The Fiery Glazier

Serrana nodded and did precisely that, getting back to work promptly. First she checked on the apprentices, making sure things were (at least mostly) in hand. After verifying that everyone had everything in hand - which didn't take long - the sorceress hopped in to helping on one of the more complicated projects that the apprentices were working on. A few bits of minor direction and several hours later, the trio of vases that they work working on at that kiln was complete.

As the day started to wind down, Serrana kept about making sure all of the apprentices weren't having any problems they couldn't handle. Her mind, however, raced fairly non-stop throughout the day - partly from what Oran had offered her, partly from the fact that she really wanted to take a break from the glassworks to practice her magic - which would come soon after work when she went to the White Sands later that night.
 
The rest of the day was busy with people off work coming to buy various pieces of glass. Once Oran declared close, it was a simple matter of cleaning up and closing up, and then she was free, and Oran remained by his kiln, quietly enjoying the warmth and quiet of a closed shop as he blew a piece of glass by his lonesome, offering a wave to his oldest worker.

The evening was a bustle-- Oran wasn't the only one letting people leave for the night, and the walk wherever she went was full of people. The sensation of being watched hung about her halfway through, though nobody else around her seemed to notice anything amiss.

Around the same time, she came across a man with impossibly thin legs splayed out on a rug as he shouted in the angry, harsh-sounding Icesog accent, wanting people to buy his trinkets. He had small carved stone and metal toys, silly necklaces, and various small, ill-crafted bottles that would be pretty, if Serrana had not spent so long learning the craft.
 
Oran had turned his apprentices - and the journeyman - loose early enough that Serrana didn't have to rush to her shift at the White Sands. Thrice weekly the glazier went to the somewhat upscale eatery to perform as a dancer. The family that owned and operated the White Sands were a godsend really - they treated her like a surrogate daughter. So did Oran sometimes, really. Serrana didn't have any family in Driazhek, other than when her brother (who was in the military) passed through, so the sorceress knew she was very fortunate to have not one, but two patrons that treated her so kindly.

The journeyman glazier was more than happy to be out of the glassworks. She enjoyed glassblowing, but not nearly as much as magic, and being out of that building with the kilns was a welcome change, even with the hot late afternoon air and breeze gusting through.

There was another thing that made today rather nice - Oran had given the glazier her weekly stipend for the work she'd done at the glassworks, which, after she'd set aside what she needed to rent her hole-in-the-wall as well as her expenses for the next week, left her enough to cover a Level 3 Inferno book. She'd have to count coins later to see if she could also get the other books she'd been eyeing, but they were inexpensive, and if she couldn't get them now, she would be able to soon. But that third book was a huge goal of hers; finally she would be able to really start to manipulate the spheres of flame that she could effortlessly make spin around and about her body at varying speeds. Though purchasing it would have to wait until tomorrow - they didn't sell the books this late in the afternoon.

Serrana, inexplicably, remembered what had happened a week or two ago, when she'd seen the islanders stalking around the White Sands and seeming to follow her about. As soon as she did, she found herself looking over her shoulder time and time again - though finding nothing out of place. Still, she felt uneasy. Best to make good time to the White Sands at this point, just to be sure.

Though there was still time for other things. The ware hawker on his blanket tried to get passers by to buy what he was selling, and one look at him made it clear that he could use a few more coins. The glazier smiled and handed him a small handful, taking a small stone elephant in exchange. Thanking him, Serrana made to finish her trip to the White Sands as she quickened her gait just a bit.
 
The man shouted his thanks to her in a shaky voice before her settled in again to continue hawking his trinkets.

Behind Serrana, one of the islanders followed her, though it wasn't one of the idiots who had been so obvious before. This was a friend of theirs who had been smart and acted the part of a patron time and time again, made himself a regular, got to know people, and sat with a group of soldiers, buying them drinks as thanks for protecting his family and the city, so he said.

He eventually walked past Serrana, eyes to the ground as though he was deep in thought-- he didn't even seem to notice as he brushed against her, before he turned, walking into a hostel where out-of-towners could stay for a small amount of coin, but it didn't offer meals-- only a roof and a walled off place to spread out a sleeping roll, two pegs to hang clothing, and a chest to lock away valuables. It was almost always full, since the capital of Driazhek saw a lot of travellers.

If she was particularly keen, Serrana might notice that her pocket was heavier than before.
 
After pocketing the recently purchased trinket - which she didn't particularly need or want terribly (though the little elephant was cute) - Serrana made her way down one of Fort Driazhek's main roads, crossing one of the market squares where the White Sands sat on the corner across the way.

The popular eatery was starting to get busy as the sun got closer to the horizon in the afternoon sky. Serrana ducked around the back, through the alley and to the rear door of the restaurant, her backpack still on her back as she closed the door behind her, looking around for anyone in the family who ran the White Sands. Finding noone initially (which wasn't the first time, so it didn't faze her), Serrana went down the stairs to the spare bedroom which she had used recently when avoiding the stalkers from the island.

Again seeing noone in the room, the sorceress closed the door behind her, putting the privacy disk in place and throwing her backpack on the bed. Serrana took off her white travel clothes and laid back on the bed, letting out a long sigh. It wasn't her bed, but it was a lot more comfortable than toiling in the glassworks. The dancer resisted the urge to close her eyes, though. Doing so would be an absolute death sentence to being on time to the stage for her first set. As she lay on the bed, she kicked her feet idly now and then, envisioning spheres of flame circling and moving about her body as she moved, playing through her upcoming dance in her mind... though occasionally the thoughts would be interrupted by a noise outside, or the distant thought of what to do at the glassworks, or getting her new book tomorrow, or...

Of the hour or so she had, more than half of it passed in almost the blink of an eye, and as the sun seemed to get much lower, the sorceress finally sat up and eyed her backpack, knowing she'd better switch to the outfit inside soon...
 
Someone knocked at the door. "Ragazza, is that you in there? If you're hungry, I made extra dinner." The innkeeper's usual cheer was ever-present. "The sellers from Lushzhek brought extra gifts, too, so there's an unexpected treat with the meal-- nothing that'll curdle in your stomach while you dance, either." He yawned. "Oh, and those islanders are patronizing us tonight-- the ones who were being creepy before. I'll step in if they try anything." He was in a chattery mood today. Absently, he scratched his head as he waited for an answer.

---

Upstairs, in the main room of the White Sands, there were more than just those three who looked suspicious. There were two people, each at different tables in different dark corners. The usual patrons of those two corners were clearly unhappy, but unwilling to reclaim their cool, shady seats.

One wore all black, and was slumped over, resting on his arms. He was clearly masculine, with broad shoulders and thick arms, though every inch of his skin was covered. At his belt, he wore a sword with a thin blade and a black scabbard.

The other cloaked figure wore hooded whites and though she posed like a man, her shoulders were slender, and the tanned flesh of her arms was soft, thin, and smooth. Her head was back, but her face was hidden by a veil that was far from uncommon out in the desert, but was unheard of to use in the city unless there was a sandstorm.

Those people from the island leaned forward around their small table, resting on their forearms as they spoke quietly, shooting glances toward the stage.

All of this would be visible through the black curtain that separated the hallway from the stage, allowing anyone coming from the family's bedrooms to the kitchen a clear look at the patrons, while the patrons could only see a vague shadow.
 
Serrana chuckled softly to herself as she heard Gionni's voice at the door. "Aye Pazetta! It's me!" Serrana took the greeting as a cue to actually stop relaxing and start getting dressed for her act later that night. She wasn't the least bit surprised that there was "unexpectedly more food." Between her hosts' generosity, their desire to feed anyone in a half-mile radius to bursting, and that the glazier surmised that Gionni simply liked having pretty girls about, there being extra food about was more the norm than the exception. Still, Serrana didn't mind the attention, and Gionni was never improper about it. And she certainly didn't eat better during the week than any night she worked at the White Sands, so not a complaint would come from that.

The presence of the stalkers from not quite a fortnight prior, however, that was a different story. The young sorceress frowned at hearing that - their previous visit had coincided with an odd series of occurrences at her apartment, in which she had, for some bizarre reason, been left without a bucket, of all things. That several days was very unsettling, and she had spent an entire week looking over her shoulder, watching for those islanders day in and out. She had hoped - and thought - that they'd moved on. No such luck, it seemed. The glazier let out a sigh and went to her pack and the pile of whites she'd left tossed on the bed.

Opening her pack, Serrana withdrew one of the outfits she commonly wore on stage (and probably the nicest clothes she owned). A form-fitting black shirt with long, flowing sleeves and gold etchings of flames about it served for the top, while a matching black skirt with matching flames licking the hem served for the bottom. A translucent black shawl with similar patterns also graced the outfit, and often served as part of the act. Black leggings that went past the skirt's hem covered the glazier's legs (this wasn't one of those kind of dances, after all), and soft-soled shoes that provided far better traction than the leggings would complete the ensemble Serrana tied her long, dark, straight hair back in a ponytail - anything else would get in the way rather frequently - and proceeded to put her other clothes in the pack so that they didn't lay scattered about the room.

As she organized her things, Serrana went to move what was in her pockets to an inner pouch sewn into the lining of the backpack. Coins and a small stone elephant were tucked away neatly and quickly, as she expected. But then Serrana found something else; something she hadn't put there and certainly didn't recognize as she pulled it from her pocket and examined it...
 
A small token made of blackened iron rested in her hand as she inspected it, if she could guess by the weight. The abrasive object bore a grimacing face on the front, and seven more faces on the back, each with an expression of agony, and none in full detail, but each recognizable as a humanoid face.

The raised parts formed points and ridges that caught as she pulled the coin-shaped object from her pocket, and though they were sharp, its light weight meant as long as she didn't clasp it too tightly, it wouldn't cut. The deeply engraved parts of the design had been planned carefully to avoid drilling a hole right through the metal.

Faintly red tinges colored the points and ridges, perhaps dyed by blood of those who had grasped it tightly.

A warning from one of her mother's stories from when she was a child sprang to mind.

"Touch not the black iron. It is wicked and cruel, and though its orb speaks of power and magic, the shaft speaks of death to the one who holds it. If it cuts your hand, you will become poisoned beyond any cure. If you bleed on it, it will drain the rest of your blood from you. If you give yourself to it, it will take you-- body and soul-- into the depths of its orb, never to be seen again."

The young woman grinned, a warm smile intended to calm her frightened child.

"That was the staff the Hero of Light used to seal the volcano's evil-- though using evil to seal evil seems silly, doesn't it?" Serrana's mother leaned forward and whispered. "Though he did disappear after that."
Click to expand...
 
Serrana winced at the odd talisman in her hand at first glance, grimacing as she remembered her mother's story and looked over the hunk of iron. The blasted thing seemed designed to scratch and scrape as she very gingerly turned it over. After a brief moment, she frowned at the faces that seemed to be moaning in displeasure at her, and set the thing down on a small table next to the bed, eventually wrapping it in a scrap of cloth and putting it into the backpack's inner pouch, making a mental note to ask her night job's employers about it. She wasn't sure exactly what they'd be able to tell her, but maybe she'd found it here and not noticed that she'd picked it up? She had no idea how it got into her pocket after all, and she knew she'd remember if she'd found something like that. After all, she'd bought the cute stone elephant, not this... thing.

And her mother's story made her not want to cut her hand on that thing even more.

The dancing sorceress tried to put the stone out of her mind for now as she finished getting ready. Serrana stretched out a bit before finally leaving the room, locking it behind her with the key that her hosts had entrusted to her as she made her way to the stage, peering through the curtain as best she could to the rest of the common room. Foreigners weren't that uncommon in Fort Driazhek, or even in the White Sands, but there were definitely an unusual number of out-of-towners tonight. The islanders in particular made Serrana scowl again. She might be stuck hiding out here overnight again if they ended up staying the entire night. Absently, the glazier found herself glad she didn't have a pet back at her home that would go hungry if she did such a thing.

Serrana shook her head. It was not long before she would have to dance, and she wanted to have a clear mind when she did so. "Dance tonight, Serrana," she told herself. "Dance and play with fire, and tomorrow the flames grow brighter." It was a mantra she'd used to calm herself in the past, and tonight, it was even more relevant, as she did have the coin for the book she'd been saving for. "Dance and play, Serrana..."
 
Gionni watched as Serrana peeked at the stage, then put a hand on her shoulder. "Have a drink before you go on. You seem tense." He frowned. "Did something happen, Ragazza?" He kept his voice quiet and gentle as he stood behind her.

He pulled his hand back from her shoulder and adjusted the sash of his whites, which he wore as clothes rather than over clothes. "I have Kolin helping Sasha with tables, so if anyone is wanting to creep on you, we'll find out quick." He smiled at her, then peeked through the curtain himself. "They'll keep you safe, Ragazza." The man nodded and began to walk toward the kitchen. "You still have some time. Aren't you hungry? It might calm your nerves."

Had she seen the islanders, and gotten nervous from knowing they were there? Hopefully, having Sasha and Kolin listening and watching would help ease the girl's mind.

From the other side of the curtain, a young man shouted in the Driazhek accent. "Where's the woman!? I came to see a dance!"

"Shut up!" An older, familiar voice shouted. "Shouting that will make a fat man go on stage in her outfit instead!"

For a moment, silence reigned, followed by groans and outcry.

Gionni chuckled gleefully. He'd only ever done it once...
 
Serrana damn near jumped out of her skin as Gionni placed his hand on her shoulder, letting out a gasp and tiny squeak as she did, a tiny glimmer of instinct telling her to ignite the magical inferno around herself as she had practiced so many times - but for the most part, the glazier flinched as she whirled around, feeling rather sheepish as she realized rather quickly what was actually going on, and not the scary images her mind had been conjuring up since she'd heard about the unwanted guests and found the creepy stone.

An embarassed smile on her face, Serrana gladly took a drink of water and shook her head. "It's nothing - just something I found that I've never seen before. I'll show you and Ada later, hm?" The sorceress took another sip of water. "Thank you, Pazzeta. I'll have something afterwards though... I don't think I'd keep much down right now, and I usually feel a little better once I've actually been dancing for a bit."

She glanced towards the curtain with a quiet chuckle as the crowd started to make noise. Serrana remembered when Gionni had done that - she'd only been at the White Sands but maybe a week, and it was a particularly hot day, both in and out of the glassworks, and needed some extra time to rest prior to going on stage, so her dance started late. She didn't know exactly what possessed Gionni to go out on stage like that, but it was one of her fondest memories working there. She still laughed when she thought about it.

"You could always go warm up the crowd for me you know!" she said with a playful wink, finally starting to shake off some of the nerves. "I'll be ready in a few minutes though, don't worry."
 
The large man's eyes shone dangerously-- oh, he would gladly take the stage again. He'd been sore after from moving in ways his body wasn't used to, but being able to make soldiers flinch? That was amazing. "I could, at that. Teach them to behave some."

"Don't, dear. We only just recently recovered from that. How many customers walked out?" Ada's voice was quiet, but easily commanded her husband's silence.

The large man pouted. "As you wish, my love." He leaned toward her and planted a kiss on her pale cheek-- well, pale as far as Driazhek desert-dwellers went. She almost looked glowing with health next to the people who came from other parts of Saldecla.

Ada seemed to be having a good day, health-wise. Rather than looking frail and ready to collapse, she stood tall and walked at a crisp pace. Had it not been for her thinness, she might have looked the picture of health.

Gionni loved these days-- when his wife was strong and stood tall. Had she not learned quickly to stock up on certain herbal remedies, the pair would have had many more children.

Kolin, as though on cue, popped his head through the curtain from the front, careful to keep it shut. "Papa, someone's being weird. Two someones. In the corners. Neither is ordering anything, and both keep looking toward the door. The one in black keeps touching his sword any time I go near him."

Gionni's softness left his face, and he nodded, heading to the kitchen before he walked into the main room, his expression jovial as always as he approached the person in black. When he'd put his own short saber into his sash, it was hard to say, but the beadded and gemmed scabbard made the thing look more like it contained a toy than sharp steel.

Kolin turned his head to watch his father, then looked back at Seranna. "You should probably dance soon. That way nobody gets upset Papa has his knife." He withdrew and hurried back to waiting tables.
 
When Ada shot down the idea of Gionni going out for an "opening act", Serrana gave the mistress of the house a pout that rivaled that of even the most spoiled princess. She was happy to see that Ada was feeling well though - all too often, the sweetheart of a woman seemed to be feeling wretched, and the sorceress felt awful on her behalf.

As Kolin poked his head through, though, Serrana became more concerned. The strangers weren't merely content with being creepy stalker-types this time. Now they were starting to show teeth, even if they weren't actually drawing weapons. The glazier had a very bad feeling about this - to the point that she wondered if someone should go fetch a guard patrol. No matter how this panned out, though, the tension and potential for disaster would only grow the longer she waited.

"Dance and play with fire, tomorrow the flames grow brighter. Dance and play, Serrana. Dance and play..."

A few moments later, the sorceress finally took the stage, still tense from what was going on about the common room, but less so than before she'd managed to calm herself a bit. The glazier smiled about at the room, hiding her stress, and as the music began, so did she.

A quartet of fiery globes flared into life, surrounding the dancing sorceress and orbiting rapidly as she moved. The dance started simply enough - hips wound and shook, deliberate steps were placed as Serrana crossed the stage, and the fiery spheres would slow or accelerate as she directed. Sometimes she would move less, as the music would dictate, sometimes more... and then, as the music picked up, so did Serrana's dance.

Her movements went from sinuous and deliberate to fast, intense, and skillful. Kicks, spins, bends, steps - all mixed seamlessly as the sorceress moved across the stage, the flaming globes circling her, moving higher and lower, shrinking and growing. It was a routine she knew well, even if the steps changed from night to night. On the music went, and on she danced. The music sped up, and sped up, and so did Serrana, spinning in one direction while the spheres of fire spun in the other, larger and brighter... until when the music stopped in a sudden finale, the sorceress threw her head back, finishing with a stop, her arms out, and all four globes winked out in a puff of smoke.

She held like that for a moment, letting the finale sink in, then withdrew from the stage to one of the nearby tables, as she usually did - but making sure to stay well away from any of the "non-regular" customers. Serrana's dance had went well, but she was still edgy from who all was in the room, so she kept one eye on them while she took her break between sets.
 
As Seranna danced, she could see that the person Gionni was speaking to was not with the group of stalkers-- or at least, not seated near them. The black-clad man didn't even look her way as she started to dance, his gaze fixated firmly on Gionni.

After a few minutes, Gionni nodded and walked away from him, toward the white-clad woman to speak to her. Seranna's dance finished before the talk did, and Gionni sat down beside the white-hooded mystery woman, a curious expression on his face.

Although the woman tried to hide her features, it was clear she was local and well cared-for. Her face, what could be seen, was round with smooth skin, and she didn't seem nervous at all, despite Gionni resting a hand on the hilt of his saber. His hand eventually came to rest on the table instead as his tension faded completely, and his face broke into a grin. "Ah!" He laughed loudly. "Stay as long as you need!" He rose with ease not usually afforded to men his size, and pointed to the kitchen door, then spoke again, his voice hard to pick up between the chatter of patrons between Seranna and him.

The hooded woman nodded, and if she spoke, her lips couldn't be read through the veil of her hood.

Gionni bowed briefly, then walked back towards the door, only to pause by Seranna's table and offer her shoulder a squeeze. "Neither are after you. One's just a traveller, and the other would never hurt you." He reassured before he went into the kitchen, eyes mirthful. He waved his hand absently to the dancer in an invitation-- there was something he didn't want to discuss out in the open.
 
Serrana departed the stage, keeping an eye on the conversation Gionni was having with the white-clad woman as best she could without looking like she was doing precisely that. It would be a bit before her next set - she usually did two a night - so the dancer sat down for a bit to rest as the attention of (most) patrons started to turn elsewhere, the show over for now.

The sorceress smiled and returned the embrace to Gionni as he came by, then got up and followed as he indicated for her to follow to the kitchen. Serrana was rather thirsty at this point, and not a little hungry either, so this would be a good opportunity to handle both problems - as well as see what Gionni was up to.
 
Gionni closed the curtain behind her, then offered her a drink with a drop mixed in and a few cucumber rolls. "Eat up, Ragazza." His grin was wide. "The woman in white is a familiar and friendly face. The man's just an Icesogger who happens to have a little money. He's heading toward the southern port." He waved a hand as he leaned against the counter.

His grin refused to leave.

"Oh, that woman in white!" He giggled gleefully. "You'll never guess who it is. Don't guess too loud though." His eyes shone.
 
Serrana gratefully took the drink as well as the cucumber rolls, a long swig of the liquid disappearing quickly before she started to munch idly on one of the cucumber bits. For some reason, the only "familiar and friendly face" that popped into her head - inexplicably at that - was the duke's daughter, Morella, and honestly, that was trouble waiting to happen. Oh sure, entertaining trouble, but trouble nonetheless, given the hand that the duke raised her with. Attempting to play it off as a joke, yet still wanting to state the one person that she could think of that would make this much of a hubbub, she casually mumbled "the duke's daughter?" with a mouthful of cucumber roll as she looked back at Gionni.
 
Mutely, and with a massive grin, the fat man nodded. He outright beamed with glee. "She heard someone from Icesog was in town, and wants to see if he's bodyguard material. He's the one in the black hood, goes by the Dark Cockerel." At mention of the name, his expression soured. "I can't believe she'd even entertain the thought of trusting someone who gave himself a heroic title like that-- those can only be issued by the king!" He paused, then shook his head. "Or... the people as a whole, like with Camilla I." He grumbled. "We would have heard of it-- we're not in some backwater town." He huffed. "He actually introduced himself to me as that-- can you believe it? Sheer pretentiousness!" He threw his fat hands into the hair.

"Gionni! He's a customer." Ada snapped. "Behave!"

"But Ada-- tesorina-- he-"

"No, enough of that." She shot him a look made of summer suns on black sand. "He is a customer-- more than that, a paying customer. You will be nice until he leaves!"

He sighed, then nodded wordlessly, silent for a few moments before he spoke again. "Can I still be excited that the Lady's here?"

She broke into a smile. "That would be cruel to forbid." She laughed and sagged against a stool.
 
Serrana had to fight - hard - to not laugh at the mere mention of the sobriquet "Dark Cockerel". The idea that the duke's troublemaking daughter was hunting for a bodyguard was really more of the story there... why would a noble need a bodyguard, particularly that noble... she was practically under lock and key (literally) when it came to how much leeway her father gave her. That would be an entirely new layer of difficulty to being her bodyguard, as the duke would almost certainly make that a volatile prospect. Hell, even having her here made the dancer incredibly nervous... it was a safe bet that Morella's presence wasn't sanctioned by her incredibly restrictive father, and that could be a problem for the White Sands, not just anyone who might help her.

Serrana kept quiet - she didn't want to smash Gionni's good mood, but she certainly wasn't going to encourage it. The sorceress didn't mind Morella, exactly the opposite, actually, but trouble was trouble, and Serrana was none too comfortable with the whole thing. The fact that the islanders were still out there didn't help matters either as the glazier took another drink of water...
 
Ada smiled as she sat on the stool, then closed her eyes. "Although, Gionni?"

"Yes?"

"Don't announce her so much as you already have. She has her hood on indoors. She's not trying to draw attention to her identity."

The man sagged. "Oh. Right." He pouted. "I suppose that's true."

Ada shook her head, a small smile on her face. "Silly man."

Gionni grinned again. "I better get back to work, hey?"

"Get back to work." She swatted at him lightly, then looked toward Serrana. "Let us know when you're ready to dance some more, and we'll announce you."
 
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