Chapter Four: The Manifest of the Harikan Squall

Is anybody else injured? Just go ahead and roll when you can, if so.

About fifteen minutes pass after the refreshments arrive, and then you see Chorcarz approaching, alone. He tosses something into the table: a small drawstring sack stuffed with coins, several of which spill out onto the table surface, bright and gold.

"All right," he says. "I'll have the truth from you lot. And think carefully before you dissemble; there's more where that came from and little to be gained from trying to pull a ruse on we Gahmezi. Why did that woman bring you here, you and that girl she calls her daughter? What in the tarry Hells does she want from me? Out with it, and be straight with me."

"Martjan and the girl are at the Semla shrine, where I said they would be, waiting with food and drink and a singer for my return. Your 'deeper reasons' are precisely what I am asking to know, and if gold does not move your tongue, I will find something that does."

Chorcarz gives Mordred a very sour look. "Martjan seems quite desperate to find sanctuary for her endangered offspring, and I daresay she will be gravely disappointed to find the generous offer I was about to extend to this -- to be frank, rude and ill-mannered -- child rescinded due to the poorly-considered remarks of her hired mercenaries. Whether I be blood or friend or no, it is my ward and sister's brat whose bottom warms the Throne of Innocence of late, and if the implications of that are lost on you, then I can only pity you for wandering into this ancient and noble city in such a state of ignorance. I could not care less who the girl's father is, but unless you would all prefer to be ejected swiftly from my property, you will tell me now, before we reconvene with that slippery woman and her fables, from whom is that girl Zora in danger, and why?"

Fjorgyn, as usual, isn't taking Felor's calls.

Domarc don't know much about politics, but I can repost what was previously said about the Innocent:
Chorcarz listens, an increasingly bemused expression coming over his face. "The Six-Pronged Crown?" he says. "Them? I can't say this worries me much. They may have some success harrying young girls travelling alone in the countryside, but they're well-contained in Hazard, I assure you." He chuckles and takes a seat, helping himself to one of the unclaimed cups of wine. "I remember the last time they attempted one of their little excursions into the Mastaba. It only took four patrolmen to root out the lot of them, and the only one who gave them trouble was that treasure-hunter they hired, and it was his silken words, not his sword, that was the danger there. I was one of the judges who heard their trial. The perpetrators were only exiled, nothing more than simple mischief could be proven against them. It surprises me to hear they would be so bold as to shed blood in Hazard, but many years have passed, and even the mildest thief is capable of wreaking violence when pressed." He snaps his fingers. "Rolon, go fetch Madam va Locra and her daughter. I suppose they have been straightforward with me; we might as well reconvene." Rolon heads down the path. "Now, what of this artifact? A metal ball, you say?"

"Sthombo has lost its Sphere again? We ought never to have given it back," Chorcarz chuckles. He ignores Mordred's question and watches Rolon, Martjan, and Zora approach. With impeccable timing, the servant returns with more cups and wine just as they arrive to seat themselves. Martjan casts worried looks over each of you.

"I have been getting to better know your men," says Chorcarz. "Stalwart and purpose-driven, they are. They have told me a little of your predicament. My understanding is that Zora's flight from Sthombo was precipitated by her father's theft -- excuse me, alleged theft -- of some notable heirloom? And that one of our city's own nefarious local cults has been hard at work trying to track her down to obtain the location of this stolen treasure?"

"That's correct," Martjan says, as Zora nods.

"And you wish for Zora to stay here, indefinitely, until the threat has passed?"

"At least until we know why any of this happened in the first place. They attacked us at the Trading Company, Chorcarz. From what I've been told, I don't know when this will end unless they find what they're looking for, or the cult itself is driven out of existence..." She gives a suggestive lilt to that last remark.

"These secret societies are like grease-beetles, Martjan. You know that. You can scatter them, but they always regroup and endure."

"I have no intention of staying in hiding forever," Zora says. "They want that thing for a reason. They've killed many people to get at it." She looks at her mother. "It's pretty clear to me now that Dad didn't just send me here so you could keep me safe. He wanted you to keep the Sphere safe. From them."

"We return now to the old rumors that the Iron Sphere of Sthombo is more than meets the eye, then?" Chorcarz asks.

"Yes," Martjan says, "but we still don't know what it is. Maybe Edvers thought I would have figured it out by now. But I haven't."

"It seems the safest thing to do might be to return the Sphere to the treasury of Hazard. If it could be done in such a way as to let the cult know that Zora is no longer the key to its retrieval, but not thumb the eye of Sthombo."

"She doesn't know where the Sphere is. I have...an idea where it might be hidden. That's all. But we were trying to figure out what the Sphere is, why they want it, before we take any action that might lead them to it."

"And how might you uncover this information?"

Martjan shakes her head. "I don't know. Unless you happen to know where the elementalist Pafthinel went after he left Hazard."

"I'm afraid the name is not familiar to me."

To be continued, feel free to jump in with comments/questions!

Man none of you can get a bead on this guy.

Based on what he's said, you don't get the sense that Chorcarz entirely trusts Martjan, but he seems to be willing to hear her out now that he's gotten over his initial knee-jerk suspiciousness.