What I need, Amani thought to herself rather desperately, is a godforsaken map maker.

She'd already gotten enough money for the day. Acting like a drunk out of her whits galdor who couldn't wield a sword was quite handy. Especially when betting was involved. And when Amani had to do with things, betting was rarely not involved.

She'd had an unsuccessful time finding any of 'the brothers' that would talk, mostly due to the fact that she had a field. Gods curse this stupid magic and these stupid people who fear it. Can't get anyone to speak without bumbling 'at your service, mum,' and 'if it pleases you' and other mindless gibberish. If I wanted them at my service I'd have done it by taking one of their blasted ears off.

The woman reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a worn out pocket watch and stared at the numbers exasperatedly. There really wasn't nearly enough light out to tell what it said.

Sounds wafted around her and Amani glared out into the darkness. Fine, she said silently to Fate, You want to play games? We'll play games.

The mugrobi turned towards the first wooden door that she could find and she pounded on it, setting her mouth mulishly.

“Oi, could ye BE any louder?” a voice groaned from amidst a rabble of crates situated near the door. “Clock’s sake…Goin’ round bangin’ on things like ent nobody’s business an’ makin a big tae do...”

Harlin rolled around unpleasantly on his wooden heap; his eyes clenched shut and waving his hands in front of his face so as to bat away the small tokens of light that emanated from the establishment’s sill. He had stumbled there sometime the previous day, morning, hour, something—whatever, drunk as a nutty hingle, and collapsed in an effortless mess among the empty boxes and bottles and rubbish. If he had any ging on him, it wasn’t enough to buy a drop of booze due to that already having been spent. What could he say? He had been bored and lonely, and now he was awake and outrageously hung-over, snapping dismally at the all-together too loud knockings that perforated the dark.

The wick let out another strangled groan as he wiggled towards the edge of his perch, and felt an odd twinge of vertigo when he found his recumbent head to be level with that of the dark figure standing before the door. Had he really climbed up this high? He didn’t remember climbing up this high.

He blinked at Amani groggily, absently wondering why she was upside down without realizing that he was half on his back and partially dangling his head over the corner of the highest crate. Apart from the fact that the silhouette he saw was distinctly woman-shaped, he couldn’t tell the next thing about her in this dark. Well, like he always said, better woman-shaped than big-angry-man-shaped. The latter tended to prepossess more animosity towards comfort-deprived and going-to-tell-you-about-it wicks.

“Oh…hullo,” he spoke at her lamely once his eyes had adjusted more, “Can I be of some service or are ye goin’ tae do that again?”

Amani's sword was out in her hand after the first 'oi' came out of the boxes near her door. She blinked when she recognized the familiar noises that indicated intoxication. Or post intoxication, as it were. She grinned at the man lying in a heap on the crates. "Cretin." she murmured in an amused voice.



"I might do it again if I want to. You never know." She bent her face over him, "Get up. You're going to help me find...the black dove. Or I'll poke you with my pointy stick, drunk man. If that doesn't convince you I'll knock again."

Pinty stick…? What pinty—

The sheen of Amani’s weapon caught a glint of the half light as it leveled towards Harlin’s head.

Ohhh. That pinty stick.

Harlin drew his braided head back as far as it would go at the sight of the thing. That ‘better woman than man’ thing needed a little revision, he thought. His eyes fluttered briefly between the sword and the woman, weighing his options and finding them to be distinctly limited. He was too hung-over to fight her, too hung-over to run… too hung-over to tolerate another round of door beatings. Vrunta, was his head foggy… Damn that riot in Vienda. If it weren’t for that, he would be happily wasted there instead of here.

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, finally twisting his leaden body upwards, “Dun get yer field in a bundle… lost bossy jent…dze, me and me stupid mouth.” The wick disappeared then, lost in a noisy brigade of overturned crates, breaking bottles, and angry Tek curses as he effectively fell off his post and somewhere into the street. After a moment or so of silence, his dark figure stumbled out in front of Amani, oddly from the opposite side of the door where he had been sleeping.

“A’ight, Losty…” Harlin muttered, bending over to brush the dust off his denims. “Let’s go find this black birdy o’ yers. And wouldja quit--!” The wick made a face and batted his hand explicitly in the direction of the pointy stick, “Pointin’ that thing at me! I dunnae whar it’s been.”

Amani glanced at her sword, teetering between being offended and being amused. Amusement won, and she guffawed, "If you want, I will do this. But don't think you can escape." She clipped her sword back belt carefully, stroking the hilt with her thumb as if to apologize to it. "Do not worry. I clean it every day with special oils. If you die at its point, you die to the scent of flowers!"

She started forward, "Desert lily's, if you want to know. So. You must lead me to the Black Dove. It is a tavern. You will know this place, probably. You seem to like taverns." She sniffed and then coughed, making a face, "But not running water. Tch. It is fine. I like taverns as well. If you get me to this place I'll pay you."

“Quite frankly, rosh,” Harlin smirked half-heartedly, “if I’m ter kick it, I’d rather it be in the arms of a pretty lady than to some flowers, ye chen? So if ye could just—“ his brows raised and he gestured with his hands “hold me fer a bit after ye stab me, that’d be benny.”



The wick rolled his eyes and started to walk, in a slow, rather unwilling sort of way. “Yeh, I know what and whar it is.” Well…sorta. He knew where it was; where he was, however, was another matter entirely. Present company considered though, trying to get there could probably take as long as he wanted and she wouldn’t notice. Gods bless jent, he thought… and their flowery pinty sticks too.

“And hey,” he directed over his shoulder at Amani, taking a misstep or two as he did so, “Not all o’ us’ve got special—lily whotsits ter make us smell all nice and fragrant-like… Yer goin’ to stay in Ole Rose, ye better get used to the stench.”



His ears perked up involuntarily at the mention of ‘pay.’ Of course, he wasn’t about to do this for free, but having her mention it first definitely negated some future tension. “Now that, m’vroo,” he pointed at her with a grin, “is what I like ter hear.”

Deciding that the straight course they were on was just a little too straight, Harlin took a random left towards the sea with hopes that the crash of waves would help orient him a bit more. He certainly felt more aware of the place than he had when he arrived, which was a plus. Didn’t need to be running blindly into any more fights with living, breathing mountains…

“Sooo, what’s at the Birdy?” the wick questioned out of thin air. “Got a hot date or sommat? Stuff tae do? People tae kill? Booze tae drink? Yeh want to stop walkin’ behind me so I can quit feelin’ like I’m talking tae m’self?”

The dark woman snorted, "If I stab you I do not think you'll live so long." And then, almost as an afterthought, " And I would not want to get my vest dirty. It is all the same, anyway. I polish the sword, and it sticks to my hands. So I smell like my sword." She sniffed her hands just to check and nodded, "Yes. If you want, you can think of my blade like an extension of myself! That way you are dying in my arms anyway."



"Or perhaps I should hand out soap." Amani grumbled, "It is not as if you all lack water." Her eyes were fixed on him as he turned a corner.



Amani rolled her eyes skyward and walked faster until she was next to the man. "Or perhaps you feel it is dangerous to have a woman like me watching your back, mm?" Then she shook her head, "If only it were those things. I spent the morning drinking there and have a room there. I might not keep them if I do not get back and sleep in them."

She frowned, suddenly, "It is good I stayed to drink there this morning. If I had known humans here were such cowards I might not have come. Tcha! Can you believe it, boy? One of the best swords women in all Mugroba and all I can get money for is pretending I am drunk, and then winning at fencing." She spat onto the ground as if the very thought brought bile to her mouth.

After fuming in private to herself for a few moments she sighed, "But it does not matter. I won much that way. The problem is when people begin to know who I am." She elbowed the man next to her, "But it is a good way to get money. You should try it. Only you must have a high resistance to the drink, yes? Otherwise people are not fooled."

Harlin just shrugged and muttered, “S’a lot o’ soap, is all I’m sayin’.”



“Well, yeah, that too, but ye don’ have tae say it like that.” He curled his lip at her, happy though that he didn’t have to worry about her sticking him without warning anymore.



“If yeh’re not in them, then who cares whether yeh keep ‘em er not? Not like thar worth it anyway.” Actually, he wouldn’t know, having roomed only once in Old Rose and not at the Black Dove. Typically when he had the extra cash, it went towards more useful things like booze and…other things. Whatever they were.



“Cors I believe it,” he said, looking at her flatly and trying to decide how he felt about being called “boy.” “Ent a kov around with ‘alf a head on ‘is shoulders who’d pick a money fight he knows ‘e’s goin’ tae lose.” He didn’t speak to flatter her. “Jus common sense, ye chen?”



The prod made him wobble.

“Look, not m’style, rosh. Tried it a time er two—“ He hadn’t, actually. “—back when I was in Numbrey.” Never been there. “Jus got the y’know what kicked out of me instead o’ some ging in me pockets. So I’ll just leave the betting scuffles tae you since ye seem to be so good at it.”

The shoreline soon came into view, glittering under the moonlight, and Harlin stopped. He turned his head to the right, then to the left, and then turned his body around completely to view the whole of Old Rose curving on either side of him like a sickle.

“Mmm, this a way,” his voice echoed confidently, bouncing down an alley as he turned to go down it.

"It would not be nice to offer payment of rooms and then vanish. You are a little...not stupid but something like that. I can't think of the word. It means stupid of the world. I was like this once. You will soon learn better, probably."



"How are they going to improve, then? In mugroba, if your honor was insulted you fought even if the other man was bigger..." A short pause, "Many men have loose teeth in my home because of this. It is better here in some ways."



"Yes that is the second requirement I was going to give you. Be very good in a fight." Amani said with a testy grin. "Like me."



Amani had stopped to stare at the sea, and ran to catch up. "There is too much water here. How can anyone live with so much water?" She clicked her tongue and touched her swords for comfort. It was daunting, seeing so much water in the middle of the night. It made the hair on her arms rise. "Tch. It seems evil. If Silas Hawke was not here I would leave this place." she glared out at it and then shook her head. "What should I call you, boy? I am Amani."

The wick just looked up and shook his head at the sky. This’un sounded like she could do with a loss or two. Then again, there was always something to be said for self-confidence… or whatever they called what it was she had.



“Harlin.” ‘Bout time. Through a few throbs of his headache, he had decided that this “boy” thing was irksome.

Skipping messily across a couple puddles that littered the alley, Harlin let the conversation drop for a minute as he braced his palms against the corner of the nearest building and peered around it. This street seemed brighter somehow and kind of made him want to vomit. Not because of a smell or anything of that sort, but just because his migraine didn’t like it and couldn’t think of any other way to retaliate.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the dry-heave, and occupied his mind by scanning both ends of the street for the tell-tale sign of the black fowl. It wasn’t to be seen, but other recognizably painted planks informed him that they were just another turn away.

Before taking his hands off the cool concrete, Harlin once more looked over his shoulder at Amani. “Silas Hawke, eh?” He pushed away and slipped around the corner, the movement seemingly easing his nausea. “Whatchoo want with Silas Hawke? Might as well be goin’ after Briny Joe Billows for all that’s worth.”

"Aye, so I have found." Amani grumbled, "It is difficult to find a man who everybody seems to know. I hoped to kill his body guards and become one myself. I have heard he pays them well. I owe some people money in Vienda... and I heard some interesting rumors about Silas Hawke being the most powerful man in Anaxas."

A different kind of grin possessed her features, and it wasn't pretty, "Powerful people should stick together, Harlin. Although I feel it is strange, here." She paused, her blue eyes glinting, "That those with power must hide. It was not so in Mugroba. But then, we are honest people, us mugrobi."

She stretched comfortably, "So, you Harlin, are a wick. Were you one of the ones kicked out of Vienda? Tcht! That was some craziness." Amani shook her head at the thought. That Judge must be mad. "Perhaps even if I hadn't left to find money I would have anyway. Wicks are easier to understand sometimes than many Humans."

Her mouth twitched, "Yes. Humans are hard to understand, here. Half the time I tried to speak to one here, they ran. They ran. I have swords on me, but that is hardly uncommon in Old Rose." Amani's voice was scornful and showed obvious annoyance towards how she had been treated.

“Yeh, you and e’erybody else…” he grumbled under his breath and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve.



Harlin blinked at her with wide brown eyes. “…Uh-huh.” Honest? What’s that? “Well—“ he paused for a thought, shoving his hands in his coat pockets at the same time, “Wiv’ all them Bad Brothers scurryin’ about, a kov like ‘im don’ really need tae be seen if ‘e don’t want. Now if ye ask me,” an awkward, tired smirk pressed itself over his cheeks, “keepin’ Silas Hawke in the shadows pullin’ all the strings is what’s keepin’ ‘im so powerful. I mean, jus lookit the king. Face all over and whatnot, and who gives a clock, right? Now Silas, ye got this mysterious toft oo’s everywhere and nowhere, dictatin’ everythin without so much as pokin’ ‘is ‘ead out a window. Now that’s power ye can’t buy with flauntin’ yerself around.”



A vague itch to be truthful and say ‘no’ tickled the back of his throat, but never quite made it to his tongue. Or maybe that was just the hang-over talking, he couldn’t tell.

“Yeh, clocking mess that was, warn’t it? Tae think, all o’ Vienda off limits now… all cos the galdori can’ think outsider thar big heads—er,” suddenly conscious of Amani’s race, he glanced at her sideways, “Well, whatever, ye know what I mean.”



“Tis a bit for a galdor, rosh, hate ter break it tae ye.” His elbow jut out to nudge her as she had done to him, but he found the motion to affect his balance, which made him lean, which made him queasy, which made him stop to lean the other way, which didn’t help. “Wheelp, here it comes.”

The wick stumbled quickly over to the nearest wall, which frankly couldn’t have been close enough, put a hand on it, hunched over, and was thoroughly sick on the ground adjacent to it. Luckily for any bystanders, his poor diet meant that the contents of his stomach were rather limited. After a few heavy breaths, he spat to rid his mouth of the taste and, without turning around or standing upright, pointed blindly back to Amani with a free hand. “Not a word from yeh over there,” he groaned, “ah’ll not have it.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t hold his liquor, honest. Drinking that much just tended to do things to you was all.

Amani considered this for a moment and then nodded, "You are right. There is power when you are invisible. It is power through fear. Very dangerous. Things like this, these secret things, I am not so good at." And I don't like that sort of power. It is secret and dangerous. And that is what Silas Hawke is.



"What?" Amani asked in a confused voice, "You say these words that I don't know what you are saying."



When he stumbled away to empty the contents of his stomach, Amani rolled her eyes. She was about to open her mouth when he pointed and told her to shut her trap. She grinned, "I was not going to say anything." she told him in an innocent 'who ME?' voice.

"It is well. Tell me what you meant before you had your little battle with your stomach. " Pause. "Which you lost. It seems you lose many battles, Harlin. Even the ones with yourself!" The grin was back, making her look very mischievous.

She swept her eyes around the area and frowned. Don't recognize this place... At least it was brighter. Amani switched her weight restlessly, noting how she seemed to jangle when she did. I should adjust my knives when I get home. Out of habit her hand moved to the leather pads she had around her forearms, and tested them. Definitely too loose. She frowned, starting to work at the knot with one hand while trying to make sure the thing didn't fall off. So much for at home...but then it'll get damaged...

He groaned. She had no idea.

“What I mean is—“ Harlin took his palm away from the wall, braced it on his thigh, and spat again. “Yeh’re a galdor, right? And yeh’re in Old Rose…” A wobbling motion then brought him to a stand, back to the wall and facing Amani. The purge had made him feel slightly less ill the way crying makes you feel slightly less sad, noticeably but not enough.

“And there yeh have it!” The wick spread his arms as though he had just introduced some paramount discovery. He then shook his head and began to walk towards her. “Look, rosh,” he said as he wiped away some spittle from the corner of his mouth, “I doan know about yer Mugroba, but here in Anaxas, what the jent—er, galdori say goes, and that rubs a lot of people the wrong way. I mean jus lookit—“ his hand searched the air, trying to pluck an example out of it, “Jus lookit Vienda. Fer instance. Whooole population o’ wicks jus’ made ter dust off jus’ like that. Lotta animosity that brings up, don’t it? Tha’s why we got Ole Rose, ye chen? Them galdori ent about tae waltz in cos o’ all us mangy humans an’ wicks an’ wotnot runnin’ about all lawless-like. Them’s high society, see? We ent.”

As he began to walk, Harlin turned around, moving backwards, and gestured pointedly at the mugrobi, not giving her an opportunity to interrupt. “Now, here we got you. A galdor. An’ yer all sportin’ about with yer big fancy swords like ent nobody’s business, an’ the rest o’ Old Rose is lookin’ at ye like, ‘Clocks! There’s a galdor here. An’ she’s got big. Pinty. Sticks. An’ we ent ne’er seen one with those cos they don’ usually need ‘em, so tha’ mus’ mean she’s one tough chip with the magicks ter blow our brains out shit we better be nice ter her!’”

The wick stared at her expectantly. “What I’m tryin’ ter say,” continuing more slowly now that he still hadn’t received a response, “is that it’s bleedin’ weird fer a galdor tae be running around here like ye do. Ye chen?”

"...Oh," his head jerked back to the direction he was supposed to be facing, "Nearly there, by the by."

((Hey guys, I'm not sure whether you're refering to the wicks being evicted from Vienda yet, that wasn't announced until the 25th))

((augh crud. We'll go back and fix that. sorry! *wasn't paying attention*!))
((Edit'd! With a few phrases getting rid of the annie/emme refs. Sorry 'bout that!))

A single eyebrow rose and Amani looked at him like she might just do something about his insolence if he kept it up.



Amani kept messing with the straps of her cuff while he spoke, finally resorting to using her teeth while listening. High society? I don't /feel/ high society. She thought aimlessly. But this would explain a lot. Even in Mugroba the galdori didn't necessarily want to talk to humans and wicks. She'd lived in a mixed tribe, so she was more used to it but... here it was even more separated than before.

She tugged again with her teeth and the binding finally came loose. She carefully took off the cuff and examined the inside as Harlin kept talking.



Amani looked up every once in awhile as she adjusted the straps on the inside of the leather armor and grinned when he mentioned her swords. It's true. They are big and pointy. She bent to use her teeth again as she tied it back over her arm, then flexed experimentally. No clattering. That was good.



Amani nodded, "Yes. People are afraid of me twice as much. But I do not like it very much. It is not useful for getting money, this fear."



She glanced in that direction and then lunged forward to grab his arm and pull him away from a puddle that looked way too suspicious and smelled terrible. "You are dirty enough already," she growled, swinging him around it in a less than gentle manner until he was well away from the puddle. When she was sure he wasn't about to fall over she bent and sniffed.

The smell made her gag, and Amani backed away, making a face. "I do not know what that is. But I do not wish to find out." she mumbled through her hand, walking quickly away from the suspicious substance and dragging Harlin forward until the smell wasn't half as strong. She let him go then and sniffed experimentally. "That was a foul smell. Are you okay?"

Amani paused, "I should leave, perhaps. But I think I do not want to. If this is how they react to my race, it will be so in Vienda and Brunhold. It is best that the people here get used to me. I do not think I will go anywhere soon."

She sighed, "I do not like only fighting for bets, though. I did that when I was young. It is not great for holding jobs."

((Oh, oops. Sorry Amani, that was actually my bad. This is what I get for disappearing and not paying attention.))



Once Harlin had ceased to be moved further, he stood in his new position rather stupidly, and felt completely unsure of what had just happened. He stared at the dark-skinned woman with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide and lip arching up towards his nose. Why she was…sniffing that puddle. Yes she was.

“…Wot in Alioe’s name are ye—“



“I’m…fine,” Are you? The wick eyed her suspiciously. Galdori were weird. He didn’t realize that she meant was he okay from being jostled, though the motion had rattled his brain more than he was comfortable with.

“Ye know…” he started cautiously, “Thar’s a lot o’ that round here. The um, filth I mean. If it smells bad from a distance, chances are it…Well, yeah.” From the way she was looking at him, it was probably unwise to chide her further. Fine, he thought silently, Sniff all the puddles ye want. See if I care.



“Ne, dun sound like the most reliable o’ incomes,” Harlin offered, trying to be helpful. “Mebbe that bodyguard idear o’ yers is jus what ye need.” Honestly, he never did understand the whole ‘money earning’ thing. It was right up there with the ‘being truthful’ thing. All past circumstances considered, nabbing what you needed and making a run for it typically worked quite well for him. ‘Typically’ being the choice word there, of course.

Suddenly, their turn was right in front of them, and Harlin stopped. Just down the way sat the Black Dove, sign creaking and swaying in the salty air like some sort of ominous beacon. Then again, most of Old Rose tended to look like that—old, weathered, and beaten. Gods, he loved this place.

He pivoted on his toes and peered at Amani. The light in the street behind him cast long, tired shadows across his usually vibrant eyes. “Aaaan’ thar’s yer birdy, Losty! See, warn’t so hard now was it?”

Amani didn't like the look he was giving her. "You would know, I suppose." Since you seem to bathe in them. She thought snidely, glaring at him. Stupid Wick doesn't know I just saved him an hours worth of scrubbing. Not that he knows what an hours worth of scrubbing /is/.



"It is." She said, her hand going to her sword for comfort, although she looked just a little dangerous. "That is why I was searching for it." Amani stared at the boy suspiciously, wondering if he was saying stupid things on purpose. Her field almost seemed to buzz in annoyance. Tcht. We were having a nice conversation and now he is going to start acting all afraid and stupid.



It was lucky he found the tavern when he did because Amani's mood had been darkening. Now she grinned, "Ah! I thought you might have been leading me in circles, boy!" She reverted to the diminutive easily, "Do you want me to buy you a drink or give you your payment?"

His eye twitched, but his grin did not break. Harlin.



Harlin opened his mouth and held it that way for a significant moment. “Payment,” came the reply, “Please.” The thought of more alcohol, and he never thought he’d ever think this, simply repulsed him more than he could say. It’d come right back up the second it hit the pit of his stomach. Waste o’ ging, that was. Best get the coin in hand now and save it for later.

He held out a grubby palm and wiggled his fingers with a smile.

“Well, rosh, I hope ye find yer Hawke. I’d help ye if I could, but I can find only so many birdies.”

Thanks to the light that was coming from the windows the mugrobi saw that he seemed to be a sickly green colour. "Yes. Perhaps that is best." She said snootily, sneering at him as if to say the poor child can't hold his drink.



Her lips quirked, "You are disgusting!" She said with a short laugh, pulling out two tallys from her vest pocket and depositing them-- without touching the grubby palm-- on his hand. "Enjoy, Harlin. Maybe we will meet again when you are less..." she gestured idly with her hand, "Lying in crates unconscious."

Amani smirked at him and opened the door to a brief moment of light, music, laughter-- and entered, shutting it with a loud crack.

The wick continued to smirk unfalteringly at Amani, taking the disgusting comment to heart as a true compliment. He said no more to her, merely tipping an imaginary hat as she passed through the doorway and into the Dove’s warm, encompassing glow.

Once she had gone, however, and the door had latched, leaving him out in the murky streets, Harlin’s expression dropped to the two measly coins that lay innocently in his palm. “Oh goody!” he said to them with a shock of false enthusiasm. “Two whole tallies all t’m’self!” A scowl crossed his features immediately afterwards, and he looked skyward with a groan as he pocketed them along with the three hats that littered the otherwise empty lining of his pocket. “Jus’ what I need… a wee jingle ter keep me mind from wanderin’.”

Mujo ma, Losty, he thought blandly at the closed door before him. Mebbe I’ll go buy me some soap.

And with another nasal sigh, the wick wandered off down the lane, hoping to find a nice crate heap to collapse in.