The four of them crossed the boulevard together as they headed for a nearby saloon whose bright green lamps lit the surrounding street in a striking verdant hue. The sign over the door read ‘Absinth Abby’s Tavern.’ Rozzetta turned and ducked under the swinging half doors. The others, on her heels, pushed through the flapping panels. The small legal advocate took the stairs to an upper balcony, finding a table in a quiet corner. The laughter and music could still be heard from the first floor, but booths around them were either empty or were occupied by quiet couples.
“Holy Ekwiti!” the small woman swore, bounding up into the booth. She reached over the headrest, grabbing a cushion, and laid it on the seat. Joe looked around and saw there were similar boosters at every table. Additionally, the chairs against the wall ranged from high stools to heavily reinforced benches for the more massive races. “This was not at all what I expected when I rolled out of bed this morning.”
“Well, I cannot thank you enough, Rozzetta,” Joe exclaimed. “I walked into that court thinking it was all just a misunderstanding, but it quickly turned terrifying. If it hadn’t been for you, I’m sure I would be on my way to that Blackyard Gaol they were so keen about.”
“It’s a good thing we did not have to go to trial by judge,” the little lawyer sighed as she leaned over the railing to flag a server from the bar below. “Even though their case was mostly biased, it would have been tough to beat with two sure votes against you.”
“So, now we must prepare to hunt,” Hah’roo hissed. For once, her voice was not her lazy drawl. There was a fierceness there Joe had not yet heard. “You will need to prepare. I have seen you in a fight, and I worry you are not ready for what is to come.”
“Now?” Joe asked. “I just got out of jail, court, handcuffs, et cetera. Can we not sit for a minute first and have a beer before we dive head-first into something else?”
Joe knew his nerves were in no shape training. He had sailed into port this morning, been dragged and beaten to the courthouse, tried, jailed, and just now freed. He needed a minute before he’d abe at able to absorb Hah’roo’s combat lessons. “Don’t get me wrong, I want training. I really do. But can we start tomorrow?”
“Very well. You likely still have sea legs tonight anyway. Better you are rested and balanced before I teach you how not to die.”
“Might I make a suggestion,” the elf interjected, only to be distracted by the arrival of a waiter, stepping up to the booth. “Ah, Fellsun. Good evening. Let’s see. If I remember correctly, Rozzetta here drinks rice wine, and the gentleman just mentioned beer.” Jink paused for a second, before beginning an order without a glance at the others at the table. “A pint of Dewbeck’s and a pitcher of Hewgull’s Reserve. For the lovely huntress here, hmmm, how about a bottle of Spinglory? And my usual, of course. Put it on my tab.”
As the man, Fellsun, nodded and turned around, Hah’roo looked curiously at the brash elf who had joined them. “Spinglory?” the galeling huffed.
“One of the better sparkling wines to come out of the Small Kingdoms. Have you ever tried it? Lovely imbibition.”
“I have not. But I am willing to try it,” she conceded. “But please continue. You were about to make a suggestion.”
“Your friend, Just Joe here, had a remarkable idea though he discounted it as too obvious. But I feel he is unaware of the impetus he has acquired, which would propel his success rate far past any prior such attempts.” Jink, who had been loosely reclined in the booth seat until now, coiled forward, bringing his head closer to the others across the table. His voice dropped to a quieter conspiratorial pitch. “If I understand it, he has been given a divine edict by the Keeper of Fates to find the Night Skinner, yes?”
“I did,” Joe replied. “Does that really make a difference?”
“Oh, very much so. There are many types of seers out there wandering our fair city by the bay, everything from minor street fortune-tellers all the way to true prophets. Regardless of skill, even those who only have a glimmer of talent can uncover the most hidden of secrets should the reader be backed by the will of He Who Guides Us. Should your query be brought before a truly great oracle, such an inspiration from the One Above might peirce the very veils of existence.”
“Then why has no one else quested to find this killer?”
“We don’t get to make quests for the One Above, Joe,” Rozzetta explained. “We can only work on the quests given to us.”
“Exactly. And I have had these long pointed ears to the ground regarding this monster. I lost someone dear to me to this brutal butcher. Believe me, I would have known if anyone else in Peregrine Harbor had been awarded a quest to bring the beast to justice.”
“Else?” the white-skined tracker stated, staring at Jink. “You got yourself arrested on purpose. So you could be here. Now.”
“I like this one,” the quirky elf uttered toward Joe. “She’s a sharp one.” He returned her look, beaming a ridiculously large grin. “I did indeed, madam. But know that my doing so will only be to the benefit of this endeavor. I want to see the end of the Night Skinner’s reign of savagery more than almost anyone else in this fine city. I can tell you I know a true oracle, one who could turn Just Joe’s gift from above into hard facts. I would be happy to take you to her. I will even do so free of charge; such is my great desire to see this city healed of its lunar cycle of terror.”
Joe looked around the table. He had no idea what to make of this offer. Jink seemed about as trustworthy as a telemarketer. Added to his own wariness, he saw Hah’roo glaring suspiciously at the exuberant man sitting next to him. There was no doubt she was not sold on his pitch to follow him to some unknown seer.
Turning the other way, he looked to Rozzetta, finding her expression deeply thoughtful. Joe could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she worked through Jink’s offer. When a small smile began to creep across her pink lips, Joe suddenly found himself becoming hopeful. The gnome had earned Joe’s trust, and she seemed to know Jink well. If she thought this idea had merit, then maybe there was something here that would help them with this seemingly impossible hunt.
“Rozzetta?” he prompted.
“Jink does know people in just about every level of Harbor society. If he says he knows a powerful seer, I wouldn’t doubt him. He is also right about having a quest from the One Above. I have heard scholars say quests make divination more effective. If you could get some real information about where the Night Skinner will strike next, you would have a big leg up on the quest. It would also completely shut down any standing by Phelti’s champion to assume leadership over the quest.” The small woman placed her tiny hand on Joe’s forearm. “It’s a really good opportunity, Joe. I know Jink seems as mad as a bag of frogs, but with this, he might just hand you your biggest advantage.”
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As Joe sat for a second, trying to balance his suspicions and hopes, the drinks arrived. He automatically took a long pull off the tankard placed in front of him and was immediately snapped out of his musings. Hewgull’s Reserve was full of a robust flavor. It slid soothingly down his throat, leaving a swath of refreshment in its wake.
“Holy cow, that's good!” he sighed.
He glanced up to see Hah’rro equally thrilled with the drink the elf had chosen for her. To Joe, it looked like champagne, bright gold in color and filled with bubbles. As the galeling took a sip, she quickly brought her fingers to her lips and giggled as the airy liquid tickled her nose. “Oh.” was all she breathed before taking another small sip and sliding down from her wary upright pose to a languishingly comfortable sprawl across the cushions.
Rozzetta was also amusedly watching Hah’roo’s antics, her small bottle of rice wine as yet unopened.
“So,” Joe began. “How would we do this? It sounds like we should try and meet your seer before we meet up with Azbekt and Glauri’s champion tomorrow. Will he or she be ok with a late visit?”
“Oh, we still have a bit of time to kill, my good man. The lady in question is a most nocturnal creature. Since I plan to suggest an expedited journey to reach her, we have plenty of time to finish these before we go.” he stated, swishing a delicate hand over the table to indicate the drinks.
“Jink,” Rozzetta warned. “Don’t keep secrets. What do have up that sleeve of yours?”
“Oh, not much. A pair of only slightly weighted dice, a minor selection of cards, two sets of lockpicks the Canakin guards completely missed, a small flute, a …”
“Jink!”
“Yes, yes. I knew what you meant. Expedited travel. Well, I think when we go, we should avoid the streets. You were quite right that Duke Amberwroth has issued orders so that our young man here would not enjoy his freedom this evening. There are two men at the bar and at least one more across the street bearing some very heavy-looking truncheons, which they are under no doubt ordered to use with great zeal upon Just Joe’s offensive flesh. For both his safety and my oracle's much-prized privacy, I think we will travel the skies to reach her.”
Jink placed three small bottles on the table, each of them filled with a lemony yellow liquid.
“I am assuming you would not be accompanying us, my dear solicitor.”
Rozzetta looked between Hah’roo and Joe. “It probably would be best if I didn’t. Even though I was a member of the trial, I’m not officially part of the quest. Hah’roo is the chosen of Onhur and Jink is your guide.”
“Exactly my reasoning,” Jink replied, before looking at Hah’roo. “And you, of course, would not let your chick fly off into the night alone in the company of such a scoundrel as I.”
“Damn right,” the huntress growled lightly.
“Hence three. Finish up those drinks, and then we can be on our way.”
“These are flying potions?” Joe asked.
“Oh, much better. Transformation elixirs,” the man explained, scooping them back up. “I chose seabirds so that we may wing our way deeper into the city, untraceable to the thugs who are harboring hateful intentions of harm in their hard-bitten hearts.”
‘Oh, that’s so cool,’ Joe thought. He wanted to try out the potion immediately, but Jink seemed to be taking his time sipping his colorful drink in a fancy long-stemmed glass. Finally, the elf downed his last sip before summoning the small bottles from seemingly out of nowhere again. The wait finally must be over. He slid one to him and one to Hah’roo, before standing and gesturing for them to follow him. They walked to the front of the upper floor, where a balcony looked out over the street below.
“We will have to be quick. The men at the bar are on the move up the stairs and our scout there has eyes on us,” he stated, tipping his head towards where a few individuals were standing across the boulevard. Joe was not sure which one Jink was referring to, but there were at least three dangerous-looking figures in that direction. “Drink up,” the elf ordered.
Joe uncorked his bottle and was surprised to catch a strong, almost savory scent. His potion kind of smelled like chicken soup.
“Is there anything we need to do before we drink?”
“Not a one. The magic will guide you.”
While the liquid looked bright and lemony and smelled like broth, it had a dry herby taste that Joe was not expecting at all. It was not unpleasant, but the shock of it almost caused him to choke.
As the liquid slid down to his stomach, a warmth infused his skin. Suddenly Joe felt significantly lighter, as if ninety percent of his mass had just vanished. What remained was on the move. Without any discomfort, Joe felt himself shrinking and twisting into a vastly different form. Muscles packed into his back and shoulders. His knees clicked backward. His clothing seemed to vanish into a carpet of feathers that ruffled out from pretty much every pore he owned.
Joe looked down at his taloned feet and found he had a flexibility he could never have imagined before. His form was that of one of the seahawks that he had seen wheeling around the cliffs on their way into port. He rippled his shoulders and found they moved in ways he could never have achieved as a human. It was as if his new body could twist and flatten itself into some crazy weird shapes.
He also knew instinctively how to fly. There was an absolute certainty in his mind of just what he needed to do to take to the air. Joe bunched the muscles in his back and legs and kicked off the wood planks. He pulled his wings back, thinning his profile, and shot straight through the banisters in the balcony. He could have easily hopped over the bars, but this was way more fun. Once through the bars, he snapped out his wings, soaring upwards in a banking spiral. He made a few turns above the buildings, reveling in the amazing feel of wheeling through the air before looking around for the others. If his beak would have let him, Joe would have been grinning from ear to ear.
A blast of air skimmed his side as a white falcon slashed past him. Hah’roo banked and spun through the air, effortlessly sliding through a dozen obstacles, from banisters to streetlamps, to shop signs. She seemed to be enjoying her predatory form as much as Joe was. And, of course, in typical Hah’roo-like fashion, she made her insane flight path look effortless.
Jink, on the other hand, had become a lovely songbird. The warbler landed on the saloon roof and trilled out a strikingly beautiful melody, getting their attention. When he had their focus, he hopped into the air and headed away from where the sun was setting over the harbor, flying deeper into the city. Joyfully, Joe and Hah’roo followed. They swooped through a park, diving and playing before Jink’s bird call summoned them back on track again. Soaring and darting over roofs and around chimneys, the two played and chased each other, while heading in the general direction Jink’s songs were indicating.
Without even trying to, Joe let all of his worries fall away for a moment. He had had moments of peace and wonder since coming to Illuminaria. The one thing he hadn’t had until now was just plain having fun. If there was something more amazing than being able to fly like a hawk, Joe could not imagine what it would be.