“Ah, but do you not desire to try new things? Curiosity, Slanya, and new experiences are what keep us alive.”
“Certainly,” Slanya said. “But my matter is of some urgency to Brother Gregor, and I would do well by him to conduct our business first.”
A smirk flickered across Tyrangal’s features-amused and predatory all at once. “Very well,” she said. “We shall start with business. What can I acquire for you?”
“I need a guide into the changelands.”
“You wish to become spellscarred?”
Slanya shook her head. “No. Brother Gregor has perfected an elixir that can protect the exposed from getting sick and dying. One of the ingredients can be found in abundance only inside the borders of the Plaguewrought Land.”
“So this guide would have to travel into the changelands with you and help you find and gather this ingredient?”
Slanya shrugged. “Does such a person even exist?”
“Well,” Tyrangal said with a coy smile, “it turns out that I know someone qualified to do just that.”
“In truth?” Slanya hadn’t believed anyone would be foolish enough to do that, even for the kind of coin Gregor was willing to pay.
“In truth.” Tyrangal’s tone was playful. “Although, in truth, if I were lying-which I have been known to do from time to time-you would not be able to discern it from truth.”
Slanya considered. She would have to trust Tyrangal on this. “You have a good reputation.”
Tyrangal laughed, and it was a melody of the gods to Slanya’s ears. “Yes, dear girl. Trust in society comes from a collection of opinions. I like you.”
Unsure how to take that, Slanya remained quiet.
“There are some things that you should know,” Tyrangal continued. “One, the journey will test you. Two, you have a good chance of dying. And three-”
“Are you trying to scare me into not going?”
“Not at all. Not at all,” Tyrangal said. “These are just things I can tell. I can also see that you’ve never been inside the border of the changelands.”
Slanya nodded. The statement was true enough, although she suspected she’d be tempted to agree with whatever that wonderful voice told her, true or not.
“If there is an order, purpose, or logical organization to the Spellplague’s destructive force, then I know not what it is,” Tyrangal continued. “The changelands are the one place in Faerun where the rules of law are always changing, where nature follows no patterns and the only constant is chaos.”
Tyrangal paused, her smirk gone. Her golden eyes shone yellow in the morning light. “That seems like a dangerous place for someone who holds tight to an ordered world.”
Slanya remembered the funeral fire from yesterday, the allure of the flames oh so close. All the fires from her past came to her mind, and the temptation of losing her control rose up in her in that remembrance. Yes, there was something to Tyrangal’s assertion.
“I understand,” Slanya said. “And thank you. But you need not concern yourself with me.”
Tyrangal smiled. “I’m not ‘concerned,’ but I do like to give my customers the full benefit of my knowledge. You’re paying for these warnings. Perhaps they will help you prepare.”
Slanya nodded. “Thank you. What was number three?”
“Three, you will find the guide is a bit … wild and unruly.”
Slanya gave a confident smile. “That, I think I can handle.”
Tyrangal appraised Slanya carefully. “I think you might, at that,” she said.
“So where might I find this guide?”
“He is currently out on a task I have given him. I expect him to return to me by tonight or tomorrow.”
“That long?” Slanya asked. “With the Festival of Blue Fire in two days, we need vastly more elixir than we can currently make. Otherwise hundreds of pilgrims will get sick and die.”
“Well,” Tyrangal said slyly. “I do happen to know that he’s arrived back in Ormpetarr, but he hasn’t personally paid me a visit just yet. Not his style to come to me right away. He attends to … other needs first.”
Slanya frowned. “I’d like to speak with him as soon as possible. If he’s in Ormpetarr, I shall seek him out.”
“I don’t recommend it; he will return when he is ready. Hurrying him isn’t likely to speed your departure any, and it certainly won’t win you any favors.”
Shifting from foot to foot, Slanya considered her options. She could ignore Tyrangal’s counsel, or she could wait.
“However,” Tyrangal continued, “I can see that you feel you cannot sit idle. So for your own sense of accomplishment I will tell you this: His name is Duvan, and you will likely find him at the Jewel-the festhall and gambling house across from Finara’s Inn on the main thoroughfare.”
“Thank you,” Slanya said, wanting the interview to be over. “I shall seek him out.”
“Be careful, young cleric,” Tyrangal said. “Duvan is a feral beast on his best days, but he is truly the only person who can accomplish what you seek to do. I have considerable influence over him, but he is completely free to make his own choices. I advise against angering him.”
“Your counsel is very much appreciated, Tyrangal. If my need weren’t so pressing …”
“But I see that it is. You may go, and may the gods watch over you.”
Slanya took her leave and headed back down into Ormpetarr, her gaze studiously avoiding the gut-heaving swirl of the border veil. And by the time she’d made the walk back down the hill, through the gate and into heart of Ormpetarr, the sun had fully risen.
Beneath a cloudless sky of palest blue, peppered with motes flowing out from the changelands, the thoroughfare bustled with activity. The cobbles and flagstones from the city had pitted and become uneven, replaced with dirt and mud. Wooden shop fronts and businesses of all kinds lined the thoroughfare while merchants with wagons and carts, tents and tarps crowded the streets. Under the vigilant gaze of Tyrangal’s guards and the Order of Blue Fire Peacekeepers, merchants plied their wares to the crowd.
Slanya insinuated her way through the people, heading for the Jewel and its reportedly seedy clientele … including her guide. Not for the first time, Slanya wondered what she’d gotten herself into. This Duvan character sounded uncivilized and potentially dangerous.
Ormpetarr drew all races and all professions. It was a magnet for adventurers, danger seekers, and those on the extreme edge of reason. Dwarves and elves worked side by side with humans, halflings, and genasi. Order was intermittently enforced, and yet everyone seemed to operate under similar basic understandings. Still, there wasn’t enough of a social contract for Slanya’s comfort. In the monastery they learned about the interdependence of the different parts of society. Kaylinn required all her clerics and monks to acknowledge this interdependence and make explicit their agreement to maintain the order.
The rules of commerce and social convention in Ormpetarr were more haphazard and arbitrary than Slanya was comfortable with. For all her helpfulness, Tyrangal wielded her Copper Guard like a weapon, and the only group powerful enough to thwart their influence was the Order of Blue Fire.
Slanya didn’t know all the ins and outs of the city’s power struggles. This absence of the rule of law was certainly unfair to the newcomer pilgrim, who could easily get fleeced by predatory swindlers and street vendors.
The Jewel was in an older wooden structure in the center of the town, across from the main inn and down the street from the Order of Blue Fire’s headquarters. Slanya entered through the swinging doors and stood alert and ready.
“Welcome to the Jewel,” came a deep voice from the darkness to her right. “I’m guessing you’re not here for a drink, and you don’t look like you’ll be buying our usual services … although we are discreet if that’s what you’re looking for.” The voice held an amused edge. Slanya’s eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light in the room to see the voice’s owner, a large half-orc wearing an apron and tending the bar.