A Quiet Conversation in the Anbar

"You are forever with one of them at your hip, Poet," the fellow uttered, the sound of his voice a guide. He produced a fire-maker, striking the flint. It brought up a brief, slightly acrid scent as he illuminated a small votive. Tharlarion oil. Foul stuff, but it burns well enough and provided a dull glow with which we might speak around.

"A weakness, perhaps," I admitted. The girl Elise was with me. She was clad in a girl cloak, the hood brought up about her head. I did not want the distractions of a slave to interfere with the discussion, dark as this den was.

He grunted at my response and said curtly, "Why did you ask to see me?"

The fellow I spoke to was a survivor of the Delta. Many such fellows can be found at the fringe of polite society in Ar; in the Anbar or the Trevelyan or the Metellan. Many of them are still quite bitter at the losses, both financial and personal, that the slandering of their reputations caused. They are the eyes and ears of Ar, for those that have access to them, for those that know them.

"The Kal-da Cafe on Sixth Streeth," I started. "The local Magistrate. There are rumors as to where," I continued and then pulled back from that particular tangent. "I don't know that the investigation has gotten anywhere, not that I expect people to talk to the foreigner."

"Venor?" he asked. "No. I don't imagine most would volunteer much information to him."

"Micah deserved better than to be dragged into the street and bloodied, killed," I said.

"Micah," the fellow echoed. "Wicked business, those people turning up sick like that."

"A little too convenient," I added.

"That Noemi woman, yes," he uttered disdainfully. I saw his fist clench instinctively. "Moved right in the next day, didn't she?"
I nodded. "That is where I intend to start. Indirectly anyway. I need to ask around."

"I will do the same," he offered.

"I appreciate that," I answered, refraining from addressing him respectfully as 'Veteran.' I was hardly anonymous in this setting, but he was. "I need to find out why people were catatonic and then fine several ahn later. Maybe a Physician."

"You are a Magistrate," he answered, offering a bit of advice. "Just shackle the little bitch up."

"It is not that simple," I replied. "But I will not let this pass."