Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith)
Subject: Re: [NTY] Life at the Court, Part III.
Message-ID: <1993Jul12.212306.10736@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>
References: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> <1993Jul7.103155.22208@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>
Date: Mon, 12 Jul 93 21:23:06 GMT

  Rameshander food is good, if a bit exotic for someone used to lembas toast
and swanberry jam, and Palandun found himself taking thirds on the roast
pig with spice sauce.  He also found himself telling more old war stories than
he'd care to to the Shaheran, who seemed genuinely interested in them.
  "...The DIC wanted a person to strike at their left flank, so my plat tumbled
into our carts and-"
  "Tell me again about these carts." The Shaheran said.
  "Big wooden things." Palandun made cryptic signs with his arms, trying to
describe their relative dimensions, "that have integral floating and propulsion
spells.  Normally they carry four people and their gear.  About the speed of
a horse, but they don't get tired.  I've gone over this already, Shaheran.
Anyway, we tumbled into the carts and made this wide sweep off to our right
until we got off to their left and a little behind them, then came charging in,
yelling and shooting and throwin' fireballs."
  "Your mages threw fireballs."
  "Yeah, ever'body did, 'cept Yonnis, Dian, and me, of course."
  "Why not you three?"
  Palandun rolled his eyes, he did not like discussing this, but he had
set himself up, he sighed, then: "Because I can't do magic.  The biologists 
back home say it's inherited like blue eyes and dark hair.  About one fifth
of the people can't cast spells in Bismania, I don't know about here."
  "And they sent one of these...lesser people to be ambassador?"
  "No, I just happened to be going and thought it would look neat on my
resume.  None of the other candidates won because they wouldn't be in the
area."
  "Hmmm.  Do go on with your story."
  "Thank you.  Feel like I'm bein' grilled here.  Where was I?  Oh yeah..."

  After dinner, as promised, Palandun met with the master of spies.  The
encounter didn't profit him very much, but he did learn:

1) The Master of spies was fond of tea.
2) The Shaheran is doing all he can to help.
3) Gunther may be linked to some organization called the Amber Crescent, 
Though the master of spies did not know where *they* were or how they might
be contacted.
4) Certainly the master of spies is doing a good job, best in all Rameshan,
here, have some more tea.

Palandun left wondering how the master of spies found his elbows in the 
morning, and fairly convinced that the Shaheran woudn't live to reach maturity.

The next morning, he decided to attack things from the only piece of information
he was relatively sure of: the ship Gunther came in on.  After a lenghty
questioning session Palandun managed to establish the identity of the last
passenger to board the ship as they left generica, a carpet merchant who's
name has been forgotten.  "Well, where did he go?" Palandun asked.
  "Dunno."
  "Do you know which direction he left the ship in?"
  "That way, down the dock."
  "Argh.  Did he leave a forwarding adress?"
  "Nope."  Eventually Palandun gave up and went to the customs officer.  This
was slightly more profitable, yelding up (after a records search) the man's
name, an inventory of his stuff, and a contact location: the central market.
  A search of the central market didn't show anybody who looked remotely like
Gunther, and asking at the various people who rented the land said that nobody
by gunther's real name or pseudonym had been there today, yesterday, or the     
whole month.
  The Carpet Weavers and Sellers guild (local 12) did not know of anybody
who fit that name and description, and wouldn't it be kind of odd to carry
your carpets around in a chest?  I mean, rolling them up and carrying them
over your shoulder is so much easier...

  All of which left Palandun pretty dry.  He went back to the docks to ask the
dockstrutter, but she just laughed, saying "He's him." over and over, then
doubling over with mirth.
  Palandun still didn't find it funny.

  Acting on a hunch, Palandun tried the thieves guild (local 142).  When he
mentioned "Slave trader." his informant blanched and said no, he hadn't seen
anyone of that description, thank you for coming and please go away.

  Deciding that he didn't have much to lose, Palandun resolved to visit
the Amber Crescent in the morning.