Farrah leaned back involuntarily at the sight of the flame on Aveline’s fingertips. She furrowed her brow, then looked back and forth between the daímona and the wall. 

“What do you mean, ‘fire?’” the half-orc asked.

Aveline chuckled. “Just watch.”

Farrah took a few steps back as Aveline touched the flame to a portion of the painted script. On contact, the flame sparked and turned black, then began to travel along the trail of black paint on the stones. In its wake, the edges of the script burned with an orange-yellow glow.

Aveline stood next to Farrah, and the two watched the words become consumed by the daímona’s flame. Once the entire wall of script had been covered, they heard a muffled voice from behind the wall.

“Put out your fire, lest the path be found!”

Aveline cleared her throat and answered: “Our fire burns eternal, even in darkness.”

At her reply, the paint covering the wall glowed a vibrant red, then returned to its former appearance. Farrah watched as the same portion of the wall that the child went through opened once more, allowing the two females to enter. Aveline glanced at the half-orc; Farrah gestured for the daímona to enter before her. She disappeared into the passageway, and Farrah followed close after.

The two walked down a short, darkened hall before the space opened up into a large tavern area. Men and women alike filled the seats at tables and the bar, most of them having doffed their cloaks and hoods to drink and visit freely with their fellow guild members. Laughter, chatter, and the low sound of a lute being played floated through the air, followed closely by the scent of cooking meat.

Farrah looked on in wonder. “This… this is a thieves’ guild hall?” she whispered.

Aveline laughed. “What, did you expect it to be all doom and gloom, then?”

“No, but…”

The half-orc trailed off as she caught sight of a flash of blonde hair seated at one of the tables alone. She began to creep up behind the girl, taking care to make sure that the thuds from her heavy boots were not heard. Unaware, the girl lifted a hand into the air in an attempt to call one of the barmaids over. Farrah took that moment to make her move.

She reached out towards the girl, and in one quick motion, the half-orc twisted the girl’s wrist, loosening her grip on the leather bag. It dropped to the ground with a tinkling thud.

“How now, little lass?” Farrah asked, leaning close to the girl. “Drop something?”

The girl tried to pull from Farrah, struggling to get free. The half-orc tightened her grip. The girl was strong for her age, but Farrah still had orc blood coursing in her veins. It’d take more than what an adolescent girl could muster to break loose from her.

Seeing that she was outmatched, the girl stopped fighting. “Let me go! Take your stupid money; I didn’t need it anyways.”

“‘Didn’t need it,’ you say? Interesting words for a thief. You know, I’ve come across plenty of them in my lifetime, and they’re always the same. They either steal because they need it, or because it’s fun.”

Farrah’s eyes narrowed, studying the girl’s face. There was a hint of desperation in the child’s eyes. She’d seen this look before in the faces of the port beggars who would wait by the docks after the sailors had gotten paid. There was no malice in the girl’s eyes, no air of defiance beyond wanting the half-orc to release her grip. This attempt hadn’t been done out of enjoyment — no, it was necessary.

“Who are you stealing for, lass?” Farrah asked. “And don’t lie and say ‘no one;’ I know the needy look when I see it.”

The half-orc released her grip on the girl’s wrist; she jerked it away, holding it to her chest and rubbing it. “It’s none of your business,” she replied. “What I do doesn’t matter to anyone but —”

“Hey!” a male voice thundered from across the room.

Farrah looked up; a large, human male wearing an apron was crossing the tavern floor, headed right towards her. Unconsciously, she let go of the girl’s wrist, but the girl remained seated, staring wide-eyed at the man before her.

The man stopped at the table. He towered over Farrah, his head almost reaching the ceiling above them. He crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow, glaring at the child in front of him.

“Lanae… What have you done now?” the man asked.

The girl’s face fell, and she began looking anywhere but at the man looming over her. The man’s gaze morphed into a glare. “Lanae,” his voice rumbled. “What did you do?”

She cocked her head and planted her eyes on the ceiling. “I might have maybe… possibly... found a sack of money on the street and claimed it.”

Farrah scoffed. “Found it? Child, you took it off of my belt. And I caught you in the very act of it.”

“If you caught me, then why am I here with it now?”

The half-orc began to splutter, unable to form words past her rage. The man knelt down and picked up the sack, still on the ground. He held it out to Farrah.

“Take it,” he said. “The girl was unable to keep herself from getting caught. She doesn’t deserve the bounty if her own skill cannot assure it.”

The girl’s mouth dropped open, and for a moment, it seemed like she would try to argue. But at the stare of the man before her, she remained silent. With a huff, she rose from her seat and stomped away. Farrah and the man watched as she disappeared into the mass of bodies within the tavern. After a few moments, the man turned back to Farrah and sighed.

“Sorry about that. She’s young yet, and not quite good at not getting caught. I apologize for the inconvenience in catching up with her. I gave her the key to the hall for safety purposes, not for wriggling her way out of her right consequences.”

The man paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “How did you even get into the hall? I’ve not seen you around here, and no offense” — he looked Farrah up and down — “but you don’t exactly look the Black Flame type.”

Farrah laughed. “Aye, I’m certainly not, though I’ve had my fair share of experiences with people who are of your type.” She stuck her hand out towards the man. “Captain Farrah Asvix, of the ship Bloodhound. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied, shaking Farrah’s hand. “The name’s Jules. But the Bloodhound, you said? I take it, then, that old Kurik finally decided to retire?”

Farrah’s smile wavered for a moment before she regained herself. “No, unfortunately. He passed some time ago. Charge of the ship fell to me after his death.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Captain. Kurik was a great fighter, and an even better leader. He and I had quite a few scraps we had to get ourselves out of!” Jules laughed, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking with mirth. After a few peals of laughter, he looked back at the half-orc. “Are the two of you any kin?”

Farrah nodded. “He was my father, yes.”

“Father? Kurik? By Solas, I had no idea that he’d had any children, much less a daughter that he’d trust enough to leave his beloved Bloodhound to. Well, bless him and his resting soul.” 

Jules shook his head, lost in thought. He turned and began moving towards the bar. “Here,” he began, “let me pour you and your friend a drink. A man like Kurik deserves a toast every now and then.”

Farrah and Aveline followed Jules to the bar and sat themselves down while he went behind it. The man grabbed a few tankards and filled them with ale, then passed two of them to the ladies before him.

“To Kurik,” he said.

Farrah and Aveline responded in kind. Farrah began at once to drink down the liquid in her mug, but Aveline did not. She instead put it down on the bar, then leaned over it towards Jules.

“Excuse me, sir?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you’d know if any magic users have crossed the planes around Lagaema? We’re looking for a man in particular who has recently done so.”

“Ah, doing bounty work, are ya?”

Aveline shook her head. “Not in the way I’m sure you’re thinking. We’re in search of a missing person.”

Jules leaned over the counter, his hand at his chin. “Hm… lots of people go missing in Lagaema, just like any other big city. I’m not quite sure any of us here would be able to help you with so little information given.”

The daímona pursed her lips and frowned. “I’m not sure we want to make all of the details public information. Some discretion could be beneficial… Let me ask you this, sir: are there any planeseekers in the guild?”

“Planeseekers?”

“Yes sir. Any… well, it’s hard to explain. It might not even exist anymore — I’m not sure. When I was a child, my family and I would cross the planes at the temple to Etlán sometimes to travel for my father’s business. There would always be a planeseeker there who facilitated the process. They can open gates to other planes and see through them, or even enter into them if they wish. I don’t suppose that there are any here, or anyone who would know of some?”

Jules rose to his full height and frowned. His eyes flickered to the side of the room, then came back to meet Aveline’s. He sighed. “Yes, there is someone like that here. But I’m not sure you’ll appreciate the answer…”

“Who is it?”

Jules lifted an arm, his finger pointed at the space behind Aveline and Farrah. The two turned, searching for the target. Their eyes fell on Lanae, who was flicking small pebbles into the soot-filled fireplace of the tavern.

“Our mutual friend,” Jules answered.