Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"Tokala Street...?" Chavon says absently. He looks to the left at a point past Iana. "Whatever would she be doing on Tokala Street? Unless..."

Chavon starts to reach a hand out toward Iana, one finger lifted slightly to half-point at her. "Unless that's where the box is." Suddenly he claps his hands sharply. "That has to be it," he crows and stands up like an arrow fired from a bow and paces toward the door and back again. "You know..."

He folds his arms across his chest and fixes Iana with a narrow-eyed look. "There's room for a clever person such as yourself in my organization. The School is dying from the inside, Iana. The system is changing and there are going to be new people in charge soon. You're a bright woman, don't you want to be on the winning side? Be my consigliere?" His voice lowers in pitch, becomes richer. It's a pleasant voice, no question. It's not hard to speculate on why he would be successful as a crime boss. It's a voice a person wants to listen to. "You can walk out of here right now if you join me." Chavon walks a little closer, staying carefully just out of range of any possible physical attack despite the fact that Iana's confined. He crouches down, elbows on his knees and hands folded in front of him. It puts him roughly at eye level with Iana. "Come work for me and you can tell me everything you know. You'll be very well compensated."

Join him? His consigliere?

A second ago, Iana thought she was the one reeling Chavon in. She was feeding him information, and he was following where she led.

But in the space of a few breaths, he has turned it around on her. Now he is the one reeling her in, trying to persuade her to throw over everything that she has worked for, trying to tempt her with the power that he assumes she must want, and every time she thinks she has a second to compose an answer that will stall him, another offer comes.

Somehow, Iana has become just as trapped in her words as she is in her chair. She knows that she cannot say yes, I will work for you and make it sound convincing. Nor can she construct a verbal bridge back to the story that she has been trying to tell, not in any subtle or deft way.

It is the same feeling as when Ishan was thundering down the library aisle behind her, the same need to run, to escape - except now, she cannot escape. The ropes bite deeper into her wrists and ankles, reminding her more with every second that she is trapped here, and that nobody knows where she is.

"I - I need time to think about it?" she stammers, but her heart is pounding so fast that she can hardly hear anything else.

Think! Iana tells herself. She has learned how to deal with this! She has been taught how to resist persuasion; how to turn a questioner's interrogation back on them. And yet she cannot come up with a single word, besides, "I need more time."

And, worst of all, she hears herself saying "Please."

[Georg Elsebethson]

"The best we can do," she tells him, "at least to start, is to go to Tumbledown and take a look around. If we can find Ishan, then we can probably find Iana. As far as disguises... there's not much I can do for your size, but I can, at least, make it so that you can't be recognized."

When they leave the grounds, Asra sequesters the two of them away somewhere to disguise them privately. She sticks with a simpler look for herself, more akin to her Laurinel disguise, but in drab garb she'd noticed being worn in some of the more rundown locations they'd explored recently.

For Georg... well, like she said, she couldn't do much for his size, so she leaned into it. Giving him tight-looking clothes that had seen a seamstress many-times for new fitting, and a messy head of hair coupled with a shaggy beard and wild eyebrows. He looked like the kind of worker who'd settle down and eat half a side of beef for breakfast, the other half for lunch and consider snacking on the farmer for dinner.

It doesn't seem like much of a plan, but Georg doesn't have anything better to offer. He gives himself a quick inspection. "Well done. This head of hair will throw off anyone trying to connect me to this disguise." He runs a hand over his head, but of course, there's no tactile feeling, and he grimaces when he sees that the illusion doesn't really make the hair move naturally either. "Right, don't do that," he mutters to himself.

The disguised Scholars find their way into the district mid-afternoon. In years gone past, much of this mostly residential district would have been quiet because its residents would largely be at jobs in other parts of the city. Today it's quiet because no one seems interested in talking to them. There's a temptation to chalk it up to the uneasy mood across the city as a result of the demonstrations outside the School, but regardless everyone they approach is wary and tight-lipped, unwilling to comment on whether they know or even have seen Ishan Veriti. Even though Asra only saw him clearly for a few minutes, he's distinct enough that she's confident she's describing him properly. No one is letting on that they recognize him, though, and they find themselves on the corner of one of the small commercial areas of the district uncertain of what to do next. The small grocer's shop nearby does a mild amount of business, a few residents picking over the scant offerings in the produce stall outside, a few more coming or going. On the other corners are a tailor's shop, a boarded-up storefront and a cafe that appears to currently be closed at the moment.

A heavy-shouldered man with shaggy black hair and a five-o'clock shadow leans a shoulder against the door of the boarded-up storefront, watching Georg and Asra with a cool blue-eyed stare. Two women, one bearing the angular ears of an elf and the other a human, sit at one of the sidewalk tables outside the cafe. The human woman appears to be of late middle age, with silver hair and a tanned, lined face, while the elf is unusually curvy for a member of their species, wide hips and a round face. They both occasionally steal glances at Georg and Asra. Behind them, a couple of customers chatter about the lack of options for fruits and vegetables and speculate on how long they'll be able to stretch the food they have. Neither one of them sounds particularly positive about those prospects.

O's and A but Georg feels out of depth here. The plan was "look for Ishan," but they can hardly expect him to be wandering around in broad daylight with a gunnysack over his shoulder. And the locals are all too cautious and paranoid—not that he can blame them—to say anything to a couple of strangers canvassing the neighborhood. Even if they know who Ishan is, are they going to rat him out, given who he works for?

Georg is half-inclined to suggest that Asra drop the disguise on him in the hopes that Chavon will be reckless enough to try to kidnap him in order to get the box when he lays eyes on the heavy-shouldered man leaning up against a storefront that there's no apparent reason to hang about. Georg nudges Asra. "That man has the look of a professional loiterer," he says quietly.

Lacking any better options, Georg decides to walk right up to him. "You look like a man keeps his eyes open," Georg says gruffly. "I'm trying to find Ishan Veriti. You know him?"

[AftermathGM]

Lacking any better options, Georg decides to walk right up to him. "You look like a man keeps his eyes open," Georg says gruffly. "I'm trying to find Ishan Veriti. You know him?"

"You keep your eyes open, you get to know a lot of people," the man says with a half shrug and a full smirk. "Some of 'em more memorable than others." He nudges himself away from the wall of the storefront to stand up straight. "See, guy like you, I bet everyone remembers you. Big guys stand out, yeah?"

[Georg Elsebethson]

"You keep your eyes open, you get to know a lot of people," the man says with a half shrug and a full smirk. "Some of 'em more memorable than others." He nudges himself away from the wall of the storefront to stand up straight. "See, guy like you, I bet everyone remembers you. Big guys stand out, yeah?"

Georg squares up with the man as he steps off from the storefront. His hands are relaxed at his sides, but his stance is planted such that he could take or throw a punch on short notice. "Oh yeah, we stand out all right. Ishan is a big guy, too. Maybe not quite as big, but I bet you'd notice him."

[AftermathGM]

"I - I need time to think about it?" she stammers, but her heart is pounding so fast that she can hardly hear anything else.

Think! Iana tells herself. She has learned how to deal with this! She has been taught how to resist persuasion; how to turn a questioner's interrogation back on them. And yet she cannot come up with a single word, besides, "I need more time."

And, worst of all, she hears herself saying "Please."

Chavon's expression slides smoothly into a kind, understanding smile. His dark eyes carry an unexpected warmth. If Iana had just met him, it might all be believable. It's not hard to see why people would be willing to believe the image he's built for himself, why they might be willing to follow him.

"Of course, Iana. Take the time you need. The offer remains open," he says gently. Resting his hands on his knees, he stands up from his crouch and steps back to give her more physical space to match the metaphorical space he's allowing her to think on his offer. "I'm going to go speak with an associate. Check up on a few things you've told me. I'll send someone in with some water. You must be terribly thirsty now that the sedative is wearing off."

He pauses another moment, his smile fully intact as he studies the woman bound to the chair in front of him. He gives a small nod of satisfaction and then turns on his heel to leave the room. Iana can hear Chavon's voice beyond the door, as well as at least one other voice pitched above his, but it's too difficult to make out the exact words. It's hard to know how soon he'll send that water in, but at least for the moment, Iana finds herself alone again.

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Georg is half-inclined to suggest that Asra drop the disguise on him in the hopes that Chavon will be reckless enough to try to kidnap him in order to get the box when he lays eyes on the heavy-shouldered man leaning up against a storefront that there's no apparent reason to hang about. Georg nudges Asra. "That man has the look of a professional loiterer," he says quietly.

Lacking any better options, Georg decides to walk right up to him. "You look like a man keeps his eyes open," Georg says gruffly. "I'm trying to find Ishan Veriti. You know him?"

Asra lingers behind Georg, doing her best to appear meek and worried while keep her eyes peeled for suspicious characters, as well as casting occasional glances as the two women sitting nearby. For the most part, she's content to let him handle this particular interaction, but she'd step in if the opportunity presented itself.

"You keep your eyes open, you get to know a lot of people," the man says with a half shrug and a full smirk. "Some of 'em more memorable than others." He nudges himself away from the wall of the storefront to stand up straight. "See, guy like you, I bet everyone remembers you. Big guys stand out, yeah?"

Georg squares up with the man as he steps off from the storefront. His hands are relaxed at his sides, but his stance is planted such that he could take or throw a punch on short notice. "Oh yeah, we stand out all right. Ishan is a big guy, too. Maybe not quite as big, but I bet you'd notice him."

Sensing a strange hostility growing between these two, she decides that this might be the opportunity she was looking for. Or, at least one she needs to make if they don't want to get into a street brawl. Putting a hand on Georg's shoulder, she steps forward (though is still smart enough to keep Georg's bulk primarily between the two of them).

"We're sorry for bothering you, sir," she squeaks out nervously. "It's just that Ishan is the last person we know of who has seen our friend. We're terribly worried, and we'd be thankful for any information you could give us."

She calculates for a moment, the level of risk her next move might invoke. They were more or less out in the open, and being watched by a couple people. Unless they were previously affiliated, this man wasn't likely to do anything too rash and provoke the ire of everyone around them. Georg also served as a deterrent, but given the man's stance, its possibly he'd still take his chances.

Regardless, they needed answers, and folks around here were tight-lipped. "Please..." she mutters, reaching into her robe to pull out a silver coin that she clutches like its the last bit of her savings. "Any information you have would be a great help to us."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Chavon's expression slides smoothly into a kind, understanding smile. His dark eyes carry an unexpected warmth. If Iana had just met him, it might all be believable. It's not hard to see why people would be willing to believe the image he's built for himself, why they might be willing to follow him.

"Of course, Iana. Take the time you need. The offer remains open," he says gently. Resting his hands on his knees, he stands up from his crouch and steps back to give her more physical space to match the metaphorical space he's allowing her to think on his offer. "I'm going to go speak with an associate. Check up on a few things you've told me. I'll send someone in with some water. You must be terribly thirsty now that the sedative is wearing off."

Iana is thirsty - and the more that Chavon talks about it, the more she feels it. She nods to his offer - and hates it even more when she automatically says, "Thank you."

At least she almost - almost! - manages to hold back the tears until Chavon is out of the room.

He pauses another moment, his smile fully intact as he studies the woman bound to the chair in front of him. He gives a small nod of satisfaction and then turns on his heel to leave the room. Iana can hear Chavon's voice beyond the door, as well as at least one other voice pitched above his, but it's too difficult to make out the exact words. It's hard to know how soon he'll send that water in, but at least for the moment, Iana finds herself alone again.

Iana does hear the other voice, even as she is starting to waver towards her breakdown, but between the closed door and the booming of her own panicked heartbeat, she cannot hear anything more than that it is pitched higher than Chavon's.

She is useless at that, just as she has been useless at everything.

Now that she is alone, there is nothing holding her back, not even herself, and for a moment, Iana finally just succumbs to tears.

How long will it take the others to find her? What if Garnyn's condition is worse than she and Katen thought, and it turns out that something truly awful has happened to him because of Iana? What if nobody is coming for her at all?

The worst part is that she can't even wipe her own eyes because her hands are still bound to the chair.

After a little while, though, the storm passes, and she manages to come back to some kind of focus. She does know what to do in a situation like this, she tells herself. She does.

Look around. Look for clues. Gaps in the wall. Anything that might tell her where she is; anything that might tell her how she can escape.

If nothing else, it will keep her mind off of the panic.

[AftermathGM]

Georg squares up with the man as he steps off from the storefront. His hands are relaxed at his sides, but his stance is planted such that he could take or throw a punch on short notice. "Oh yeah, we stand out all right. Ishan is a big guy, too. Maybe not quite as big, but I bet you'd notice him."

"Yeah. Bet I would," the man says, reaching one finger up to pick at something between his teeth. "It's my job to keep an eye on things going on around here after all. And I ain't ever seen the two of you before."

"We're sorry for bothering you, sir," she squeaks out nervously. "It's just that Ishan is the last person we know of who has seen our friend. We're terribly worried, and we'd be thankful for any information you could give us."

She calculates for a moment, the level of risk her next move might invoke. They were more or less out in the open, and being watched by a couple people. Unless they were previously affiliated, this man wasn't likely to do anything too rash and provoke the ire of everyone around them. Georg also served as a deterrent, but given the man's stance, its possibly he'd still take his chances.

Regardless, they needed answers, and folks around here were tight-lipped. "Please..." she mutters, reaching into her robe to pull out a silver coin that she clutches like its the last bit of her savings. "Any information you have would be a great help to us."

The man huffs a laugh. "Missing friend, huh?" he says, eyes dropping to the silver coin in Asra's hand then raising back up. "You have to go tossing coins around, maybe this 'friend' of yours doesn't want to be found. Ever think of that?" With his eyes on Georg, he raises his hands in a shrug. He does so slowly and deliberately, maybe recognizing that a quick movement could escalate the situation in a way he's not ready for. Not yet, anyway. "Look, I don't like to snitch on my people," he says, jutting his chin out in a way that might indicate he considers his 'people' to encompass the neighborhood. "Less somebody makes it my problem. The bigger the problem, the more I might know."

He takes another glance at the coin in Asra's hand, then looks between the two of them with a smile meant to look clever. It doesn't quite land, but it's a good first attempt.

[Georg Elsebethson]

"We're sorry for bothering you, sir," she squeaks out nervously. "It's just that Ishan is the last person we know of who has seen our friend. We're terribly worried, and we'd be thankful for any information you could give us."

She calculates for a moment, the level of risk her next move might invoke. They were more or less out in the open, and being watched by a couple people. Unless they were previously affiliated, this man wasn't likely to do anything too rash and provoke the ire of everyone around them. Georg also served as a deterrent, but given the man's stance, its possibly he'd still take his chances.

Regardless, they needed answers, and folks around here were tight-lipped. "Please..." she mutters, reaching into her robe to pull out a silver coin that she clutches like its the last bit of her savings. "Any information you have would be a great help to us."

It's not the gambit Georg had been working towards—they really should have talked this out ahead of time, O's and A they're such amateurs— but the die is cast and Georg will just have to work with it.

The man huffs a laugh. "Missing friend, huh?" he says, eyes dropping to the silver coin in Asra's hand then raising back up. "You have to go tossing coins around, maybe this 'friend' of yours doesn't want to be found. Ever think of that?" With his eyes on Georg, he raises his hands in a shrug. He does so slowly and deliberately, maybe recognizing that a quick movement could escalate the situation in a way he's not ready for. Not yet, anyway. "Look, I don't like to snitch on my people," he says, jutting his chin out in a way that might indicate he considers his 'people' to encompass the neighborhood. "Less somebody makes it my problem. The bigger the problem, the more I might know."

He takes another glance at the coin in Asra's hand, then looks between the two of them with a smile meant to look clever. It doesn't quite land, but it's a good first attempt.

"Oh she's not the one who doesn't want her found, I promise you that," Georg shoots back. He's not sure how convincing he's being, but it's probably a moot point as he doesn't think this man's actually concerned about the wishes of their missing friend. He's just looking for a reason for this not to be his problem so he can brush them off with an easy conscience and drive up the price of making it his problem.

Of course, there are multiple ways to make this a problem for the man, but Georg isn't ready to escalate yet, knowing he won't be able to take it back if he does. "I'd say one of your people being a kidnapper is already your problem, but we're not here to tell you your business." Georg lowers his hand for Asra to give him the coin and any pot-sweetening she wants to add. If this guy wants to try any funny business on the handover, Georg would rather be the one to handle it.

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

"Oh she's not the one who doesn't want her found, I promise you that," Georg shoots back. He's not sure how convincing he's being, but it's probably a moot point as he doesn't think this man's actually concerned about the wishes of their missing friend. He's just looking for a reason for this not to be his problem so he can brush them off with an easy conscience and drive up the price of making it his problem.

Of course, there are multiple ways to make this a problem for the man, but Georg isn't ready to escalate yet, knowing he won't be able to take it back if he does. "I'd say one of your people being a kidnapper is already your problem, but we're not here to tell you your business." Georg lowers his hand for Asra to give him the coin and any pot-sweetening she wants to add. If this guy wants to try any funny business on the handover, Georg would rather be the one to handle it.

She can almost sense the disapproval in Georg's subtle shift in demeanor. Maybe she should have just let him handle this without trying to interject. He was probably more experienced in these kinds of matters, after all. Making a show of trying to seem small, she hovers the coin over Georg's hand, before thinking on it and adding another shiny silver to the pot. She wants this guy to think that she's desperate for the information, but not that she's so wealthy that parting with two silver isn't a big deal for her.

She steps back, using Georg's bulky frame as a barrier between her and this other man and trying to not let it show on her face that what she'd love more than anything would be to take out her frustrations on his thick skull for being so difficult.