Chapter 5: Pleased to Meet You

The city guard watches closely over the small crowd gathered before the blue door, and this hard-eyed scrutiny seems to suppress any desire for communication between those waiting. Every few minutes, the door opens, and another person is called in. None of them exit again, at least not by the same door.

Perhaps ten minutes pass, when an unfamiliar woman in civilian clothing -- plain but well-made linen dress, a simple narrow silver ring on her right ring finger, long hair tied back -- opens the door. "Friglade Leancam?" she calls out. "Please come in."

Her tone is casual, almost perfunctory, no immediate hint of malice or other stress in her voice.

---

As Verrian moves forward in line with the speed of a turtle with a lame leg, she overhears some of the murmured conversations in line around her.

"Why are they making us wait so long? Do you suppose this is normal here?"
"Not like we've anywhere else to go. You heard what the south was like, and we ain't got nothing left at home."

"Quiet, honey. We'll be there in no time."
"But mama, I'm hungry."
"Hush dear, why don't you tell your doll another story?"

"If they don't hurry up, I swear I'm going to rush that gate. If we all go at once, they wouldn't be able to stop us."
That comment only gets worried looks from people nearby.

"We could keep going west... surely there's something else along the road to Ardraven."
"With all the weird rumors... maybe that's a better choice."

The woman leads Wil into the front room of what apparently was once a shop of some sort. It might have once even actually held alchemical supplies, though its days as a functioning cog in the engine of Hara's economy are long since past, all abandoned shelves and display cabinets. She looks down at Wil both literally and figuratively, giving him a faintly distasteful look as though she's studying a talking snail or something similarly slimy. "Hold your questions for Mr. Crow," she says coolly and turns to continue leading him deeper into the shop. There are no other people inside the shop here, only

Down a short hallway, she stops outside a door and knocks lightly, almost tentatively. Unless you miss your guess completely, she's nervous, maybe even a little scared. "Sir?" she ventures, voice a little louder to carry through the door. "Your next visitor is ready for you."

A voice responds from behind the door, oddly cheerful in contrast to your escort's tense cool. "Then by all means, have him join me."

She gives Wil one last brief unreadable look, then opens the door to let him in.

The room is well-appointed: the wood paneled walls are bare, though patterns in the dust suggest that paintings might have recently been taken down. There is an old dusty rug that covers much of the floor, and a wide wooden desk that sits in front of windowed double doors that appear to open onto a garden courtyard. Other than the faint layer of dust that covers many things here, it could be the pre-War office of a well-to-do merchant. Four other individuals are present here. Two are men in the livery of the Hara city guard, armored in chain shirts and carrying heavy maces, positioned to either side of the door. One man, standing near the left-hand wall as you enter, wears a plain gray robe devoid of any decoration. The robe hides the shape of his body, but from his gaunt face and skinny fingers, there can't be much of him beneath its folds. His dark eyes flit from place to place around the room, as though nothing can hold his attention for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

The fourth, however, is probably of the most interest. He sits behind the desk -- lounges, really, one booted foot resting atop the desk as he leans back in his chair. His dark skin, salt-and-pepper beard and sardonic half-smile are all too familiar to you. As you enter the room, Ildemu sits up straighter and gestures to you with one hand (decorated with a heavy iron ring on one finger) and indicates the empty chair on the other side of the desk. "Mister Leancam, I presume. Please, come and sit. So rare these days that I have opportunity to speak with someone interested in the alchemical arts."

His dark eyes flicker to the grey-robed man and he gives a barely perceptible nod. That done, he leans back in his chair again and steeples his fingers in front of him, waiting.

One man is happy enough to answer questions about the south. It was his daughter that complained of being hungry. While his wife tends to their two children, he says to Verrian, invoking the name of the divine ruler of the deep earth, "It's like the world cracked open and Altam himself took vengeance on the surface. Our village tried to subsist as we had for so many years, but the ground is poisoned. Nothing grows any more. We tried heading to Valerma, thinking maybe things were better there, as lush as it was before the war, but..."

"I can't imagine how we'd have made it through the Spine. We were miles away from the pass and could barely breathe the air. Some people live at the edge of the desolation, said there was a path through it, but with the kids, and not knowing what would await us on the other side... Hara seemed like a better bet. Now I'm not so sure any more."