I'l Fana Kelbé (The White Hart) - Save Our Souls

[Calem Sabathe]

The sun began it's descent, and the shadows started to stretch across the Trade District.

Calem hadn't moved from the bench he'd sat on with Kit earlier, looking out at the harbour and lost in thinking. What had started as a simple walk with the young man had ended with him fleeing. Kit's cryptic warning still echoed in Calem's head: "It's probably better you don't know anything, or we both might end up dead!"

Kit claimed that he'd done something to the elves of the White Hart. The possibility seemed ludicrous - Kit seemed like the type of man that wouldn't hurt a fly. And even if he'd been capable of such malice, going up against the elves of the White Hart would have been a fool's errand. Kit may have been inexperienced, but he was no fool. What had the boy gotten himself wrapped up in? The worry weighed heavy on Calem's heart.

Calem looked out again to the harbour, watching the water wave back and forth and the ships bob slightly in the calm waters. The water moved without care, without stopping. 'Perhaps it's just wiser to leave things alone.' Whatever Kit had done, he was going to have to take responsibility for what he had gotten into. 'Besides, my getting involved may just create more problems for him.' It was a reasonable thought - Kit very clearly didn't want anyone else involved in whatever had happened.

Except Kit was afraid of dying. Kit might get a little panicky sometimes, but he didn't seem the kind of person who would fear for his life needlessly. And if he had indeed done something to upset those elves, even from what little he knew of them, then Kit may really be in danger. 'Should I talk to the Guard?' Calem considered the possibility, but he had no proof or even idea of what was going on, and somehow he doubted that telling them 'My friend may have made some elves upset' was going to get them to do anything.

Calem swung his legs back and forth, looking at the people going to and fro, and then bowed his head and closed his eyes. 'Cecilia... what should I do?' The thought went through his head over and over again, as if she might somehow answer him in his time of trouble. A minute or two passed, the gentle bustle of the crowd the only background noise to his thoughts, but eventually Calem made up his mind. 'Perhaps it would be wiser to just let things be, but if Kit is in danger - real danger - I can't just turn my back.' As the sun in the sky slower set closer, the shadows seemed to stretch a little longer. Calem took a breath, steeling himself, and set off for the White Hart. Maybe if Raen was there, the bard might at least tell him what exactly had happened. The problem however, would be trying to figure out how to figure that out without risking Kit getting into further trouble.

[Raen Silver]

Sitting in a booth, book on the table, paper and pencil in his hand (entirely unused), Raen Silver was completely and utterly bored.

He shouldn't be, of course. Someone had broken into and stolen from the Kelbé... that had never happened before! Everyone was on edge while the 'investigation' (which Raen was pretty sure was simply just a man-hunt) went on. He had even offered his services! Elára had basically ignored him, and they were all ('they' being the regular staff, not the Sentinels or the 'higher-ups') told to go on as normal; it would not do to have anyone think that the tavern had been affected by the intrusion... when of course it had. Emphatically so.

His view offered him a view of the window and to the entrance of the Hart. The rash that had nearly brought his world tumbling down had almost faded, but he was still sullen and morose about it, because no one was giving him the sympathy he thought he deserved. How could they know his suffering? They weren't the entertainment! They weren't the reason many a young maiden (or old maiden... or wife, husband, etc.) came to the Elven tavern! He had been supremely irritated, and when he had been shut out of the whole 'event', only knowing what he had managed to glean from asking questions (which were mostly ignored) or just downright eavesdropping. It made things slightly more interesting. But he wanted to know more.

As Raen tapped his pencil against his lips, willing the gods to bring him inspiration for a new song (he was bored of the last one, already), his sharp eyes caught a familiar face approaching. A Human face! Good; he was starting to tire of the company of his own kin, and besides... Humans were fun!

Getting up, he hurried to the entrance - he wasn't sure if the Sentinel outside would have stopped Calem, but Raen was starved for interesting company and was not going to let this chance to socialise slip away. So he pushed the doors open in a grand sweep, donning his brightest and most delighted smile (for he was very much delighted!) and waved. "Doctor Sabathe!" he called out, loud and friendly. "I asked the Ancients for a muse and you appear! Could this be fate? Coincidence? Could this unassuming, yet brilliant and handsome Human healer be the answer to my prayers?" He was grinning widely... which irritated the rather stoic Sentinel who glowered at him (making it all the more fun), then stepped to the side. "If it is such - that the Gods and Idols have deemed it necessary to send you - then we cannot ignore them! So I insist you come and share a glass of sweet wine... no better will you find in Fellsguard, my friend! Come, now! It's on me, and I shan't take no for an answer, lest I risk the wrath of the Divines!"

Raen gave a big, bright smile to the Sentinel as he stood to the side to allow Calem in. "You look very daunting, Jinvar... keep up the good work!" he said, in Elvish. Then to Calem: "What can I get you? As I say our wine is simply without equal, though I strongly recommend the gooseberry for this hour!"

[Calem Sabathe]

During the walk, Calem had felt nothing but trepidation. Granted, his last visit to the White Hart had been - well, if not pleasant, at least reasonable. Many of the other elves had accepted him (well, accepted was a strong word - tolerated was more accurate). But as for Raen, well, despite the illness, Raen had sung so passionately Calem would have sworn he could have raised the dead, if only to dance one last time. At any other time, Calem would have been happy to meet the passionate young bard again - he might have been a little eccentric, but despite everything he brought gaiety and excitement into the young doctor's life, something that perhaps pushed the young doctor into being a little more outgoing, and a little more confident.

But this time, there was a certain undercurrent of dread to the whole proceedings, and the heaviness weighed on his heart. What had happened to young Kit there? Why had it happened? With every step, Calem felt his dread increase - he wasn't stupid, but he was no detective. And even if he was able to figure out what had gone on, how on earth was he supposed to do anything that could help Kit? 'Well, the only way to find out if anything is even possible is to find out what happened...' Calem reasoned to himself - it was the only thing that kept his feet going forward. Even so, his mind still whirled with doubt and worry. If he wasn't careful - very careful - who knew what things could possibly escalate to? And yet, Calem had to know. He had to at least to try to help one of the few true friends he had in the city.

Calem looked up to realise he was suddenly standing in front of the Hart now. Even Calem could feel the magic pouring from the tavern, something cold and solid and waiting. In that moment, Calem was about to give up and spin on his heel as fear shook him to his core - and then Raen burst through the doors, as jovial and brilliant as ever. The sight of Raen's good cheer was panacea to the doctor (a part of him wondered how Raen would feel to know now he was the healer), and a smile spread across Calem's face as he own worries washed away. "Ah, Ma--I mean, Raen! It's good to see you again!" However, Calem barely had the chance to say the words (and he wasn't entirely sure Raen was listening anyway) before he was pulled through the door. He barely heard the bard say something to the Sentinel nearby - something in Kerasokan Elvish, assumedly? Calem wondered if he'd ever get the chance to learn that language.

Raen's words couldn't help but give Calem some form of pause. 'Is it the will of the Eidolons, of the Idols, that I'm here? What do you have planned for me, noble bearers of life? Please stay with me, Cecilia, mother of hope.' Calem wasn't sure if the Idols or the Eidolons were listening, but any piece of luck he could get a hold of, he would gladly take. As Raen started talking about the wine, Calem turned to him. "Oh, um, I--well, I'll take your recommendation! The gooseberry wine would be good." Calem had no idea what he was talking about with wine and hours. Was there a specific wine for each hour? Vanessa had mentioned nothing about that when he'd been drinking with her. What he'd give to have her guidance now...

As Calem looked about the White Hart again - a little less busy than usual, true, but everyone seemed preoccupied with something or another, Calem noticed on the table a book. "Oh? A book? Are you writing another poem, Raen?" Calem asked. "I'm sure it'll be yet another masterpiece from you!" Calem was honestly entirely confident in that - whatever else one could say about him, Raen had a way with words that few other people Calem had ever met had.