, especially after recent events. At the very least, she'd have the opportunity to stock up now that they were in Leimor.
A small smile crept onto her lips though, a response to Emer's quick mind. "I'm alright. At first I thought it was -," she paused, mind wandering to her time in Allegria, her cheeks flushing at the thought. And then of course, the absolute worst case scenario. "Turned out to be stress. At least, that's what I think."
It was like having a small weight being lifted off her shoulder. Beck stared at Juniper intently to carve their features into her memory, knowing very well they'd likely never see each other again. She then jumped into a quick hug and was about to leave when she remembered there was one more person she wished to see one last time.
Emer moved over to Alys, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as she handed over the tea.
"Stress could certainly do it," she replied, nodding, "and we've all had quite enough stress to last a lifetime in recent days."
Lifting her own tea, she blew on the steam, watching the water slowly darken as it steeped.
"I could check for you, if you'd like? If the thought is still gnawing. I doubt it as a possibility, if there is blood, but I know how worry can grip one's heart."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
Though parting from the subject of tales yet made was a difficult task enough, Mea could hardly stomach the city of Leimor as she stepped around fetid puddles on its spare streets. The foul air turned the grey city’s sights into grit, and even with the cloth covering her nose and mouth Mea’s throat felt the air scrape through her lungs as she breathed; an inhospitable place to a singer alone without considering her natural home and the predilections such an upbringing inevitably brought. Leimor was the antithesis of the sort of place she liked to travel, though the coin that was there spent like any other.
It was not her first visit to the grey city, and she had learned ways of increasing her earning from her performances. She had dressed in a faded green, too muted to stand out on its own but a splash of color nonetheless against the drab backdrop she was provided. The clothing was functional to cover her skin from Leimor’s pollution, but strategic as notes began to softly pour from her instrument. She walked the streets at first, mingling with the crowds and bringing that soft serenade to their ears just long enough for the sound to tantalize them.
By the time she stumbled across the loudly dressed, and loudly spoken, soapbox storyteller Mea had already gathered a small group of younger listeners, entranced by the soft hope that wound its way through her notes. It was a subtle thing, the tune almost disheartening but for the softly strummed lightness that wove beneath it, a tapestry of song that she had yet to unfurl. Even without words curious eyes followed Mea as she positioned herself nearly directly across the street from the elevated, spear wielding tale weaver.
”Come, come, and listen.” The words were near whisper, but more than enough to draw her followers and more closer as she leaned against a dingy wall. Black eyes flashed around the crowd as her notes grew louder, solidifying in the air to fall heavy on the ear and pull at the heart with their weight. ”This is a tale of a vision, of a dream, of those desires that lie between what we truly want and what we truly deserve.” The words were almost song themselves from her throat, and though they might not have been timed to the music she played they drew the listener in regardless.
The song was one of tragic love, a favorite for the morose people of the land. She was shameless in her gaze as it drew to the woman who wove an unbelievable and fragmented tale across from her, boldly attempting to meet her gaze in what might have been a challenge of a professional nature. Though the colorful plumage might have attracted some attention the soapbox peacock cawed like a crow, entertaining for a moment but no comparison to the practiced vocality Mea had worked on for many years. She didn’t feel threatened, no, not by the circus escapee. But perhaps, just maybe, a bit of competition would earn them both a bit a more coin.
That is, if the storyteller she challenged was performing as she was. If not her pocket would be the heavier for it either way.
The tea wasn't exactly to Alys' liking; she typically enjoyed chamomile with honey, but in this case, she'd trust Emer's judgement. The spice and temperature of the beverage warmed her from the inside out, something she was appreciative of given Leimor's cooler climate.
For a moment she contemplated Emer's offer. Her first instinct was to decline, on the same basis as the wise woman's reasoning, but there wasn't any harm in being absolutely certain. "Well alright then. Just to be sure," she said, placing the tea down on the counter beside her and glancing towards Emer expectantly.
"I can't say that I have seen Leo today, Beck, sorry," Juniper said, half caught off guard by the sudden hug. Half their time had been spent with Beck likely planning their death, or at least they thought so, so why the sudden friendliness? It didn't make sense, but... it was for the better. A good note, at least. They hugged the girl back loosely, their way of showing it was good for her to leave, before taking a step back.
"What now, then? I don't suggest staying here, but where will you go?"
She'd have to go looking for him then, which meant going back on the ship. She wasn't looking forward to it. Beck shrugged at Juniper's question.
"I'll figure it out." It was her only option, so it'd have to do. The amount of money she had should get her by for at least a week before having to look for work, and if worse came to shove at least she knew how to fend for herself. "If you see him please tell him I said thank you. Goodbye, Juniper."
With a small wave Beck began walking away into the streets of Leimor. If she was lucky, she'd find a friendly face somewhere.
***
"Alright." Naveen shrugged, and Caleb watched him disappear into a dark alley. It was for the best, and hopefully that way he'd find himself food that didn't belong to the Nox.
His next stop was the bath house. He soaked in scented water until his hands and feet were all wrinkly and, with a fresh set of new clothes, Caleb went of to explore the commerce in Leimor.
"Talk to him when you are ready, quartermaster." Emryk replied, sorting out his own share with a sigh. "And not a second earlier. Any patience you may afford him is a gift. Remember that."
And then she left, leaving the Baron alone with his thoughts. It was with an almost mortified stare that he regarded the rest of the gemstones held within the chests at the far corner of the room; while he would have preferred to leave them in the Ice Lands, he would have been a fool to suggest the prospect to anyone on board the ship. It was wrong. Horribly wrong-- but he had already voiced his objections once, and they had fallen upon deaf ears. The least he could do was count out his own share in coin, not gemstone.
One diamond was slipped into his pocket to bury, as a means of respect; disturbing the dead was hardly a worthwhile endeavor. Time would tell if they would be cursed, as the enterprising fae excavators had been when they'd brought their tools and their greed to the Isles.
And, of course, time would only tell if the Al'Ashtavahk would bear the brunt of the consequence for avarice.
Presuming Emer occupied-- and, frankly, wishing for a bit of time to himself-- Emryk stepped free from the ship with nary a word to another, disappearing into the portside crowds with as much guile as an 8-foot man could muster.
Fortune-telling brought business to establishments like this. The proprietor, Zadari, was the sort of man Ruby Songbird found untrustworthy but not dangerous. So long as she spent some of her earnings on at least one meal out of the day, she was permitted to sit at an open table with her star-maps, her crystal ball, and her tarot cards. In return, she had access to wealthier clientele, who were just as superstitious as those she had left behind in Grodrock.
Since parting ways with her companions, Ruby had made herself comfortable in Leimor. It was not so different from Grodrock, except people had more money to spend frivolously, and the food was admittedly better. Or, perhaps, it was just Zadari’s food, and the clientele of The Last Meal. She elected not to share that compliment with him, because she did not think he could afford to inflate his ego any more than it was.
Today, there was a young couple seated across from her. Human, both of them. They were a handsome pair, wealthy judging by their dress, but not quite nobility. His hands had the light callouses of some sort of craftsmanship, while his wife’s were smooth and delicate. Recently arrived merchants, most likely, of some sort of crafting trade. She did not pry, because that would shatter the illusion.
Ruby swept her hands across the deck, the fur of her coat rustling as they explained their problem. The pretty young wife was with child, but had been plagued with dreams of ill fate. Ruby did not smile as the dreams were described, instead playing the steady listener. Such dreams, she recalled from her mother and grandmother, were often the work of the herbs given to alleviate pains or stresses. They could be countered with other remedies, or some form of relaxation before going to sleep.
But, ah, they did not come to her for medicine. Medicine was not her trade. Portends of ill omens – or good ones – were. She slipped the deck back together again. Of course, a skilled liar could use the gesture to slip the three cards of their choice to the top of the deck. But she was not that sort of a liar. The cards would reveal what they would, and whatever that was, she would put them at ease.
Her hand overturned the first card, then the second, then the third in silence. The reading must be taken in full, to give her time for her comforting lie. A moment for a flourish over them, and she was ready.
"The Ace of Wands, reversed, is an ill omen for one with child. This is your dream. The second card, the Queen of Pentacles, is the key to your dream, to fulfill or avoid its fate. She is the practical woman, the skilled mother. Hard-working and loving. Ten of Pentacles is the outcome of both your dream and your counter against it. It is an inheritance." She turned her serious face to the young woman. "You will be blessed with an heir, both of you. If you raise it well and work hard, you will be able to leave your business comfortably in their hands."
The woman smiled, even laughed, in relief. The young man squeezed her hand, then reached out and took Ruby’s. She endured his touch, if only because she knew that there was a gold coin to be pressed into her palm, in addition to the two she had already been given for solutions. They gave her their thanks, and then walked to an empty table and sat. To an extent, that reading had been as useful as herbs to put the woman’s mind at ease. She would sleep better, and her appetite would return, which Zadari would like.
With her customers gone, Ruby shuffled her cards, and returned to her own soup.
The question came from a boy who seemed to be a giant, but was she not used to giants? And giant bears? He was taller than her even while she was perched on her soap box, but this did not dissuade the story teller in the slightest. Nor, in fact, did the singer setting up shop nearby. Singers were good entertainment - and besides, if this one listened well enough, well, maybe the storyteller's exploits could be immortalized in song and reach the far ends of the realm!
But! Back to the question, and back to the tale!
"Normally? Why, that one was just a baby! You should have seen its mother! The next time I passed through that way it was months later, but she certainly remembered! Well, I wasn't about to be swallowed by a bear a second time - once was enough, thank you - but it was going to be a rough time bringing her down. Hide like iron once they grow up, of course, can't get through it with just a spear. Not even a musket! Not that I had a musket - bad form, firearms. A bit like cheating, isn't it? Got to stick to lower grade weapons to even the playing field a little, otherwise it just wouldn't be fair!"
Emer knelt beside Alys, slipping a hand beneath her shirt to rest on her abdomen, eyes closed for a moment. After a few long seconds of hushed murmuring, she opened them.
"Aha. Well, I certainly have news for you."
A thin smile crept onto her lips as she used the edge of the examination table to help herself back up to her feet. Another few long seconds - these not for practice, but instead simply to let the tension hang.
"...you have nothing to worry about."
The wisewoman's smile widened, as if she'd just told a terribly funny joke.
"But by your face, you fretted, hm? Come to me for wormwood, dear. Every time, before and after. Easier to prevent than to cure." She settled back in her own stool, sipping her coffee gently. "Who is the special man? Or is that a whisper I cannot hear?"
Alys tried - and failed - to hide the smile from her face, her head shaking slightly in response to Emer's delivery. Deep down she'd known, yet the pause had caused anxiety to flicker within her chest and doubt to creep in. Doubt that Emer had evidently noticed. Still, it was good news, and she no longer needed to fret about something that hadn't happened. Something she'd refuse to happen.
Picking up her tea once more, the fae gently blew on the cup, causing the steam to disperse into the air. Her gaze flickered to Emer's and she sipped silently, pondering over the question. It was innocent enough, but coming from Emer, both of them sitting in the clinic with their beverages, it almost felt like her saucy chat with Juniper in the Allegrian baths.
"It's no secret. Not much to tell either. Handsome Allegrian soldier," Alys said, innocently shrugging her shoulder. But for the first time, she wondered about what had happened to him. She remembered him beating Caleb senseless, and Ciaran stepping in, but beyond that? His remains could very well be sitting on the bottom of the ocean, among the coral reef, picked dry by the crabs and other creatures that lurked in the deep. "But I'm not the one with a man on board. Is he being good to you?"
Emer stifled a laugh with the back of her hand, nearly sloshing her tea out of its cup.
"He's not quite my man -" she protested, though it was a weak attempt, and she immediately reconsidered. "Well. At least. He has - grown to be a good friend to me."
She sipped the tea.
"We are - exploring the possibilities of something more, with all the commitments and troubles that come of it."
Another sip, cup still held high, moreso to hide her face than to drink from it.
"He treats me quite well. Baron Emryk is a polite and kind-hearted man."