For the next few minutes, Jasper quizzed her on the politics of the Moon-kissed, eager to gain some insight into their internal structure. The Moon-kissed, as it turned out, were dominated by the descendants of Damqa. Apparently, after the death of her legendary first child, she had gone out to have eleven more children: four sons, and seven daughters. Three of her grandchildren had also risen to prominence, together forming the fourteen great houses that ruled over the Moon-kissed. Of the fourteen, three, including the house of the eldest, had fallen into almost complete ruin. Their ranks had been devastated by a mysterious plague that swept through Dūr-Yarha two centuries ago, leaving the house of the second daughter as the strongest amongst their faction.

Qarda belonged to the house of the seventh daughter. With less land and fewer men to command than most, her house had turned to mercantile matters, finding its power in wealth. While they weren’t the strongest of the houses, their wealth and connections were not to be underestimated.

“So you’ll let me examine the relic?” the Djinn asked, when the last of his questions had been exhausted. "I've been most accommodating."

Jasper nodded. “Yes.” He stood up from the bed, wincing as he cracked his head against a low-lying wooden beam. “In fact, if you’re willing to come now, I see no reason to wait.”

Qarda stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off her skirts. “Very well. Lead on.” Although she tried her best to look indifferent, Jasper could practically feel the excitement vibrating off of her. He could only imagine the sort of coup it would be if she brought back a sacred relic from a mundane market trip. He would have to find a way to make the most of his leverage.

As they left the tavern, he was relieved to find the torrential rain of the prior day had ceased, replaced now by an ominous grey sky that threatened - but did not deliver - precipitation. The streets of Kār-Kuppû were narrow and dirty. Here and there, patches of cobblestone peaked through the grime, revealing the surprising fact that the street was actually paved, but most were hidden beneath layers of dirt and half-frozen muck. Qarda minced her way through the streets, her nose wrinkled in disgust, and, truth be told, he couldn’t blame her. An overwhelming scent of fish wafted through the air, blown inland from the docks by a steady cold wind off the lake.

But despite the dirt and smell, the city was not without its charms. The city was built on a hill overlooking a large harbor, and the view of the lake was simply phenomenal. The cottages that lined the streets were bright and cheerful, painted in a wide variety of colors that popped in the grey, cloudy landscape, while the hills that surrounded the city were densely populated with beautiful warodim trees.

He didn’t have much time to enjoy the sights, however. They turned onto a narrow street that sloped sharply down towards the harbor. A leisurely crowd had strolled along the streets of the upper village, but this road lay empty and silent. Still, Jasper experienced no sense of danger, until the moment a dagger sliced into him.

The dull weapon caught against his toughened skin, tearing more than cutting as the attacker tried to rip it back it out. Spinning around with a tremendous backhand, he sent his assailant flying to the ground, the knife falling uselessly into the muck. A muffled cry beside him told him the others were under attack as well, but he had no time to look as another blade whistled toward his neck.

He ducked under it, the knife passing so close that a lock of hair fluttered to the ground as he lashed out at the new opponent, catching him in the throat. Fiery Shackles, he roared, and the two assailants screamed as the fiery manacle clamped around them, their skin burning from the heat. Snatching the dagger off the ground, with a single move, he slashed it through the mangled throat of the second assailant as he threw it towards the one that had fallen on the ground. It flew through the air, turning end over end, before burying itself in the attacker’s eye.

Jasper turned before the blade even hit, worried about his companions, but the fight was already over. Three more assailants lay on the ground, one clutching an arrow buried deep in his throat, slowly choking on his own blood. Ihra was unharmed, a furious expression on her face, but the Moon-kissed woman was pale and shaking, a bloodied hand clamped tight over her arm.

“Can you reach into my bag?” she asked. “I think the dagger nicked something important; the blood is really gushing.” Ihra rooted through the Djinn’s bag and pulled out a healing potion. Qarda chugged the sweet liquid down and after, waiting a few minutes, cautiously removed her hand. Her arm was a bloody mess, although the dark blue tunic she wore was better than most at hiding the blood stains.

“Do you want to do this another day?” Jasper asked, but she shook her head vehemently.

“No, it’s just a minor wound; I’ll be fine.”

He cast a wary eye up and down the silent street but saw no sign of further attackers. Where the hell is the guard? Five people just got killed in broad daylight, and there’s no sign of them?

Jasper bent down and examined one of the men that had attacked him. They were all dressed in plain black clothes, masks covering their face. He peeled the mask off, staring at the blank eyes beneath. The man looked perfectly normal but he noticed the faint tip of a tattoo peaking just a bit above the collar. He pulled the collar back, examining the tattoo on the man’s neck. Two long scythes were tied together at the base, each facing the opposite direction, and in the middle was a skull, surrounded on all sides by some sort of plant.

Something about the tattoo seemed familiar. I’ve seen this somewhere, haven’t I?

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“Did you find something?” Ihra knelt down beside him, and he moved his hand to let her see the tattoo. Her eyes widened in recognition. “We’ve seen that before, havent we?”

“You remember it? It seems familiar but I can't place it.”

She nodded her head, fumbling in her bag. “It was something Sellâ had; I kept it because it seemed unusual. She found what she was looking for, holding a thin silver chain up in the dim daylight. A small charm dangled from it - two scythes bound together, a skull placed in the middle. The charm wasn't identical to the tattoo, but the similarities seemed too close to be mere coincidence.

He whistled softly as the implication hit him. “If these guys have the same symbol, that probably means-“

“We’re dealing with a larger group,” Ihra finished.

“Damn it.”

He stood up, grumbling as he brushed the muck off his knees. “Sounds like we need to talk to Bā’er again. I asked him to have the men gather the bandit’s possessions, but between the hunt and the storm I forgot to ask him if they found anything interesting.”

The three resumed their walk toward the harbor, now keeping a vigilant eye on the dark shadows that lurked between the vibrantly-colored homes. They reached the quay without further difficulties, but the tension in Jasper’s shoulders did not relax until they walked past the harbor guards, who greeted them with a nod.

Despite the cold breeze continually blowing off the lake, the sky was bright and clear, the sun falling warmly on his cheeks. A flock of birds scattered into the air as they walked down the dock, some of them finding refuge beneath the eaves of a nearby building. He hadn’t noticed the building the previous day, no doubt due to the deluge of rain, but he headed towards it as soon as he read the word inscribed on the side - Harbormaster.

“Where are you going?” Ihra asked, and he half-turned back. “We need to talk with Bā’er, but I don’t know where he and his men ended up staying.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the building behind him. “But I bet these guys do.”

The heavy door creaked open with the whine of hinges that needed oil, but it slammed shut quickly behind him, as a gust of wind collided with it. A man sat at the desk, transcribing a row of numbers into a journal, but looked up as Jasper approached. Recognition flooded his eyes, and he bowed his head slightly. “Ah, the young lord from yesterday. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jasper nodded. “I was hoping that Bā’er had left some word on his lodgings with you.”

The assistant stood up and walked over to a row of shelves that lined the back wall. After a moment’s searching, he found the slot reserved for their boats’ docking site and pulled a pile of papers out. “Here it is.”

Jasper grabbed the paper and quickly read the brief message left for him by Bā’er. It seemed that the men had split up between two taverns, the Kalmû Lodge and The Mermaid’s Tail. He handed the paper back to the assistant. “Thanks. I’m not really familiar with Kār Kuppû. Are these pubs nearby?”

“Not especially, but then men don’t really visit them for their convenience.”

“Pardon?”

The clerk smiled. “They are brothels, my lord, although probably far below the standards of what you’re accustomed to. These docks here are for men of better ilk - lords like yourselves, traders, priests, and the like. The rest of the ships dock at the larger wharves further down the shore. To reach these inns, just follow the road to the right. You’ll know when you’ve arrived by the smell.” The man wrinkled his nose.

“The smell?”

“There’s a rather large fish market there - the lifeblood of our city, of course, but far from pleasant.”

Thanking the man, he headed to the door but stopped with his hand on the handle. “Actually, one more thing. Does a symbol with two scythes bound together by a skull mean anything to you?”

The assistant harbormaster frowned. “Without seeing it, I can’t be certain, but it sounds like a symbol associated with the cult of Nahremah. Why?”

Jasper shook his head slowly, not willing to give out the information. “Just curious. Thanks.” He stepped out of the administrative building, the wind slamming the door shut behind him, and rejoined Ihra and Qarda. “Did you get what you needed?”

He nodded. “Yes, they’re staying in two inns further down the shore, although,” he felt a little embarrassed to bring it up to Ihra, “apparently they’re brothels. If you, uh, feel uncomfortable, I can go by myself.”

Ihra frowned. “Why would you need to go by yourself? Are you unsatisfied with your current sleeping arrangements?”

“What? No, no, I, uh-” Jasper spluttered, missing the twinkle in her eye.

“Relax, I’m kidding. I’m more than happy to accompany you, though; if we’re facing a real threat we need to know sooner than later. Besides,” she said slyly winking at him, “maybe we could pick one together, to share.”

“To share?”

If it was possible, his already red skin turned even redder and Ihra begin to laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “Honestly, you are too easy to rile up. I didn’t know you were such a prude.”

He stiffened. “I’m not a prude.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, my lord.”

“Ahem.” Their banter was cut off as Qarda cleared her throat. “Can we go see the lyre now?”

He blushed. “Right - the lyre.” The boat was nearby, two guards watching the gangplank. After verifying his identity, they passed through, descending below the deck.

Jasper let out a sigh of relief when he saw the lyre still bound to the ceiling. Despite the guards outside, he had been a little bit afraid that someone, somehow, would have found the lyre and vanished with it. Together, he and Ihra cut it down from the ceiling and placed it in front of Qarda.

She bent down excitedly, running her fingers over the large wooden instrument. “The style is ancient, the paint and wood seem old.” She carefully placed it on its side, scrutinizing the base carefully. She dug a small tool out of her bag, gently scraping at something on the bottom for several minutes until a small mark was revealed. The Djinn leaned back with a smug smile.

“Well?”

“I think it’s genuine. The experts in our house will have to examine it, of course, but I believe my lady will be very pleased. What do you want for it?”

Jasper shared a glance with Ihra. The truth was he didn’t know. The sale of the other merchandise would provide more than enough funds for the time, so he really didn’t need more money.

“Perhaps we should come with you,” Ihra said. “We can meet your lady, and discuss it in person.”

Qarda’s lips turned down slightly, but she nodded. “Okay. Arranging a meeting with the lady of our house can be difficult, but for this,” she gently ran her fingers along the gold trim of the lyre, “I think she’ll make an exception. After the auction, you can come with us to Dūr-Yarha.”