The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 18 - Closing the Circle

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"You'd think the sun hated this town, for all that it never seems to shine here."

"Maybe it's the other way 'round."

"Oh?"

"It could be that Falerik's the one trying to hide from daylight beneath all this fog!"

After the never-ending sunlight of Moaan in all its southern coastal glory, Vinie wasn't sure if she was happy or aggrieved to be returning to Falerik. Nothing had changed since she had last been there a month ago; steeply pointed roofs bowed inward beneath slate-grey shingles, flickering lanterns cast meager pools of orange lights on the streets, and stray dogs howled in the distance. Passersby clad in haphazard shawls and rattling bone jewelry flicked skittish glances at Vinie, Reyson, Dhalad and Yidu as they jumped down from the back of the wagon; as warm a welcome as one could expect in this superstitious town. To mind one's own business was the law of the land around here. This alone made Falerik the perfect place for the Factionist headquarters.

The wagon driver snapped the whip above his oxen team's backs, leaving the four rebels standing in front of a large wooden building. Light peered out through the slats of the windows at them. Muted chatter could be heard from within, carried aloft on the air with the scent of marinating fish and spices.

"Looks like your father got the new sign finished," Reyson pointed above the door.

Vinie couldn't help but smile when she followed Reyson's outstretched finger. Swaying slightly on its chain despite the lack of wind, a large wooden sign displayed the name 'The Drunken SkinPainter' above a carven skinpainting needle crossed with a fork.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go around before we attract notice."

With the others close behind, Vinie led the way around the corner of The Drunken SkinPainter. An ivy-laden railing hid a set of stone stairs carved into the earth from casual view. Dropping her shawl from over her head prematurely, Vinie raised a hand and knocked on the heavy brown-black door set into the side of the building's belly. There was a shuffle from inside. Then the iron riveted porthole slid open just wide enough for a voice to be heard.

"Aren't you a little out of your way?"; the coded prompt. Vinie was quick to deliver the Factionists' password.

"We seek a new way."

The door ground open with the complaining of wood on stone. A man stood inside the threshold; not a face that Vinie recognized. Their ranks grew so often and by so much that she'd given up trying to personally remember each and every Factionist. Apparently the fellow knew her though. His weathered face split into a broad smile, revealing at least four golden teeth.

"Ah! Welcome back, BlackPearl. Everyone's been looking for your arrival. Things went well in Moaan then, yas?"

"Ahem," Reyson harrumphed before Vinie could say anything. The dour former knight disagreed with the extent to which Vinie often shared information with her followers. 'No respect for chain of command' or so on, as he tended to say. Vinie found herself agreeing with him this time, at least. The outcome of their meeting with Lord Xolani and Lady Oesu would have to be kept close for now, at least until she had time to discuss it with her dad.

"They did," was all that Vinie said. Thankfully the man on duty didn't press for anything more, and shut the door behind them.

The basement of The Drunken SkinPainter was crowded and busy, as per usual. The inn had originally been designed as a safe haven for illegal activity, and it served its purpose well. People came and went down the corridor, dipping past doorways with everything from intercepted mail to pieces of half-refitted armor in hand. So the seafaring attack on the armory vessel from Derbesh had paid off.