Moonday morning, Fireseek 3, 591 Common Year

 Fingol, Gar, Jankin, and Burne are soon on their way to Master Parwyn’s Apothecary, the sight of the robbery. They find it on the upriver side of the Processional on a little side street called Tanglefoot Lane among a cluster of other apothecaries, alchemy shops, herbal supply shops, potion makers, scroll vendors, curio shops, and even mirabicaries (purveyors of magical items). A journeyman locksmith with long blond hair and violet eyes is busily putting a new lock on the door as they walk into the workroom and shop that takes up the entire first floor. Inside, Master Parwyn, Aramek, and two child apprentices are busily at work grinding, mixing, and boiling herbs, animal parts, and other rather dubious looking materials and distilling them into poultices, tinctures, and potions for those wealthy enough to afford such concoctions.

Master Parwyn, a frail old man leaning on a cane, looks up from directing his assistants and asks, “Yes, can I help you gentlemen?” It is then that Aramek, busily grinding things with a mortar and pestle, sees them. He smiles at them, as is his custom with any customers walking in the door. 

Two of the men Aramek recognizes from the day before: Fingol and Gar, though now they are dressed in court clothes and not carrying any weapons, unless one counts Gar’s staff or the daggers at their sides that are commonly worn by high and low, esp. in Westkeep. The other two are similarly dressed in the silken loose sleeve blouses and pantaloons worn by the southern nobility of Keoland and its former provinces and current protectorates.

One of the strangers is lightly tanned, with brown hair, and black eyes. Though a young man, he is already beefy and stern looking. He wears the crumpled hat that indicates he is a priest of St. Cuthbert. Aramek has learned that the followers of St. Cuthbert from Keoland have taken over one of the abandoned temples in the temple district and have been aggressively proselytizing in Westkeep. They are convinced that what is needed in town is Cuthbertian style law and order and hope to create a disciplined neighborhood watch system composed of their cudgel bearing fanatics. Consequently the locals, or Keepers, refer to them as “Bert’s Bullyboys” or simply as the “Cudgels.”

The other is a fair skinned, light blonde, grey-green eyed young man, probably still in his teens. His countenance suggests a more kindly and good-hearted nature. He wears an amulet composed of a hand bearing a silver lightning bolt, the holy symbol of the god Heironeous, patron deity of most of the clerics and paladins who currently form the true backbone of Keoland’s occupation forces in Westkeep. The Keepers, including Rain it would seem, refer to the followers of Heironeous as the “High and Mighties” because so many of them are devotees of Heironeous like this young man.

Fingol steps forward and offers to shake hands, “Master Parwyn, Hello. I am Fingol, a ranger lately come in from patrols in the marsh. Gar Dragonbreath, has also recently arrived here with greeting and council for Prince Prospero. Sir Jankin and Brother Burne you probably know already. These gentlemen have come with me to look over the damage to your shop. I don’t know what we may find that the guard has not already noted, but I have hopes that something may be learned about the person who committed this crime. That is, if we have your leave.”

Gar bows his head in respect toward Parwyn, “Greetings, Master Parwyn, and to you too Sir Aramek! It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Aramek’s smile remained as Fingol spoke, but when Gar steps forward to greet his Master and himself, Aramek’s smile clouds over as his mild discomfort and mistrust for Gar comes to the fore. He goes back to his task at hand. Fingol notes Aramek’s reaction to Gar but has no clue as to what to make of all that. A little bell, however, goes off in Gar’s brain. All that discomfort. Poor thing, he’s still in the closet!

Burne, Parwyn, and Jankin all raise their eyebrows at Gar’s entitling the commoner Aramek with “Sir.” The two apprentices in fact can be seen making faces at Aramek, mouthing “Sir Aramek” silently, and bowing to him as though he were a great lord. Gar mutters to himself, “I thought half-elves were supposed to be called sir?”

Oblivious to the shenanigans of the apprentices, Master Parwyn shakes Fingol’s hand saying, “Actually, I have not had the pleasure of meeting any of you gentlemen.” He shakes the hands of the others as well.

“Yes, we hope you don’t mind,” says Brother Burne. “Sir Jankin and I are members of the Keep Guard. Sir Gorman, the commander of the night watch, gave us permission to come down and see if we could find anything that might have been missed earlier, though of course that is doubtful. So we are here on his authority and we would like to help solve this crime.”

“Certainly, certainly, you will have our full cooperation,” says Parwyn. “Aramek. Why don’t you show these gentlemen up to the loft?”

“Thank you, Master Parwyn.” Fingol says.

Aramek rises and bows slightly to his Master saying, “Yes, Master Parwyn, as you wish.” He then turns to acknowledge Fingol, Burne and Jankin, purposely ignoring Gar, and says, “Please follow me, gentlemen.”

“Before we go up to the loft,” interrupts Fingol, “I wouldn’t mind starting at the beginning, as it were. Let’s get a close look at the door first.”

Fingol steps over to the door. “Pardon me.” he says to the locksmith, “What was the condition of the door when you found it? Was the door forced or the lock sprung?” Fingol looks over the door to see if there are any marks on it or on the threshold.

“Oh, this was sprung. A professional did this. Might have been a locksmith himself,” the violet-eyed man says with a sly grin.

Aramek’s curiosity immediately aroused, he naively asks the locksmith, “How many are there here in Westkeep?”

The locksmith gives Aramek an appraising look. “You’re not from around here are you?” As he asks this, Master Parwyn turns away, making it a point to mind his own business. “There aren’t many locksmiths anymore, not since the Scarlet Brotherhood burned down our guild hall with most of the members inside. I’m just a journeyman myself, so back when that happened I was safe and sound out in one of the villages, not that anyplace was too safe in those days.”

Aramek blushes a bit, realizing he’s just shown everyone how little he still knows about his new home. Heand decides to keep his mouth shut and let the others take the lead, thinking he’ll learn more by listening than talking anyway. Snoop softly squeaks his agreement.

Fingol appears distressed to hear about the guildhall. “Forgive me for dwelling on such evil news, but I am new to this town. And this makes no sense to me. All I’ve heard of the Scarlet Brotherhood tells me that they are clever and subtle. And yet that sounds as vicious and bloodthirsty as any orc raid. What possible reason could they have, save pure malice? Did they target any other guilds, or were locksmiths the only target?”

The locksmith’s jaw drops when Fingol asks him this, as if the naiveté of this question totally floors him. The locksmith looks around at the others. Jankin seems as confused as Fingol. Burne is gritting his teeth and glaring at the locksmith. Parwyn is saying to the apprentices that they should all attend something up on the second floor.

Finally the locksmith snorts and gives Fingol a dopey grin. “Ah, you know, that was back in the days of their occupation. They did quite a lot of damage with their orcs and Amedi savages; wanted to make sure that anyone who might resist was either dead, run out of town, or too frightened to lift a head up. I guess they just didn’t appreciate our craftsmanship. Wanted to make sure all doors were open to them,” he chuckles at this. “Anyway, good sirs, we’re all mighty grateful that you Keolanders showed up and scared the Scarlet Brotherhood off. Yes we are. Now if you don’t mind, I do have to finish this up.”

Fingol asks, “Do you have the old lock about?”

The locksmith snorts again, “Sure, here you go.” He hands Fingol the old lock.

Fingol examines it for scratches or other damage. “What sort of tools would someone need to spring the lock so neatly? May I keep this lock a while?”

This time the locksmith glares at Fingol, and says curtly, “I wouldn’t know about that would I?” Burne snorts at this and continues to glare at the locksmith. The locksmith looks back to his work, shrugs, and says, “Sure keep it. No skin off my back.”

Fingol notes Brother Burne’s reaction to his question as well as the locksmith’s and wonders, as it seems to him, why the Cudgels are trying to suppress information about what went on during the occupation, unless, of course, it didn’t happen during the occupation but more recently.

After learning all that he can about the lock, Fingol walks through the store. Looking closely at the floor, but even more so at the corners of tables, lintels of doorways, etc. where clothing fibers might be caught if someone bumped into them at night. 

“Aramek, was anything missing from the first floor of the shop? Was anything moved or put out of place? Do you also live in the building? And did anyone note any strange lights before the thief was discovered?” asks Fingol.

Aramek looks over at Fingol and says, “To be honest, when I heard the screaming I ran immediately to my loft where Master Parwyn and Mistress Gwen were. The master said some things were missing from down here but there were also some things stolen from the loft – some of Master’s keepsakes from his missing son, Reece. We saw the person break through the loft window to the building across the alley. I hit him with a magic missile and my friend Rain loosed an arrow at him but it hit the empty wall where the thief had been seconds before. I, myself, didn’t notice any strange lights. Your questions lead me to believe you suspect something. What is it?”

“I’ll tell you what I suspect,” growls Burne. “Our thief is right there, or at least he surely knows the thief.” Burne grabs his holy symbol, the ruby studded starburst of St. Cuthbert, and brandishes it at the locksmith as he begins an invocation.

The locksmith’s eyes go wide and he screams, “How dare you!” He draws a knife and lunges at Burne.

Jankin shouts, “Look out!” and pulls Burne out of the way and interposes himself between Burne and the enraged locksmith.

Burne’s spell is disrupted, and he yells out, “Damn it Jankin!”

The locksmith lashes out with his dagger and slashes open Jankin’s right leg.

Fingol jumps between the locksmith and Jankin, but makes sure to face the armed locksmith. “Peace! Peace friends! Peace! I suspect nothing and no one! I am only trying to reconstruct the crime!”

Burne leaps past Jankin. “Don’t let him get away!” he yells taking a wild swipe at the locksmith with the truncheon he pulled from beneath his cloak.

In a surprisingly loud and commanding voice Gar booms deeply, “Peace, gentlemen, peace!” Burne and the locksmith refuse to give up the fight however, so Gar steps back a pace or two to give himself protection from the chaos and a clear aim at the crux of the fight. Then he lets fly with a blast of stinging rain and howling winds that emerge out of his upraised right hand, like hosing down dogs in heat.

Burne jumps out of the way, holding up his left hand to protect his face. The locksmith bolts out the door screaming, “Madmen! They are madmen!”

Aramek grew up without much contact with clerics of any kind and is completely shocked by Brother Burne’s belligerent behavior and the ensuing fight. As soon as the fight began, he immediately cast Mage Armor, stepped backwards up the stairway a few steps and, as Gar began casting, yelled “Stop! Stop this immediately!”

Jankin steps back holding his bleeding thigh, looking appalled and speechless.

Fingol steps in front of Burne, “Let him go! And by the gods, Gar, no more windstorms! If your winds mix the wrong things together it won’t be the law’s judgments we’ll face but our makers’!”

Gar looks around peevishly, “Oops, sorry, got carried away in the moment.”

Burne, however, is not about to let the locksmith go. He shoves past Fingol and runs out into the street yelling, “Stop miscreant! Stop in the name of the law! Stop him citizens! Thief! Robber!” Of course, no one wishes or dares to hinder the locksmith as he races down the crowded and muddy streets, Burne hot on his heels.

Aramek steps back into the room from the stairwell; looks at Gar, and then takes in the mess created by his spell. A shadow of anger crosses his face. He then looks at Fingol and the bleeding Jankin. With a clear edge to his voice says, “Sir Fingol, had Brother Burne listened to you in the first place and not acted the complete ass, none of this would have happened. So far as I’m concerned, whatever damage has been caused to this shop is not Sir Gar’s fault but rests solely on the ‘good brother’ and I shall inform my master of that fact. In the mean time, I believe Sir Jankin’s wound is in need of attention. I’ll be happy to continue helping you, but I think that should be attended to first.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” says Jankin. “But perhaps something to clean and bind it would be appreciated.”

Fingol sighs with frustration and resignation. ”Thank you dearly for your patience! For now, I have to make sure the good brother loses a footrace, for he’s done enough mischief for one day. I pray I’ll be back and we’ll find something to put us on to the real thief.” With that, Fingol rushes out the door.

After Fingol runs out the door, Gar says, “Yes, thank you Aramek. You are a noble fellow. Now, Sir Jankin, let me have a look at that cut.” Gar walks over to Jankin and tends to his wound. Applying pressure to the cut to slow the bleeding, Gar first casts a spell to clean out the flesh wound by chanting his magic mantra and fingering his little Green Man. Focusing his mind and holding forth the Green Man, he then radiates a burst of healing power, and in a moment Jankin’s wound closes leaving only torn breeches and dried blood behind, not even a scar remains to show the ladies.

Aramek, somewhat surprised at Gar’s compliment, nods to him then turns to Jankin and says, “I’m glad you’re going to be alright, Sir Jankin.” He continues; “Please excuse me. The unseen servant will clean this mess up. I need to talk with Master Parwyn about what’s just happened. Please be seated for a moment.” With that, Aramek turns and goes up the stairwell to find Master Parwyn.

After Aramek goes upstairs an invisible spirit takes up a mop and bucket and begins cleaning the mess from the entrance to the shop.

Aramek finds Master Parwyn upstairs in the loft storeroom. He is holding the wand that was left behind by the burglar from the night before. “Aramek, what are those blunderers doing down there? It sounds like they’re making more of a mess than the burglar ever did.”

Aramek, with a scowl coming over his face, recounts what happened, being sure to point out that the entire affair was the fault of Brother Burne and that Fingol has gone after him before he causes even more trouble. He adds, “Sir Gar has taken care of Sir Jankin and I asked them to be seated while I came up to find you. The unseen servant is seeing to the mess, which, I will admit, could have been a great deal worse.”

Parwyn exclaims, “Tight Wads of Xerbo! They’ll bring the wrath of the Thieves Guild down upon our household! Doesn’t Fingol realize that the Locksmith Guilds throughout the land are almost always fronts for the Thieves Guild, or else under the control of that guild? We pay them for their locks and annual maintenance as a guarantee that thieves will stay away from our house. The lock is just a token really, or else proof against unsanctioned thieves. I hadn’t had one installed since the Scarlet Brotherhood destroyed their guild, but now the thieves have come back. I identified this wand this morning. It is indeed a wand for the detection of magic. It was almost certainly a member of the Thieves Guild that broke in, and they simply took anything magical at hand. I was hoping to pawn this to make up for the losses from last night, but now I’ll almost certainly have to return it to the Guild in reparations now that those fools attacked that locksmith.” Parwyn sighs heavily.

“Begging your pardon, Master, but like me, Sirs Fingol and Gar are newly arrived here in Westkeep. I didn’t know about the Thieves Guild connection to the Locksmiths Guild myself. That’s probably why Brother Burne immediately jumped to the conclusion that the locksmith was the thief, but it still doesn’t excuse him from making an ass of himself, and now putting us in danger through his thoughtless behavior. Master, I think you need to come back down, in the event Fingol comes back soon. He did indicate he wanted to continue the investigation.”

Parwyn groans, “Robberies and payments to the Thieves Guild I can deal with, but I hope to the gods we can survive this Fingol and Company’s investigation.” Nevertheless he does follow Aramek back downstairs, after locking the wand back up in the storeroom.

After a little bit, Aramek and Parwyn return to the shop. Parwyn looks around and says, “Well it is not as bad as I feared; just a little water.”

Jankin jumps up from the stool he was resting on and says, “Master Parwyn, I am most ashamed of my colleagues’ lack of propriety. I will be happy to pay you for any damages or inconvenience to you or your household.”

“That is most gracious of you. Thank you,” replies Parwyn.

Aramek, feeling a little better because of Master Parwyn’s reaction to Jankin’s offer of restitution, says, “I’m glad to see you’re feeling alright, Sir Jankin. And Sir Gar, while you may have underestimated the power of your spell, you certainly did put a stop to the fight. I thank you for that.”

“Thank you, my good man,” Gar replies. “And you are right, Aramek, it is very different practicing spells in the sacred groves and outdoor shrines of the Flan. I am much more comfortable in nature. Small quarters make quite a wind storm,” Gar smiles sheepishly.

Turning to Master Parwyn, Aramek asks, “Master, while we await Sir Fingol, may I bring some drink for you and our guests?”

“Yes, yes. That would be a splendid idea Aramek,” Parwyn says. Aramek hurries off to prepare some herbal tea and find some cakes in the pantry.

After watching the magic broom for a few moments, Gar says, “What a handy boom and/or spirit you have there. Since we have a few minutes until Sir Fingol returns, may I ask, Master Parwyn, what your specialty is in this fine establishment?”

Master Parwyn smiles at Gar. “I am just a humble alchemist. I know some cantrips and other minor spells to help around the shop. Nothing too spectacular, but they do make life easier.”

“Ah,” says Gar, “alchemy. So, you make magic potions?”

“Sometimes, sometimes… But it takes more arcane prowess than I claim to have to be able to make truly valuable potions. I’ve made potions that could make you invisible, or comprehend languages, or locate objects. But usually I make healing medicines, tinctures and poultices. That is what is in demand now of course.”

Then Gar queries, “Master Parwyn, may I ask what was stolen? Were they magical items?”

“No, not really… The burglar took some of the poultices, tinctures and other items that were down here. But when I ran him off he left behind a wand that will allow its user to detect the presence of magic. Something a wizard or sorcerer would not usually need, but quite valuable to others. That item, alone, will more than pay for the things that were taken if I can find a buyer who will give me a fair price. The burglar was using it to find the truly valuable potions locked in the storeroom up in the loft, but he wasn’t good enough of a burglar to bypass my alarm. So he didn’t take anything else of any consequence.”

Aramek comes back in with the tea and cakes at this point from the back of the shop, where the kitchen and pantry are located. When he does, Parwyn gives him a look as though to say, ‘Say no more than what I have said.’

“Thank you, Aramek,” says Gar. “Master, how much does a wand like that sell for?”

Parwyn considers for a moment, “Well, one would have to charge at least 375 gold for it. That’s what it costs to make such a wand.”

That much gold being more than Aramek could ever believe he would have, he evidences an audible intake of breath followed by a whispered, “Wow!”

Meanwhile, outside, under the awnings of one of the stores down Tanglefoot Lane, Fingol finds Burne and the locksmith confronting one another on either side of a stall full of pots and other cooking items. They circle around it back and forth in an attempt to get the drop on the other. Burne still has his truncheon out and the locksmith is still waving his dagger about. The merchant is shouting and gesticulating wildly, but they are ignoring him.

Fingol runs up behind Brother Burne, careful not to impair his ability to defend himself, and says, “Brother Burne, didn’t you yourself tell me that it is unsafe for healers of the keep to go into town by themselves? Let’s get you back to the keep before someone starts a riot!”

“Help me apprehend this spawn of chaos, Sir Fingol! Didn’t you know that the Locksmith Guild is simply a front for the Thieves Guild? This man is either the burglar himself or he knows the one who did it! He thought he could strut right in front of us, but he won’t get away with it. If not for Jankin’s interference, my spell would have confirmed that he’s no honest workman but an agent of anarchy and disorder.”

“You’re a raving lunatic, you are!” retorts the locksmith just as he upturns the cart, sending pots and pans crashing and careening into the street. Fingol and Burne are forced to jump back as the locksmith dashes away.

“My pots!” howls the merchant in dismay.

“After him! Don’t let him get away!” yells Burne as he takes off after the locksmith.

Fingol tries to grab Burne, but he barrels past with an oath and heads down the street, shouting back to Fingol, “Don’t you dare hinder an agent of the law! We’ll settle our differences later.”

Fingol chases after him. ”You idiot! The person who committed this crime can leap further than a bowshot and disappear like smoke in the wind. The fact that you chased him down proves he’s innocent!”

“Ha! Shows what you know!” shouts back Burne. “This locksmith may not be the burglar, but he’s certainly a thief himself and can probably tell us who it is once we put him to the question!”

The locksmith finally reaches the Processional and swiftly melts into the crowd. Fingol sees no sign of him amid the hustle and bustle. Neither does Burne, who even climbs up onto a barrel. “Damn, double damn! Fingol, if you hadn’t hindered but helped me, we might have got him. Then we’d have a lead on our burglar. You’d better stick to hunting prey in the wilds, because you just missed catching a thief right when he was under your nose. Fah!” Burne kicks at the mud in disgust and trudges back towards Parwyn’s shop.

Fingol starts up firmly, but flatly (trying to hide his anger), “Brother Burne, I suggest we get you back to the keep. I’m concerned for the peace of the town now that we have made such a commotion. Word must be out that a healer is abroad in the town.”

Burne rubs his stubbly jaw and ponders that. “You might be right. That is the kind of mischief those miscreants would stoop to, stirring up a mob with tales of a healer. The Cuthbertian mission is just up the street. We have a security force there and stout walls and gates. I’ll go over there and head to the keep later. You better get back to the others and tell them what happened.”

Burne starts to walk away but then stops, “Oh and Sir Fingol. Please convey my apologies to Master Parwyn for creating a scene in his shop. I just couldn’t bear the thought of that thief laughing up his sleeve at us like that. I should have just arrested and subdued him right away instead of wasting time casting spells. I should have known he’d resist, though I confess I didn’t think he’d try to stab me.” He rubs his neck and blushes. “And be sure to convey my apologies and thanks to Sir Jankin. Now that I’ve cooled down a bit, I realize he probably saved my life and got stabbed for his troubles on my behalf.” He sighs heavily. “And I hope you too will accept my apology Sir Fingol. I still say, we should have taken that man in, but I probably should have warned you all and come up with a better and more coordinated plan. I guess sometimes the chaos within ourselves aids and abets the chaos around us. Are we good Sir Fingol?” He offers his hand to Fingol.

Fingol listens to the sincere sounding apologies with a fair amount of surprise. Then he shakes Brother Burne’s hand, “Well, I think it is the work of the Evil Brotherhood to throw wedges amongst those who should be friends. For my part, I’ll have none of it and convey your messages sincerely. I’ll see you soon, Brother Burne.”

Fingol and Burne part ways as Burne heads up the Processional to the Cuthbertian mission and Fingol returns to Parwyn’s shop. Fingol wonders how a cleric (a group of men known for wisdom) could act so rashly. 

Fingol walks back into the shop, fanning himself to cool off from his exertions. He finds the others still discussing the value of the magic wand left by the burglar.

Gar looks over at Aramek, winks, and then says, “Aye, worth a dragon’s treasure it is. I bet the thief is kicking himself about losing it. Master, do you think perhaps he might come to steal it back?”

Aramek forcefully blurts out, “Just let him try! We’ll be ready for him, won’t we Master?” Snoop rears his tiny head up and squeaks his determination to protect the shop as well.

Fingol suggests, “If you do plan on laying a trap, we’d best coordinate it with Sir Gorman so we have the men to catch this thief. And you’d best move out anything that shouldn’t be broken, and make sure he can’t get out through the windows again. But I think we are way ahead of ourselves. I was hoping to know a little more about the man who committed the crime before we get to the stage of making plans.”

Looking at Fingol, Aramek sheepishly replies, “Sorry, Sir Fingol. Of course you’re right. I guess I’m just angry about our shop and home being broken into. I feel like I need to be doing something.” To Master Parwyn he says, “Master, I’m not about to let any harm come to you or Mistress Gwen, or the boys for that matter. I am a member of the Guard and I’m sure we’ll be able to get to the bottom of this! I’m just glad we were nearby when the thief broke in here.”

Parwyn interrupts to say, “Now hold on. I don’t want to antagonize anyone unnecessarily. If the rightful owner comes back to claim this wand then they may have it. I don’t want any more fights, and I don’t want to have to spend my life looking over my shoulder. And though I appreciate your help,” he looks at Jankin and the others, “someday you will all be returning to your homeland, but I have to live here.”

Jankin has no answer to this. Then he turns to Fingol and asks, “Sir Fingol what happened? Did Burne catch his man? Did you catch Burne? Where is he?”

“Sir Jankin, I’m glad to see you in better shape than your breeches!” replies Fingol. “I am glad to say our locksmith made his escape. I’d say he did a good job clearing his name, not only did he not leap from rooftop to rooftop nor disappear like smoke in the wind, he couldn’t outpace our stout friar. I kept Brother Burne from giving him a few bruises, but nearly got a few of my own for my troubles. I left him at the Cuthbert Mission; he’ll find his way back to the keep from there. 

“After the chase, the good cleric calmed down. He apologizes to all who were harmed by his rashness. He says he was enraged at the thought that the locksmith was the thief and laughing up his sleeve at us. He apologizes especially to you Sir Jankin, who was hurt while trying to protect him. 

“I’d like to offer my own apologies, for not explaining myself better, although I do not know if that would have changed anything. I was simply trying to walk through the crime to know more about the man who committed it. If my questions appeared to cast suspicion on anyone I am deeply sorry. I was simply starting at the beginning of the trail, and I would like to follow it to the end, if I may prevail on Master Parwyn and all a little longer. 

“I think we can already make some guesses about the thief based on the trophy he left behind, but I am guessing that what he sought is even more valuable, at least in this town. But I am not that far down the trail yet. And before I pick up the trail again, I wouldn’t mind taking my ease for a moment. It’s been a merry chase.

“Aramek, we were, uh, interrupted earlier, but I had asked if anything was missing from the ground floor here. And where would those things have been?”

“I can answer that,” says Parwyn. “This is my shop after all. As you can see, I have several locked cabinets on this floor. I keep various medicinal tinctures and poultices in them, as well as other more exotic items when they are called for. But last night there were no such exotic items, only the medicinals. This cabinet and this one over here were broken into. The thief picked the locks quite expertly.” He points out the cabinets, but there are new locks on them now. The old locks are on a table, but there is nothing about them that is especially revealing.

“Now perhaps we should all go up to the loft. I’ll show you what there is to see, though it is not much, and then I must get back to my work.” Parwyn leads everyone upstairs to the loft. On the way, he tells Charl and Latih to go back downstairs to supervise the unseen servant and watch over things.

In the loft, there is indeed not much to see. There is a cot for Aramek and a side table and dresser for his things. There is shelf full of old books and a trunk off in one of the other corners. One part of the room has been walled off to form a storage room with a stout oaken door. There is one window with broken shutters, consistent with someone having leaped through them to the building on the other side.

Fingol asks to search the storeroom, Parwyn grumbles a bit but he opens it up. “The burglar didn’t get in here anyway. He tried to, but then set the magical alarm off. That’s when I came up here and saw him. He was dressed all in black from head to toe. Even the area around his eyes was darkened with coal or something like it. He didn’t seem to be armed. Anyway, he dropped that.” Parwyn points to one of the shelves where a wand rests. Various potions fill the other shelves.

Parwyn plucks up the wand to show Fingol and the others, but there is nothing remarkable about it. “This is what he dropped, a simple oaken wand for detecting magical emanations. The thief was using it, as I believe I mentioned, to find things worth stealing. When I heard the alarm I rushed upstairs as fast as I could, and the burglar was fumbling at the latch on the shutters. I thought he was going to leap at me when I came into the room, but then the whistles of the night watch started blowing from the street. Whoever it was took a running start and then just leaped through the window. It must be 15′ to the building on the other side. He clung to the cornice of the building and with his free hand summoned a magical fog to cover his escape. Then Aramek came charging in with the rest of the night watch. And that’s about all I can tell you.”

“So to your knowledge, he didn’t get anything from this storage area?” Fingol persists, “And what is stored up here, do you by any chance have potions that would magically resist or cure disease?”

Parwyn says, “No, he didn’t get in here. And while you were away I was telling your friend, the good priest Gar, the only potions I make are to comprehend languages, locate objects, or even turn invisible. I don’t have much in the way of sorcery, so that is about it. But they are still valuable enough to lock away. Oh, and there are some things I make that are not magical but valuable enough to lock away also: tanglefoot bags, thunderstones, alchemist’s fire, antitoxins, things like that. But again, the burglar never got near any of it. For healing potions, one would have to see the clerics.”

“Hmmm. The thief seemed to know a good bit about your shop, and he went for healing items on the ground floor. I supposed that he would be going for healing potions up here. In any case, I think he may be back and not for his wand. I think there is something here that he wants, or he thinks there is something here. I’d suggest we keep a couple members of the guard in Aramek’s chambers for a few nights, assuming Sir Gorman can be persuaded and you are willing Master Aramek.”

“Well, my family and I would certainly welcome some extra guards for a few nights,” says Parwyn, “though probably the thieves would just wait until there are no longer any guards.”

“I agree,” says Fingol, “the thief will probably wait until the guards are pulled back. Perhaps that is when we can set a true trap for him. We’ll have to give that some more thought.”

Fingol moves over to the window and inspects it. ”Master Parwyn, could you move over to where you stood when you saw the thief? Let’s try to get an idea of how tall he is.”

Parwyn does so. Parwyn is about an inch shorter than Fingol, who is 5’9 and a bit heavier than Fingol for all his frailty. “The burglar was maybe this high,” says Parwyn using the nob of his cane to indicate the height, at about the level of his chest.

One last thing,” says Fingol, “you said he was dressed in black, any more detail than that? Was it black leather or black clothing?”

“It was just black cloth. I doubt the burglar could have been wearing any armor underneath,” answers Parwyn.

“Did you see if he had weapons?”

“No, no weapons that I could see.”

“Was there anything stolen from the upper level?”

“As I said before, nothing of any consequence was taken. I think he took a book from that shelf over there.”

Throughout this exchange, Aramek stands to the side, conflicted and wanting desperately to say something about Reece’s missing journal and the statue wrapped in the parchment, knowing he dare not.

Gar, noticing Aramek’s discomfort and remembering something he had said earlier chimes in with, “Aramek, you mentioned earlier that some relics of the Master’s missing son were taken. What exactly was stolen?”

Aramek, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, looks imploringly at Parwyn, not knowing what he should do. In a soft voice he says, “Master?”

“That was nothing,” says Parwyn. “The book was just a journal that belonged to my son, Reece. Reece disappeared during the occupation. We never found out what happened to him. The Scarlet Brotherhood killed him as they did so many. The book had an arcane mark, for Reece was also studying to be an alchemist and was a bit of a sorcerer himself, but there was nothing of any significance in that book. No spells or arcane secrets, that’s for sure. The burglar probably just took it because of the mark.”

Gar replies, “My condolences about your son, Master. May I ask how old he would be now?”

Parwyn sighs, “He would have been 23 this year.”

With a curious look at Parwyn, Gar asks, “Master, do you know who the rightful owner of the magic wand may be? Have you ever seen it before last night?”

“No, I haven’t ever seen it before. If anyone with a strong enough claim comes to get it, I will turn it over. I will not fight over it nor put my family at risk. If the rest of you wish to bait a trap, spring the trap elsewhere, not in my shop or even my neighborhood. I beg of you.”

Gar continues with his questions, “Was anything else of Reece’s taken? Was this his room?”

“Yes, this had been his room. That trunk there also has an arcane mark on it. But whatever may have been taken from it was not anything I knew about.”

Gar then asks, “Master, you mentioned that Reece was a bit of a sorcerer. May I ask if he had a familiar?”

“Not all sorcerers have familiars. Some of us have a special bonded object. Naturally we keep this a secret if we can. Reece, however, did have a familiar. It was a snake, a water moccasin.”

“Thank you, Master,” Gar says, “I apologize for prying into such a sensitive area, but if I may ask a few more questions. Was Reece tall or short for his age?

Parwyn sighs heavily. “I see where this is going. You suspect that Reece himself may have returned. Very well, he was 5’5, and weighed 141 lbs. He had a dark tan, brown hair to his shoulders, and grey eyes. The burglar was definitely shorter and slighter than Reece. And no, I wasn’t able to take note of the color of his eyes.”

Gar continues, “How many years ago did Reece disappear? If it is not too painful, milord, would you mind sharing the story of how he disappeared?”

Parwyn’s impatience now shows clearly on his face as he frowns and curtly replies, “He disappeared 6 years ago in 585. He just vanished one day. I thought he was out on another drinking binge, but he never returned. Now I have told you all I know. I must bid you all a good day, as I have work to do. Aramek, please see them out.” Parwyn turns to head down the stairs.

Fingol thanks Parwyn, “Thank you Master for your patience. I will respect your wishes and not involve the shop in any plans we might devise. But we will protect you and your family as best we can.”

“Then you have my deepest thanks,” says Parwyn.

Gar calls out, as he is whisked down the stairs by the sorcerer’s apprentice, “Thank you, Master, we have indulged your patience long enough.”

Parwyn nods, “Thank you for your interest good priest.”

As Aramek is showing Gar, Fingol and Jankin out of the shop he says to Fingol, “Sir Fingol, I will be happy to do whatever you would like to help protect Master Parwyn, Mistress Gwen and the boys. Please let me know.”

Fingol says in turn, “Aramek, I’ll speak with Sir Gorman right away! I am sure he’ll help out the landlord of one of his men.”

“And again,” says Jankin, “I offer my apologies to you and to Master Parwyn for any disruption we may have caused. I will happily come back here to help guard this shop myself if the prince gives me leave.”

As soon as Fingol, Gar and Jankin leaves, Aramek does a bit of straightening up, all the while pondering what has just occurred – the break in and what was stolen, his master’s reaction, the stupid priest of St. Cuthbert, and the subsequent questioning by Fingol. As tired as he is, he can’t rest until he talks to Rain about what’s just happened. After making sure everyone is okay and with Parwyn’s permission, he takes his leave of the shop. He heads immediately to the barracks in search of Rain. He finds her with Hex and Vaskez at the archery range set up on the parade ground.