Chapter Zero: New Gold for Old Bones

"Damn, damn and tripple damn!" Karnoz silently cursed. Still, whatever had happened, he was inside and no hail of arrows or wild screams for help issued forth. The bitter winds outside and Karnoz's knowledge of Peluko's dark rendevou tonight, insisted that the boatman was here.... somewhere.

Stealth ruined, Karnoz elected to try a more direct approach.

Settling back into a darkened corner, Karnoz knelt down. Stripping off the stinking overtunic and discreetly peeling Mitri's face from his own. His dark hood came up and his blackened mask shielded his features again, but he did not have blood and murder in his thoughts, at least, not yet.

Seeing his position in obscure shadows was set he called out in a loud whisper; 'Hsst! Oi, Peluko! I have a pebble in me gobblet an I dun know what to do wit it! A friend O mine says you might have an idea fer a bit O the right shine!"

Then Karnoz settled in and waited for the next move.


**Hide in shadown, Listen**

Karnoz waited uncertainly, wondering if anyone had heard his words. And then, after a long moment, an unseen face at the far end of the hall hissed a reply.

"What? Who comes skulking into my house like this? Who is it? Show yourself."

The slumbering breaths inside the room did not pause. If the voice was Peluko, he may have been taking care to not wake the room's occupant. The choice to continue on this vein of subterfuge or to do as the voice asked was then something left to Karnoz's discretion.


Karnoz >

Karnoz considered, thoughts rolling through his head. If this snoring individual was clearly not Peluko, then it might be a spouse or other family member. Good and bad, Bad in that it created yet another obstacle in his plan, but good in that Peluko would be less likely to become hostile and wake this person infavor of evoking some possibly unwanted question about why masked hoodlums were seeking him out in the dead of night.

Wanting to keep Peluko on his good side, as much as possible anyway, Karnoz elected to comply.

"No problems here." he whispered, moving forward slowly with his hands raised. "Just lookin fer a bit O an assist."

"Then you should come down here by the fire where we can chew things over," Peluko muttered. "We've no need to involve my son. But be brief with it. I already have a run to do this night and but little time to prepare for it."

The firelight threw Peluko's shadow around the corner and nearer to Karnoz, and the whisper of wood rasping against wood ended with another crackle of fire sparks. Peluko was not quite ready to let down his guard, but it would seem that Karnoz was not the first person to sneak into his home with shady business in the dead of night....


Karnoz >

Karnoz made his way towards the voice and fire, his sharp eyes taking in the details around him. He was also not willing to let his own guard down, but this would be his best chance at getting near Peluko and possibly gathering a little information.

"So what is it that ya be needen to prepare? An whatcha be wantin fer it too?"

Peluko cut a stark and wiry figure in the flickering red gloaming which rippled through the simple room. He looked similar to how he had looked at the river bank earlier that day, save that his jaw and lip were more closely shaven. Peluko clapped the poker against the wall and tugged his drab cloak around his shoulders as he stepped away from the cheap iron woodburning oven that squatted on its patch of bared hardwood and snapped in the corner of the room.



"Afraid I didn't get where I am by being loose with people's secrets," Peluko retorted gruffly, "but that's exactly why you can trust me to keep your confidence guarded. I won't pry, but I do need to know what your 'pebble' is, friend. Just tell me what you need from me, and then we can talk about it and come to a fair price for my services. I know things, places, people, safehouses, secret passages...what I don't know is exactly why you're here, warming yourself by my fire a stone's toss from midnight. Let me hear it."


Karnoz >

"Reasons ain't important, no offense meant." Karnoz said quietly. " I just needs a way out O the city and far enough away from that Tetrov bastard that I ken start over without lookin over me shoulder every five minutes. Eyes everywhere he has an' had it on good word that you wassn't one of em."

"So there you go."

[color:c048= cyan] Give Peluko and the room a good look over while I talk.

A badly gnarled ring finger on his left hand and a scar across his then-uncowled nape suggested that Peluko was no stranger to pain, and only Olidammara knew what weapons he had concealed on his person. But then, if he were any greatly accomplished thief or thug, he would be living in something far more cozy than a cheap, drafty townhouse....

"Right...not many smugglers and cutpurses would wager on themselves competing against Oily Tetrov," Peluko surmised, thumbing his stubbled chin in thought. "I'll be leaving south for the coast tonight, but my boat only has room for tonight's passanger and his travel goods. So you may need to lie low for two days until I get back. Come downstairs with me. I have a map to show you. It could save your skin until I can slip you out of Trock Reik."

Peluko turned away and moseyed to the descending stairs, gesturing behind himself for Karnoz to follow.


Karnoz >

Karnoz heaved a sigh at the thought of staying for two more days but compliantly stood and followed Peluko downstairs.

"Ok so so I stays hidden fer two days then. So where's ya boat at an how much is this ta cost me then?"

"I have a few boats moored or stashed here and there in Trock Reik alone," the lanky boatman nodded. Karnoz could wager that the Otter's Lament was likely among those assets, and it was quite possibly his main dinghy, the others merely tucked away in case of emergencies. Reaching a redwood table in the Second Story sitting room, Peluko flipped open an ashwood box and hastily fished through the bristling mess of maps and parchments, finding the one he sought and spreading it on the table. Karkova's web of winding rivers spread on that yellowing paper, reaching out in many bearings.


"As for the cost? That depends on where you want to go. If you want to leave Karkova entirely, we can take the
Zelezo Kanvica all the way to Salzanagrad...three days to get there if the current's good. If you want to settle in the hills and mountains to the northwest, we go against the current until the Zelezo Kanvica crosses the Zelezo Luss, then go by mule from Roga to Immul. Going to the eastern borderland's harder, with the Josgur Forest in the way, but a Vecna cult excavated a series of tunnels a few centuries ago...."

As Peluko rambled on about so many options, Karnoz recalled that Peluko was taking Hennbauer to Salzanagrad and the oceanic coast this night. Though Peluko claimed that he would be returning to Trock Reik within two days, he had just revealed again that the way to Salzanagrad would take three...six days to get there and return. That mismatch in timeframes could mean that Peluko intended to drop Hennbauer off with another boatman who would bear Hennbauer the rest of the way to Salzanagrad.

That detail might complicate matters for Karnoz...but it could, perhaps, open new opportunities as well, as long as the left hand didn't know exactly what the right hand was doing.


Karnoz >

Karnoz let peluko talk. In doing so, the boatman let slip possibly valuable tidbits of information. He also confirmed to Karnoz that Peluko, while perhaps a skilled riverman, was no skilled scoundrel or he would have learned to keep his teeth together by now.

"I'll be lookin to head towards Salzanagrad. " he said, jutting his chin towards the map. "Mebbe even further iff'n Tetrov has any pull that far out. You said something about safehouses? Somewhere I ken hole up for a few days, yes?"

Karnoz let the man talk, revealing more about what lay ahead and possibly tipping him off further about his possible rout tonight. The wind continued to howl outside as the snow and ice rattled at the window sills.
Finally Karnoz asked another question, something that drew Peluko's attention to the far side of the map. At that moment, Karnoz brought the hilt on one dagger across the back of his skull.

**Obviously, I am looking to subdue rather than kill, as quickly and quietly as possible, but if he dies, then he dies so long as he dies quietly. If I have to tackle him and cover his mouth, then do it.

**If I can subdue him, then strip him down and tie him up, gag and blindfold him. Then his son upstairs.

The boatman considered his visitor's questions. "Hmm...the local guilds must have sent you here without lending you all the details. But, since you mention it, there are a few vacant safehouses in town. One is a few rooms hidden away in the back of the Blue Meadow brothel. I have a strong working relationship with one of the girls there; she can bring you food, ale and whatever else you need to get by while you wait. Just make sure you're in the right mob, or she'll have naught to do with you.

"But the fare to get to Salzanagrad? Normally, it's a mite high with river ice and the threat of sudden snowstorms. But if you bring whatever you can fit into one goodly sack--and no more than that--I can get you to the coast for two Desyatka. Take it or leave it."

Quick on his feet, Karnoz conceived a reason to divert Peluko's attention. "Hmm...that may be too rich for me. You mentioned the eastern borderlands. Where are the Vecna tunnels that can take me there?"

With his left hand, Karnoz traced a finger along the Zelezo Kanvica and the narrower Nagad Creek leading into the map's Josgur Forest. Peluko's own index finger found the entrance to the forest, but no sooner had his lips parted to speak than the pommel of Karnoz's dagger rose behind his cranium, poised for a telling strike.



The pummel rang off the back of Peluko's skull, sending him crashing against the tabletop. Spitting an unintelligible curse, the boatman reflexively balled up a fist and reared back, bracing himself against the table as his attacker followed through with a second strike....


Karnoz (Init 18) > Pommel-stroking Peluko
Peluko (Init 14) > Punching Karnoz



The enraged boatman's forward arm caught Karnoz's pommel jab at the wrist, halting its momentum. But the rogue recovered enough to bring his guard hand high and turn the oncoming fist aside. Grasping Peluko's hand brought his elbow around, exposing it for a nerve-deadening crack with the pommel. After that strike and the dismayed yelp which followed it, a hilt-whip to Peluko's vulnerable chin was all it took to send him to the floor, badly bruised and groaning into the shabby blue carpet.

Karnoz forcefully yanked the cloak from the boatman's shoulders, and the gray tunic after it. His work was interrupted by a weak voice, shaken from sleep and calling timidly downstairs.

"Papa?"


Karnoz >

“Feh! Damn kid!” Karnoz thought to himself as the whelp started mewling for his precious papa. Still, the kid might prove useful. After all, negotiations were all about diplomacy and leverage; the art of getting what you want on both sides. Karnoz wanted information and Peluko would likely want his brat to stay intact.

Thinking quickly, Karnoz pressed himself against the wall next to the door still holding the boatman’s cloak in his hands. Waiting, he surmised that the kid would likely see his dear father lying on the floor and run to his side, then POP! The cloak would be over his head and the kid subdued with a slap or two without him seeing Karnoz.

It was the latter that Karnoz was concerned most about; Karnoz did not want to be seen by this whelp. If he was, well…, bad for Peluko Jr. It wasn’t that Karnoz was squeamish about the deed, nor was it out of some compassion. Simply put, he wasn’t getting paid for killing the boy, and there were other schemes that would be of more use with a live boy than a dead one.

Swiftly unclasping Peluko's worn woolen cloak and tearing it from his shoulders, Karnoz effortlessly glided into the wavering shadow beneath the descending stairs. The boy's worried breaths grew harsher as his ears caught his father's sudden, feeble moaning from below.

"Papa? Papa!"

Heedlessly the boy bounded down the stairs and threw himself to the floor at his supine father's side. So dismayed was the son with Peluko's condition that he failed to notice a menacing shadow creeping over him from behind....

The gray cloak snapped down and swallowed the boy's head and shoulders, binding them fast. Balling his hand in the air behind him, Karnoz lashed the back of his fist across what he assumed to be the back of his young, struggling captive's head. And the small body going limp and buckling at the knees told Karnoz that he had assumed well.



From the looks of him, Peluko's son had barely seen eleven winters. Both father and son lay insensate on the floor, quiet and still save for the odd twitch or pained moan. Nonchalantly setting Peluko's cloak on the table, Karnoz took another long look at the map as he decided what to do with the two.


Karnoz >

Karnoz worked quickly, but effectively. First, the rogue finsihed stripping Peluko down before seating him in his chair in the center of the room. While Karnoz wanted to preserve Peluko's garb for his own use, other items could easilly be scrounged for bindings. Peluko was soon tied to the chair by each wrist and ankle with another band securing his legs and torso. A strip of clothwound between his ankles as well, acting as a hobble should the boatman actually manage to get up somehow. Finally, a makeshift blindfold and gag completed the work.

Ensuring that Peluko Jr's head was never uncovered, Karnoz stripped the boyy down and made similar bindings, tying his hands, arms, feet and legs together. A gag and blindfold were added, but also stuffed cloth bits dipped in candle wax into his ears to complete the deed.

Lastly, Karnoz looked over the residence, looking to secure a mirror for his next step of his plan as well as grabbing any obvious valuables. Having is hood and mask back in place, Karnoz woke Peluko, leaving him one eye uncovered for him to see his boy, bound but alive, before the blindfold was replaced.

"Oy now," Karnoz whispered in his feigned accent. "Yer boy don't interest me at the mo. Behave and he still won't when I go."

Making sure that Peluko understood, Karnoz led the boy upstairs, tying him to his bed.
"Now you set still now 'an be a good boy." Karnoz said to the boy with Mitri's voice, popping out one earplug for his benifit. "Me and yer da needs to talk we does. Yes, talk. You stays here an nuttin bad will happen to ya. Stay."

Karnoz replaced the earplug and returned to the parlor with his new guest. Turning the chair so that he faced the fireplace, Karnoz began the process of becoming Peluko, using the boatman as his muse and his clothing, mirror and mannors as tools.

The rogue popped the gag free as he worked.
"An so, "he began. "As I said, ya boy don't mean nothing to me Peluko, but depending on how ya answer'll depend on how many fingers he 'as come tomorrow mornin'."
" I know you got a fare tonite, 'e's the one I'm after, so tell me everything about yer plan, yer boat and all the rest and be quick about it. I warn ya tho' I already know enough that I'll know of yer lying to me."

Karnoz couldn't help but smile underneath his mask as he returned Peluko's own curse he had offered to Hennbauer; " And may the Mad God take you if my own throat meets a scoundrel's blade."

Peluko's bitter scowl sunk into a defeated countenance of gloom as his own words were turned against him. "So...you were there too. I can only wonder what more you have heard of this affair."

Glancing wildly about with a worried yet blinded gaze, the boatman answered in his desperate, gravelly voice. "Fair Arno Hennbauer's business is his own, but you likely know much of it already. There is a dire matter with his longtime partner turned traitor...Yorgo Pavamoski. Arno received something...a very valuable scroll, by his word. Pavamoski waylaid Anyaska--one of Arno's aides--and tortured her till she told him where the scroll was. Pavamoski stole it, Anyaska escaped and brought word back to Arno...and then Pavamoski started hiring killers to keep Arno from getting his scroll back. With Anyaska and his Shadhiran bodyguard at his hand, Arno struck each assassin down. One told them everything. So Anyaska went off alone after Pavamoski, seeking a bloody revenge for the torture and the betrayal and whatnot. Arno received a message soonafter, taunting him over Anyaska's failure."

Karnoz's eyes darkened with the twinge of riddle and doubt. Peluko's tale differed from Yorgo's tale in several ways. Which of the two stole something from the other? What of the crystal bowl which, by Yorgo's account, started the feud in the first place? And what of this scroll, of which Karnoz had never heard until this point?

Was Peluko lying? But he was in no position to lie at all! Surely he would not be so foolish as to risk his own son for a pointless deception....

"So now, with Anyaska's loss, our friend Arno Hennbauer has decided that the scroll is not worth his life. He has paid me and my fellow rivermen well to help him escape the wild lands of Karkova. At the stroke of midnight, he will quit his lodging with the Bard and Fox, dismiss his henchmen--for their own safety, he said--and leave with me and my boat, the Otter's Lament. And I am to bear him to Gala Point, twelve miles downriver, where he will change boats and depart with my comrade, Jost Hassak, on the Hundred Eddies. Jost is then to bear him to the sea and to Salzanagrad, where Arno has sent coin to the captain of the Umberlee's Dare. Beyond that, I know naught, save that Arno's destination lies along the swampy coasts of that twice-blighted province Bardosylvania. I know of the land's horrid reputation, but I know not why he would go there or who may await his arrival."

Peluko's son, bound and hooded as he was, rolled in his stupor upstairs but said naught more than a pained groan. Peluko's worry deepened, and he concluded his quailing testimony.

"So mayhap good Arno's cause to fear for his hirelings lies with Yorgo Pavamoski, or mayhap it does not. That is all I know. I swear on my my mother's bones! Now, pray leave us be."

The raven-maned boatman seemed to know his target quite well, Karnoz deduced...perhaps even on a first-name basis, though evidently not in the most agreeable terms. For his part, Peluko clearly lived a downtrodden life, yet his tone, his enunciation and his mannerisms bespake a man of fairer station and greater learning than any ignorant peasant, pauper or guttersnipe...a man, perhaps, fallen soundly from a loftier state of grace...another all-too-common tale in such unforgiving times.


Karnoz >

Karnoz listened to Peluko's tale, referencing the table map from time to time in order to have a better understanding of what and where Peluko's plan would unfold. He had figured that Hennbauer would have to a part of his work for Karnoz, that is, sneak past or distract his watchers long enough to be away.
Karnoz also knew that Hennbauer could only take a small amount with him on the river trip, a crystal bowl; if there was a bowl, would have to be protected and also be made inconspicious. Something that would wether a river trip and could be carried with him. Like maybe a recently purchased cask?

Time would tell, but for now, there were other dark matters afoot.

"So then, where is your boat and what is your plan to smuggle Arno out of the city? You must have a plan. This is not your first trip after all."

As Peluko spoke, Karnoz quietly moved about the room, gathering any valuables as well as specifically gathering up his maps and notes. They would likely prove useful later. Karnoz also looked to find a large mirror or some other reflective surface.

" Keep talking." Karnoz directed. " You seem to have a history with these folk. In any case, you are not a humble, downtrodden riverman, are you?"

The discussion was three fold; One, Karnoz learned information, some of which might be useful. Two, he learned Peluko's manners, speach and style for copying and three, it kept Peluko focused on something other than Karnoz.

Better yet, Karnoz had a life-sized muse to study as he transformed himself into the boatman.

During his interrogations, Karnoz periodically turned away and meandered about the shoddy townhouse, taking in everything with a practiced eye. Though midnight drew steadily nearer, he surely had time enough for such liberties. Peluko was hardly in a position to delay him, after all.

A three-pronged grapnel, forged from black iron and flecked with traces of rust despite its oiled scent, rested between two spherical green flasks of lamp oil on the corner of Peluko's map table. Though there was no rope to be found for the grappling hook, that could simply be because Peluko kept all of his ropes elsewhere: with his boats, where the ropes were needed most.

The polished steel hand mirror was simple enough to find, packed into a large pouch with a brass flask of flaxseed oil and a simply forged yet remarkably keen bone-handled razor...Peluko's traveling shaving kit, no doubt. Even in such a humbled state, the boatman clearly placed great weight on his personal appearance.

The same aging cloak which kept the shaving kit in its vested pockets also hid three tindersticks, a small bottle of clear glass three-quarters filled with a bitter yellow powder, and a small coinpurse, though not for long. The pantry downstairs, not far from the front door and its coat hooks, seemed normal enough at a passing glance. But a very thin seam near the foot of the tin flour cask--a seam which would defy many a casual glance--did not escape Karnoz's notice. Clamping his feet around the foot of the cask and twisting the cask by the handles, the manhunter proved his suspicion right as the foot parted from the rest of the cask, laying bare the secret compartment within...and with it, an even heavier coinpurse. The flat rabbitskin purse, with its golden Rubles and a single malformed saltwater pearl, would not go unmolested.

Questioning the boatman again as he casually strode by, Karnoz made one parting pass through the shoddy townhouse, rapping at the oaken walls with the pommel of a choice dagger. Neither did this well-learned measure go unrewarded, for in the small bedroom where Peluko and his son kept their crude beds of wool, broadcloth and barley chaff, a wall proved hollow. A stout birchwood clothing chest was shoved aside, revealing a nook by which the deceptive panel could be pulled free. And within that second secret compartment lay further treasure yet.

Though a suitably smithed longsword rested in its scabbard over the bedroom door, Peluko had seen fit to sequester a studded cudgel inside the secret wall-space. Intrigued with the odd measure taken to hide such a common weapon, a closer look decided that the club was not entirely common; the rowanwood of the club had been meticulously shaved into a perfectly cylindrical and balanced make, and the seared rays along the skin of the wood hinted at the hot iron plates used to temper it. Four orderly columns of five studs climbed the brunt of the club, and each stud was joined to its opposite with a simple rod of metal poured into a hole bored through the club's body; no amount of prying or battering could part the studs from the wood without shattering the club itself...and, given the club's flawless, hardened wood, that destruction itself would be no small task. Furthermore, the studs themselves were seen to be silver, as Karnoz's eyes knew silver well.

In all, the club was quite valuable, both in its manufacture and in its purpose; even for those who travel by rivers and streams, the same moonlight which hides them from unwelcome watchmen and rival scoundrels leaves them exposed to a different variety of threat: werebeasts.

The club's companion in that hollow was valuable in a far different way. The rogue's hand tugged away the crude, thick veil of olive burlap to find a square portrait of oilpaint on canvas, two feet to a side. To Karnoz's approval, the portrait's maplewood frame, patterned handsomely with carved reliefs of evergreen needles and pinecones and crested with a rearing griffon, was entirely intact, as was the painting itself. With the find, another mystery quietly dispersed as Karnoz recognized the elegant portrait's subject: Peluko himself, dressed in the scarlet satin uniform and gilded insignia of the fallen tsar's royal messengers. In all the tsardom's centuries, countless heads had fallen under the executioner's axe for the treasonous crime of daring to impede the royal messengers in their duties. And this painting, regal despite its lowly surroundings, was quite likely the boatman's final remaining claim to the fringes of Karkova's ruling class.



"What more is there to tell?" Peluko sputtered. "After I escaped the capitol with little more than my son and the clothes on my back, I borrowed money to buy this pitiful townhouse and several rowboats, so that I could ply a trade as a ferryman. But business was poor in the wake of the capitol's sacking, and my benefactors grew impatient with waiting for the debt to be repaid. I grew increasingly desperate as the Guilds leaned on me with their warnings, and the refugees and wayfarers whom I took aboard at the Guilds' behests grew ever shadier...."

"Which Guilds?"

"The Goblin Robbins, the Winter Magpies and...a well-dressed gentleman by the name of Papa Pasha. With Tsarists being lynched in the streets at all hours, I dared not court any who hadn't their own reasons to avoid Imperial lackeys and mobs of enraged townsfolk. As a rounder and rum lifter yourself, you surely understand the need for confidence in your contacts."

Thieves Guilds, Karnoz surmised as Peluko continued his story. But weren't Papa Pasha's gang and the Winter Magpies enemies? Perhaps Peluko had been playing a game that was even more dangerous than he had long reckoned....

"So the two great Guilds had split into several smaller Guilds--including my benefactors--during the years of anarchy, they were...scrabbling to snatch up whatever they could take from the other Guilds and they had little patience for loan-sloths. But afore they could take my guts for garters, I met an adventuring sort named Arno Hennbauer, a young opportunist come to spirit Karkovan artifacts and works of art beneath the veil of chaos and out of Old Karkova. The coin from his first ferries into Karkova and out again was not enough to settle all of my debts, but it was enough to buy more time. In the years from then to now, he has oft come to me for my knowledge of the land and its waterways. And with his coin I have settled most of my debt, despite my benefactors' frivolously added interest and other extortions, along with the odd losses. I do mind the furtive snatchings of the pickpockets come into my company and my care, but I mind my dear Verenina's liberties...not so much.

"But my years with Arno have proven to be...a profitable partnership betwixt adventurer and guide, you might say...partners, though not quite friends. For tonight he departs Karkova forever with nary a heed to my jeopardy, and so I raised my usual price in light of both his problems and mine; with what he shall be paying my fellows and myself this night, I may soon be freed of my debts to the Guilds at long last."


Karnoz >

Karnoz was pleased with his discoveries, both for the coin it provided and also the discoveries would help perfect his disguise. Something that he would need if Peluko and Hennbauer had a history.

Time was getting on, but Karnoz still had some questions as he perfected his disguise.

"Have you ever seen Hennbauer with a bowl, a white crystal bowl cut from white beryl ?"

"What other business have you done with Hennbauer? How do you plan on moving down the river with a passenger and avoid being seen by the guards?"

"What are these symbols on your map and where is your boat located?"

Questions and disguise settled, Karnoz dressed in Peluko's own clothes, topped off with his cloak and club, and reviewed his handiwork between mirror and muse.

Starting at the soft sounds of his boy mewling upstairs, Peluko kept his restraint and answered the prodding questions with what dignity he could muster.

"White beryl? Nyet. I know not of any such bowl. But then, I have seen him with many bowls over the years...bowls, plates, cups and other table goods salvaged and plundered. Most of such were silver, gold, fine porcelain...items worthy of feeding the tsar himself, I dare say. He may have happened across your bowl in his travels, but I know not for certain of it."

"But that was entirely my role to him: a guide, a ferryman and an occasional relater of proud Karkova's history and lore. He once asked me where he would find the manor of Boyar Rexis Stolvorov. I brought him as near as Allo's Ferry, and he returned eight hours later with a chest of cut smoke quartz plates, silver dinner knives and spoons, a small watercolor portrait of the boyar and six obsidian bookends. I asked him no questions about his find, but it seemed that the peasants had not been very thorough in picking over the boyar's estate. He was even so generous as to double my fee and give to me four of the quartz plates, simply to thank me for waiting so long for him."

"As for the Watch and their keen-eyed Stali comrades, their interest in Arno is purely cautionary. They know of his reputation as a tomb raider and a finder of lost valuables, and they brand him with such unflattering titles as 'grave robber' and 'plunderer'. So they simply watch him to ensure that he leaves Trock Reik with nothing more than he entered, they will be greatly relieved when he does depart and I would not be at all surprised if they shoved him aboard my boat and kicked the boat from the dock themselves."

"As for the maps," Peluko sighed with an evident cringe, "the anchors are where I keep other boats lashed or hidden. The X's are places where I have been robbed, attacked or otherwise accosted, and are best avoided. The squares are abandoned shacks, sheds and hovels where I can stay out of the weather and sleep if I must; they may also serve as safe places to leave my passengers until I return for them. The circles are landmarks and secret places where I can arrange to meet my...more questionable passengers. And the small spirals mark secret doors, concealed passages and the like; crossed-out spirals have become ruined, compromised or dangerous. I once kept a dry, sealed underground flood chamber off the Nolniki River stocked with several bedrolls, dried food, tinderboxes and about 200 Noble, and it could only be reached by swimming underwater. But a band of sahuagin have since claimed it and made a nest of it. I was lucky to escape with nothing more than a shallow spear wound. And I dare not go back."

"And the Otter's Lament? I keep it beneath the foot of the bridge nearest the temple of Fharlanghn. It is not too difficult to find."



Karnoz set Mitri's shabby, smelly old cloak aside and clasped Peluko's inoffensive cloak in its place. Though he had enjoyed but little time with Peluko, he felt confident that he could fool Arno Hennbauer at least for just long enough to get him aboard the Otter's Lament and away from the shore. Beyond that, Karnoz would be pressed for time; the longer he remained in Hennbauer's company--and the longer he took to finish his job--the more likely Hennbauer would be to see through his disguise. And whatever Hennbauer's reputation with Trock Reik may have been, the City Watch would surely recoil at the sight of any assassination within the city's bounds....

The temple bells again began to peal across the skyline. Karnoz had about an hour to see himself to the Otter's Lament, cast off and row around the corner to the dock at the Bard and Fox. And lingering about Peluko's townhouse for much longer could jeopardize his dark quest, for Hennbauer would not wait for long, not when any shadow in Trock Reik could be veiling one of Yorgo's assassins....


Karnoz >

**If possible, take the canvas out of the frame without damaging the painting. If not, use a dagger and cut the picture out, preserving it as best as possible. That should save some weight.**

Karnoz smiled at the haul, not for the gold, but for something far, far more valuable...leverage.

"So, just how much do you owe the guilds Peluko?"

Karnoz rolled the painting up along with the maps. He had to get moving as he still had some final preperations to make before meeting Hennbauer. On the counter next to the flour cask he left the two empty purses along with five stacked gold Rubles. Karnoz had a plan for Peluko, so even though he was devistating his future with the guilds, he and his son would not starve outright. Besides, while mercy wasn't exactly in his nature, he wasn't being paid to kill Peluko or his brat and Peluko could still be of value.

"So Peluko," he said, coming back over to were the riverman sat. "I do hope that you have been truthful with me. If not, well... you know. But before I leave you, do you know what they call a flock of ravens?"

Before the man could answer, Peluko felt the edge of his own razor against his throat.

"A murder."

With a quick jerk of his wrist, Karnoz drew the razor back, but twisted it, so the the blunted edge turned to the soft flesh as the steel zipped across the boatman's jugular vein, leaving a reddened scratch but not a gushing wound.

"Understand me Peluko." he said, whispering very near the other man's ear. "You are alive because I own you now. You are a man who knows things, things I might like to know. I pay very well for information and I doubt the guilds are going to be very paitent with you. I am your only chance now."
"Or you can run. Take what I have left you and bolt...in the winter...with only the clothes on your back...with your son in tow. Maybe you'll get out... if the guilds don't catch you first,... or Tetrov's gang... or me."

"Or maybe this very interesting painting I found will turn up in the town square. You know, I once saw a Royal Messenger tied and dragged behind his own horse as the townsfolk whipped the horse through the streets. Nasty way to die that, but maybe they'll only take it out on you and not your boy."

"Be at the Jade Angel for lunch tomorrow. I will send someone with my demands to meet you."

Karnoz scooped up the loot, the key to Peluko's home and departed, pausing in the the doorway for one last parting comment.

"I so hope you didn't lie to me. I would be...disappointed."

Leave the quills, sword, empty purses, 5 gold and frame for the picture. Take everything else and beat feet back to my appartment. (Watch for the patrols!) Once inside, leave the loot hidden under the bed except the club, razor, twigs, cloak, hook and sulpher. (Hennbauer may expect to see them) Prep my pin ring with the centepede poison and one dagger with the adder venom. Check the map one last time to review the path Hennbauer and Peluko was going to take and make note of any quiet and dark spots that may be used to have an ...accident ,unobserved at.
Take the dark blue blankets off the bed and head for the Otter's Lament to meet Hennbauer. Stay out of sight of course.

With a few pulled pins, the picture's backing fell out of the frame, and the picture came with it. Though the frame was of royal design and could fetch a fair purse of coins in itself, portability was essential. With the painted side of the canvas rolled inward and a thick layer of maps rolled around the canvas in turn, Karnoz's prize would not be ruined so easily.

Reluctantly did Peluko reveal his debts; though his debt to the Goblin Robbins had since been settled, he yet owed 40 Rubles to the Winter Magpies and 15 Rubles to Papa Pasha's Purse Poppers. Though the debts seemed but mere pittances to Karnoz and others prosperous enough to truck in gold as a matter of course, for a broken and lowly boatman who could expect naught more than coppers and silvers from ferrying commoners, scoundrels and destitute urchins around the Karkovan countryside, 55 Rubles could be a sizeable debt indeed.

Beyond that point, Peluko sagely held his tongue as his visitor issued his proposal and delivered his threats. Most of the year which had followed the Fall of Karkova drowned in the fury of a vengeful lower class, enraged with over a century of oppression and maltreatment at the hand of the ruling class, enraged further that their tsar had provoked a war with the Eternal Empire and enraged further still that the tsar and the aristocracy had failed the people and their motherland in defending Karkova from the invading forces. But the widespread poverty and anarchy which followed the Fall of Karkova soon left many a weary soul yearning for the days of the tsardom. However, many among the commonfolk still harbored rancor for Tsar Orsek and his supporters over Karkova's ruin, and the threat of exposure--though diminished in recent years--remained a valid threat all the same.

Peluko grimaced deeply until Karnoz made his exit and crept away into the night. Though the boatman would eventually work his way free of his bonds, by then would his attacker be well on his way.

And Arno Hennbauer would be in mortal danger.



(Karnoz has spent his one vial of black adder venom in poisoning the dagger. Half a vial of centipede venom remains, enough to poison the ring once more at a later time.)

The silver-studded cudgel swung lazily from Karnoz's belt as he hurried from his boarding room, keeping to the shadows as he wound his way to the bridge. To his delight, the map in his hands noted a small inlet off the river about a mile south from Trock Reik. A map symbol denoted this inlet as a place for clandestine meetings, and likely would this inlet be dark and concealed enough to serve for other clandestine tasks as well.

Karnoz pressed against the masonry of the bridge as he turned from the road and found his way below to the river bank. Cakes of ice again cropped from the shore, reaching for the river's heart as the nightly temperature continued its descent. True to Peluko's word, the Otter's Lament, resting on its side and leaned against a stone bridge support at the water's edge, was not difficult to find. With a forceful shove from his shoulder, Karnoz laid the boat upright and half out of the icy water.

Only when he had tossed his blue blankets into the boat's bosom did he find something which Peluko had neglected to mention: a loop of steel chain, passing through the eye on the prow and around the bridge support. The chain was lightly streaked with rust and joined together with a brass padlock, and both appeared to be sturdy and serviceable.

Karnoz would surely make mention of the omission--in no gentle terms--when he next met Peluko. But for the moment, he had a job to do and a boat to liberate in order to do it. The padlock was simple and rudimentary, formidable enough to keep any wandering peasants and pickpockets from making off with his boat. Limited as his means were, Peluko probably could not afford a better lock than that, and perhaps Karnoz was skilled enough as a lockpicker to fetch his masterwork thieves tools and make short work of it.

On the other hand, Karnoz had found no key small enough to fit the padlock in Peluko's townhouse. He looked down to a smattering of bottles scattered among the river-tossed rocks under the bridge, some bottles blown from colored glass, other bottles shaped from river clay and fired, and most of them stinking with the odors of old alcohol. Perhaps Peluko had hidden the boat's key here, inside one of the bottles or underneath one of the rocks.

But Karnoz was pressed for time. The sooner he liberated the boat--whether by hook or by crook--the better.


Karnoz >

Karnoz nearly snarled at the padlock when he saw it. He would have to mention this delay to Peluko when next they met, if the boatman was lucky, he might not lose any body parts ofer this. He had better hope that tonight's dark events went well in Karnoz' favor, lest he be the unfortunate recipiant of the assasin's ire.

With a practiced step, Karnoz kicked his heel agains one of the river rocks, neatly dislodging the heel and letting Karnoz access to the hidden pockets within where his lockpicks lay. they were probably the most eligant things he owned really; masterfully crafted and beautiful. The were like musical instruments in the hands of a renown bard...except he was no bard, and the only musical notes these intruments played was a metalic 'click'.

Setting pick to lock, Karnoz made to play a tune.

For the better part of a minute, Karnoz's silent tune met only with frustration as the thick, tarnished lock refused to yield. And then the last tumbler was nudged into its proper place. The shackle parted from the body with a slight metallic whisper, and Karnoz, disgruntled as he was, bitterly flung the padlock and its chain against the foot of the bridge. At this crucial hour, lost seconds could indeed cost him gravely.

Checking the lay of his mulehair wig one last time, Karnoz set foot in the dinghy and kicked free from the bank. With a well-balanced stoop, he claimed the long oar from the boat's belly, drawing it forth from beneath the seats and dipping its broad oaken blade vigorously into the lapping waves, spurring his stolen, humble watercraft across one river and along the other. The heavy iron mushroom anchor and its twenty feet of thin, durable cord rocked noisily across the floorboards in time with the river's shifting and flowing. Hennbauer would not be kept waiting over long.

By the time he drew near the Bard and Fox, Arno Hennbauer had already stacked two sturdy boxes and as many sacks at the dock's edge, aided by his fair Northern maid and the dark warrior from the distant, scorching sands. Nowhere among the goods did Karnoz spot the crystal bowl, but hope for finding it in box or in sack remained.



The lantern light which rippled amply from the windows of the tavern washed over the dock and the approaching dinghy, along with the people who stood or tread with them. Narrowing his eyes against the bright, wavering light, Karnoz met his quarry's turning gaze from a stone's toss across the waters.

"Peluko!" Arno Hennbauer coarsely addressed him in a hushed tone, glancing furtively back to the lone, frost-eyed Watchman lurking at the snowy stoop aside the door. "Where have you been? I expected you to be here waiting for me. Come! Moor your boat and help me with these boxes."

Thus far, Karnoz's masquerade remained unpierced, and his mission had not been too grievously jeopardized by his earlier delay. But the time had come to see if his words could mimic the boatman with all the capability of his countenance.


Karnoz >

The hall is rented, the orchestra engaged, now is the time to see if you can dance... Karnoz thought to himself. It was time to see if all his well-laid out plans would lead to success or his remains floating down the river....

His eyes narrowed at the sight of three people and a pile of junk on the riverbed.

"Arno," he whispered in Peluko's voice, letting both whisper and distance add to his disguise in the dark. "The watch patrols are up because of that Konegheim envoy. Something must have happened. What is all this?" he said, motioning to the pile of supplies. “When I said midnight with everything you would bring, I did not expect you to bring everything you still own!” He added a touch of fear in his whisper. “Send it round with your man and be done with it!”

Karnoz was very wary of the situation. Not only of his play and the roles they were all playing in it, but also of Hennbauer’s agents. It was still possible that Hennbauer might just have decided to ‘terminate’ more than Peluko’s business dealings with him, but Karnoz doubted that it would happen now. Not with the Stali still being so near.

**Dock and let them load the boat. I fully expect Hennbauer to push to keep all his stuff, which will help because the boat will only be for two people and the supplies and distract him from me. (as well as the arrangement made) Hopefully, my tardiness and the potential risk of patrols on the lookout will add to Hennbauer’s desperation and I can get him to hurry and cast off with me. I will resist allowing another person coming along if suggested. The boat not being big enough, too much weight on an icy river, and most of all, not being paid for another passenger. Hennbauer will be in the front, I will be in the aft and the gear between us. That should help if anything untoward happens and also help hide my features from him. (every little bit helps)**