The Pledge
Foster's Landing - 19th Cylus, 718
There was little difference between day and night in Cylus, only that the latter was even colder than the former. Finn had approached the meeting spot shivering and hugging himself tightly, occasionally stopping to blow hot air against his freezing digits. There was nary a soul about on frozen cobblestreets, and he would’ve much preferred to speak outside if it hadn’t been so shitting cold. The trials before he’d often wondered if Ivanthe would even show up. The youngster had seemed a little jumpy and Finn didn’t have a cinnamon roll on him to buy time and loyalty with either. He certainly hoped the boy would be there. He’d make a good price to bring home to Mr. Tagley: a cherry on the proverbial cake, so to speak. But there was more to it than that. No one could replace Molly, and his conversations with Ivanthe were little more than polite interrogations so far, yet still he couldn’t entirely discard a feeling of faint kinship with the strange, skinny boy. Not that he’d soon admit it. In truth, he didn’t say much to Ivanthe at all as they reconvened, save for a stammered greeting and the suggestion to find a warmer place to talk.
Not much later, Finn pushed through the door of a small, crowded inn and waded through a sea of legs, urging Ivanthe to follow his example. After he’d squeezed past the ragtag armour of some rogue or another, there came a bait of fresh air, not yet poisoned by the scent of ale or the bitter taste of smoke. He quickly spotted an empty table in the corner where the shadows from the main hearth were the longest and strode over to claim the seats. A place closer to the fire would’ve been nicer, though there was some advantage to sitting in the shadows too. At any rate it was far better to be inside than to wander through the Zi’da cold.
Unlike Zipper, who’d simply drag him off to the Etzos underground without much explanation, Finn was all too aware of the question that undoubtedly occupied Ivanthe’s mind, and he was quick to answer it. “We’re here cause I don’t want either of us to freeze to death,” he explained before Ivanthe had even had the chance to plonk his frozen bum down at the other end of the round, wobbly table. “Besides as long as we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves…” he let the noise of the inn - the laughter, the drunken chatter, the sound of sloshing ale do the rest of the work for him. “It’s safe. Wasn’t meanin’ to tell you much secret-like anyway.”
After having scanned the establishment to make doubly sure no strange glances were being shot in their direction, Finn took off his mittens and rubbed his hands furiously before turning to Ivanthe with a curious twinkle in his eyes. “And?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Made up your mind ‘bout Etzos?”
Not much later, Finn pushed through the door of a small, crowded inn and waded through a sea of legs, urging Ivanthe to follow his example. After he’d squeezed past the ragtag armour of some rogue or another, there came a bait of fresh air, not yet poisoned by the scent of ale or the bitter taste of smoke. He quickly spotted an empty table in the corner where the shadows from the main hearth were the longest and strode over to claim the seats. A place closer to the fire would’ve been nicer, though there was some advantage to sitting in the shadows too. At any rate it was far better to be inside than to wander through the Zi’da cold.
Unlike Zipper, who’d simply drag him off to the Etzos underground without much explanation, Finn was all too aware of the question that undoubtedly occupied Ivanthe’s mind, and he was quick to answer it. “We’re here cause I don’t want either of us to freeze to death,” he explained before Ivanthe had even had the chance to plonk his frozen bum down at the other end of the round, wobbly table. “Besides as long as we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves…” he let the noise of the inn - the laughter, the drunken chatter, the sound of sloshing ale do the rest of the work for him. “It’s safe. Wasn’t meanin’ to tell you much secret-like anyway.”
After having scanned the establishment to make doubly sure no strange glances were being shot in their direction, Finn took off his mittens and rubbed his hands furiously before turning to Ivanthe with a curious twinkle in his eyes. “And?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Made up your mind ‘bout Etzos?”