The next day, around lunchtime, the companions were gathered in a tavern and eatery called the Red Bear, recommended to them for its food. The ambiance was pleasant without being tidy enough to get them thrown out, not an easy combination.
As they sat eating or drinking to taste, a man approached their table. After events of the previous day, some of the party were jumpy enough that this was potentially hazardous, but this individual took some trouble to appear unthreatening.
He was of average height, unexceptional-looking, apparently unarmed and impeccably dressed in sober and extremely businesslike merchant's attire. He walked up and stopped, bowing. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mister Gorfang Deathdrinker, Ms Lynien Savanoth, Mister Uruk Bad-breath, " here he gaze touched inclusively on Méabh though he did not say her name, "and Mister Eloy Brackensen?" Eloy stood up, and walked around the man, eyeing him carefully. He in turn did not flinch or appear worried, but focussed on Eloy, taking him as the spokesman from his having reacted. "Who are you?" asked the human.
"My name is Damarus," their visitor replied. "I have an offer of employment for you." He sat down.
"I represent an important client, who has contracted me to recruit a group of resourceful, capable, adventurous, and adaptable persons for a mission into the deep Trakar, to locate and retrieve a specific object. Various contacts I have access to have suggested that you may match this requirement."
"The mission will take between twenty and fifty days depending on your approach, and my client is willing to pay four thousand in gold or selected magical items to each surviving member of a successful team. 25% of this is available up front as guilded credit if supplies are required."
Méabh interrupted him. "It seems a little unfair to only pay those who survive. What of the families and dependents of the unfortunates who do no survive? Your client sounds wealthy; surely he can afford to pay everyone live or die?" Damarus shrugged. "That presents no problem," he agreed. "Very well, twenty-four thousand for the six of you." He opened a small case, and passed over some papers. "Here are some maps, showing the most probable locations - I'll explain that - of the item you seek. It will be found in a lizardman temple complex in the deep Trakar."
At this point both Méabh and Eloy snorted in disbelief. Both had grown up in Dalaghendor - Eloy actually on the marches of the Trakar - and knew of the persistent wild tales of mighty lizardman civilizations hidden in the deep Trakar. As far as anyone had ever proved, these were just that - legends. Eloy said so.
Damarus sat back. "So what if they are myths?" he said easily. "At worst, you'll be being paid well for mucking around in the swamps for a week or two. However.... there will be a bonus, if you succeed in bringing back this." He produced a small crystal and set it on the table. Immediately, a Programmed Image spell triggered, and a tiny image of a peculiar object appeared in the air. It was a green crystal pyramid, lit from within and bound in strange gold structures. It appeared to be about the size of a man's head. "It's highly magical," said Damarus, "and probably being worshiped as a god in some mud hut somewhere. It may even," his tone doubted it, "be doing it's worshipers some good."
"Who do you work for?" asked Lynien. "My client is a very private person," Damarus replied. "He prefers to remain anonymous." He, thought Eloy, that's a first step.... "I can reveal, however, that he is one of northern Alair's preeminent collectors of arcana. This item would make a very significant addition to his collection."
"What does it do?" asked Eloy. Damarus shrugged slightly. "Descriptions of it in magical legend are incomplete, but it has been said that it has the powers of life and death; it can heal or slay."
Méabh 
made a sceptical face. "How do you know where it is?" she demanded. Damarus nodded in her direction, as this was a good point. "About six months ago," he related, "a frog-trapper named Churat stumbled out 
of the swamps and into the village of Millerbeech in Dalaghendor." Everyone except Eloy looked blank. "Some apothecaries will pay two or three hundred per frog for some Trakar species," he put in. Damarus continued. "Churat was poisoned, raving and dying. The locals did what they could but he was beyond their abilities to cure. Before he expired, he talked of his travels. Much of what he said was pure bunkum, stuff about flying cities and the stairs of titans, but also including a pretty clear and accurate description of what could only be the crystal pyramid. Sadly, the nearest he got to describing where he was when he saw it was to mention hills, but the rough area can be estimated as there are not many hills in the Trakar. What we have been able to research and deduce is marked on this map. Also, here's a transcript of his words."
Around this point, it occurred to the companions to wonder if Damarus was alone. Looking around, they became aware of six men, scattered around the bar, very artfully not watching events at their table in a way that meant they certainly knew exactly what was going on. They were lightly armoured, heavily armed, and looked competent and relaxed.
"Please can we have five minutes to talk about it?" said Eloy to Damarus. "Of course," the agent replied, withdrawing tactfully to the bar and procuring tea – something of an achievement, considering that it wasn't on the menu.
The companions went into a huddle. While there were many unknowns, all were fairly inclined to accept the contract. For one thing, most felt it was time to get out of Lossal for a bit. If it turned out to be a trap, they felt equal to whatever could be thrown at them.
Damarus, beckoned back over, came and sat back down, to be met with more questions.
Why does your client need to keep his identity secret? “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that. He’s a private sort of person, like many collectors, and he has given me strict instructions to respect that.”
Are we the only group you have hired for this, will we have competition? “You are the first, and if you accept you will be the only; the last thing we want is our agents fighting each other.”
It sounds valuable; what if we bugger off with it rather than bringing it back? “I am confident the rewards my client can bestow will be of more use and appeal to you.”
At this point Lynien excused herself in a most ladylike way, and made her way out to use the facilities. Once unobserved, she slipped on Maedar’s Ring and vanished from sight, then returned to lurk in the shadows.
Is the advance in cash? “No; it’s in guilded credit tokens, drawn on Guild Venter; any business in the city will honour them.” He showed a small handful of the small, intricately carved wooden disks. Guild Venter was one of the most respected money-changers in Lossal.
Do you work for Guild Venter? “No, not at the moment. I work freelance. My client has accounts there however hence his use of their credits.”
Is there a time limit? “No, my client is a sensible man and won’t hurry difficult operations if he doesn’t have to. You are at liberty to take what time seems reasonable.”
Will there be an issue if we hire help? “How you achieve this is entirely up to you.”
"Right,” said Méabh, “We’ll take the job.”
"Excellent!” said Damarus crisply. He handed out the tokens, stood up, and bowed to the table in general before leaving, the six bodyguards drifting out ahead and behind. Méabh intercepted one and asked would he buy a lady a drink now the job was over, but the man declined, saying he had to finish delivering his employer; if she wanted to buy him a drink afterwards, he’d meet her back here at ten tonight? She told him he’d always be welcome, and the heavy left, looking rather pleased with himself.
Silently, Lynien shadowed them out of the inn, following them through the streets into the merchantile districts of the city…
Méabh also left, saying she had things to take care of before the group left the city.
Eloy now broached the subject of the previous day’s attack by the hirelings of the lizardman McManus. He contended that this sort of thing couldn’t be left unavenged, a point of view that appealed to Gorfang, who had more than once averred that he would kill anyone trying to take the Black Sword from him. Uruk, who had no love for lizardmen anyway, would have gone along just for the fight in any case.
Lynien passed through the streets like a whisper of deceit, effortlessly avoiding the passers-by while keeping Damarus and his escort in sight. After half an hour, they reached a nondescript building with no exterior signs or marks, and the six bodyguards peeled off without a word as Damarus entered the door. Lynien just managed to slip in after him, although the door bumped against her as it closed itself behind Damarus. If he noticed anything, he didn’t say, and continued through the empty, rather dusty hall and started up the stairs. Lynien made to follow and hesitated as she noted the steady creaking of the treads as the agent climbed the flight. He reached the top and disappeared, leaving Lynien trapped at the bottom, unable to leave and unable to ascend without giving herself away...
Eloy, Gorfang and Uruk walked in through the door of the drinking hall and glanced about, seeking the lizardman in blue. Detailed searching was rendered unnecessary, however, as a lizardman seated at a nearby table - and clad in blue! - took one look at Gorfang, leaped to his feet, and fled toward the back of the tavern.
Instantly, Eloy was after him, the more heavily armoured orc and half orc close behind him. Scattering tables, drinkers and earthernware in all directions, the pursuit crashed through a store-room, out the back door, and via a sharp left into an alley. Eloy could hear his quarry muttering what sounded like a spell, though not in a language he recognized. Putting on a spurt, he lunged forward and siezed McManus around the neck. The spell sputtered out as the pair stumbled to a halt, and McManus twisted in Eloy's grip, trying to free himself. A moment later, though, Gorfang and Uruk piled on and the fugitive was quickly subdued.
Initial interrogation was unsuccessful, so Gorfang unpacked his father's tools and went to work.
Half an hour, then an hour, of the most grisly tortures imaginable followed. Any normal lizardman should have been begging to tell him anything by now; but McManus simply snarled, spat, and cursed him in a language none of them spoke. Finally, McManus died rather than talk.
As life fled, however, all three stepped sharply back in shock. There in the alley between them lay, not the bloodied and mutilated corpse of a lizardman, but the mangled form of a beautiful black-skinned elven woman - a Fae Mhor...
Méabh walked once more through the jewelled archway into the courtyard of the Mageguild. Her resolve had tightened since her last visit, and this time she knew what she was looking for.
She found Erilas sitting on a stone bench in a small garden, feeding a multitude of small birds that perched unconcerned on his arms and shoulders or fluttered around him. He rose immediately and greeted her with enthusiasm, clearly glad to see her again.
Gathering her courage, the young sorceress apologized to Erilas for her aloofness the previous day, explaining that her past (into which she was not prepared to go) left her suspicious and wary of strangers. Partly to make up for this, she answered his question about her ancestry and eyes, telling him that she was of the aasimar and touched by the celestial. Erilas appeared fascinated.
She also confessed that she had motives for approaching him, in that she needed to search the Mageguild’s library for certain thinks. She paused, and looked at him. “Have you ever heard of Delirkos?” she asked. Erilas thought for a moment. “No,” he said. He looked at her for a moment. “I guess you do not want him to know you are asking,” he said shrewdly. She nodded, not going into any more detail.
Changing the subject, she told him about the contract Damarus had hired them for. Although she described the crystal pyramid, she didn’t mention where they were headed to seek it – can’t be too careful, she thought. Erilas was intrigued, and when asked if he knew any local collectors of arcana, chuckled. “Several,” he replied, “most of them members of the Guild!” He promised readily to provide her access to the library as his guest. Wanting to show her appreciation for his help, she gave him her share of the advance, a thousand gold’s worth of Guild Venter tokens.
He seemed rather touched by this – though it was probable that he didn’t need the money – and thanked her gravely. “In exchange for your trust in me,” he continued, “I would like to entrust something to your care.” He turned, and picked up a plain wooden staff capped in iron at both ends, from one corner of his study. “Please take this,” he said, “I made it quite recently. “I would be interested to know how it performs.” Méabh accepted it gratefully, and then the pair made their way to the Guild Library to begin their research.
Enough time had passed that Lynien had had to invoke the second of her three daily uses of Maedar’s Ring to remain invisible. After an interminable time, the street door opened again, and a woman stepped in. She was human, tall and compactly built, and dressed in light leathers with blades subtly strapped on in various places.
Lynien’s original thought was to escape, but the new arrival caught her interest, and on the spur of the moment she changed her mind. As the woman started up the stairs, Lynien followed her, replicating her movements so precisely that the sound of two sets of footfalls was indistinguishable from one. Only with another woman could she have attempted this feat, and she was sweating by the time she reached the landing.
Striding confidently across the hall, the woman reached a closed door and went through. Lynien tiptoed up to it and listened carefully…
"Well?” (Damarus’ voice, no doubt of that)
"They split up.” (a woman’s voice, strong and decisive, most likely the new arrival). “The white-eyed woman went to the Mageguild. The orc, half-orc and the human went to the Dungeon downtown and got into a fight with a lizardman; no-one significant I don’t think. He didn’t show up again and I don’t know why they attacked him – they may not have had a reason. The other woman… I lost.”
"That’s not like you.”
"I’m not happy about it either. I intend to find out how she did it.”
"Do you think they’re working for the opposition?”
"No, I don’t think so. They’re not really the type anyway.” (a clink, suitable for a soft leather bag of coin dropped into a hand, and swift steps towards the door. Lynien shrank back)
The door opened and the woman stepped out again, her stride firm and determined, and disappeared down the stairs. Lynien slipped in before the door closed this time, and found herself in Damarus’ office. 
The agent was sitting behind a desk, writing in a journal. Slipping behind him, Lynien read a summary of the conversation she’d just overheard, ending “Callia’s agents have discovered no indication that they are working for the opposition.” Presumably the name ‘Callia’ applied to the departed female.
After a few minutes, Damarus closed the journal, opened his desk drawer, and slid it in among several rows of similar volumes. It looked as if he had one for each case he worked on. As the drawer closed, Lynien observed that it had very thick sides, and that Damarus made a curious little gesture with his fingers as he opened and closed it. Protected then!
As Damarus sat at his desk, Lynien faded into view, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, arms folded. "She's not as good as she thinks she is," she commented, referring to Callia.
Damarus sat back. "So that’s where you are. Impressive," he admitted.
"Who are the opposition?” asked Lynien. “I’m not at liberty to say,” said Damarus a little apologetically. “Why did you have us followed?” she asked. “Why did you follow me?” The two of them looked at each other for a long moment.
"I’ll be going then.” said Lynien. Damarus smiled, and escorted her out.
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