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From: SMS27538@vax1.utulsa.edu
Subject: Repost: Quest for Fire
Message-ID: <931124094454.21605f05@vax1.utulsa.edu>
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[ADMIN] This is the work of Alfvean and myself. He posted it before, but I never
saw it. I am reposting it to make up for that. BTW the subject header was his 
idea, not mine :-).


Fire glanced at the door to Moriarty Investigations, and began to consider 
the wisdom of her quest.  "Do I really want to blow my money on this?" she
thought.  "What am I going to gain from knowing who my parents are?  If they
loved me, they wouldn't have left me on the streets of Generica.  I'm probably
just the result of an unwanted pregnancy.  My parents are probably jerks and
cheapskates. This is a stupid idea." She pondered for a moment, until
something struck her.  "If I don't at least give it a shot, I'll be
wondering for the rest of my life.  Hell, you only live once.  The worst that
can happen is I find out that my real parents are scum, and that I can forget
about them."  With that she opened the door and walked confidently into the
building that housed Moriarty Investigations. 

Walking up a flight of stairs, she found herself at another door.  As she
raised her hand to knock, she heard a gruff voice say, "It's open."

Moriarty looked up from his desk as she entered.  She was about 5'2", with
striking flame-red hair.  She moved with a fluid grace, and Moriarty's
eyebrows rose.  Nice to have something scenic in the office, he thought.
That hasn't happened since last time Delmara came by.  He smiled and said,
"Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Are you Moriarty?" she asked.

"I am indeed, and you?"

"Call me Fire," she said.

Appropriate enough name, he thought.  "And what can I do for you?"

Fire hesitated.  "It's a long story."

It always is, Moriarty thought.  "Go ahead."  As of now, you're paying for
my time.  "Have a seat."

She sat down in the proffered chair and cleared her throat.  "I got the name
Fire as a child, growing up on the streets of Generica.  I don't remember my
parents, and I have no idea what happened to them.  About ten years ago, I
left Generica, with a merchant, and now that I'm back, I'm curious about my
background.  I was told you might be able to help."

"Sounds straightforward enough," Moriarty replied.  "I'll need whatever
information you can provide, of course..."

Fire hesitated a moent before answering.  "The earliest I can remember, I
was in the orphanage I was raised in--Ilmater's Hostel, it was called--and
I recall asking about my parents and getting no answers. One of the nuns
there, sister Ristania, hesitated once, before telling me she didn't know.
I could tell she was lying even at the age of six. After I left the orphanage
for the streets, I didn't keep track of her. She would be the best person to
ask, though."

Moriarty gave her an assessing look.  She didn't look too well off, but not
starving either.  She had a job prospect.  "It sounds doable, though it may
start pretty slow, and the answer may not be what you want or expect.  And
it'll be 50 gold a day--though I have a few other cases, and won't be able
to devote all my time to it.  I'll want to get at least a week of that in
advance, too."

That's almost a bit steep, Fire thought.  Oh, well--she had a job, so
hopefully she could afford it.  And if not, she could always disappear.
She checked through her bag until she found her money-pouch.  A quick count
provided 52 platinum pieces and a few gold and silver.  Wouldn't leave her
a whole lot, but she didn't have much choice if she wanted him to get
started right away.  What the hurry was, after all these years, she didn't
know, but she still wanted to find out.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone.  I've been hired as a tracker to
help hunt down a wizard who has been creating mud creatures, so I won't be
around. But I can give you enough for a few weeks in advance," she said.

Then she noticed a strange package in the bottom of her bag.  It was
wrapped in onion-skin paper, like Kazia always used.
On it was written a short message in Etarus'ian, and when she unwrapped it,
she found a beautiful skein of silk.

"I don't have a lot of cash, but...will this do?" she showed the silk to
Moriarty.  He inspected it, making a show of it, although he really didn't
know how much silk was worth.  He only bought scraps large enough for his
spells.  Finally he said, "I'll take that in lieu of 50 gold."

"50!"  Fire slipped into her best bartering mode.  "Why, I doubt anyone in
this town would pay less than 200 for that silk!  It's the finest you'll
see outside of Etarus'ia--they don't even let foreigners see any better
than that!"

"Hey, the silk market is down," Moriarty replied, warming to the match
himself.  "I don't think I could get more than 60 for it."

"Hey, I've still got to outfit myself for this job, you know.  60 gold
isn't that much, for the stuff I have to buy."  She'd bought most of it
already, but no reason to let him know that.

They finally, after much exaggeration and downright lying, settled on 100
gold.  Fire counted out the remaining 30 platinum pieces and they shook
hands on the deal.  "I probably won't have time to get started on this
myself, but I do have some capable assistants.  If you'd like, I'll
introduce you to the one who will be handling your case."  Without waiting
for a reply, Moriarty picked up a shell on his desk and said into it, "Q,
can you come up here?  I want you to meet our newest client."

A few seconds later, an artfully concealed door in the wall opened up and a
large black man covered with blue-inked tattoos emerged.  "You wanted me?"

"Yeah.  Queriche, this is Fire.  Fire, this is Queriche--call him Q for
short.  Fire's looking for her parents.  I'll fill you in on the details
later."  To Fire, he said, "Q lived in Low City for a few years, and he's
pretty well respected there.  He should be able to get a few leads."

"Pleased to meet you," Fire said to Queriche.  Then she turned to Moriarty.
"If that's all..."

"Go ahead," Moriarty said.  "I'll bring Q up to speed, and whenever you get
back from this quest thingy, get in touch with me.  Or I'll leave a message
at the Dragon's Inn if I find something major before then."
_________Marc Seebass SMs27538@vax1.utulsa.edu seebam@euler.mcs.utulsa.edu
"In my village, the men were so big that their upper lips touched the clouds,
and their lower lips plowed the fields."
"Where were thier bodies?"
"They were like you... ...all mouth."
-----Bridge of Birds.