A Night On The Town

“There are men who steal because they are poor, and men who kill because they are paid. Then there are those rare few who do both simply because the world dared them to try. If you ever find yourself sitting across the table from one of those, finish your drink quickly. Either the night is about to become very profitable, or very short.”

— Dockside proverb attributed to the sailors of Azura

  Dartimen walked down the gangplank of the Stormrider and disappeared into the dockside crowd. Most sailors on shore leave make for the nearest watering hole, and Dartimen was certainly no exception, although he was not immediately interested in a drink. He reached into his pocket, making certain the amulet was still there. It was a curious piece, with precious few clues to an origin he could not completely piece together. That could mean only one thing. It predated the War of the Talon. That meant it was old, two millennia perhaps older still, and if it was old, it was expensive. It also had sisters, at least four that Dartimen knew about, although he suspected there may have been more. He had personally recovered three of them and would go on to steal back each one a handful of times over the years for a short list of clients offering reasonably steady salaries for stealing it back from one another, a bizarre game among nobles with more gold than good sense. The other stones, if they existed at all, were long since lost to history.   Rand’s message was not clear about this little arrangement. He had asked about this particular piece as a favor, claiming he had found a desperate buyer in a jam willing to make an even trade for a handful of fathom diamonds, of all things. The take was high, too high for Rand’s circle of street thugs and unremarkable riffraff. It seemed he was trying to impress someone, an odd habit of his that usually ended badly for all concerned. Still, it was a generous offer that would finance a year’s worth of new jobs as well as a few months of relaxation in friendlier ports, all for an inert amber stone he would see again sooner or later.   A quick visit with Rand, then he would be off again. Speed was the key. There was no need to waste any more time in this dreadful city than necessary. The crowd was already thick and grew denser as he approached the line of taverns running the length of the great sea road that led from the docks into the city proper. It was still early, but the raucous revelry of men with too much coin and too much strong drink was already pouring into the afternoon air. With each step, the sweet scents of the sea faded, only to be replaced with the stench of stale beer and sour wine.   The Chuckling Parrot was not at all unique among seaside taverns. The exterior was in a poor state. The salty sea air had cracked and chipped the paint, and the exposed wood was gray and crumbling. Dartimen smirked. It looked sturdy enough to stand while he made his exchange. The front door was propped open with a small lobster trap, which was kicked aside as a drunken longshoreman staggered outside, the front of his coveralls fresh with his own sick. A chipped flagon of some foul smelling drink sloshed clumsily in his shaking hand. Dartimen casually sidestepped him and slipped into the tavern.   Inside, he was met with a purgatory only alcohol can bring. Too many men were gathered tightly around too few tables, slamming down mugs of cheap ale and watered down liquor as fast as they could be poured. Several revelers, already having imbibed too much fun, were laid out face down on a floor strewn with puddles of beer and heaps of peanut shells. Dartimen scanned the crowd but found no sign of Rand. He grumbled to himself and rolled his eyes. He did not want to spend a minute longer here than he had to. Rand, of course, rarely showed up on time, and his choice for a meeting place was a dive even by his lowly standards.   From above him, Dartimen suddenly heard his old friend’s familiar voice calling his name. “Dart. Hey, Dartimen. Up here.” The excitement in Rand’s voice struck him as odd, but he decided he was simply anxious for his merchandise. Dartimen looked up and spotted the sea elf waving to him from the second floor balcony, wearing the remnants of what was once a fine silk shirt, now weathered and missing a sleeve and a half. Above it he wore a vest of leather with a low back that hung down to his ankles like a cloak, a style of armor favored among the Iorian Elves. He waved his own hand in acknowledgment and made for the stairs.   Rand Deepsea stood over a beaten, splintering bar table nearest the balcony rail. With him were two men Dartimen did not recognize. Both of them were human and dressed far too nicely to be regular patrons of this sort of watering hole. One was a slight man, older but with a still formidable build. His salt and pepper hair was unkempt and wild. One of his eyes was hidden behind an eyepatch, but Dartimen was immediately drawn to the bitter scowl on his face. The other man was tall and thin, almost gaunt. His long copper colored hair dangled in front of his intense brown eyes. Around his chest was a bandolier fitted with dozens of sheaths that each held a slender, deadly looking knife.   Rand crossed the balcony to meet him, smiling the familiar smile that told Dartimen Rand already had a plan for helping him reinvest his payment for the amulet. Dartimen forced a smile and extended his hand.   “There you are, old man. I was wondering when you were going to show up.”   Rand grasped Dartimen’s hand and shook it like he had not seen him in years.   “Hi, Rand. I hope I did not keep you and your…” He quickly glanced over Rand’s shoulder at the two men at his table, who had yet to move a muscle. “…you and your friends waiting too long.”   Rand chuckled. “No, no, not at all. You, uh, you do not recognize them, do you?”   Dartimen rolled his eyes, shaking his head irritably. He peered past Rand, his patience diminishing. “Should I…”   Dartimen’s words trailed off into stunned silence as he focused on Rand’s buyers.   “That’s Ferrik and Loos,” Rand said proudly with a sly smile.   Dartimen could not stop the tremor of fear that ran down his spine. With a flick of his wrist, he slid a hidden dagger into his hand and held the tip of it to Rand’s gut. He forced his rage into a low whisper. “They’re the Black Sparrow’s top assassins. And you’re having a drink with them. What in the hell are you trying to pull. If the guild catches us, they’ll kill us.”   Rand held his breath as the tip of the blade pressed hard against his stomach. “Calm down. I made a deal. That’s why I needed the amulet, all right. Relax.”   “Relax. I’m standing ten feet away from two guys who’d have no problem killing everyone in this pit just to get their hands on the two of us. So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill the guy that stood me in front of them.”   “I’m telling you. They’re not after us, they’re just here to take possession of the amulet. I worked this out already. We’re square with the guild now. We give them the stone, you take the guild’s diamonds, and we walk. It’ll all be over. In fact…” Rand took another, more cautious look over his shoulder. Ferrik and Loos still had not moved. “…I found out where the Sparrow’s auction is.”   Dartimen relaxed the knife, barely. “What do you mean, the auction. The Sparrows are holding their ball here in Azura. When.”   Rand smiled mischievously. “Tonight,” he whispered.   The Black Sparrows were a cabal of Aerith’s finest burglars, con artists, and mercenary fortune hunters. Members spent each year pilfering treasures and antiquities from across the known world, then auctioned them off at an invitation only grand ball of notorious decadence held in strict secrecy. Getting inside, unnoticed of course, presented him a unique opportunity to covertly mingle with some of the most powerful people in the world and, if he was lucky, find himself close enough to something valuable to perhaps turn a profit from his “favor.”   Dartimen slowly withdrew the dagger. A few more hours of unpleasantness was worth the potential reward. Still, something did not sit right. He glanced past Rand at Ferrik and Loos. Both remained unnervingly poised. Rand was not smart enough to be dealing with Ferrik and Loos on his own, but if Rand was right and the Black Sparrows were willing to purchase the amulet and spare their lives, he was not going to argue. Clients seeking these stones frequently offered high sums and few questions. Reluctantly, he tucked the knife back up his sleeve.   Satisfied he was not about to be stabbed, Rand relaxed and cautiously led Dartimen to the table. He spun a chair around and leaned expectantly over the back.   Dartimen sat down warily across the table from the monsters he had been successfully avoiding for five years. Perhaps Brimstone and Jessa should have come along after all.   Ferrik’s single cold eye stalked Dartimen as he slid into his chair. “Dartimen Silvernight. The Black Cat himself,” he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief. He shook his head in disgust as his jaw clenched. “I hate this. That I must meet you this way. I was supposed to kill you.”   Dartimen raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Try not to take it too hard.”   “You mock me.” Ferrik’s lip curled in a defiant sneer. “Yes, of course you do.”   “Rand has no doubt told you the terms of this exchange. Your lackey likes to talk, yes. Talks too much, yes.” Ferrik slowly turned his head, grinning maniacally at Rand, who recoiled beneath the assassin’s shadow.   Dartimen, however, kept his eyes on Loos, who sat motionless, his breathing steady and even, his eyes remaining hidden, yet Dartimen could sense their fury. “Rand left out a detail… or two.”   Rand winced and scratched the back of his head, forcing a laugh. “Hey. What difference does it make. It’s just like any other job. An even exchange. No questions, no names, right, Dart.”   “I’d call this a special occasion,” Dartimen mused grimly.   “So… you got it.” Rand tapped his fingers on the table, his sea green eyes shimmering with anticipation.   Reaching into his pocket, Dartimen kept his eyes fixed on Rand, though he cast a quick glance at the notorious cutthroats across the worn pine table. They sat ominously still. “Only if you’ve got my diamonds.”   Ferrik produced a small, inky black velvet pouch from beneath the table, setting it down and sliding it to the middle in front of Dartimen. He withdrew his hand, barely holding back a scowl. Dartimen scooped up the pouch, loosened the drawstrings, and emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. Six spheres of frosty, vibrant blue and white crystal glowed with a pale aura, Illusion Sea fathom diamonds, each one worth a staggering fortune. He plucked one from his palm and held it to his eye. It was sheer perfection. Without a word, he returned the diamonds to the pouch and slipped it into the breast pocket of his overcoat.   Ferrik raised an eyebrow. “The amulet,” he growled.   Dartimen met Ferrik’s empty stare but found no immediate treachery. He held his hand over the table and slowly released the amulet, allowing it to dangle on its thin silver chain. A perfect pear shaped drop of amber hung cradled in a lacework of delicate silver wire as fine as silk. A haunting inner foxfire glowed in the steady candlelight.   Rand reached for the small treasure, his hand trembling. He tugged on the amulet, but Dartimen held it fast, staring at Rand for a moment before releasing it. A relieved Rand smiled and brushed his thumb across the surface of the amber stone. He held it out to Ferrik, presenting him with the prize.   Ferrik ran a hand through his stormy hair, and his eye narrowed into an icy slit, remaining focused on Dartimen. His hand gripped the amulet so tightly the leather of his fingerless gloves creaked. He smiled wryly and opened his hand, finally looking down to study the small treasure in detail.   “Tell me, Master Silvernight, how is it you came to possess such a rare and exquisite piece,” Ferrik hissed coolly.   Dartimen glared at Rand. Entertaining the client was not part of the plan, especially when that client turned out to be a pair of the world’s most feared assassins, assassins who, for reasons he could scarcely imagine, had not yet killed both of them. For a moment he considered trying to stab Rand again.   “I took it in trade,” Dartimen tossed out the half truth, hoping it would be enough to assuage Ferrik.   A slight sneer cracked across Ferrik’s face. “Not the sort of thing one would barter with, but Rand tells me you travel in circles where such commodities are traded quite freely.”   “I have friends in strange places. Sometimes they’re willing to make a deal.”   “Strange places indeed, Dartimen. But I am not talking about swapping trinkets with amateur fortune hunters or pilfering antiquities for lazy University wizards. Not this game of yours, this tiresome charade of larceny.”   “You going somewhere with this,” Dartimen huffed.   Ferrik scratched his jaw. “I seem to remember hearing stories that you had taken up the rebel cause at the siege of Saint Juliet.”   “That’s no secret,” Dartimen said with a crooked smile.   Ferrik nodded, steepling his fingers before him. “And that it was the Stormrider that led the Phantom Fleet against the Estanian armada.”   Dartimen frowned. “That is just a story.”   Ferrik smirked wickedly. “So you must have had powerful allies among the rebellion. Why did you do it. Why did you sail against your patron.”   “It wasn’t a political statement. Brimstone and I were well paid for our defection.” Dartimen gazed into Ferrik’s single eye. “But we did not lead the Phantom Fleet. I do not know who did. Nobody does.”   Ferrik chuckled grimly. “No, no, of course not.” He cocked his head, considering Dartimen for a moment.   “So you steal for money, you fight for money…” A wry smile slowly bled across Ferrik’s face. “…and you will betray for money.”   Dartimen clenched his teeth. “Don’t lecture me about who does what for money.”   Loos let out a demented chuckle. Ferrik turned to his partner and smiled with demonic mirth. “You don’t approve of the business we do.”   “We’ve both earned our renown the same way, taking things that don’t belong to us.” Dartimen shrugged.   “There, you see. We’re not so different.” A smug grin crept across Ferrik’s face as he studied the gemstone against the candlelight.   “Wrong. The things I take from people are of no loss, not to them. There’s no replacing what you take.” Dartimen smirked. “Besides, you need skill to do what I do…” He glanced at Loos, who trembled with rage. “…Any idiot can stick a knife in your back.”   Loos’ eyes widened, and with the speed and precision of an angry viper, his hand grasped a knife from his bandolier, but the merciless glare from Ferrik froze Loos, who released the blade sheepishly like a scolded animal.   “What kind of fool provokes his killer.” Ferrik hissed, stunned. “Your bravado is embarrassing. You call out death when it sits before you. Well, do not fear. I want to kill you, Dartimen Silvernight. It would be my great pleasure. I already know how I will do it, yes. I want to watch you and that buffoon next to you die. But not yet, not yet. We have a contract with the Black Sparrows…” Ferrik paused and turned, scowling fiercely at Loos. “…and we will honor it,” he growled.   Ferrik then turned his eye back to Dartimen. “I assure you, next time you call out death, you will find it.”   For a moment Dartimen stared blankly back at the assassin, when suddenly he began chuckling, nodding at Ferrik’s side of the old table. Loos looked into his lap and found a serrated blade attached to the side of Dartimen’s boot, inches away from his lower abdomen. Loos trembled, seething with a blood lust that colored his flesh in clouds of crimson, yet he remained motionless.   Dartimen rapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “And let me assure you that the next time death sits down in front of me, I’m going to stab it in the stomach. Now, how about we go back to talking like gentlemen.”   A wicked smirk forced its way across Ferrik’s face. “Interesting.” His single eye peered skeptically at Dartimen. “Why not kill him, eh.”   “I’d love nothing more…” Dartimen slowly pressed the tip of the blade into Loos’ flesh, holding it there, pausing for a moment to consider his would be killer. Finally, he shook his head. “But I make it a rule not to kick someone else’s dog.”   “Then you are a fool,” Ferrik chuckled with sinister amusement.   Dartimen smirked. “So I’m told.”   Rand suddenly burst to life. “Hey. Hey. Guys, relax.” He held up his open hands, smiling stiffly. “We all have what we came for.”   Ferrik smiled wryly. “Of course.” He opened his palm and revealed the amber amulet, chuckling darkly. “Do you know what this is.”   “I’ve been paid already. I don’t care what it is.” Dartimen lowered his foot, sliding the knife up his boot.   “Rand has told us that even you were never able to discover its origin.”   Dartimen frowned. “Rand talks too much.” He looked over at his old comrade, who was still shaking. “I had fragments of leads. They fell through. I was content to keep it up until I heard an old friend needed it for something important.” Again he gave Rand a quick, angry glance, but he was looking away at the door again, distracted.   “You have no idea how much trouble this little stone has caused.” Ferrik wrapped his hand around the amulet. Loos suddenly chuckled maniacally.   Dartimen held up his palm, waving it at Ferrik. “I’m not interested in why the guild wants it. Look, I don’t know what sort of deal Rand made with you, but if that stone is all the guild wants to settle this, then take it. And you can tell your bosses that we’re even now.”   A sinister grin slid across Ferrik’s face as he clutched the amber amulet tightly. “Your debt to the Black Sparrows is ended, Dartimen Silvernight. You were luckier than most. Pray we never find you again.” His voice trailed off in a low, stormy growl.   Dartimen stood up and calmly began walking backward. “I’ll be keeping an eye out.” As he passed Rand, he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of his chair. “Can I talk to you for a moment,” he growled, dragging Rand behind him.   Rand quickened his pace as Dartimen shoved him from behind. They marched down the stairs, through the throngs of drunken flotsam, and out of the Chuckling Parrot. Dartimen took a deep breath of fresh sea air to rid the stench from his lungs. He released Rand and led him a short distance from the tavern. As the crowd ebbed and surged around them, Dartimen could only stare at Rand, shaking his head in disbelief.   “You obviously think I’m stupid or something. Why didn’t you tell me who was after that amulet,” Dartimen suddenly barked.   “Because you wouldn’t have given it to me,” Rand countered in frustration.   “You’re damn right I wouldn’t have given it to you.” He closed his eyes, firmly rubbing his forehead.   “Dart, come on. What are you so mad about. We’re even with the Black Sparrows. We’re free now. Don’t ya get it.”   Dartimen waved his hand at Rand. “Why is it every time we meet you manage to shove me in front of a disaster.”   “I had no choice. They caught up with me in the Black Shore Islands. I thought they were going to kill me right there, but the only thing they were interested in was that little stone.”   “And you told them I had it,” Dartimen said flatly, his eyes narrowing.   Rand shook his head. “No. They knew you had it.”   Dartimen’s fists clenched. “Nobody else could have known I had this. What did you tell them.”   “Dartimen, I’m telling you, Ferrik knew. I couldn’t have told them anything. I didn’t even know you had it. Look, you’ve been there for me every time. For once I wanted to help you out, help us both out. I saw my chance, so I took it. I know I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” Rand shrugged meekly. “But now the guild doesn’t care about us anymore. The only thing the Black Sparrows wanted was the amulet.”   Dartimen slid off his hat and scratched his scalp, his mind drawn and quartered between Rand’s foolishness and the whimsy of chance. At least it was over.   Rand batted his thumbs against the collection of chains, beads, and crude twine around his neck. Suddenly he began to laugh.   “And hey. It’s not a total loss. I found out about the guild auction, didn’t I.” He forced a smile, struggling for something positive to say.   “We just pulled our heads out of a noose, and you’re thinking about robbing the Black Sparrows again,” Dartimen looked at him, stunned.   “You’re not,” Rand raised a knowing eyebrow.   Dartimen shook his head in denial, but his eyes drifted up along the glorious white towers of the city, with the great radiant spire of the Cathedral of Light dominating the sky above them.   Rand smiled mischievously. “Midnight tonight, at some old theater in the temple district called the ‘Glass Manor.’ And I know, you remember the guild’s auction ball. You know the kind of things they’re going to sell off there and, more importantly, to who.”   “Yeah, I know.” Dartimen smiled fondly. In his time as a member of the Black Sparrows, he had only attended one of these infamously grand affairs, the one he later robbed. However, it was a night of such exotic indulgence and garish spectacle that he occasionally regretted double crossing them.   Rand ran his fingers through his hair. “You could slip in and out. It’s an easy score.”   Dartimen rubbed his jaw, smiling. “There’s no such thing.” He looked Rand over skeptically. “What about you.”   Rand balked. “Me. Oh no. No way. I’m not getting anywhere near the Black Sparrows, not anymore. I’m taking the Hammershark and catching the first stiff breeze out of here.” Rand stared nervously out to sea. “You, Brimstone, and Rilian staying for the Carnivale.”   “No. We have this thing we have to do in Aranoc,” Dartimen muttered, suddenly distracted.   Rand winced, hesitating for a moment. “Is Jessa with you.”   Dartimen sighed, tired of the same questions. “Leave her alone, Rand.”   Rand’s lip curled into a sneer. “Big brother to the rescue.”   Dartimen stood to one side and pointed toward the far end of the harbor. “If you have something to say to Jessa, you’re welcome to come aboard. I should warn you, though. Brimstone may end up shooting at you for fun, and I can’t promise Rilian won’t kill you outright.”   Rand turned away, scowling.   “No. Guess not.” Dartimen nodded knowingly.   “Get out of here, Rand, and for your own good, stay away from people like Ferrik and Loos. It’s eventually going to get you…” Dartimen sighed. “…and probably me, killed.”   Rand smirked. “Not today, anyway.”   Dartimen slipped off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling to himself. “Not today.”   Rand scratched the back of his head nervously. “Dart, tell Jessa… tell Jessa I’m sorry.”   Dartimen surrendered a relenting nod. “I will.”   They stood in silence a moment, both enjoying the release of their shared burden. Dartimen slowly turned away and started down the long harbor road.   Rand called out to him. “Hey, Dart. Have fun at the party.”   Dartimen simply raised his hand as he slipped into the churning harbor crowd. Azura had just become a little more bearable and much more profitable. A cool, salty breeze blew in from the bay, and Dartimen shut his eyes, enjoying the air as it blew across his skin. Towering above him, the grandeur of the seaside capitol stood radiant in the light of the spring sun and the brilliance of the azure waters of the Illusion Sea that gave the city its name. Tonight, the streets would surge with revelers for the first night of Carnivale, and dignitaries from across the known world would gather in secret to indulge in nameless pleasures and vices.   Dartimen smiled to himself. It had been far too long since he had had a proper night on the town. He and the crew had been working nonstop for months and had certainly earned some time to relax. One day in port would not set them too far back. He strolled through the crowd back to the Stormrider to tell his friends and ready himself for what would no doubt be an enchanting and profitable evening.