10th Trial, Cylus, Arc 718
Etzos Underground, Outer Perimeter
18th break
It couldn't have made any difference where he was going, but he still waited until nightfall, and knew that when he arrived, the atmosphere would be as he needed it. So far underground, things like night and day were irrelevant. The light of both suns and moons were alien things, whispered of but never actually seen. It was an eternal night in the tunnels and passages and man-made caverns that ran under the city like a vast ant colony beneath the jutting, gleaming marble and stone. But the mentality hadn't quite took root. The denizens of that dark place knew day and night, the waking hours and those of dreaming... and seemed to act accordingly.Etzos Underground, Outer Perimeter
18th break
Kasoria had noticed much the same thing during Cylus. Even though it was night every day for a whole season, with not a glimmer of white or yellow sun breaking the twin eclipse, people still sturdily divvied up their trials as they always did. He supposed it was for sanity's sake if nothing else, not to mention the simple running of society. If everyone acted like it was night, all the time, when would they ever open up their shops?
There were probably other example, but Kasoria didn't care to think of them. He was concentrating on not getting lost.
Been a long time.
It was by smell and sound that one navigated the passages, not by sight. There were torches down there, and shafts of light that came slashing down from the grates above, but no real, steady illumination. So many of them were deep enough and old enough that anyone who might waste good oil, wood, rags, and time to keep them lit was either dead or disinterested. So Kasoria had to snag one of the torches from the sewer he'd slid into, before delving deeper into the old tunnel beneath the sewer cistern beneath the Eastern Gate.
He walked down passages now that smelled more of dust and age that shit and piss. His feet slapped onto damp stones but his torch lit up bricks that were moldy and caked with a layer of dust thick as a finger. The more he wound and walked, the more things he saw that told him he was not in a sewer system. Old homes and businesses, flattened by the passage of time, built over and forgotten by the upper world. Catacombs with alcoves lining the walls, each one filled with the remains of a body so old even the skeletons were beginning to rot.
Or they were completely gone. Kasoria thought best not to dwell on the "why" of that.
A burst of noise. Garrulous and quarrelsome and raucous in equal measure, a burst of laughter and shouting and warning and intoxication that only one place could produce. It echoed down the old stones and Kasoria moved towards it. Yes, it had been a long time, since he was a cadet with barely a hair on his balls, but he remembered that night in his first year. Him and a handful of other cadets, not even twenty arcs old and kings of the world, at least in their own minds, plunging into the darkness to sup the taste of life from the wild side.
He was more amazed it was still there, if he was honest. Such places moved around a lot. Because of the Blackjack, or unfriendly competition, or simple cave ins and structural collapses. In truth, Bernie's had "shifted" once or twice, but the area it squatted in was roughly the same. And once you heard the sound of it, finding it exact was child's play.
Getting in, though...
"Oi, Billy? Eyes open."
Two lumbering forms detached themselves from the shadow in front of the doorway. Behind it was light and warmth and song and other such pleasures, but first, there was them. Two figures that probably had twins outside every such establishment in the multiverse. Broad as barn doors, bearded, arms like slabs of beef and faces akin to quarries. After the blasting.
"Ain't seen youse around before, wee man," the first one rumbled, voice seeming to come up from the bottom of a deep pit. "Not our custom to let in strangers..."
"Oh, aye," his partner picked up the worn routine with practiced ease, and Kasoria's lip twitched a little. "In charge of security, so we are. Wouldn't do to let in just anyone."
"Not at all, Barry."
The little man with the beard looked up (and up, and up) into each face in turn, then his hand vanished into the folds of his coat. Tension sprang into the air, like that feral mood when alley cats spy each other. Beefy hands slid towards brass knuckles and blackjacks, but before the need for them came to light, something else did. Two things, actually.
"Doing good work, lads," Kasoria said, flipping each man a gold nel that was swallowed up into a fowl-sized fist. "Just looking to wet my tongue and rest my feet."
Twin slashes of teeth. They seemed to do everything together, though Kasoria couldn't see any familial resemblance. But seasons or arcs working side by side... they bonded men together, as history had proven many a time. Of course, working the door at an underground drinking hole and brothel in Etzos was probably not what the scholars and bards had in mind. Either way, the two men parted like marble gates and Kasoria opened the door to-
-be slapped across the face by a fat, wet, invisible hand made of heat and stench and noise. He frowned as if walking against a gale, eyes scanning around a not-quite-full but still busy place that was a tavern in every detail but the fact it was, when you got down to it, set up in an old crypt. Old table clothes had been thrown over coffins, now seating under-dwellers and renegades and thrill-seekers. Whores roamed around like remora fish seeking a well-off shark to attach to. The bar at one end was double-decked with bottles and there were probably barrels under it, tankards filled by dunking into the tops, sent back into welcome hands, dripping all the way.
Kasoria smiled thinly. Locations changed, but the tone... not so much.
He walked to an alcove with a table and chair and sat, not waiting for a serving wench or to check if it was occupied already. General rule in those places was if you left you seat, you gave it up. That meant it was available to all and sundry. If you wanted to take umbridge, no problem, but you would do it outside and not smash the place up. Don't like that?
Talk to Barry and Billy.
"What can I get you, mate?"
The serving wench was, in fact, a slender youth with no hair on his face. Skinny and spry, in need of a good meal or five, but with a furtive glint in his eyes. It told the assassin that the boy know how to survive, and might have been doing so for years before he'd arrived. A job in such a place was hardly a stretch for one such as him, whose whole world was the sprawling catacombs that were a city unto themselves.
"Tankard of what's good, a bowl of stew, and..."
Kasoria knew the names. It was a trick, or a routine. A code, or a message hidden behind metal and vagaries. But in that place, crowded and close and stinking of humanity, he thought of it more as a dance. The boy saw the gold coin glinting and greed frothed in his eyes like beer in a mug. That got his attention. Kasoria slapped it onto the table, pushed it forward with one finger... and then snapped it back when eager little digits grasped for it.
"I'm looking for a woman. Nightingale. I was told she could be found around here."
"I, ah... I could ask..."
The killer shrugged, and flicked the coin away. It was in the boy's pocket before it even got a chance to stop sliding. He scurried away and the dance begun. Through quarreling or laughing groups, past tables and chairs, away and away to music only Kasoria could hear. Until he stopped at the bar and handed over the coin, relayed the order...
The jut of his chin in Kasoria's direction. The quick glance of the stone-faced woman behind the bar. Measuring him and deciding if such information was worth sharing. Mayhap she would recognize him, if only his beard and diminutive height (which, he understood, was something of an incredulity to many... which was how he liked it). Rumors and gossip and gabbled descriptions were the currency of the Etzos underworld.
Another step of the dance. Consideration. She nodded and sent him back with a bowl of stew and a tankard and Kasoria kept his eyes on her. Dancing away, into the back, to pass on word to... whom, exactly?
"Bowl and a brew, mate."
"Thank you."
He didn't ask anything further. Kept his thoughts in his own head as he waited for the stew - questionable meat but it smells good - to cool. He sipped the ale and a sharp, thick aroma of hops practically invaded his senses. Ah, classic Etzos quality. For the outsiders, anyway. Let the nobs and the merchants quaff their port and wine; he'd much prefer a dark, thick ale that was practically a meal all by itself.
The tavern caroused around him. The dance unfurled beyond his eyes, though he imagined quick feet beating to an unknown shadow, bringing word to the woman his master had spoken of before. The one who could brew poisons; conjure subtle ends from plants and roots. Quite a beauty they said, and of course, they always were in the stories.
The little man in the hand-me-down clothes started eating his stew, glimpsed but ignored by the sunken tavern. He would find out eventually. But first, he had a stomach to sate.
Receipt
-3gn for entry and dinner
Thanks for Jade for the template