"Thievery, Turmoil, and Change, Part 2"

Log Date:
	6/3/99

Log Cast:
	Faanshi, Fern, Maat, Thomas, Lucien, Pasithas, StormBearer, Numa,
Caius, Thenomain, Niamh, Mari, Sevilen, Amar, Larissa

Log Intro:
	(Continued from "Thievery, Turmoil, and Change, Part 1".)
	Being an inadvertant witness to the aftermath of a robbery attempt
in the Rialto has brought a few unexpected surprises to Faanshi. For one
thing, she's recognized the thief as a young woman who's given her bread
before; for another, none other than Thomas Murako has stood in to try
to mediate the matter, while the robbed Empyrean nobleman and the Hounds
all converge on the hapless thief Fern. The biggest surprise, however, has
proven to come at the hand of the Sylvan Herald StormBearer, who has
revealed to Faanshi that he carries a letter from Kiera Khalida to be read
to her and Thomas, regarding whether Faanshi may accompany the Mongrel 
leader to Avalon.
	Now, though, as the turmoil over the robbery dies down in the
Rialto, Faanshi isn't aware that she's in for another surprise at the hand
of the Shakir of Clan al'Samar, the formidable Nefer Maat...

----------
That Thomas Murako seems to remain the center of attention does not much 
  surprise the shudra girl; as far as Faanshi is concerned, he is the Mongrel 
  answer to a Warlord, so should not attention be his? Prepared to linger 
  behind those who still ring the man, doing nothing to try to attract notice 
  herself save perhaps by her mere presence, the girl starts a bit when she 
  marks StormBearer's gesture in her direction. That cajoles her forward, and 
  she speaks up softly, "Please, imphadi... did you find Imphada Kiera...?"

Standing with arms crossed, Fern watches people swirl about. Though she had 
  just been the center of attention in this interminable event, she normally 
  does little to draw eyes to herself, and so she simply stands quietly. Her 
  position is near Thomas' horse, and while unspeaking, it is clear she awaits 
  this 'Leader among Mongrels' as well.

Maat snaps her fingers at the sight of Faanshi, as if remembering something. 
  With a step that favors one leg, she strides across the Rialto toward the 
  halfbreed shudra. As will all interested parties, this would take her closer 
  to Thomas, just like a black hole.

Kiera? Faanshi approaches both Thomas and Stormbearer and almost instantly, a 
  look of recognition crosses his features. He makes the connection. 
  "Faanshi." the Mongrel intones with a smile, "How nice to see you. This must 
  be the Herald that you had go speak with Impada Kiera?" A pause as he looks 
  to the man with the crow, the smile persisting as he answers, "Certainly. 
  Let us go tend to this business." It is about this time that one of the 
  Mongrel men near the horses wanders up and mutters something to his 
  'leader'. These words and the point of a finger draw Murako's attention to 
  the spot where Numa stands. Turning quickly back to the two who stand before 
  him, he clears his throat, "Would you allow me one moment? It appears as if 
  someone needs to have a word with me." Really not waiting to see if they 
  will acknowledge his need, he turns and crosses towards both Fern and the 
  Varati woman, Numa. "Numa!" The man seems surprised and pleased to see her, 
  "I didn't expect to see you here." The Mongrel girl, the accused 'thief' 
  gets a glance as well, and a nod, "Hello there, miss." Its more somber 
  though for certain.

Lucien travels east to the intersection of Main and Vicina.
Lucien has left.

Pasithas travels east to the intersection of Main and Vicina.
Pasithas has left.

StormBearer lets loose one of those amused smiles which he is always giving 
  everyone towards Faanshi. the crow now returns to look at Faanshi. From 
  beneath the hood, the Herald speaks quietly "Yes, I reached her, I think you 
  will be pleased with the reply."

Numa starts to turn away, having decided that there are just too many people, 
  but as her name is called, she pauses. Her lip is bitten and she smiles at 
  his approach. "Thomas." Whatever her reason for having come over to find 
  him, she probably is not going to speak it in front of these people. 
  Instead, she just swallows and stands there. Her gaze, though does lift and 
  remain at level with his when he looks at her, but when it turns briefly 
  towards Fern, she sighs. Quietly she steps forward and places a hand on his 
  arm, then rising to speak quietly to his ear, she settles back to her feet 
  and just stands there.

Cool words for someone whose hands had been rather familiar only a short time 
  ago. Fern smirks and takes things in stride, however. "I'd be after wanting 
  a word with you, sir." Her eyes flick to the many awaiting, "But I see 
  you're a popular man. Might I call upon you sometime in the near future?" 
  Her words to Thomas are businesslike, but not insulting.

Shyly waiting as Thomas turns to attend the others who seek his notice, 
  Faanshi blinks, turns around to glance briefly up at StormBearer... and then 
  just as shyly drops her gaze. But not before a flash of hope and interest 
  lightens her otherwise solemn eyes, and she can be heard to breathe, "Thank 
  you, imphadi... I-I did not know if sending the letter with the Heralds 
  would work...!"

Maat ceases her passage just behind Faanshi, letting out a brief sigh and 
  reaching a hand down to touch her leg. While it is obvious that the Shakir 
  wishes to speak with the shudra, it is also apparent that she is hoping 
  StormBearer will deliver his message before she does so. The hand that was 
  on her leg departs and joins the congregation of her arms which now fold 
  across her chest.

StormBearer speaks once more to Faanshi "We Heralds are suprisingly adept at 
  getting messages to people." his quiet words convey. The crow upon his 
  shoulder however, has now moved about a bit to examine Maat with a piercing 
  gaze.

The Mongrel's large frame stands before both Numa and Fern, broad and wide, he 
  seems to overtake both average sized women with ease. Yet, his tone is 
  surprisingly kind and easy, displaying that he tends to give those of the 
  female persuasion his 'best' side. A gentleman it would appear as well. He 
  bends down just a touch as Numa mutters in his ear, the result of which is 
  the tilting of his head and an accompanying smile, "And I you." The answer 
  is given though the question unheard. The fact that he has gentlemanly 
  tendancies is further enforced by the fact that the man maintains control in 
  the face of such a beautiful woman's subtle gestures, "I'm leaving for 
  Avalon within the day. I could be gone for sometime I am afraid." Clearing 
  his throat, that statement answered Fern's inquiry about a possible meeting. 
  He comments further, his lips flattening out a touch, "I'm afraid I've got 
  some business to tend to at the moment. Why don't you meet me at the Gem 
  Inn, in an hour's time and we can talk before I depart?" As he speaks, his 
  hand reaches out to touch Numa's shoulder gently.

And Faanshi, at that fleeting touch, starts again, turning round on her 
  sandaled feet... to discover Maat. A small gasp sounds behind her veil, and 
  the girl promptly drops a little curtsey to the Shakir of Clan al'Samar, 
  bobbing her head over the hands that come up to clasp at her breast. 
  "Namaste', imphada," she murmurs. "How may I serve...?" Expecting, perhaps, 
  that the older and higher-ranking female wishes her to get out of the way so 
  that she might discuss business with Murako or the Herald, the shudra begins 
  to step aside to yield up her place.

Maat unfolds a hand from her crossed arms and points toward StormBearer with a 
  finger. "Why don't you recieve your message from the Herald first, shudra." 
  Though stated in the phrasing of a question, the sentence is obviously a 
  command. "Then, I wish to speak with you about your mistress." She looks 
  over at StormBearer and his crow. Her golden eyes gaze unwaveringly, as if 
  in challenge, though a hint of amusement pulls at the corners of her lids.

Fern arches an eyebrow at the Varati woman who has drawn the man's attention 
  and touch. It's little question what she imagines his *business* will be, 
  despite the more official types standing waiting nearby. No commentary is 
  made beyond the broadening of her smirk, and the woman dips a somewhat 
  casual head bob of a bow. "In one hour, then." Brushing past, Fern's steps 
  lead her near Faanshi, and that personage is granted a warmer, more sincere 
  version of the smile before Fern disappeaers into the crowds.

Beginning to grow a trifle flustered at the attention _she_ is receiving from 
  various angles, Faanshi blinks a few times after Fern before duty and 
  etiquette snap her attention sharply back to Maat. "Yes, imphada," she 
  murmurs, and then gravely inquires of StormBearer, "Does Imphada Kiera send 
  a message to me, or only Thomas...?" Her tones are quite demure, quite 
  proper, but there might be lurking somewhere under there a childlike hope.

Numa reaches a hand up to touch Thomas's as it rests on her shoulder. At the 
  mentino of business, and so many others quite obviously needing his 
  attention, she looks up at him and speaks, "I will see you when you return." 
  The hand is then slipped from her shoulder and clasped between both hands 
  for a moment. As she releases it, she once again steps up to whisper in 
  Thomas's ear, hoping once more he bends down to hear it. Then before he 
  might react or speak again to her, she turns and makes her way from the 
  crowd and disappearing from sight.

StormBearer's head swivels towards the source of the voice, who he had not 
  notice while speaking to Faanshi. In doing so, he quickly gets a face full 
  of feathers, and the crow is pushed a bit off the shoulder. It takes flight 
  indignantly, and rests atop a nearby building. After a quick recovery from 
  the event, the Herald speaks quickly "The message is too Thomas, however it 
  concerns Imphada Faanshi, and it is to be heard by her also."

The young Mongrel men with Thomas have busied themselves with tending to the 
  horses. Since the crowd has departed in bulk, the steeds have grown more 
  easy. As it appears Murako is in no hurry to depart the Rialto, they begin 
  to move the animals towards a place where they might be tied off and given 
  some water. These two men appear content to talk amongst themselves, one 
  even chuckling quietly and shaking his head in some mild amusement.

The Varati woman's words seem to illict a much wider smile from Thomas, his 
  eyes drifting towards her even as she makes to go with no more words. 
  Speaking once again, he lets out a soft exhale, and if one didn't know 
  better, they'd say that there was more than a 'friendly' look in his eyes as 
  the Mongrel watches Numa make off. The words which follow are soft and 
  perhaps unheard by anyone but the closest to him, having an almost whistful 
  quality, "Until we meet again, Numa." His large hand comes to touch a spot 
  upon his cheek and then as if forcing himself to look away, he begins to 
  make his way back towards Faanshi, StormBearer, and the Al'Samar Shakir. 
  That whismical moment fades quickly to a more business-like demeanor, his 
  words greeting the older Varati woman with sincerity, "Greetings, Imphada 
  Al'Samar. This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you to the Rialto?"

Numa travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Numa has left.

Maat glances skywards to watch the flight of the crow, then her eyes return to 
  earth as Thomas' addresses her. "Thomas Murako. Greetings." She completely 
  unwraps her arms from her chest to wave a hand negligent about the space. "I 
  came to the Rialto in hopes of hearing the new Provost take his oath of 
  office. However, it would appear that my meeting ran long and I missed the 
  grand occasion."

"Hardly grand, Imphada." Thomas comments somewhat offhandedly, "The Provost's 
  appointment was dignified, to say the least. It was a shame that he left 
  before I could have words with him. I had desired to congratulate him on his 
  victory." Sighing softly, the Mongrel rests his hands upon his hips and 
  glances towards both Faanshi and StormBearer, "Shall we go about our 
  business? I am eager to hear what Imphada Kiera had to say in response to my 
  letter. Certainly, I hope this news is good, for I could use some in the 
  wake of that little display by the Hounds. As much as I am willing to 
  cooperate with their efforts, I think they perhaps went a little far on 
  merely the 'accusation' of a nobleman against a Mongrel." Pursing his lips 
  he looks to the Herald, "Will a place off to the side of the market be 
  sufficient, or should we find a room to converse in?"

Faanshi, struck silent in shyness as Thomas once more approaches and converses 
  with the Shakir of al'Samar, lingers demurely nearby. Only for a moment does 
  she peek up at the Mongrel, giving him a little bob of her head by way of 
  greeting, before her gaze goes groundward once more.

StormBearer's eyes now focus on Thomas as he speaks. "It matters not to me, 
  sir. There is nothing overly sensitive in the message." he says quickly in 
  mild tones. His eyes then flash quickly back and forth over the people 
  around him, and the smallish crowd that is in the Rialto at this time of 
  night.

StormBearer
     This Sylvan seems to blend into anycrowd. There is very little unusual 
  about his appearance. He is tall and thin, but not to tall or to thin. The 
  shadows seem to beckon to him, but this is an illusion created by the way he 
  walks half in shadow, half in light. His hair is a dark brown, slicked back 
  around his tall pointy Sylvan ears. His eyes are a deep green, which matches 
  his well tanned skin. He wears a deep grey cloak that is a bit to long 
  around him, and at his neck it is help together by a metal disc with a 
  compass rose smithied into it. This is to indicate that he is a herald, part 
  of the media of Aether. Underneath this is a simple shirt, colored a lighter 
  grey, and with a compass embroidered onto it. On his legs are a pair of 
  Sylvan style Leggings, which throws the ensemble off a bit, but giving it a 
  whole sythesis. On both of the compasses the lines of the west are 
  exxagerated, showing him to be a Zephir, the kind of herald which travels 
  outside of haven. A jet black crow sits warily upon his shoulder, even more 
  alert than Stormbearer himself, looking at any movement, as if to protect 
  him from the World.
Carrying:
Letter
Missive
Flower
A Crow
Compass(#1417SVs)

Maat
Swathed from head to toe in layers of thick, protective cloth, the figure is 
  slender enough to give the impression of femininity. Cloth circles the head, 
  winding about in turban-esque fashion to only allow a pair of golden eyes to 
  be visible. Hands emerge from within the folds from time to time, displaying 
  a tasteful array of gems and exquisitely crafted jewelry on well-protected 
  flesh; the color of creamy coffee, the sun has only rarely kissed these 
  hands. All shape of the body lies hidden beneath the folds, revealing only a 
  hint of curves and ankles to tease the viewer's perception. Yet, the despite 
  the limited view of the person hidden by the cumbersome garments, the 
  precise carriage and sure movements provide clues toward an authoritative 
  person used to holding the reins of command.
Black cloth wraps around a copper cap, covering it entirely except for the 
  small spike at the very pinnacle. Thick, opaque black cloth hangs from the 
  cap to just above the shoulders on three sides like flat curtains, hiding 
  all but the face from view. The headdress seats itself low on the forehead 
  while a facial veil composed of the same material as the cloth hanging from 
  the sides of the helmet covers the nose and mouth. The end result is a face 
  where only the eyes and brows are visible. A long robe with voluminous 
  sleeves flows over the body, cinched at the waste by a sash of metallic 
  copper cloth. On the upper arms, the cloth is brought close to the body by a 
  spiral copper armband with a sphinx head at its tip. The robe splits over 
  the legs to reveal large, balloon-like pants that hide all shape. The pants 
  collapse downwards to cover the boots like an Emperor penguin's belly 
  plopped over his egg. Yet, when the legs lift, it can be seen that the pants 
  are tightly wrapped about the ankles.

Maat makes a single impatient tap with her foot to show that she would like 
  for the sharing of information to proceed. "If there is not general 
  consensus or desire for a certain action, could perhaps one of the pertinent 
  parties make a decision?" She looks at Thomas, as if to indicate that the 
  others are incapable of this level of decision-making. Yes, here is a woman 
  would like to just get on with it.

Caius soars in from the skies above.
Caius has arrived.

Thomas looks around the emptying stalls for a moment and motions over towards 
  the benches near the Citadel, "Let us go over there. It seems as quiet a 
  place as any. I would suggest the Inn, but that's such a walk from here." 
  And with that, the Mongrel man sets off towards the aforementioned place, 
  his steps soon allowing him to raise a leg and rest it upon the wood. He 
  waits for the other recipients of this message to join him.
Thomas sits down on one of the Benches by the Citadel.

Faanshi blows out a soft sigh behind her azure veil, and peeks in the 
  direction Thomas chooses; a nervous glance is given the front of the 
  Citadel, but the shudra girl steels herself to draw nearer to the place as 
  long as the others intend to do so. She peeks at the Herald and at the 
  Shakir, expecting them to precede her.

Caius circles overhead nce before landing lightly in a less crowded corner of 
  the rialto...kicking up no small amount of dust doing so...

StormBearer moves quickly in following Thomas. By the Citadel it is fine with 
  him. He stride is long and quick, and his movements are filled with 
  something like a mix of confidence and self-consiousness.
StormBearer sits down on one of the Benches by the Citadel.

Maat sits down on one of the Benches by the Citadel.
Maat moves follow, though she obviously has not chosen to explain herself to 
  any of the parties involved. Ah, the arrogance of the Varati, even their 
  females.

Caius squares his shoulders and makes his way through the crwods of the 
  Rialto...towards the food vendor's tent...he spares few glances to either 
  side as he walks.

A brightly garbed shadow a step behind Maat, Faanshi trails behind Thomas and 
  Maat and StormBearer, letting them take seats even as she lingers within 
  immediate earshot of them. She doesn't seem immediately inclined to sit, as 
  though expecting one of the others might need to order her to do some sort 
  of task that would preclude her claiming a seat of her own.

Well, with StormBearer's confidence, Faanshi's trepidation, and Maat's 
  arrogance, Thomas is definitely the most relaxed of all parties involved 
  here. The Mongrel just leans against the bench, his gaze drifting back and 
  forth between each person, and finally resting upon StormBearer, "What is 
  this message, sir?" Though he speaks this aloud, the gathering is far enough 
  away for the contents to be spoken in private. The man rests one hand upon 
  his knee and the other against the hilt of the blade which hangs at his side.

Mongrels, sylvans, and worse. Bah! None among these masses command his 
  attention. Caius continues along his way, drawing nearer to the tent.

StormBearer doesn't actually sit either. He is a Herald, Ever vigilant, and 
  when on duty he feels he should stand so as to be more prepared. His hands 
  move from within the cloak, bearing a thinly rolled piece of parchemnt. 
  About the parchment there is a small black ring of shiny metal, engraved on 
  which is a small compass rose, the sign of the heralds. He slides the ring 
  of the parchment, then unrolls it with carefull hands. Then reading it he 
  begins.

	"To the Thomas Murako:
	And to the Faanshi Khalida: The Faanshi is Varati and will always
	  be Varati, and she stands under punishment of death for behaviour
	  that does not suit her or is not becoming to a Varati. If you 
	  understand that it is so, and that the Khalid Atar has said this 
	  and I have witnessed... And if you agree that Faanshi will not 
	  betray this nor risks being killed, then I will allow her to go 
	  to this new kingdom. I may visit. I may not. But Faanshi must 
	  spend no more than one moon's time in this country before she 
	  returns and finds me, speaks to me. Then, perhaps, Faanshi can 
	  return.
	If Faanshi is harmed, I will avenge her.
	Written by the Herald Conner StormBearer, under dictation from Kiera 
	Khalida"

Behavior unbecoming to a Varati shudra? The notion seems entirely beyond the 
  ken of Faanshi; certainly, she seems the very portrait of maidenly demeanor, 
  as she stands near StormBearer and listens to him read the words that will 
  dictate the upcoming course of her life. A tiny little sigh escapes her, and 
  her hands clasp a little harder at her breast, the only outward signs she 
  allows herself of how the words relayed from her winged mistress have moved 
  her. Never mind their blunt mention of death; to Faanshi, they mean that she 
  may have a chance to improve her healing... and her ability to serve her 
  God-King.

Thomas listens to the message which StormBearer reads off, his eyes upon the 
  Sylvan man with some intent. Near the middle, his gaze shifts towards 
  Faanshi for just a moment, as if to see how the girl is taking this news. 
  His features remain blank, though some thought is indicated by the raising 
  of his fingers to stroke the line of his jaw. When the Herald has finished 
  speaking, a nod comes forth and then some words in a tone that reflects his 
  pleasure at hearing this thing, "This /is/ good news then. Faanshi.." ..a 
  glance to the shudra, "..this means you will be able to come with us when we 
  leave." And then to StormBearer, "If you would return my sincerest thanks to 
  the Imphada Kiera, Herald, as well as inform her that Faanshi's Varati oaths 
  and ways shall be upheld and honored. Imphada Kiera knows that I am familiar 
  with what would cause her to violate those. On my honor I shall not allow 
  any to despoil or violate her. She is my charge and my ward." Letting one 
  hand fall from his knee he smiles, speaking to Faanshi once again, "I 
  believe you should return to Atesh-Gah with all speed and pack your 
  belongings. We will be departing for Avalon very soon."

Caius leaps into the air and takes flight, disappearing into the sky above 
  Haven.
Caius has left.

Going. Going to Avalon. The words begin to permeate Faanshi's awareness, their 
  impact making itself felt. As Thomas glances her way, he might perhaps catch 
  a glimpse of full and fervent emotion in the girl's eyes before she glances 
  automatically northward to Atesh-Gah... and then back again, to the Mongrel, 
  to the Shakir, to the Herald. "The Imphada Shakir wished to speak with me," 
  she blurts, by way of explanation for her failure to scamper off this very 
  instant. "And..." A glance to StormBearer, then, or perhaps more 
  specifically, the crow on his shoulder. "Imphadi Herald...? Please, could 
  you... carry messages for me, too?"

StormBearer tucks the message away back into his cloak, nodding to Thomas's 
  instructions. But instead of preparing leave, he remains here, as if he has 
  something further to say. However, he does not interupt , but waits. Waits 
  until Faanshi addresses him, that is. He turns quickly, his face showing 
  peering out from within the hood. "Why yes, Imphada," like lightning, 
  another parchment is in his hand, this one blank. Also in his hand is a 
  quill for writing. "What should it say?" he asks

Thomas clears his throat softly once again and nods to Faanshi as she 
  expresses her need to speak with Maat, "There is certainly time for you to 
  conclude your business, Faanshi." Looking over his shoulder towards the 
  horses which his men wait by, he comments softly, "When you are prepared, 
  bring yourself and your belongings to the Gem. We'll be waiting for you 
  there." Straightening just a touch, if such a thing is possible, the Mongrel 
  looks between Maat and StormBearer, "Thank you both. Herald, you have done 
  an excellent job. If I might have the pleasure of your name I will use your 
  services in my future needs?" A pause as he looks towards the Varati woman, 
  "Imphada Al'Samar, once again, it was a pleasure meeting you. I am certain 
  our paths will cross again in the near future."

Momentarily, Faanshi's eyes go wide at the way pen and parchment seem to 
  magically appear in the hands of the Sylvan. He wants to write down her 
  words? Her mind blanks for a moment, and then she supposes to herself that 
  since her mistress's words read as if she had spoken them, perhaps hers 
  should too. Studying her sandals in deep concentration, she then haltingly 
  begins: "'Imphada Kiera, thank you for your permission for me to go to 
  Avalon with Thomas Murako. I promise that I will light a fire to Ushas every 
  morning and to the Khalid every night just as Ulima taught me. I will 
  practice my healing, and Thomas will teach me how to read and write, so I 
  may come home and better serve the Amir-al. I will think of you when I pray 
  and hope that you will come and visit me, because I miss you, my mistress 
  and my first friend.'" She finishes, then, and then adds tinily to 
  StormBearer, "I think I'm done now."

Thenomain returns from the forge again. Dear god, is this mess /still/ going 
  on?

Maat gives Thomas a brief nod. "It would be incorrect of me to admit that I do 
  not look forward to future speech with you. Though, with such a large 
  baggage train as you would appear to be developing with your acquisition of 
  females left and right, perhaps I ought to wish you a peaceful travel rather 
  than a swift one." One eye winks wickedly at Thomas as Maat nears 
  completion. "May you find joy in your travels and awaiting you in Avalon." 
  The Shakir's gaze once again rests on Faanshi and the business that pends 
  between the two almost throbs the air as Maat's tall form is quite ominous.

Thenomain rolls his eyes and disappears back into the forge to return, moments 
  later, with a mug of something hot. Well, if there's a show on, might as 
  well watch it with a steaming hot cuppa.

StormBearer scribes down the message quickly, then looks back to Faanshi. "It 
  shall be delivered as you say" he says, then once finished, turns his 
  attention back to Thomas "My Name is StormBearer sir." he says , and then 
  continues speaking, but in slightly different tones. "Sir, I must make a 
  request of you." he asks, a small grin upon his face.

The Mongrel appeared about to depart, but as the Sylvan Herald speaks to him, 
  there is a pause and a curious, "Yes?" Thomas now stands slightly away from 
  the benches, his hands resting upon his hips as he waits for the messenger's 
  words.

Thenomain sips on his varati-brew coffee as sounds of the forge echo through 
  the night. He considers quietly.

Very aware of Maat's imperious presence, Faanshi peeks swiftly and 
  apologetically at the woman, even as she searches her person for what meager 
  coinage she possesses, half-certain that if she wishes the Sylvan man to 
  carry a second message for her, she should pay him. "When you are done, 
  Imphadi StormBearer," she puts in softly, "I need to send another message..."

StormBearer speaks lightly "As you may know sir, we Heralds are more than just 
  messangers. We are also investigators and reporters. Because of my current 
  assignment, I am asking your permission to conduct an interview, at a future 
  date, .. and.. and if I may accompany you to Avalon." he asks, eyes peering 
  out from beneath the hood to see what the response will be.

"I would be honored to have you along with us on our ride to Avalon, 
  StormBearer of the Heralds," Thomas answers with confidence in his tone, "in 
  this way, you might pass along the word of our nation's progress and the 
  gains that our people have made in such a short period of time." The Mongrel 
  man doesn't seem taken aback or even surprised at this one's ovatures to 
  join him. The next words come almost apologetically, "This is good news. All 
  are welcome in Avalon and though I must admit that our resources are still 
  meager, we will do what we can to accomodate an honored guest." He gestures 
  towards Faanshi, "As I said, we will be leaving very soon. Can you meet us 
  at the Gem Inn and bring whatever belongings you will need for a 
  cross-country trip and a stay. Everything else we will provide."

Niamh enters the Rialto from the northwestern intersection of Fairway and 
  Border.
Niamh has arrived.

Faanshi bobs her head quickly to Thomas, even as she anxiously observes to him 
  and the Herald, "I-I just need to make sure my friend Craft knows that I am 
  going away..."

StormBearer bows lightly to Thomas. "Thankyou. I am very honored." then, 
  turning to Faanshi "I can take that message for you as well." he says, 
  noting the name she specified, yes, he knows who that is.

Maat makes an impatient gesture with her hand, as if to say, hurry it along, 
  the important woman doesn't have all day. Except for the hand gesture, the 
  rest of Maat is still. Quite a few facets seem to exist to Maat's 
  personality and it is hard to determine which are real and which are a 
  facade.

The young Atman Atarvani did not expect to see so many others in the Riato 
  this time of day. He blinks at the group of them, recognizing a few as he 
  approaches the center. Strange indeed...

Thomas chuckles softly at Faanshi, "You will have time for all of these 
  things, Faanshi. I will return to the Gem and make preparations to 
  accomodate some new guests. There are a handful of others among Haven who 
  have decided to return with us as well." Turning his gaze towards 
  StormBearer he nods, "We will be waiting for you, StormBearer. Until then, I 
  bid all of you good evening. To those I will not see for sometime, safe 
  journeys till our paths cross again." And then, with the wave of a hand the 
  man is crossing back towards where his horses are situated on the far side 
  of the Rialto.

Thenomain sips at his drink again. Well well well, the self-proclaimed Ruler 
  of Mongrels leaving Haven. He considers throwing a party.

Relief washes through Faanshi's bearing, more visible in the relaxation of her 
  stance than in her mostly-hidden visage. "You know him?" is all she says in 
  reply to his remark; that seems to be all the assurance she needs. She nods 
  quickly to Thomas, considers, and then pipes shyly to the Herald, "Please 
  tell him... 'To my new friend Craft'" -- oh, aye, the man in question has 
  more of a name and certainly more of a title, but this particular shudra 
  knows only that one word by which to call him -- "'thank you again for your 
  kindness to me. I am going to go to Avalon with Thomas Murako for one moon 
  to practice my healing, if you need to find me or if you can visit. I hope I 
  will be able to talk to you again.'" And then she pauses, flicking another 
  glance to the stern figure of Maat; any further communication she might wish 
  to make to this second friend of hers is put aside under the force of the 
  woman's attention. And thus Faanshi settles for proffering what few pennies 
  she possesses to StormBearer, asking anxiously, "Will you accept my coins, 
  Imphadi, for the messages?"

StormBearer shakes his head as he writes the message on the same piece of 
  parchment. "No that is not needed. We can talk upon the journey to Avalon, 
  if you are willing, and that will be payment enough for me."

For a moment, Faanshi might actually smile -- but then, who can tell, with a 
  veil concealing most of her face? But her demeanor brightens, nevertheless. 
  Gratefully, she bobs her head over her hands to the Herald, breathing her 
  thanks, and at last she whirls to Maat, bracing herself for possible 
  censure, and apologizing humbly, "Please forgive me for keeping you waiting, 
  imphada...!"

Avalon? What is that? Is that a place? And he thought he knew all of them 
  about...or at least he's read them all. Niamh can't help but overhear the 
  conversation and he idly goes to a still-open food vendor for some 
  breakfast. Wait, there's the Imphada Maat...and she does not look pleased at 
  all. Moving to her side he asks softly, "Can I be of assistance, Imphada?"

StormBearer begins to move off quickly too deliver these messages and retrieve 
  his things from the hall.

Maat checks the sky and those golden eyes flit once again to Faanshi. Ah, 
  Faanshi has completed her lengthy tasks and Maat will not have to step on 
  the shudra and demand that her business take precedence. "I would like to 
  ask you a few questions about Kiera Khalida. Then, you may proceed on your 
  merry way to Avalon. Firstly, do you know why she has chosen to endanger 
  herself by inhabiting Sylvan lands?"

The conversation continues, and Thomas Murako mounts up onto his steed, 
  accompanied by the two men he came in with. Casting a glance back towards 
  the group, he peers into the darkness for just a moment, then urges his 
  horse in a direction which will take him from the Rialto's confines. Soon, 
  the sound of his compatriot's horses join his own and the Mongrels ride from 
  his place like a bat out of the bowls of Hell, yet in utter silence.

StormBearer makes his way south, toward Seaside.
StormBearer has left.

Milane travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Milane has left.

Thomas travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Thomas has left.

Thenomain sips his coffee and murmurs, "I wonder."

Maat gives Niamh a shake of her head, but does not speak further as she does 
  not want the timid-seeming shudra to hesitate from answering. All her 
  attention would be focused on Faanshi's answer.

Maat now thoroughly commands Faanshi's attention; the shudra stands like a 
  child reciting lessons to her teacher, and she answers earnestly, "I do not 
  know, Imphada Shakir; she has not chosen to confide that to me."

Maat's golden eyes narrow, as it would seem this answer disgruntles the woman. 
  "Do you have any opinions or suppositions as to the reason?" Indeed Niamh's 
  determination of the Shakir's mood is accurate. She is not happy, not happy 
  at all.

Mari steps from the gates of Delphi and into the rialto.
Mari has arrived.
Mari slips out of the citadel, her mission completed for now. Scrolls securely 
  in arm she heads back for the Korallion.
Mari makes her way south, toward Seaside.
Mari has left.

Wait a moment...Kiera? So -that's- where she's gone. The Atarvani missed the 
  brief chats he had with the Imphada and was concerned (every now and then) 
  when he failed to see her. So she is in the forests? He nods to Imphada Maat 
  and takes a step back...he's there if he is needed.

That someone is asking Faanshi for an opinion gives the girl momentary pause 
  -- this is a rare event, indeed. But her pause is only momentary. Her pale 
  golden brow crinkles a little beneath the top of her sari, in thought. She 
  notes Niamh's arrival, but her gaze remains respectfully lowered as the 
  Shakir asks her questions, and so she does not seem to acknowledge him. 
  "Imphada Kiera is sometimes a hawk, Shakir," she ventures, "and some of her 
  blood is Sylvan... so perhaps she does not like the city very much and does 
  not want to be here right now? I know that she does not like to be inside." 
  And she promptly goes silent, offering no more and no less information than 
  what is asked of her.

Despite Maat's forbidding mein, or rather her forbidding stance, the Shakir 
  now seems amused. "The question is not whether she wants to be present in 
  the city or not. The question is 'why does she not like the city' or 'why 
  does she wish not to be present'. Have you any opinions as to the question 
  of 'why', shudra?" Yes, the Shakir is in rare form, both haughtily arrogant 
  and invitingly amused at the same time.

Thenomain straightens up and reutns to the smithy from whence he came.
To be the Mongrel Ruler of Iron! He shall have hordes of followers who hang on 
  his every word about fold and cold-beating and the like. He shall defend his 
  people with honor that cannot be measured by a mere yardstick! But by his 
  heart of cold iron glowing hot for freedom!

Niamh begins to wonder if he actually woke...this conversation he hears is so 
  odd. Kiera, a bird? Well, come to think of it, it does make a bit of sense. 
  No one said that book-knowledge and common sense went hand in hand...and the 
  young Atarvani is a prime example of that. He actually interrupts, speaking 
  his own thoughts allowed, "If you were a bird, would you wish to be in a 
  city?"

These questions seem to give Faanshi a little more pause. Part of her warns 
  that she is treading on potentially uneven ground, but she is an inherently 
  truthful girl, and besides -- this _is_ a Shakir wishing to know these 
  things. But before she can speak again, Niamh speaks up. And the shudra girl 
  peeks at him, automatically yielding the right to speak to the young priest.

Maat continues to look at Faanshi. "Answer my question, shudra." And, now, 
  after much waiting, it would seem that Maat has chosen to advance to the 
  next level of Varati arrogance. Her voice is quite authoritative and if 
  words could bowl over a person, so would Maats. Indeed, she wishes an answer 
  from Faanshi before she entertains bookish speculations from the Atarvani.

Faanshi is quite acquainted with Maat's tone of voice, and she promptly and 
  obediently murmurs, gaze remaining unwaveringly down, "I think that it must 
  mostly be because she turns into a hawk when the full moon comes, Imphada 
  Shakir... but I can only speak from what I have observed of her. The Amir-al 
  watched over her when she became a hawk among the armies, but the Amir-al is 
  not in Haven now."

Niamh quiets and debates returning to Atesh-Gah...that might be safer...

Sevilen makes his way along the stalls, at last able to walk without throngs 
  of winged, hostile eyes about.

Maat corrects Faanshi's observation with a clipped, "Kiera Khalida left to 
  live in the woods long before the Amir-al went to Masada for his extended 
  stay." She crosses her arms over her chest once again, looking extremely 
  formidable and that it is only this posture that keeps her from reaching 
  forward and shaking the life out of Faanshi. "Your explanation does not take 
  that into account, shudra. Have you anything more intelligent to add?"

Eric enters from the eastern exit, narrowly missed by a clattering cart.
Eric has arrived.

Sevilen turns to fix his eyes on the woman speaking. He watches Fannshi, then, 
  sympathy evident in his eyes.
Sevilen approaches the pair of women on quiet feet, but stops well within 
  range of the vision of both. No sound his made, but one slender hand frees 
  itself of his clothing, lifting almost as if it would speak, itself, facing 
  Maat.

Not one sign of indignation at the slight to her ability to reason does 
  Faanshi exhibit. "The... only other thing that I can think of, Imphada 
  Shakir," she murmurs uneasily, "is that she was... angry at the joining of 
  the Queen Maharani to the Most High..."

The Atman probably shouldn't hear this...especially since he shares Kiera 
  Khalida's feelings still. With a bow to the others he quietly slips away, 
  most likely returning to the Embassy.

Eric strides in from the east, walking along, watching the crowds move around 
  him. People seem to be reacting a bit differently to him today though. 
  Perhaps it has something to do with that ceremony.

Maat nods once, considering Faanshi's words, then says to Faanshi 
  mellifluously, "Thank you, shudra. Enjoy your time in Avalon. The volcano 
  should have stopped spewing ash over the land by now." Her voice is all 
  sweetness and light, too light perhaps. She turns to look over at the Atman 
  Niamh, but as he would appear to be slinking off, she does not answer his 
  previous supposition about hawks and cities. Instead, she gives her 
  attention to Sevilen, whose upraised hand might be a call for speech.

Niamh travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Niamh has left.

Sevilen speaks softly, his silver voice now cool, but hard as well, for some 
  odd reason. "The shudra knows not where or why Kiera Khalida has gone." His 
  body moves not a whit, only his lips and eyes, unblinkingly locked to those 
  of Maat. "She knows nothing of it, Imphada."

Larissa is drawn in from the southeast by the hubbub of the Rialto.
Larissa has arrived.

Amar is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.
Amar has arrived.
Amar makes his way south, toward Seaside.
Amar has left.
Amar arrives right into the thick of the Rialto from the south.
Amar has arrived.

Maat's golden eagle eyes rake Sevilen from head to toe. "She has opinions as 
  anyone might. Are you saying that she is a brick? To be placed and ignored 
  because there is an utter lack of brain behind her guileless face?"

Larissa walks westward toward Main and Border.
Larissa has left.

Amar walks through the Rialto, among the vendor's tents, heading north.. He 
  carries a heavy back pack, hoisted over his shoulders, and it seems to take 
  some effort for him. He seems lost in thoughts, and it's a wonder he doesn't 
  walk into people.

Eric continues to walk through, he seems to be looking at the vendors though. 
  All of them. Assessing it would seem.

Sevilen's tone changes not a bit. "I say she does not know, and need not be 
  ground for thruths that will elude even a telepath who inquires of her. 
  There is brain indeed within her, heart and spirit that while noble, are not 
  indefatigueable. I prefer not to watch her pressed upon when she knows not 
  the truth you seek, Imphada."

Amar travels along North, toward the Fairway.
Amar has left.

Knowing a dismissal when she hears one, Faanshi gives Maat a deep bow of her 
  head over her clasped golden hands, and steps back the moment the woman's 
  attention diverts. Faanshi catches sight then of Sevilen, and only because 
  he is there does the shudra linger nearby rather than setting off for the 
  Varati citadel to the north. She is still well within earshot of the Shakir 
  and the young man, however, and only because no one seems to be looking at 
  her does she wince, just a little, behind her veil. The maiden is not 
  impervious to slights on her intelligence... not in the least. But only when 
  she's not under keen watch does she let herself feel it. Flushing deeply, 
  both at Maat's words and at Sevilen's, she starts to slip off to the 
  northern edge of the marketplace.

[End log.]