Backscene :: A Tangled Web Who: Viara Tremaine, Thren Canondais, Pavak Sethi Where: The Pale Wheel; Dairsmuid, Rivain When: 9:45 Dragon; 15 Eluviesta Summary: A fugitive Pavak Sethi seeks passage to Denerim. Rating: Teen Status: COMPLETE
Pavak slipped into a pungent alley, ducking under the shadowed arch of a doorway as his heart lurched in his chest. Every one of his senses felt strained, stretched to breaking as he waited for any sign of pursuit. The scrabbling of rats in a nearby trash heap was the only sound he heard, and with fear sitting heavy and bitter on his tongue he eased his way onto the main road again.
He was heading for the docks, the tang of salt and fish getting stronger as he drifted his way south through the paved roads of Dairsmuid, weaving a zigzag course of sidestreets and alleyways in case he was still being followed. It was absurd, what he had been reduced to - sneaking through the streets of his own city like a petty criminal. Well, he was a criminal...but not some average blundering cutpurse. People had designed entire security systems to keep him out, to keep their precious treasures safe. He was as close to legend as one got while still alive in this city! His lip curled with disgust and his pride bristled. That sorry bastard Bansi was probably still gloating over Giri's corpse, sitting back in his spider's web of ambition and deceit, plucking the threads that had sent thieves from throughout the guild scrambling after the price on Pavak's head.
He made it close to the wharf, moving at a pace painfully slow with caution and paranoia. The rows of taverns and whorehouses along the docks were brightly lit in the dim light of the early evening, golden squares of light from their windows checkering the cobbled street that ran along the waterfront. Men and women, sailors of all different races, were mingling in the doorways and buildings, the warm air thick with the shouted tongue of a dozen different accents.
Pavak spotted a huddled bundle of rags crouched in a nearby alley, one small grimy palm upheld forlornly in silent plea for a handout. He sidestepped into the narrow passage and bent down beside the tiny child, ignoring the flat reek of urine and mold. Bright eyes peered out from the dirt streaked face, one that Pavak recognized.
"Lav," he whispered to the small boy, keeping his voice quiet to avoid attracting any attention. Lav was one of this city's army of urchins, street children that always brought good information for a few coins.
The boy's eyes widened and he glanced around the alley frantically. "Master Sethi! You shouldn't be here. I've heard terrible things! Bansi has men everywhere asking about you, you're not safe."
The irony of a street brat telling him he was not safe did not escape Pavak, and he grinned wryly at the boy. "I'm trying to fix that. What have you heard here, today? Which of these ships is going the furthest?" Even Pavak wasn't foolish enough to expect favors from a kid like Lav. He slipped a few coppers out of his hefty purse and folded them in the boys dirt-creased hand.
"The Northern Star," Lav said after a few moments thought. "They say she calls Denerim home. Ferelden is about as far as I can think of any of these ships being from."
"And her captain? Where can I find him?"
Lav looked at him archly, eyes far too old for such a young face, and Pavak realized he should have known better than to expect something for nothing. Whoever had coined the phrase 'honor among thieves' had been sorely wrong. He passed a few more coppers into the boys waiting hand.
"Not him. Her. Small thing, red hair - hard to miss, and she stirs up a lot of conversation. I saw her duck into the Pale Wheel 'bout a half-hour ago." Lav pointed with one thin finger to a tavern a few buildings down.
"Thanks, Lav," Pavak stood and started to turn away.
"Master Sethi," Lav's voice halted his motion and Pavak glanced back over a shoulder at the young boy who was peering up at him intently, his dark eyes wide. "Be careful."
The well-wishing brought a crooked smile to his face, and he hoped desperately that the street children would find some charity under Bansi's new reign. On impulse he turned back and dumped a small handful of coin into the boy's lap - enough to keep him fed for a bit, but not enough to get him robbed by bigger children. With a short nod Pavak turned back and picked his way between clumps of drunken sailors to the Pale Wheel's, its doorway gaping wide in the muggy air of a spring Rivain night. With a wary glance around the dim interior he slipped inside the stale room, searching amongst the patrons seated at the scarred tables for a flash of red hair.