"That wasn't very long. Night air not agreeing with you," Jacetani greeted Surus as he opened the chamber door to enter. His companion did not look up from the portfolio of plays, written in Suüd cursive, to even notice the curious foiled metal Surus held in his hand for Jacetani to inspect.

"Cold, dry, and heavy with the gloom of giant galley-slaves. Not agreeable in the least," Surus said in answer. "However, I did by chance happen upon something of note."

Jacetani cleared his lap of the leather-bound manuscripts. He took a clean sheet of papyrus and a twice fine piece of charcoal and wrote down while he murmured his words for Surus to hear, "cold, dry and crisp, the evening air swaddled my clothes, bound me."

"What are you doing," Surus asked, voice gruff with annoyance. He waved the metal script to get Jacetani's attention, still not succeeding.

"We're on an adventure, are we not?"

Surus gave up and settled by a work table beside which he kept a bag. He carefully laid the script down with the foil spread out so there were no seems to confuse the underlying syntax inscribed upon it. Surus reached into his bag, grabbed a pair of tweezers, a coiled flint wire, and a decanter filled with kerosene with the opening rigged to a torch taper. It was designed to burn hotter than a common oil lamp.

Surus tried to ignore the questions, but Jacetani prodded him further.

"You're going to come across all manner of unpredictable intrigue, correct?"

"Why assume anything will come of this? Leresai was told of this coin and where it could be found, but it may no longer be in Gareen."

Surus lit the oil-soaked taper end. He pressed the side lever of the torch rig to tighten the flame.

"Still, I'm not looking for adventure. I'll simply scout the warehouse, take the coin if it is still there, and then we return home. Hardly worth basing a play upon. As you seem oddly desirous to do."

"Don't you see," Jacetani protested. "All of your adventures began here when you caught a riverboat to Nevespora and chanced upon the Majeur of that said city's Ko Laga syndicate who held in his possession the treasure box of the goddess, Pestilence. Twenty years later, the Majeur being exiled here, you are once more taking from him his prize. Do you not appreciate the symmetry of this story?

"It's balanced, like a classical era play, and you are its protagonist. Even if nothing comes of this, perhaps, especially if nothing comes of this, the return in your winter adds poignancy to all that came before."

"My winter? I'm only forty!"

Surus waited for the heat to rise from the torch lamp flame. Only when it reached a full blue in its spectrum would the phosphor applied to it while holding it still for several patient minutes reveal the written message.

Eyeing the print galley that so preoccupied his friend, Sulus asked, "a gift from Rohandas?"

"Some plays collected together from the Suüd. I'm deciding whether or not they are worth editing into a printed edition. The market for homoerotica is limited in Nevespora, though -" with a spry wink, "- certainly not nonexistent.

"I'm not likely to make much money off of these. In Barronne after the rein of Kyusiga, homosexual shows were limited to off the mainline strip, though even still some are highly profitable.

"Sometimes more so than mainline ones, depending, of course, if they get the right, best and prettiest endowed actors, or ones known for their sexual prowess."

When Jacetani's hands went to trace with his fingers thrusts up to describe the cocks he had in mind, Surus started a coughing fit and protested, "that won't be necessary."

"I'm just in the mood for reminiscence upon my formative years spent in Barronne. I began as an actor long before I ever put pen to paper."

Surus placed the foil in the flame. It would take a good steady moment for the phosphors to release their secrets, and his longtime cohort and friend was well aware he had before him a captive audience for his mischief. His aloof manner was entirely caprice.

Before Jacetani had a chance to elaborate on the well-trod story of his retirement from the stage after a messy on-stage accident that required surgery, Surus cut him off with a question.

"I thought Rohandas spurned your advances because he doesn't share your predilection."

"He's kept all of the scripts from plays he has previously acted in. They are even penned in his own hand," Jacetani answered with a sigh. "The problem with the plays though, they are not very good.

"No depth of character, the plots are basic and only serve to set up the romps. Nothing like the plays I acted in twenty years ago in terms of quality."

"Ah" Surus muttered, trying to figure out how to explain to his friend what he was getting at. "You said, he doesn't share your predilection, but he acts in these plays... In by acting, he…"

"Yes?"

"I see a contradiction."

Jacetani blinked as was his habit to hide the roll of his eyes.

"Surus. Rohandas is an actor of the old school even if he is yet to reach thirty. Everything he does on stage is in character for the part, the person, he plays with all of his own personal considerations of enjoyment not a factor.

"To be a true actor you have to lose yourself in the part. I played in mainline Suüd theater with the same ethos when making love to women to whom I possessed no interest in on or off stage. There is a word for this that you should appreciate being the guildsman you are, professionalism."

Surus glanced at the foil. The letters were still too light to make out. Curiously, there appeared to be hieroglyphs set in columns above the letters.

"But still, there are limits that define who you are as a person," Surus countered.

"The limits are the challenge!"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"What possible challenge could it be to be expected to make love to a beautiful woman? Like them or not, you still have the perfect place to stick your dick. Almost like it was made for just that. Rohandas predicament on the other hand ..."

"Don't you understand," Jacetani protested clenching his stylus tight in one hand, and nearly breaking the charcoal he held under the bend of his other thumb. "If you are not willing to stretch the envelope for your art, how can you consider yourself a true artist?"

Surus shook his head and scrunched his eyes.

"What's with the face," Jacetani asked.

"Nevermind. I didn't say anything." He could barely contain his laughter as he denied a response.

"Oh, Surus Feiçois, rude boy. The crudeness of your mind defies categorization."

Surus pointed to a decanter of cherry brandy sitting on a corner table surrounded by a set of crystal shot glasses.

"My friend," he said. "You're much too serious for a riverboat adventure. Have yourself a drink. Enjoy yourself."

Jacetani shrugged and put the folio galley down.

"If you insist. Say, do you plan to have fun later on? Are you going gambling?"

"That was my original plan to kill a few hours. Then I came across this."

Jacetani gulped a shot of brandy as he became interested in Surus' activity. He walked over and stood behind the guildsman and leaned over his shoulder.

"What are you doing," Jacetani asked. "You've been keeping this from me?"

"Don't pretend you didn't see me with this when I came in, and ignored it because you wanted to vetch about that folio of plays, I know you too well. In a minute, I'm going to need your stylus and a clean sheet of papyrus."

In the split of an instance, Jacetani's tone changed from curiosity and into admonishment.

"Leresai sent me along to ensure you did not get sidetracked with your own vainglorious adventure spinning off in an entirely different direction than she needs of you. Acquire the coin, meet her back at the Sparrow. Simple and simple."

Surus shook his head in disbelief.

"A minute ago, you were ready to write up a picaresque of my evening's intrigue. I truly chanced upon this above deck, but for me, I have to confess, what I hold here has been a part of my lifetime pursuit."

When the first symbol came to light, Jacetani whispered in a hoarse gasp, "Obisvyrre. These queries of yours, you are very fortunate they haven't brought you notice."

"In your plays would the Nightjar let his curiosity go unsatiated due to cowardice?" Surus said with a smirk while revealing beneath his wool jacket the padding of studded black lustre, the gift of his Sgoëthe acquaintance.

"In truth, they should be as curious about me as I am of them, given -," he cut himself off.

Jacetani was not so obtuse that he failed to notice Surus' blunt self-correction.

"Just what do you mean by that," he asked.

Surus leaned into his friend. "Listen to me well, my old colleague, and my dear friend. I didn't tell you everything or share all of my journals when we put those plays together. So, expect our time in Gareen to go not quite as planned

"When we are walking the streets of Gareen if we do happen to have to stay so long, and if you happen to spy curious glances or even hateful stares casts my way, I wasn't exactly forthright about the controversy that caused me to take up residence in Nevespora where a man of my ilk can find some tolerance and be of use.

"Besides, what I, shall we say, edited out would not have been conducive to your narrative purposes."

Jacetani breathing suspired, emphatic and slow.

"I did not expect you to be entirely truthful. Just interesting enough in your life pursuit to base a series of plays on." He shook his head. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Surus considered this question, and with a raised brow, "one of whom with the dramatic flair in his writing that would get me legitimately rich so I can hide the ill-gotten gains of my stolen riches and my luxurious living not appear conspicuous."

Jacetani shrugged.

"Well, then, that is exactly the fool I be."

Surus turned back to his work to see the rest of the message illuminated upon the metal foil. He spread the foil out once more and drew its surface to an exacting likeness before it cooled and it's protruded script contracted back to normal.

The first glyph Jacetani recognized represented Obisvyrre, itself. An eye with a burning gyre for a pupil. It was followed by seven more glyphs with two hundred and thirty letters divided between them in ordered columns written beneath.

"I've seen this cryptographic system before," Surus explained as Jacetani gawked at the sketch.

"Each hieroglyph keys a different encoding. When all parts are decoded, the Obisvyrre glyph is used to decode the entire message as a whole into Imperial, or perhaps, the mother tongue of Old Nin."

"Three degrees of encoding to keep this a secret," Jacetani stated. "Just how did you manage by chance to come across it?"

"Someone trained a raptor, an oversized red tail hawk it appeared to be, to attack carrier pigeons leaving the riverboat."

Jacetani sat down, his hands a flurry of motion, gripping for a stylus that was not there.

"My, that is intriguing. So, what should we deduce from all this? There are members of the Obisvyrre on board this vessel, and they are being pursued by an unknown third party."

"The giants made mention to me the raptor was fell. Under the spell of a witch, a shaman, or some other practitioner of the Art."

"The giants told you this? The galley slaves, you mean?"

"Yes," Surus affirmed.

"They don't just have conversations with anyone who happens to go wandering about the open-air decks. They must have found you... copacetic."

Surus bobbed his head, slightly.

"I suppose so."

While giving Surus a suspicious gaze, Jacetani reached into a drawer stuffed with his travel bag and pulled a coin that gleamed electrum.

"I can see why this bit of subterfuge may tempt you, but don't forget Leresai's matter here is paramount."

"I'm stumped on this -," Surus answered as he tapped the paper he had written the code down on, "-until I get back to my library at the Sparrow, at least. So, do us a favor and put that becurséd coin away."

"It's quite beautiful, don't you think," Jacetani teased with a challenge in his brown eyes. A smile beneath a mustache curled and greased in Suüd fashion from a quarter of a century previous.

"It's an abomination," Surus nearly growled.

Jacetani approached him with wolfish eyes.

"It claims for itself to be from the future. Twenty and Seven years hence. Are you not fascinated by what that may mean?"

"That it commits both the fallacy of prophecy, and suggests the abhorrent existence of Fate? As I said, an abomination."

Jacetani rubbed the electrum piece against his thumb. While looking at the visage printed on its surface, he smiled.

"Quite a likeness to our lady. Remember that day she came to our door all those years ago, so young, naïve and tender-footed."

Surus shook his head. In spite of the frayed feelings Jacetani evoked, he managed a chuckle.

"That doesn't sound like any Leresai of whom I have any memory."

"Do you see this," Jacetani continued, 'She Who Awakened The World' it says here, under a very queenly presentation of her. From the brothels of sacrament to an empress of the Imperium. Do you not want to see our dear Leresai succeed, and go on to accomplish great things?"

"You are a prick, Jacetani. These coins suggesting she is some kind of usurper-to-be have caused our dearest friend nothing but grief."

Surus buttoned up his jacket, and while pocketing three rows of silver ducats, he continued, "if you'll excuse me, I would rather enjoy the company of vipers who are only after my coin and not the corruption of my immortal soul for my present company."

Surus avoided Jacetani's gaze as he turned towards the door. The playwright had succeeded in getting under his skin. Turning the table on Surus like that would make the playwright's smile all the more smug.

Surus obliged him with a heartfelt slamming of the cabin door.

"Enjoy yourself," Jacetani called after him.