One In The Hand

Red Thunder

A Warrior in a Garden
Original poster
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Posting Speed
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  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
One In The Hand
Tamerlin and Quinnis

It made no damn sense, sticking him with a rookie of less than a year. This was going to be a rather delicate operation, one requiring finesse of words and manipulation of emotions. He didn't need some new guy messing it all up.

The throng was a bit thinner than usual as Quinn shoved his way through the marketplace, the high heat of the midsummer. The still air, the murmurs of the crowd, and the muffled shuffle of sandled and booted feet on the dusty cobblestones created a sort of oppressive atmosphere, one that was most definitely not helping his attitude. Pausing, he checked the sun, trying to block most of the glare with a protective hand over his eyes. Early afternoon, probably around 1 or 2 o'clock. Which left them around six or seven hours for preparation. Dammit, Quinn grimaced angrily. This is Sothal's payback for the beer thing. I know it is.

Even as new as he was, Tamerlin was known to still reside at the orphanage that he managed. So as Quinn got closer and closer to the place, the sound of children became louder and more distinct. And Quinn found himself increasingly agitated. Practically no prep time, with a rookie, with children.

Gods damn it all.

Raising a hand, Quinn beat out a heavy tattoo on the wooden door of the orphanage.

@Doctor Jax
 
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XXXXXTamerlin EdelvaXXXXX


"And I will get you that dolly, if you listen to Marguerite and don't pull on Joe's hair," Tamerlin said sternly as he bent down to look into little Ava's eyes.

The girl, with her startling violet eyes, pouted at him and crossed her arms, looking away, and Tam stood up, pretending to look crestfallen.

"Well, I guess that dolly won't have a home then..." Tam lamented as he began to head towards the door, where the majority of the children were playing outside. Ava, unwilling to let this offer go, immediately ran after the man and hung on to his pant leg, looking up at him with big watery eyes.

"I promise not to pull Joe's hair."

"And Marguerite?"

"And listen to Marguerite," Ava admitted, nodding her head and lolling the braids that framed her little face. Tam smiled widely as he pushed open the door, allowing the sound of raucous children into the orphanage with its sprawling halls. The warm abode seemed to shimmer with heat as the midsummer sun baked everything in Faledrin, one of the few times of the year where the sun ever showed its glowing face.

"Go out and play. And hey-- the Headmaster will tell me if you're not doing as you're told, Ava! Remember that!" Tam said as Ava ran outside to play with the other children.

As he headed out, he deflated a bit as he saw a pair of boots at the gate, much too large to be a child's, too small to be the orc who delivered the occasional basket of goods to the orphanage. There was an impatient rap on the gate. No doubt, that was Quinn -- whom he had had the misfortune to be paired with. Everyone in the underworld knew Quinn, or at least of him, and Tam had only gotten up close and personal a handful of memorable times.

He opened the gate a smidge and looked up with raised eyebrows.

"That time already?" Tam asked,

Of course, he knew. He'd just been leaving when Ava clamped onto his ankle.

@Red Thunder
 
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A grin spread across Quinn's face.

"Depends: are you finished with your whore yet? Not Eswayt's best, in my opinion; I prefer them with all their teeth. But hey: I'm not here to judge."


An eyebrow cocked as he looked past the younger man's shoulder, surveying the building behind him. He'd never set foot within the place, having little room in his heart for affection for most any small creature. It wasn't tha Quinn hated orphans; he just didn't care. He hadn't been the one to make the contact with Tam initially, thank the gods. But here he was now. So better make the best of it.

"The little ones going to be okay? Never mind; of course they are. C'mon; let's go." Turning on his heel, Quinn set off across the cobblestone path.

To say Quinn's path wandered would be a serious understatement. He took turns at odd places and made circles around blocks, doubling back in close crowds. Every so often, he'd flip a coin to a bystander, who would immediately cross behind the innkeeper's path and linger there, making small talk with a friend or calling out his wares. And every so often Quinn glanced back, scanning the throng before pressing in.

@Doctor Jax
 
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XXXXXTamerlin EdelvaXXXXX


Tam's blase expression quickly turned into one of annoyance at Quinn's 'joke'. Oh, yes, very funny, make fun of him spending the night with one of Eswayt's girls, a toothless one no less -- very original. Ah, well, he should have come to expect such crass humor from the blond man.

"She gives her regards," Tam quipped.

Quinn looked over Tam's shoulder, and the small man looked back to the many little children who were running about, some of them glancing at the groundskeeper talking to a Baladuri. Quinn offered a quick question as to if the children would be alright-- and just as fast, he answered himself and walked off. Tam quickly jogged to keep up with him, the Baladuri's long stride practically two of Tam's own. Not for the first time did Tam curse his extremely short gait.

However, he did not miss that Quinn often gave out coins now and again to passersby, who quickly fell into their step and covered their passage. For all his faults, Tam couldn't deny that it was a clever trick from a clever man.

"So, what is it we'll be doing? All I remember is that children are involved," Tam said quietly.

Frankly, it made him nervous knowing he was directly linked to the Cult now. He preferred to have several go-betweens, but here he was, physically interacting with the person who wished to use his services -- to an extent.

@Red Thunder
 
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"There are. Hence: you."

Quinn stopped before a half rotted door, its latch rusted down in the salty air. Fortunately, the door had not been open when that happened. Casting furtive glances quickly to either side, he pushed inside. The door, clinging to the wall by a single stiff hinge toward the top, fell back into place against the doorframe. Quinn did nothing to prevent it, and it made a mushy thud against the jam.

The shack, for it could be described as nothing else, was located only a few blocks from the shoreline itself, far enough from the nobles' nearest gate to avoid unwanted attention but near enough to allow an expedient journey to it if pressed. The inside was almost a mirror in quality to the exterior: fungus and rot crawled upon the slats that divided the outside world from the inside, holes of multiple sizes offered pathways from the beating sunlight and pouring rain indifferently, and the flooring was little more than a compacted earth from which a few sprigs of grass struggled skyward. No furniture decorated the place, and there was certainly no other commodities. It was merely a wall and roof, a shack by only the widest and most generous of margins.

The blonde man strode with purpose to a back corner, stomping on the ground every so often. After perhaps six such actions, there was a hollow wooden sound, and Quinn smiled.

"This," he sputtered as he bent down and gripped a heavy looking trapdoor, "is one of many storehouses across the city. You're still pretty green, so I dunno how much the others have told you.

"And within, as you might figure, are our hidden stores. Burglary tools, small amounts of coin, a few weapons, poultices and bandages, and even elements of disguise. It's all here for use."

Pushing the trapdoor back to lean against the shabby wall, dust and dirt sliding off in a small cloud, Quinn eased down to sit on the edge of the pit that the door had concealed. It was perhaps six feet long by three feet wide. He bent forward with a grunt, and straightening back up again, lifted forth a rather colorful looking shirt. It was sewn together from all manner of scraps in piecemeal fashion, and around both the collar and the ends of the sleeves were attached frills and ribbons of equally ridiculous appearance. Grinning, Quinn tossed Tamerlin the shirt.

"We're kidnapping a noble child, Tammy. And congratulations: to get us inside, you're the house's evening entertainment."

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Quinn led him to a small, "quaint" shed -- as any land purloiner would've called it in an attempt to entice him to buy -- and the two walked in. To say he was unimpressed would have been a vast understatement. He'd seen tent cities with more support and comfort. Quinn quickly began to stomp on the floor, looking for some hidden door, while Tam quietly made sure the door had closed all the way behind him. He glanced over at Quinn curiously as he pulled up a trapdoor.

"Yes, I've been more or less informed. I'm still working on memorizing where they all are," Tam sighed as he watched the man rummage into the large hole. Tam frowned as he came up with all of the necessary goods, something bright in his hands. His eyebrows rose as Quinn informed them of their plan. His mouth hung open for a few moments before snapping shut suddenly, weighing the options. I could quit. I could quit right now, and Sothal and the rest will think nothing less of me. RIght?

Tam shut his eyes and sighed before taking a hold of the clothes.

"Have you a lute in that dingy hole, then? In for a penny, in for a pound..." Tam grumbled as he tried to make heads or tails of the farce of a costume he'd been handed.
 
"As a matter of fact..." Quinn reached down into the dingy hole, "I do. Uh, after a fashion. How's your singing voice?"

Pulling his arm back out, he placed an instrument carefully on the ground. The wood was old and yellowing, with no small amount of wear, and a pluck on the remaining strings would show it to be slightly out of tune. The sound hole was more oval than typical, and it lacked the traditional lattice work across the opening. Yet around its border was a simple woven border design, reminiscent of a rope, and below that, most notably, was a carefully painted scene, faded by time. A huge beast chased a small child, set within wooded surroundings.

"Here's the situation." Mouth contorted in contemplation as he stared into their stores, Quinn shook his head. "The noble family of Poswell loves hitting the Light. Which wouldn't be so bad, I suppose; Geralt and Winowa want to screw their own lives up, hey, let's give them a hand."

Quinn paused. Light, as it was called on the streets, was a potent hallucinogenic opiate, synthesized by some alchemist with plenty of imagination and no scruples across the sea from nightshade and some unknown fungus. Or at least, it wasn't local; the Cult had figured out that much. They stamped out its use where they could, destroying supplies in the poorer sections while turning a blind eye to its use in the noble districts, but because of its foreign origin, it remained a thorn in the side of the poor and troubled.

"But as you can figure from your being here, there's a kid involved. Little boy, maybe five or six years. It's not the best environment to grow up in, so we need to get him out. So we are. Tonight."


He stared at Tam for a brief moment before turning his eye back to the supplies.

@Doctor Jax
 
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XXXXXTamerlin EdelvaXXXXX


"Have you ever heard a cat being dunked in hot oil? That's my singing voice," Tam stated glumly. He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Luckily, however, he knew at least the most basic of strum patterns, and he had an idea of how to play from listening to the children pluck at the hand-me-down instruments he'd given them to play with.

Tamerlin took up the wooden instrument, staring at it for a moment. Cheerful, he thought as he stared at the scene of a child being chased by some demonic beast. He wasn't entirely familiar with the mandolin, but he could perhaps convincingly play a few chords without sounding completely horrific. He picked out a few experimental chords, happy to sound that they didn't at all sound like the screech of a beginner, merely a bit clumsy.

He immediately stopped playing as Quinn stated the situation. His brow furrowed as he quickly caught on. He had already had to take in quite a few children whose parents were too often gone to the Light show during the month to feed or bathe their own progeny. No wonder they'd chosen him rather than Oracle, who, no doubt, was less obtrusive an intruder. Not to mention -- Tam was probably the only person who was going to wear this suit.

"I see. Then I guess we had not waste much time," Tam sighed, deciding that it would be better to get dressed nearer their mark, rather than here, and he stuffed the shirt and pants into the large inner pockets of his coat.

"Now, we know how I'm to get in, but what of yourself. Are you my frontman?" Tam sighed. He certainly hoped so. He didn't want to have to open some window or sneak through the entirety of the manor wearing this monstrosity. Tam was good, but he didn't know if he was that good.

@Red Thunder[/b][/QUOTE]
 
"Of a sort." Quinn lifted out a heavy cape with a grunt. Nodding as he examined it, he flashed a grin to Tam before standing up and draping the fur-lined thing about his shoulders. "I'm Geralt's distant cousin, Serbin Vumahl. Here for a visit, and having heard of my dear cousin's handsome boy, I have brought my fool to entertain him!"

He gave a mock bow to his companion before dropping the robe and chuckling. Bending down once more, he extracted a pair of sheers, a cracked mirror, and some additional clothes and regalia.

"Regrettably this means cutting my hair and mustache. Ah well; it's worth it for a ran- er, to save a child from a bad situation.

"And of course," Quinn mentioned, patting his own coat near his breast, "I've brought a letter of introduction from Geralt's black sheep of an aunt, never once mentioned to him by his mother."

Holding the mirror before him, he began trimming his hair.

"Anything else?" he asked, glancing at Tam curiously.

@Doctor Jax
 
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XXXXXTamerlin EdelvaXXXXX


To be frank, Quinn seemed to enjoy this all too much, but then again, why shouldn't he? He wasn't the one dressed as the blasted fool. He got to be a dashing rogue, coming in to entertain his nephew and be a wonderful uncle. However, Tam seemed to shake these thoughts away. He shouldn't be so hasty to consider his role minuscule or unimportant, though he certainly was going to feel ridiculous the minute he stepped into that suit.

"Oh, how shall the world survive?" Tam mumbled over the loss of Quinn's mustache, though his near slip did key Tamerlin in on one other thing that had been nagging at him.

"Actually, yes. What is to become of the child after? Have we an exit strategy, or is it rather more devil may care?"

Personally, Tam preferred the well-planned approach, but when time was of the essence and little could be done by way of preparation, you just worked with what you had. Tamerlin had done more than one fly-by-the-seat-of-your-trousers assignments; of course, he recalled earning quite a few holes in his clothes, either from the swords of his pursuers or from the iron bars of windows that snagged as he made his escape. With a squirming, uncomfortable child, it would be that much more difficult to run out unseen and quietly while having no sort of exit plan.

@Red Thunder
 
Quinn shrugged, frowning sadly into the hand mirror as he did.

"That all depends on the parents. Er, I guess. I'm assuming he'll go to your orphanage or something similar. After, or rather if, the Poswells have paid the ransom demanded of them. Honestly I just do what I'm told. 'Ours is not to wonder why' or some such garbage."


He opened the straight razor and examined it distrustingly. It was a thief, a robber, come to rob him of his dear treasure, and he found himself loathing the thing. Of course he didn't want to be recognized, but some sacrifices weren't worth making. But then he considered the sizable ransom Geralt was certain to pay, and with a few quick strokes, rid his face of the prized mustache. Tossing the razor aside, Quinn grabbed the shears and went to work in his braids, glancing over at Tam curiously.

That boy. It wasn't a fair label; though remarkably short, Tamerlin was very near his own age. But the way he allowed his bleeding heart to show was immature and naive at best, willingly ignorant at worst. Who the hell cared what happened to the kid? The money they would bring in through the anticipated ransom would go a long way to funding whatever schemes and machinations Sothal had planned. The kid was just extemporaneous detail. Hell, it was why Tam was here at all; to make sure someone looked after the kid's wellbeing. Quinn likely would have dropped him off with the first mother he'd come across, shoving him in among the board of other children.

"But if you mean 'exit strategy' from the house, well." Quinn grinned excitedly, tossing away a long lock of hair. "That will be devil may care. We're going to play that by ear and see how it goes."

@Doctor Jax
 
Tamerlin was not entirely sure why he'd bothered to ask. Perhaps it was his foolish optimism speaking, that the cult might consider the life of the child they were holding for ransom, or seeking to free, or maybe he'd come to expect people to leave children on their own, to fend for themselves, as they were little more than another squawking mouth to feed. He'd met more than one mother who'd gladly given up her offspring if it meant getting a little something for her table and none of the retribution of infanticide.

"Of course. Wouldn't have it any other way. They hardly learn their lesson otherwise," Tam said quietly, his face stoic for a moment.

At that Quinn took off his prized facial hair, while explaining that their exit will, indeed, be quite fast and loose. That gave Tam no little anxiety. He was a planner by nature, preferring to suss out every single iota of his plans down to the last contingency, and doing things without some kind of idea grated against his 'architectural' habits. It wasn't to say he couldn't improvise, of course, otherwise he would not be a part of the cult.

But he definitely did not enjoy it.

"Wonderful," Tam sighed. "The new look suits you, by the way. It almost makes you seem presentable. Are we almost ready to be off?"
 
"Almost."

Quinn felt...naked without his mustache. It's been with him so long, it'd become part of his identity. Solemnly, almost mournfully, he stared at the shavings that littered the floor. With them, he simply wasn't himself.

Which was rather the idea, he supposed silently. If one was to lie in such a bald faced manner, it was better that one did all one could do believe the lie themselves. Hurriedly he slipped on some worn nobleman cloth, supressing as he did a feeling of disgust as he did so. Or was it envy? Pulling a cap smartly onto his head, Quinn turned to Tamerlin and touched it.

"Let's go, then."

***

Twilight was beginning to consider shoving aside the evening's fading sunlight as the pair of thieves rounded the last corner before the Poswell residence. The journey had been somewhat roundabout: it was common practice to take steps to avoid a tail within the Cult, and Quinn was besides for all his apparent confidence fairly nervous about the job at hand. If it went badly, whomever got caught would be sent to the noose. Kidnapping a child of the peasantry was no big deal; kidnapping a noble's offspring was highly illegal. He only hoped that, if such were to happen, Oracle would have the chance to wipe his mind first.

The Poswell estate was of perhaps average size for a nobleman; a stately if imperceptibly illkept manor, the building stood four stories tall and filled a small city block. A steep clay tile roof crowned walls of blue painted wood, the paneling cut of a wood that few in Faledrin would recognize. Though curtained, silhouettes could be seen moving back and forth through the closed floor length windows of the bottom story; judging by the way the shadows would suddenly dance, it was likely the servants were lighting candles for their masters. Eyebrows raised in contemplation, Quinn turned to Tamerlin.

"Well, Fool: are you ready?"

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Tamerlin peered at Quinn with a hard look, his lips pressed together so hard that they almost seemed to disappear. He was dressed in the costume he'd been given, the thing rather hastily thrown on around a corner so as not to draw too much attention from their hiding place. In his pocket there was a garotte and a small paring knife in a sheath, as while he had no hope of shanking the nearest guard or choking a poor maid who saw too much, he was more aware than he'd like of the lackadaisical nature of this misadventure.

His get-up did not help his mood, though. He looked like a walking circus tent.

"Har har," Tam stated. "I think that's as good as my clowning will get for now."

He eyed the estate, noting the dust on the windows, the build-up of furniture near some windows, the overgrowth of vines that were outpacing the too-few gardeners the Poswell's were probably struggling to keep. Nevertheless, there were still silhouettes that moved around about, and Tam felt a strike of envy. Here were people who could live comfortable for life on what they'd been handed, yet they squandered it on Light Shows and parties and all else, their children left to pick up the pieces. He stamped out that righteous fire, however.

The two walked up to the door, and the doorman looked over the two with a dubious look.

"Your business?" he asked, and Tam felt fear settle in his stomach as he looked up at the doorman's face. At the least, they knew to hire an imposing guard. All of a sudden, Tam was acutely aware his head barely reached Quinn's shoulder, much less the man at the door with the pike.
 
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Quinn paused as he was addressed. No short man himself, the Baladuri felt a little dwarfed by the guard that stood before them. And if he felt intimidated by the man's size... He spared Tam a glance. The kid was still green, experience-wise, and looking a bit green around the edges as well. The man was at a loss already.

The Baladuri wasn't doing so well himself. During the walk here, Quinn had been weighing two options of approach for the inevitable obstacle: push past with airs befitting his false station, or fast talk his way into the door? But no, if there was a time to fast talk, it wasn't now. Instead of speaking, Quinn merely pulled back his noble's jacket to reach into the inside breast pocket. His fingers grasped the forged letter of introduction, and he pulled it out to present to the guard. In response, the guard took it in his hand. As he'd examined them more closely, his dubious expression had lessened to some degree, but as he read the letter, it disappeared altogether. It had been expertly created; the Cult was more than thievery, and Quinn had known who to go to. The doorman gave the supposed lord a deep bow.

"My lord."

Stepping aside, he grasped the door handle and pushed it open. A valet stood within, his livery clean and straight, and the doorman handed him the letter. A glance told the servant all he needed to know. With a Please come with me, m'lord., he turned on his heel and strode off down the hall. Quinn suppressed the grin of satisfaction that threatened to break through his stoicism, he followed, hoping that Tam did the same.
 
Indeed, Tamerlin was all too glad to step through the door with Quinn. He was surprised at the speed with which they'd managed to get in, as he usually had a bit harder of a time managing to step through the front door, but then again, this time he had the weight of the Cult behind them, plus their expert forger. Tam flashed a quick, polite smile at the doorman, who only glared at him, as he walked into the hall behind Quinnis towards the servant.

They were led down several richly decorated halls, though notably there were certain places where the dust cleared to show where a painting or a vase once stood, or rips in the wallpaper where some errant guest had, no doubt, accidentally broken through it. The signs were small, but Tam had been to enough of nobles' houses to know that the opulence here was quickly fading as the Poswells grew more and more impoverished. It would be a slow death, and not one Tam envied.

However, in the meantime, he catalogued as quickly as he could the many rooms, exits, hallways, and windows. It was purely habit by this point. There was a rather large window leading to the gardens -- not so good an exit, but passable if the need arose. There were servants' doors that they had passed by as well, one which he recognized by the gritty handle as the scullery -- which meant a basement and an exit through the cellar, if they were lucky. As they turned towards the solar where, no doubt, they were to meet the child and play for him, Tam eyed a chimney. While not ideal, it would serve as a hiding spot.

"If you will excuse me, I will fetch Sir and Madam Poswell. They are otherwise indisposed," said the valet.

With that, he left them, though no doubt there were other ears and eyes around them. The solar was the usual fare -- couches, some tables, a few handsome sets of cabinetry holding baubles of all kinds. The place was illuminated by a few lanterns, but there were far too few to consider the place well-lit, which would no doubt work towards their favor with Geralt's "cousin" in some shadow.
 
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Quinn all but ignored the valet, save for what was absolutely necessary, and merely inclined his head in acknowledgement at the man's departure. Hands behind his back in false assessment of their surroundings, the faux nobleman dropped all pretense as soon as he and his partner were alone.

"I'll admit," Quinn remarked offhand with a whistle, "I'm surprised we got in so easily. We need to pay our forger better."


He glanced to Tam as he pulled on and brushed his jacket straight in an effort to clean or straighten any dirtying their travel had lavished upon it.

"Don't worry, kid; it'll be a quick thing, in and out, and we'll have you back with your orphans."

He smiled, the effect a little offputting on the Baladuri without his signature mustache and the short hair cut of a lord. A hand reached up subconsciously, fingers running through the shortened locks uncomfortably. No matter how many times he did things like this, it never got easier. It was, however, educating to see the lap of luxury such people lived in, and how they squalored the good fortune that life had bestowed on them. House beginning to fail structurally, with no thought to upkeep; staff kept at a minimal, though doubtless overworked and severely underpaid. He could appreciate enjoying ones self, but when one could afford to do that in addition to providing employment and quality of life to those around them, why not do so? So yes, these jobs never got easier. But damn if they didn't remind him of the complete ineptitude and irresponsibility, not to mention oftentimes tyranny, with which these people used their money. Even if they did have good taste.

The door creaked, opening from where the valet and pulled it to. Quinn tensed, old instincts kicking in, before regaining his composure and turning to face the sound, eyebrow raised in detached curiosity. A small hand grasped the edge of the door, and a small head peeked around it. Half of the face was hidden, as if the child was trying to both see and hide at the same time, but the large eye that did gaze at them from around the corner was filled with wonder. That is to say, it was filled with wonder as it beheld Tam, the colors and designs of his Fool's costume drawing the eye with priority over anything else. Quinn smiled and knelt on one knee.

"Come, child! I'm your Cousin Serbin! This is Linny, a friend for you. Would you like to meet him?"

@Doctor Jax
 
Tamerlin, at first, gave Quinn a rather chastising look at calling him 'kid' -- after all, despite his height, he was actually about as old as Quinn -- but he didn't shoot back with a retort. He'd known the man long enough to know that he did not do it as a sort of personal jab. It was just the way Quinnis communicated with others. And, truth be told, the depression that seemed to cloak this house did make Tam long for the cheerful laughter of the orphanage and his many charges. They would, no doubt, be having dinner by now, with poor Asuf stuck cooking again. The Maldviri was going to ask to be paid double if Tam kept leaving at night on his jaunts...

Tam glanced over at Quinn with a quirked eyebrow nonetheless, slightly put off by the Baladuri's shortened mustachio and hair. The effect was a little too uncanny.

He didn't have much time to think on it. The door opened, and his hand drifted down towards a pouch within the godsawful shift, the garrote in reach, but he instead had to lower his eyes to meet the pair that was peering out at him. Tam immediately smiled as he saw the little boy. He was a tiny thing, hardly more than six years of age, with huge blue eyes and fair skin, dressed in a lacy confection of an outfit that, sadly, was stained from neglect. Quinn approached, and the child drew back for a moment, hesitant.

Tam knew the look of apprehension. It was the same look in the eyes of those children whose parents visited the Light Shows far too often, bringing over strange people to do strange, nonsensical, scary things. This was a child who had learned wariness early, and it broke Tamerlin's heart to know that the child had seen things too rough for such tender eyes. He began to lightly strum on his instrument, a merry tune, and the child slowly reappeared.

"Da never said you... was comin'," the child said, drawn into the room by the music. However, he still remained close to the door, ready to bolt.
 
"He wouldn't have; he didn't know!"

Quinn smiled, sparing Tamerlin a glance. For all his timidity, his partner's instincts were spot on. The child's whole face was showing now, reappearing after a momentary retreat from an unexpected stranger, and though he addressed his 'cousin', yet still his eyes remained trained on the costume. And on the lute. He seemed entranced, still obviously filled with trepidation but nevertheless enraptured by even Tam's simple strumming.

As his behavior had affected Tamerlin, so too did it affect Quinn. Here was a boy of curiosity and some courage, eager to see and learn and discover. No one had told the boy to come prying, or so Quinn assumed; he'd anticipated having to lull the parents into trusting him with their offspring. It was a shame, then, to have the reports of the parents confirmed. Without even meeting them, it was clear to the Baladuri that the boy was at best neglected, and at worse, actively harmed. Quinn had been ignored often as well during his childhood, yet he still retained his parents' care, their arms always working to keep him warm, even if they left him regularly to his own devices. But here was a lad without that, trapped in an unending cycle of apathy and imprisonment, unable to leave and unable to find love from the ones who should have shown it. Quinn had found an escape with the help of a Cult member; he would ensure this little boy had the same chance.

"News finally came to me that my cousin had a son! So I came to meet you, bringing someone that my own children very much enjoy, at their suggestion, thinking that you might as well." Still on his knee, he gestured the lad to approach Tamerlin. "Would you like to meet him?"
 
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The child slowly drew away from the door as Tam strummed a little louder, sometimes trying a bit of a more complicated ditty, though often his notes struck hollow. The child, however, did not seem so perturbed. He came closer and closer as Tam strummed, and finally Tam asked, "And what is the young master's name?"

"Travis," the child stated looking from Tam to Quinn quickly, his eyes darting about.

"Well, Travis, what would you like to hear?" the small man asked.

Too late, he realized that he didn't really know any songs, and he took a minute to glance at Quinn with a grimace. This could get ugly... However, Travis took a good long think, and Tam sighed quietly.

It was going to be difficult to remove the child from the home without him having a conniption. Children felt safest at home, even those who suffered from abuse. It was why they decided to take refuge in their old haunts, rather than shelter in safer, warmer homes with strangers. Tamerlin would have to do some serious work to keep the child from panicking if and when they decided to disappear from the house.

"Trav? Trav, where're you of to? Where'd you go, boy?" said a loud voice from beyond the room, and Tam stiffened.

The voice was deep, male, and slightly slurred. While he had known they would have to deal with the parents at some point, he had hoped that perhaps they could keep contact to a minimum. The young boy flinched before shouting, "Da, over here!"