From alt.pub.dragons-inn Fri Feb  4 09:59:56 1994
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From: reaux@csgrad.cs.vt.edu (Ray A Reaux)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [FACELESS MAN] Chapter 3--Raven's Loft
Date: 3 Feb 1994 23:06:46 GMT
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Copywrited by Ray Reaux, just in case.

[ What has gone before:
[	Modrake has left his mountain solitude, to which he had retreated ]
[	from the violent world to meditate, because his sleep and         ]
[	meditation was disturbed by visions of violence and the Faceless  ]
[	Man.  He journeys to Cordero, where he is beset by three guards   ]
[	as he enters the city.  He kills the one who led the attack, only ]
[	to discover that it is a shape-shifting grey spawn, a creature    ]
[	of a race that was long thought destroyed.  Shaken, he goes to    ]
[	the Giggling Medusa, a tavern owned 25 years ago by his friend    ]
[	Kellog, only to find that Alwine and Karrel had inherited the     ]
[	tavern.  As he is eating, gangers, members of the thieves guild   ]
[	walk in and threaten Karrel and Alwine for extortion money.       ]
{	Modrake intervenes, and with Brac, a mercenary customer, send the ]
[	gangers packing.  Late that night, gangers set fire to the tavern ]
[	and murder Karrel.  Modrake kills Karrel's assasin, and he and    ]
[	Brac rescue Alwine.  They seek refuge with Widow Josen, a friend  ]
[ 	of Alwine.							  ]

Chapter Three:  Raven's Loft


	I wished Hanson, Widow Josen's son, would shut up.  While he was a
likeable man, he rambled, and less than an hour after I had met him, I
knew every chapter of his life's story.  Hanson was a barrel roller.  An
unusually large man, years of lifting barrels of ale, wine, and oil had
made his naturally stocky body bulge with coils of muscle. He had the huge
bulging shoulders common to men who did a lot of lifting.  He made a
living with his cart and aging nag delivering barrels and boxes to
various taverns and shops which contracted with him.  Unfortunately, he had 
few remaining clients since the year before, he had missed three months of 
work.  Fed up with the entire business, he had taken down his father's
sword, saddled his horse, and ridden off to seek his fortune as a
mercenary, as his father had once done.  While he was gone, his clients
found more reliable barrel rollers.

	Hanson had joined a small company, but quickly found that the 
mercenary's life was not as glorious as he had thought it would be.  The
mercenary company was small and poorly led, with barely enough contracts
to keep its men fed, and the contracts that came in always went to veterans. 
He had to rely on his savings to feed himself,until eventually even that 
had run out, helped along by too many tips of the wine pot and the roll
of the dice.  In less than a month, he was sitting idle around a
campfire, shivering and watching other mercenaries, who still had grub
stake from their last contract, eat while he went hungry. The company
eventually got a contract large enough to employ all of the
mercenaries, but his first up-close encounter with a siege had been his
last.  The stench and the smell, the buzzing of huge flies and tearing 
of wild dogs at dead carcasses on the battlefield had made him turn his
nag towards home.  He was lucky that the mercenary company he deserted
was too preoccupied with their looting and raping to pursue him,
although hearing him talk, I got the impression that he felt slighted
that they didn't think him important enough to pursue and haul him back
for hanging, the common penalty for desertion and contract breaking.

	"So there I was holding the barrel, while Hosek tried to pull the 
old man out from under it.  I can tell you, I was pushing like a..." A 
knock sounded at the door, and widow Josen's raspy voice came through the
thick door.   Brac,who had long since wearied of Hanson's story and was
dozing near the hearth,jerked awake, his sword rasping as he drew it
from its sheath.  Alwine dropped the clothes she was washing back into
the tub, and wiping her wet hands on her apron,looked at me for
instructions.   

	"Best to be safe." I said and beckoned to Alwine and Brac to go 
into the small kitchen.  I followed and took up position just inside the
kitchen,where shadows would obscure my presence, but from which position
I could still see the door. "Brac," I whispered to the young warrior. 
"Guard the back door, just in case." 

	"Just a minute," Hanson bellowed towards the door, waiting until we 
were all crowded into the kitchen.  Seeing that we were concealed, Haron
slid the spy latch aside and peered out. 

	"Well are you going to stand there like the young pup you are, or are 
you going to let me into my own house?"  Hanson slid the latch bolt aside
and opened the door.  His mother, a wicker shopping basket hanging off
of each arm,pushed him aside and walked into the room.  Behind her, a
tall rangy man, his arms also filled with bulky wrapped packages,
stooped as he entered the room.  

	"Sorry mother, we're just being careful." Hanson apologized quickly.  
He slapped a huge hand on the man's back and pushed him into the room.   
"Eli, About time you got here."  As soon as Eli had cleared the doorway, he
peered outside to see if anyone else was out there, then slammed the
door and once again slid the iron latch shut.    

	"This here is Eli, my youngest son."  Widow Josen said as way of 
introduction as she deposited her baskets on the table.  "He ain't much at
listening, but mostly he's a good boy."  Eli gave a pleasant noncommital 
nod to Brac and me, but he gave a warm smile and a hug to Alwine.  As
Alwine hugged him back. Brac scowled and looked the other way.  When he
turned his face back to us, he had a bland, empty smile.

	Like Hanson, Eli was a tall man with huge shoulders who stood half 
a hand taller than I.  But whereas Hanson was muscular, Eli was stringy,
and his lean body under his broad shoulders made me think of a
scarecrow.  Younger than his brother, Eli was also handsomer.  His
clothing was more expensive than Hanson's plain, work-stained functional
tunic and pants.  Only his left hands were calloused, and the ridges of
thick skin indicated that he frequently drilled with a sword.  I did not
know what Eli did for a living, but he was not a common craftsman 
or laborer like his brother.  Eli had the look of a ganger, which
worried me.  Where did his loyalties lie.  

	"Alwine, Mother told me what happened, and I'm sorry."  Eli said 
to Alwine.  "I want you to know, we are here to help you, any way we can." 

	"Thank you," Alwine said, "You and Hanson and your mother have 
always been so good to me.  I can't thank you all enough." She gave him 
a brave smile which elicited another quick squeeze from Eli.  

	"No thanks needed, child."  the widow said.  "You know you are  
family to us, and you'll always have a place under our roof."   

	"So what's the news?" I asked the widow.  

	The widow took off her shawl, deliberately folded it, and placed 
it beside her shopping baskets before she gave me a wry look and said 
without rancor, "Well, yes I had a good shopping trip, thank you."  She 
took her purse, which hung from a string around her neck, from under her 
dress and emptied its contents on the table.  A handful of copper slivers, 
two silver gryphons, and a gold crown fell onto the table.  "Here's the
change.  I think I got you mostly good deals,except with bootmaker Gil.  
He knew I was in a hurry so he held firm on his high prices,the skin flint."  She sat down in a chair and drank deeply from the wooden mug of water 
Alwine placed in front of her.  Finished drinking, she closed her eyes 
and sighed with satisfaction.  "It's good to be home."

	"Keep the coins, goodwomen. It is small token of our gratitude to 
you for sheltering us.   Now what did you find out?"   The widow opened 
her eyes and looked at the tub of clothes Alwine had been washing.  "You
needn't have done that child.  My washing day isn't till two days from
now."  I kept my temper in check by repeating the crane's stance mantra.  
It was difficult since the widow's nonchalant avoidance of my question made
my meditative image of the placid pool around the standing crane ripple
with impatience.

	"I wanted to work.  Today would have been my wash day, and washing 
keeps me busy."  Brac slipped a comforting hand on her arm.  Irritation
flared ran through my mind, and although I said nothing, I realized I
would have to speak with Brac later.  I caught my thoughts and examined
them.  Was I jealous?  No, I decided. It was more a feeling of filial
responsibility.  Alwine was Kelog's daughter, and her parents had been
my friends.

	"Before you get to asking again," the widow said, "I ain't heard 
much. I went to the Copper Kettle and listened to the customer.  Everyone 
is talking about the fire, but nobody's saying much.  Every one's too
scared.  I did enjoy the mulberry wine though, thank you.   I haven't
had an occaision to go out eating at a tavern for quite some years." 
Hanson looked guilty and fiddled with a package on the table, while Eli
pretended as if he hadn't heard.  "I got some information from Coryen
the butcher. "

	"Coryen is sweet on Ma," Eli interrupted with a chuckle.  "He's 
been trying to convince Ma to marry him for three years now.  Sometimes, 
he comes to visit carrying flowers like he was some buck courting a maiden." 
He was rewarded with a scathing look from his  mother.  

	"As I was saying," the widow said with some discomfiture over our 
collective mirth, "Coryen has a son who is a guardsman, and the walkers
think it was a ganger job." 

	"A ganger job, that means Spider?" Brac asked, looking up from the 
leather jerkin he had unwrapped.  He and Alwine had sat down at the
table and were going through the packages. "They think Spider did it?   
We knew that. Are they going to do any thing about it?"

	"Thinking and proving are two different turnips.  The walkers 
aren't very good at either most of the time, and this time ain't going 
to be no different.  Coryen told me his son said that the walkers are 
going to call this one an accident.  That Karrel had gotten careless 
and left a lantern burning where its shouldn't have been or something."

	"That's a lie!" shouted Alwine, rising from her chair.  "Karrel 
wasn't careless, I checked the lanterns myself after he did."  

	"We know, lass.  We were there."  Brac said soothingly.  "But 
as we told you, we can't expect nothing from the walkers.  It's our fight." 
He pulled her gently back to her seat, and slipped an arm around her to
giver her a shoulder to cry on.  As Alwine sobbed, he glared over her
head at Eli with a wordless challenge.  I was pleasantly surprised.  
Brac's behavior was most uncharacteristic of a mercenary.

	"That really doesn't make much sense," I said.  I hadn't realized 
that I had spoken aloud until I saw their quizzical expressions.   I 
explained why I was puzzled.  "Extortionists, for all their threats, 
rarely go as far as to destroy the people they extort, since dead man 
can't pay coinage.  Their normal pattern of action would have been to 
send stronger muscle, and if that didn't work, exact a small payment from
Karrel for his intransigence, like beating up his customers to
discourage business.   
Something else is going on here."  

	"Alwine, did you or your brother have any enemies?" Brac asked 
Alwine.  She had regained her composure and disengaged herself from his
reluctant arms.  She now sat with a straighter back, and a more 
determined, hard expression which saddened me.  She had learned to 
hate and fear.  

	"No, my brother had no quarrels with anybody.  Nor did I, at least 
not with anyone of any consequence.  We just ran the business we inherited
from our parents."

	"They didn't have any enemies in the district." Hanson said. 
"I talk to lots of shop and tavern keepers.   We have some cutthroat
businessmen here, but no one that would resort to murder and arson.  
Besides, since their customers were small, the other tavern owners thought 
they were tolerable competition."  

	"Karrel wasn't all that popular, but no one hated him enough to 
kill him."  Eli said.  "Everyone likes Alwine."   He patted Alwine's arm
reassuringly. "People in Sandler's Way knew what would happen to them if 
they tried to hurt her. Hanson and I would tear them apart.  Besides, 
the gangers wouldn't tolerate having anyone other than themselves commit 
arson against one of their clients.  It's bad for business."  

	"The talk on the street is that the gangers were pissed off with 
Karrel, but no one talked about murder," said Eli. "So it wasn't no rank 
and file ganger grunt that performed the murder and arson.  It was higher 
up in the inner circle or an independent."

	"Which brings us back to Spider."  I mused, but my thoughts did not 
have enough information to unravel the knot of confusion.   "Alwine, did
Karrel ever have any other time that he didn't pay the protection money?"

	"But that's not right."  Alwine said, "Karrel paid the money.  He 
always paid.  Besides, I asked him about that after we had the fight with 
the gangers yesterday.  He told me he didn't know what was going on, 
and that he had paid in full"

	"Maybe he lost the money in a game and didn't want to admit it to 
you?  Could he have done that?" asked Brac.

	"My brother didn't gamble.  He didn't have the nerve for it.  
He was scared of the gangers and always paid.  Even when we almost had to 
sell out to Taonic, a year ago, he paid.  We never had any trouble with
the gangers before."

	The whispering disquiet that I had been hearing in my mind's 
background was escalating into a roar.  Perhaps the Giggling Medusa was 
not the target of the gangers?  "Was anyone else killed in the fire?" I 
asked Eli since he seemed to know a lot about the gangers.  I wondered
if perhaps he was a downer.  A downer was a slang term used by gangers
and thieves to describe themselves.  Eli didn't have the stamp of most
gangers, but he might be a rogue downer, an independent who ran alone. 

	"The walkers found two bodies in the rubble.  They assume they were 
Karrel and a guest."

	The two bodies had to have been the Karrel and the assassin I had 
killed.  The other assassin who had attacked me upstairs must have made
it out alive.  What puzzled me was the fact that the assassins had
targeted Karrel and me, but not Brac.  If it was an object lesson for
the people being extorted, why had they attacked me, and if was a matter 
of revenge for their lost face, why had they not also attacked Brac?  
Did the gangers have something to do with the Faceless Man, I wondered. 
As far-fetched as this possibility might be, I had to explore it.  

	Master Tzen had said in his Thousand Words on Strategy, "To win, 
a warrior must know the Way, and to know the Way, a warrior must know his 
enemy, and to know his enemy, a warrior must enter his mind."   I came 
to a decision.  I needed to enter Spider's mind, but more importantly, 
I needed to know if Spider was even my enemy.  "Brac, I want you to take 
Alwine outside the city and wait for me.  If I don't join you by tomorrow 
noon, leave Cordero and go to Kasannen. "I paused as my memory dredged up 
a fact half remembered from one of many late night conversations I had 
with Kellog over tankards of ale.  "Alwine, didn't your father have 
relatives in  Kasannen."  

	"Father didn't talk much about his kin, He didn't have much liking 
for his family, although he never did tell us why.  But he did tell me that
if I ever needed help, I should go to uncle Potermo, and that uncle Potermo 
has a carpet shop in Kasannen, but I've never met him."  

	"If all the gates are being watched, how are we going to get out 
without being seen?" Brac asked.   

	"Leave that to me,"  Hanson said.  He shifted his bulk, and the 
chair creaked in protest.  "I have a few customers outside the city so the
gate guards are used to my deliveries.  About once a week, I pick up 
pickles and haegen seed oil from some of the farmers and deliver ale and 
wine to the Red Gilded Slippers tavern.  It should be no problem for me to 
fix a barrel to smuggle you both out." Hanson suddenly stopped talking 
when he saw the blistering look of disapproval that his mother gave her 
sons. Too late, to heed the warning cough his brother had given him, he
realized that he had given away their secret business venture. Hanson did
not meet his mother's glare but sheepishly looked the other way, while
Eli just smiled and gave his mother a wink.  The widow looked like she
would explode, but remembering that non family members were present, she 
checked her temper and spared Haron and Eli a tongue lashing, at least 
for now. Hanson obviously had some practice at smuggling, and  I wondered 
if he already had several barrels prepared for transporting illicit or 
highly-taxed merchandise.  There was significant money to be made by
smuggling.  However, the city government jealously guarded the revenue 
it gained from taxing the transportation and sale of goods and punished
smuggling by amputating a hand and confiscating the offender's property.   

 	"But what about you," Brac asked me.  "What are you going to do?"  

	"I'm going to take care of some personal business that can't wait, 
and then I'll join you tomorrow morning. Haren, will it be save for us to 
meet at the Red Gilded Slippers tavern, or do you know of any better
place to meet?   Can you also arrange for horses? This should be enough
to pay for it."  I gave Hanson a small ruby. 

	"The tavern should be safe, as long as you stay out of sight.  The 
owner is an old friend, and  I'll have him get you some horses." 

	"Good," I said and turned to Eli.  "Eli, I need your help.  You and 
I are going out on the town tonight."

	***********************************************************

 
Next:  Conclusion of Chapter 3: Raven's Loft