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Where There is Smoke

Where There is Smoke

Kolivan, Constantine and Hiscubo where exhausted from the ordeal of firefighting. They sat in Goodwife Tazra's kitchen chairs as if someone had poured them upon them. They could barely lift their cups of Atay. (a popular Ylaruam mint tea). The Goodwife Tazra was busy preparing them some Mancheco, (a bread of Belcadiz baked with nuts and fruits inside giving it a very pleasant taste), while talking to them.

"I spoke with the sergeant constable about your suspicions concerning the fire," says Goodwife Tazra. "He will give it careful consideration while he conducts his investigation."

Kolivan mustered the strength to sip the tea and then placed the cup back upon it's plate.

"Are they certain the servants were in the home?" says Kolivan. "I didn't hear anything before the fire got out of control."

"Neither did I," says Hiscubo. "I heard the cries of the child from the street clear enough and later the pleas for help from the parents but I heard nothing else save the fire."

"It is possible that they were overwhelmed by the smoke as they slept," replies Goodwife Tazra. "But on the off chance they were victims of foul play prior to the fire or the prepetrators of the fire itself the Sergeant will investigate them thoroughly."

"How do you come to hold such influence over the Constabulary?" asks Constantine. "Our dealings with them so far have been colored to say the least. They didn't strike me as diligent."

"Oh I am just a concerned citizen that has lived for a long time here," replies Goodwife Tazra. "With longevity comes recognition. Many of the constabulary were once children playing in these very streets and I was kind to them when they needed it and stern with them when it was warranted. They respect me for that."

"How long have you lived here?" asks Hiscubo.

Goodwife Tazra places the last slice of Mancheco on the serving tray and sits a container of whipped butter next to the bread. She brings the tray to the table.

"Well not as long as you have probally lived," replies Goodwife Tazra. "I can only assume you are an elf Master Shronvrur?"

"I am," says Hiscubo.

"Fascinating," replies Goodwife Tazra. "You look so exotic. I don't mean to pry but what clan of elf do you owe kindship too?"

"I am Schattenalfen," says Hiscubo. "You might know me as a Shadow Elf."

"And you Master Kolivan?" asks Goodwife Tazra.

"Goodwife Tazra?" replies Kolivan with a quizzical look upon his face.

"What are you?" says Goodwife Tazra. "You look like a human but your features are too perfect to be one."

"I am an Aasimar," replies Kolivan. "Though not many people know that just by looking at one of my kind."

Goodwife Tazra smiles.

"I have met a great many people in my life," says Goodwife Tazra. "I have become an excellent judge of character."

"So you know much about the coming and going-ons in the West Side?" asks Constantine.

"I hear a good bit," replies Goodwife Tazra as she doles out a slice of bread to each of them. "Though I'm not one to gossip, everyone deserves their privacy."

"Indeed," says Constantine. "We are new here and I was wondering if you might give us a lay of the land so to speak."

"I could," replies Goodwife Tazra. "I'll tell you what. You tell me something about yourselves and I'll give you my opinion of the landscape here in the West Side. So Master Lazar, I hear the Fenswick accent but other than where you are from, what can you tell me about yourself."

The Goodwife Tazra listen to the companions well into the night, returning each of their stories with her wisdom of the West Side. As the night drew long, it came time to return to their lodgings. The companions bid farewell to the Goodwife but not before being cajoled to return later with their friends to share in her hospitality. 

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