Ice Cold in Alex

Just a quick one to answer Kane’s email, I’ve made a few assumptions, hopefully that’s okay, let me know if you want any minor revisions, Kane…

Wednesday September 28th, 402 (9:10 a.m.) [14]:

     “I can’t speak for everyone,” Caleb answers [to Quinn’s request] in a voice strained with uncertainty and concern, “And when you speak in such vague terms it’s hard to agree to anything.” He softens a bit and adds, “But we’ve been through so much together, saved one another’s lives I don’t know how many times. Naturally I’ll do whatever I can to help, my friend. If we don’t look after each other, who will?”

     “Of course,” Caleb responds [When Quinn mentions he may need to leave when the party docks at Kephi]. “Hopefully you won’t have to be away for long, whatever it is you need to do. We’ll probably only be there for a day at most, but we’ll be back in port within the next three or four weeks I think, if you need to stay away longer than a day. You could bide your time there for us to return, or take another ship back to Brightwater if you want or need to get back there sooner.”

Sunday October 2nd, 402 (12:45 p.m.) [17]:

[I’m assuming here that Quinn parts ways with the group after the discussion at the pier, possibly after weighing in on how Captain Engstrom’s job should be handled. We can also assume that afterward there’s a huddle on board with the other party members, plus Drayven, on how to proceed, in case you want to weigh in, Shane]

[Incidentally, did Quinn take up Drayven on the offer of bunking with him during the trip, as Shane had suggested? I don’t think this was addressed, but I might have missed it]

     Quinn knocks on a door so thick he’s not sure whether the muffled pounding will carry far enough beyond it to reach anyone’s ears. He stands in the alleyway, trying not to garner any unwanted attention but unable to keep out of view due to the passage’s surprising cleanliness. Someone appears to have swept every last cobblestone leading out to the street, and not a scrap of paper can be found, let alone anything large enough to hide behind. To his relief, the sound of a distant latch hits his ear and a second later a voice can be heard from behind the door. “State your business” is the terse, soft-voiced greeting.

     [Assuming he explains himself, or at least doesn’t come off as a threat, and mentions the note (I’ll assume this to keep things simple and move them along)] The door opens slowly, more than a half foot thick of solid wood plated with iron on the inside, and the space within is unlit. “Come in, walk ten paces, there’s a chair there. Sit and wait, hand me the note, I won’t be long.” Quinn detects a slight trill in the man’s voice, no doubt a regional accent, and a hint of boredom, which seems strange considering the strange circumstances and that, presumably, he’s not expected here.

     [I’m assuming he hands over the letter – again, I’ll assume this to move things along, hopefully that doesn’t cause any problems!] After a minute or so, he hears another man’s voice, this one more self-assured and deeper, coming from somewhere deeper in the building. “Heavens, send him in immediately!” and, after another series of latches and tumblers falling into place, a door opens wide and throws light into the bare room he sits in while exposing a short hallway beyond the door, lit by two oil lamps on low tables on each side. At the other end of the hall is yet another door, this one decorated by flourishes of paint and symbolic carvings made by a skilled and steady hand. A short man dressed in well-made clothing more stylish than what he had seen on the locals in the streets here beckons him toward the door, opening it and announcing him. “A Master Quinn to see you, sir.”

     Inside the room is a wan, cheery man with a balding pate more grey than brown, with a decanter in his left hand and a cane in his right, making an effort to locomote from the adjoining chamber behind him toward the entryway in which Quinn now stands. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting…Quinn, is that right?” He wears finery that indicates a high sense of fashion and the means to attain it.

     [Assuming he answers in the affirmative] The man smiles and asks Quinn to have a seat in one of the three well-padded chairs that sit in the room, shuffling over to one of the other ones to have a seat himself. “It seems we share a friend, a friend who would like to know if I have any services I need tended to. I think he wants to impress me with your talents. May I ask, do you have time at your disposal to assist me? A few days at most, I expect. I may have a use for you. Cyralix, would you come here for a moment?” 

     A woman appears in the doorway from the adjoining room. “Alex, and I heard you. I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not okay with it. I work alone.” She is fairly tall, about the same height as Quinn, in her mid-twenties, with dark hair, icy blue eyes, and a strikingly attractive, confident look as she locks eyes with the rogue. She wears loose-fitting dark clothes that are worn in places and, to Quinn’s trained eye, look as though they may have been artificially aged.

     “Please, before you decide anything, let me show you this missive, I’ll ask you to reconsider if it moves you,” the gentleman responds, setting his decanter down on a side table and handing her the letter that Quinn delivered. After reading it over twice and, eventually, showing a resigned look, Alex folds the letter back up and hands it to the man. “Okay, if you’re coming with me, I’m in charge. Do what I say, keep your questions to yourself, and meet me down at the pier an hour after sundown. We’ll be on an overnight ship to Kenchra. That’s all you need to know for now.”

     How will Quinn answer? If he joins with Alex, how will he spend his time between now and dusk? Head back to the pier to help out with the party’s task or make preparations for his upcoming trip (or both)?

J