"Hang on," Vambran laughed, freeing himself from her. "Remember the message I sent you?" he asked. When Emriana nodded, perplexed, he pointed to the pendant. "I did it with that."
The girl's eyes widened even more.
"Oh, show me!" she pleaded, handing the gemstone to her brother.
Vambran took the pendant and held it up.
"Once per day, when you are holding it in your hand, you concentrate on the person you want to send the message to, and speak the message."
"Oh, I want to try it, right now!"
"No, wait a minute. Listen to me. I said once per day. If you try it any more often than that, it won't work. You have to hold it and concentrate on the idea of speaking a message to them. If you do that, it will work, no matter how far away from you that person is."
Emriana just smiled and slipped the chain around her neck.
"It's wonderful," she said, feeling her eyes welling up with tears of happiness. "Thank you, Vambran."
"The person on the other end of the message can talk back to you, if they want. But remember to keep the message short. You can't ramble on and on, because only the first handful of words will go through."
Emriana nodded and said, "I'll remember."
"If you ever get in a bind and need my help, use it to get my attention. I'll get to you as quickly as I can."
"All right," the girl replied, smiling and wiping her eyes with her hands. She considered it the best birthday present she had ever received.
Finally, after Emriana had regained her composure, she returned to the topic at hand.
"So, what's our next step?" she asked, feeling conspiratorial.
"Nothing, for the moment," Vambran replied. "I need to spend some time with the company. There's payroll to be distributed, plus I promised Adyan and Horial I would meet them tonight for drinks."
"Oh, you're no fun," Emriana said, pouting. "I was hoping for some real spying tonight."
"Not a chance," Vambran replied. "If nothing else, you're still under Uncle Dregaul's eagle eye at the moment. So you're not going anywhere." When she started to protest, Vambran wagged a finger at his sister. "Ah, ah, ah! You just got through saying we needed to keep a low profile. That goes for you, too."
"Fine," Emriana harrumphed. "You take all the fun out of this."
"I'm sure that there will be plenty of chances for you to play spy tomorrow," her brother said. "Your birthday party that Hetta is throwing for you is tomorrow night."
Emriana smacked herself in the forehead and groaned, "Oh, Waukeen, that's right. I completely forgot. And I'm supposed to be escorted by Denrick!"
The girl made a disparaging sound in her throat and rolled her eyes in misery. The thought of spending any more time with that self-inflated buffoon, especially once she knew his true character, was repulsive.
"You have to act like nothing is wrong," Vambran warned. "You can't give him or anyone in his family a reason to be suspicious."
"I know," Emriana sighed, "but I don't have to like it."
The Crying Claw got its name from the sound of its sign-depicting a single bird's claw-squeaking as it swung in the wind that blew in off the bay to the west. The front doors of the place actually faced northeast, away from the harbor, and it maintained a sizable taproom just inside the entrance. That was only a small portion of the whole, though, for the bulk of the property rested on the side of a rather steep hill that sloped its way down toward the docks. It was there, off the back of the establishment, where the majority of the patrons gathered whenever the weather permitted. The entire hillside had been terraced, carved into wide, tiled patios connected by sets of ramps and stairs and filled with tables, most of them open to the sky but a few protected by wooden scaffolding draped with brightly colored awnings. Of course, there were the prerequisite planter boxes, trellises, and wooden railings generously placed to divide the space up, all overgrown with the tropical plants and vines that were so common in the Reach. The architecture created the effect of a hillside vineyard in the middle of the city.
The Crying Claw was hopping when Vambran got there, which was typical. It was one of the most popular taverns near the waterfront of Arrabar, and every ship's officer, mercenary captain, middling merchant, and sword-for-hire frequented it whenever they were in the city. Even the inside was busy, and it took the lieutenant a few minutes to squeeze through the morass of patrons and get to the wide arched doorways that led out into the back. The bar had been set up to face two directions, one side open to the interior of the establishment and the other at the top of the terraced patios. Jenis Glowarm, the half-elf proprietor with the ever-present smile, was behind the bar, just as she was every night, along with three assistants. A full complement of servers moved endlessly between the tables and the bar, making their way up and down the stairs and ramps to serve drinks. Anyone wanting a job working for Jenis had to be physically fit.
Vambran slipped into a bit of open space at the bar, and when Jenis spotted him, she gave him a quick wink, for he had been a customer there for a long time.
"Be with you in a minute, hon," Jenis said, scurrying to the far side to serve some customers who were clamoring for more beer.
Vambran gave the proprietor a wave of acknowledgement and kept his coin pouch safely in his hand while he waited.
He turned and let his eyes roam over the length of the terraced hillside, looking to see if any of his companions had beaten him there that night. Of Horial and Adyan, there was no sign. That was not surprising, though, for he was a bit early. He turned back where he could keep half an eye on the front doors and the other half on Jenis, wanting to make sure she remembered that he needed a mug.
The lieutenant considered again his plan for the evening and asked himself for perhaps the tenth time whether or not it was really a good idea. The notion of using his familiarity with Emriana's dagger to magically find the thugs who had impersonated city watchmen felt right, but everything that had happened since the previous evening was giving Vambran a sense of foreboding, as though he were standing on the precipice of something much larger and more sinister than a simple murder. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
Of course, that in and of itself wouldn't be enough to dissuade Vambran from following through with his intentions. Adyan and Horial were good friends, made closer by the unfortunate secret they shared, and the lieutenant knew they would happily aid him. But he knew some might question whether it was proper for him to appropriate his own men to see the task to its end. He certainly had a high level of discretion regarding how he put the resources at his disposal to use, but for what he had in mind, he was completely on his own.
Vambran was still rationalizing his decision when he spotted the two sergeants entering the Crying Claw and peering around uncertainly. The lieutenant put his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, which not only caught the soldiers' attention, but just about every other patron within fifteen paces. There was a brief lull in the conversations as several people glared at him and wiggled their fingers in their ears, then the issue was just as quickly forgotten. Vambran waved to the two mercenaries.
Horial and Adyan waved back and pushed through the throngs until they reached him, though there was no more room at the bar.
"Evening, Lieutenant," Horial said, clapping Vambran once on the shoulder. "I see you're planning to buy the first round," he added, nodding as Jenis sidled up to where Vambran stood, his elbows resting on the bar.
Vambran chuckled and waved the other two men toward the terraces.
"Go find us a table," he said. "I'll bring us three tall, frothy ones."