Walking away from Noble’s Park and down Resolution Boulevard, Lone, Pela and Kilroy arrive at Cyric’s Pharmacy. Lone opens the door to allow Pela and Kilroy to enter; the waft of odd chemicals was strong.

Lone notes to no-one in particular, “I guess that smell is the cure for sickness.”

Glass flasks and jars are stacked on many shelves, herbs hang in large bunches, and through the back door, rows of herbs grow in large troughs. A young lad stands behind a counter. He calls out with a surprisingly deep voice, not wavering at two people with visible weapons. “Can I help you?”

Lone steps forward. “Yes, I was wondering if Pharmacist Cyric is in?”

At the mention of his name, Cyric comes out from the back. A thin man with auburn hair, his cheek and neck marked by a burn. “Timothy, could you continue my watering of the medical herbs?” With that, the lad known as Timothy leaves for the back. As he notices Pela, a grin touches the pharmacist’s lips. “I am Cyric. How can I be of service?”

Lone steps forward. “I hope we have not come at an inconvenient time?” Cyric shakes his head, so Lone continues. “We are of the Charter of the Rejects and have an investigation into the theft of silverware from the Count.”

Hearing the Count named, Cyric says, “The Count, you say? I have no idea why you would come here. I don’t deal with metals, I create medicine for the sick.”

Kilroy steps forward to comment, but Lone waves him back. “I can understand that, but could you answer a question about an alloy?”

Cocking his head, Cyric glances over at Pela. After a quick perusal of her body, he smirks. “Um, yes, alloys. I have studied them at Einion’s University, but they never caught my attention.” He looks straight at Pela. “I just want to help the needy and heal the sick.”

Pela shifts uncomfortably and steps back from the pharmacist. Kilroy moves slightly to block a little of Pela from this creep’s view. Lone grits his teeth, and remembers that they are here for a reason.

“An alloy of copper, nickel and…” He tries to recall the last metal WayWocket mentioned. “Um… zinc has been used to substitute silver from Count Darel’s table. We are wondering if you know of any person in town with that skill?”

“Hmm.” Noticing that Pela has moved slightly more behind Kilroy, he sniffs dismissively. “Nope. If you don’t want to buy something, please leave.”

Lone nods. “Thank you for your time.” He turns to leave, making sure Kilroy and Pela leave before him, but something makes him turn back as the others exit the store. “Just wondering, did you have someone called WayWocket work for you in your past?”

Taken aback by this question, Cyric’s eyes narrow. “WayWocket was an employee of mine, but that was years ago. He left to become a drug maker. Sad, as he was very talented.”

“Strange. I have worked with him, and he is a bit of a stoner, but making drugs seems to be out of character.”

Cyric steps forward towards Lone, and Lone smells something on Cyric’s breath. A substance that waft in the air within brothels—dreamdust. “That WayWocket is a freak, no gnome is like him. He left the path of science and became a Magiks user. His concoctions would have driven me out of business. People come here for real treatments, not snake oil.”

Lone steps forward too—their noses nearly touch. “I think you know something. I cannot put my finger on it, but your breath does not lie. If I ever find out that you did anything to Way, I will make sure that you disappear.”

“Are you threatening me?” Cyric squeals and his voice goes up in pitch.

“Never, but I have seen the scars and burns. And that is dreamdust on your breath.”

“Leave, before I call the Watch!”

Laughing at Cyric, Lone turns to leave. “I guess you have not heard. The Watch has been suspended, but I think the Inquisitors would be happy to take your statement.”

Fear creeps into Cyric’s eyes, and with a huff, he returns to the back of his shop. Lone walks out to find Pela being hugged by Kilroy.

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“Sorry about that,” he says to Pela. “He is the son of a motherless goat with the manners of a pig. By Jara’s Wrath, I should have punched him.”

Pela looks at Lone. “It’s fine, he just gave me the creeps. Something about him sent my instincts into overdrive. I was becoming flustered, and heat was creeping up my arms.”

“That was a waste of time,” Kilroy says, then eyes Lone’s expression. “What is it?”

“I am not sure. Cyric was on dreamdust and something he said about not knowing information feels wrong.” Lone ponders a little. “Let us stay here for a bit, over in that coffee house, and keep an eye on this place.”

They move over to the small drinking hole, filled with businessmen and women drinking the dark brew over sweet rolls. The chatter of deals being made dominates, but most topics of conversation seem to be nothing more than idle gossip.

Finding themselves a table outside under a cloth umbrella, a waiter comes over. “Would you like to order anything?”

Kilroy nods. “Could I have a pot of tea and…” He leaves a break for Pela and Lone to answer.

“Do you have any ale?” Lone asks. The waiter shakes his head. “Okay, just a coffee.”

The waiter turns to Pela. “Ma’am?”

“Just water, for now.”

Nodding, he returns inside. Lone looks at Pela. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head. “I feel rattled still. He’s not the first man who has looked at me like that, but my hands are sweating, and my arms are hot.”

Reaching over and touching her, Kilroy says, “They are a bit warm. Do you feel ill?”

Pela shakes her head. “No, I’ve had these flushes lately. Could be something about my elven heritage?”

Lone looks confused. “What about your elven heritage?”

“I have heard that some half-breeds can have a similar reaction at a certain time of the year, like our parents.”

Lone looks weirdly at Pela, and then says, “That does not happen to us half-breeds, that is our elven parent thing.”

“If my hair turns even a little lighter, I am so locking myself away!” Pela declares.

“That won’t happen,” Kilroy adds. “I have never heard of a person of mixed heritage exhibiting mating heat, and it is the wrong time of the year. It happens at the height of Truth.”

Pela shakes her head at that. “It could be because I am a half-breed; it could happen in the middle of Builder.”

Kilroy shakes his head. “I have been around a few years,” he points at his grey hair and wrinkles, “and I have known many half-breeds. It is just a rumour, just the clamminess. Have your water and share my tea with me.”

Pela nods, but Lone can tell she does not believe them. Lone changes the subject. “I think that pharmacist knows something. It is just a hunch.”

“Was that what you were talking about when we left?” Kilroy inquires.

“I wanted to have more of a feel for the guy. I could be wrong,” Lone says.

“You think he will leave and go somewhere?” Pela asks.

“Nah, by Jenell’s logic, he would send that Timothy. From what I have heard, he does not get his hands dirty,” Lone says.

Kilroy nods, but Pela asks, “So, we wait? What is so weird about those spoons?”

Kilroy leans in to listen. Lone replies, “Not sure. That is Way’s department, but he did say that if the coating was chipped, then there could be health issues. With this mainly affecting the gentries, means that would affect the employment of a great deal of people.”

Kilroy finishes his train of thought. “And lucrative for the Charter or person who brings in this information.”

“We have a patron for this job. Whatever information we find, the Rejects give it to him.”

The waiter returns with their orders. As he puts them down, Kilroy asks for another cup, then pours himself some of the tea. Lone adds some sugar and cream while Pela takes a drink.

They sit in silence and their own thoughts, each keeping an eye on the Pharmacy. Lone breaks into the silence. “So, Pela, how is the new job?”

Pela looks at him, “Why, good, I guess. The pay is good, tips are good, and I don’t have guys grabbing my arse all night long.” She smiles, which lights up her face from the worry. “So great, much better than Corbin’s.”

Kilroy looks shocked. “You worked at Corbin’s?”

In a very neutral tone, Pela replies. “Yes, I did.”

Seeing her grim face, Lone jumps into the conversation, “Kilroy, it is not what you think. Pela was just a waitress.”

Pela turns to face Lone, her face barely holding back her anger. Lone could swear that her arms start to blush red. “I don’t need you to defend or excuse me.” Lone dips his head in shame. “Yes, Kilroy, I was a worker there and yes I do know of its reputation. I told Corbin on the first day I would never whore for him.”

Kilroy touches his forehead as he dips it towards Pela. “I meant that you have a bit of iron in you, and it is good to see. I apologise for my misstep.”

Smiling at Kilroy, the blush on her arms fades. “It is alright, at least you are not an idiot.”

Lone looks up, his words tumbling out. “Hey, I am not an idiot. I just do and say stupid things sometimes.”

Both Kilroy and Pela laugh at Lone. Lone looks indignant and is about to defend himself poorly again when he notices Timothy leaving Cyric’s in a hurry.

Lone’s face becomes serious. “Thought that might happen.” He pulls a few crisp five-slip notes from his purse and places them under his cup. “I will follow him. You two head back to the Hall and see if Gunnar or Stillwater have returned.”

Without hearing their reply, Lone rushes off to follow Timothy. Cyric’s assistant moves casually up Resolution Boulevard, heading towards Wall Boulevard. He occasionally stops, glancing back. Lone moves over to the other side of the street and keeps him in view.

While Lone is waiting for Timothy to move again, he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he sees Pela. “What are you doing here?”

“You are horrid at following people,” she replies. “If this kid has any brains he will keep checking and soon see you. I will follow him now; you cut across some of the back alleys to get ahead of us.”

Lone is impressed. “Wow, that’s a great plan.”