The Three Sheets (hard-boiled mystery in Tyria!)

[Mixxi]

((I realized I'd never posted this to the Saga library. Yikes! For those who don't know, Keyes Harkner is my main in GW2. His cousin, Rafe Harkner, was my original main and has since taken a backseat to my scruffy gumshoe.))



Jorry Strondskirn, tavern keeper of The Three Sheets, believed in equal-opportunity inebriation, and he had thoughtfully provided properly-sized tables and benches for the various races of Tyria. He even had an ale-garden out back for the Sylvari, although he wasn't at all sure that the sharp-smelling brew they preferred could rightly be called ale. His tender considerations resulted in happy, comfortable, loyal patrons who were rapidly making Jorry a rich man.

His house's reputation as a discrete and brawl-free establishment had earned him a heavy-pursed clientele, an achievement that had its drawbacks, one of whom was hovering on the other side of the bar from Jorry. Dwayna's mercy, the woman positively vibrated with nerves.

"Do you expect him back soon?" she was asking, for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Because I'm not really comfortable in a...tavern? A place such as this. I've never really been...Perhaps if I could wait in a private chamber..."  Jorry frowned and opened his mouth. "...I just need to speak to him for a moment. It's a very delicate matter—" which the stupid woman had also announced several times since she'd minced her way up to the bar-- "I need to—"

Jorry slammed down the cup he was drying, and leaned forward, silencing the flow of words with a lowering of enormous bushy eyebrows. "He'll be back soon. He's been here all evening and just stepped out to take care of some business—"

"He's been drinking here all evening!?" Damn, but the woman recovered quickly. " I'm not at all sure he's the one I want then. But he came so highly recommended by my friend Lady Jiana who hired him for a very difficult matter last spring when she—" 

Jorry threw up his hands, and the woman hastily skittered back in her jeweled slippers. The tavern keeper savored the look on her face and then quietly said, "Why look, here he is now."

Her surprised pivot toward the door was cut short as rather disheveled young man caught her with his shoulder as he pushed past on his way to the bar. Without apology, the man stepped between the woman and Jorry and dropped onto the high stool. Reaching his hand across the counter, he demanded, "Just one more, Jor. I'm that parched." Frowning, the tavern keeper reached a flagon from the shelf behind him and poured out a measure into a horn cup. He narrowed his eyes as the man gulped the contents and then sat hunched, his tangled brown hair hanging in his eyes.

"You all right?" he queried, taking the cup back and setting it on the counter.

"Better now. Been a rough night. But we've seen rougher, eh?" the young man looked up and started to smile, wincing at his split lip. Following the bartender's significant glance, he turned to the woman behind him. "I apologize for my lack of manners, mistress. I had other things on my mind."

"She's lookin' for you, Keyes." Noting her glance at the cup and pursed lips, Jorry began tidying up the counter, but stayed close, listening and watching.

The elegantly-clothed woman, for a wonder, didn't immediately speak, but hesitated, glancing over the newcomer's scuffed clothes.  At last she sighed and started, "May I rely on your discretion?"

Keyes frowned and planted his elbows on the counter, resting his chin in his hands. He did not reply.

A bubble of silence grew between them, forcing her to fill it. "I normally wouldn't be in a place like this, or be talking to someone like you, not that you're not a fine—or this establishment is not an excellent—"

Jorry picked up the horn cup and began cleaning it, just as Keyes dropped his hand down to pick it up. The younger man flicked a glance at the barkeep and sighed. "The matter. Please get to the matter." Something in his voice earned him a sharp look from the tavern keeper.

Avoiding looking directly at either man, the woman spoke in a rush. "I need you to recover a jewel. Discretely. It was sent to someone by mistake, and I think they may have thought I meant to send it to them, but that wouldn't be possible because, of course, I am devoted to—Well!"

This last was drawn from her by yet another sharp jostle from the young man as he abruptly got off the stool and stood swaying, looking intently at a spot on the floor a few feet away. He gripped the counter like the rail of a ship in a squall. Jorry was already rounding the counter when Keyes suddenly doubled over and deposited the contents of his stomach in the general vicinity of the jeweled shoes.

The woman was stunned, but, of course, not speechless. Turning her fury on Jorry as he came even with her, she hissed, "Drunk!"

The big tavern keeper reached a muscled arm around her, neatly hooked the white-faced young man, and pulled him with him as he headed back toward a door behind the bar. In response to the indignant spluttering behind him he called back, "Drunk? Concussed. And a fool. Which makes two of you."

The patrons and staff of The Three Sheets possess many talents. Selective blindness and deafness are specialties of the house.  No one really noticed when a delicate flower of the Krytan court with puke on her shoes was forcibly deposited on the cobbles outside.

[Mixxi]

A giant moa was pecking at Keyes with a razor-sharp beak, and he had lost his hammer in the swampy water around his ankles. Sweeping his hands uselessly through the muck, he began to panic and backpedal away from the enormous bird. But his legs were tangled in hidden muddy roots and he fell backwards, the moa closing in from above. Throwing up his arm, he let the desperate panic push outwards. The moa flew backward with a squawk.

"Grenth's garters!" swore the moa.

His arm still raised above his head, and his legs tangled in the blankets of the bed, Keyes cautiously opened one eye. Jorry was picking himself up from the ruins of a porcelain washbowl stand. The big tavern keeper peered at Keyes, annoyance and relief in his eyes. "Ma always said we must be feeling better when we started destroying the furniture. You sure you're not part Norn?" He waited while the shimmering field around the bed flickered and faded.

"Jor. I'm so, so, so sorry." Keyes closed his eyes and let his head drop back on the pillow, wincing as even the soft surface caused shooting pains in his skull. "Is my head still in one piece? Because it feels like I left bits of it all over town."

Jorry grunted, hooked a stool over to the bedside, and sat. "The bone's all in one piece. I can't say as much for your brain, though. You're not bullet-proof, you know. Or...cudgel-proof. Or..."

Keyes opened one eye. "Stop fishing." He sighed. "Brick-proof. I'm not brick-proof."

Jor threw back his head and laughed, earning another wince from his patient. "A brick? Really?"

"It gets worse."

"This sounds good. Hold on. Let me get comfortable." The Norn stood up and retrieved a tray from the hallway. "Sit up and have some tea. You look like a harpy nested on your face."

The younger man sighed again and struggled into a sitting position, only to realize he was distinctly under-dressed. "My clothes. Where are they?"

"Calm down. Mina folded them up all nice and neat-like. They're right he—"

Keyes' eyes widened. "Mina? Undressed me?" he groaned. "Grenth take me now."

"Bah. They love it when they can nurse a wounded hero. She wanted to give you a sponge bath."

Panic crept into the young man's eyes, and the Norn laughed. "Ha. Don't worry, I stopped her. Told her your system probably couldn't take the strain." Jorry brought a shirt from a neat pile on the broad window sill and helped Keyes guide his arms into the sleeves.

"And the coat, too. I need to check something." Jorry dropped the leather jacket onto Keyes' lap, watching as he quickly reached into an inner pocket and brought out a small object closed in his fist.

Keyes looked up at his friend. "Don't worry. I'll tell you. After the brick."

Jorry shook his head. "After the tea," he insisted, holding the mug out.

Keyes sighed, took the mug with his free hand, and sipped the hot, honeyed liquid. "You'd make a helluva nurse, Jor. Ever thought about getting one of those cute little outfits?"

"All the time. Now. Brick."

Keyes sipped the tea again, and began. "You know I've been curious about that group that's been meeting at that big corner table by the window? The ones with the maps and the rather frequent pigeons?"

Jorry nodded grimly. "Yep. Been scraping bird s**t off the chairbacks all week."

"I followed one of them. The little pudgy one with the high-heeled boots and the silk cravat. Apparently he was very excited about something and wanted to tell his wife about it right away. Fished her out of the carriage and took her on a stroll by the canal. Kept patting his waistcoat pocket." Keyes sipped the tea again and licked dry lips before continuing. "I thought I'd let him be the hero. His walking stick looked pretty innocent—not built for a hidden blade or any nasty surprises. So I did my best street thug impression and gave them the old 'hand over your purse or the little lady gets it' line. Let him smack me around a little until his brutal assault made me stagger into him." Keyes glanced at his still closed hand. "Got what I came for."

Jorry looked at him with an exaggerated air of aggrieved patience.

"Alright. I'm getting to it." Keyes handed the mug to Jorry and gingerly touched his scalp. "Just as I was congratulating myself and getting ready to depart, the 'little lady' hauled off and beat me nearly senseless with a loose paving stone. I barely managed to get my defenses up before she bashed my skull in. Thank Dwayna's mercy that he didn't want the Lionguard on us and pulled her away. As it was, I was down and it took a bit to get back up again, but by then they were long gone."

The young man paused and looked down at his closed hand. "I did get this, though." He opened his hand, revealing a tiny bottle. Jorry craned his neck to see.

"What's that? Some sort of potion?"

Keyes held up the bottle to the light, keeping it horizontal. "Oh no. Something much more interesting."

The sunlight from the window sparkled on the little bottle, revealing its contents—a perfect, tiny replica of a ship.

[Mixxi]

The sun was far too bright still, but Keyes hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours, and the smell of Mina's freshly-baked bread made him desperate for some urchin, olive oil, and lemon to go with it. He picked his way over the rocks that the low tide had exposed and made his way to the sheltered tidepools of the Inner Harbor. He welcomed the time alone to think about the bottle he'd lifted off that fellow. Jorry had been unimpressed and had taken time out from laughing to tell him that it would have served him right to get himself killed over a child's bauble.

There had to be something to it. Jor hadn't seen how the man kept touching the thing, like priests touch a talisman or a merchant constantly checks for the key to his strongbox. And that crowd at the window table all this week. They were definitely up to something.  Lion's Arch was full of plots and deals these days, and Keyes didn't like to think there might be something simmering that he didn't know about.

The tidepools did not offer solitude today, though, and the overhanging stone ceiling rang with the clash of armored boots on rocks. Keyes had on only a shirt and patched trousers torn off below the knee, perfect for scrambling around on the slippery boulders. But it was heavy going for the six Lionguard, whose armor was perhaps the least suited apparel possible for beachcombing. It was definitely a show to watch, and Keyes paused in the shadow of a sea-worn stone pillar to take it all in.

He realized one of them was Lionguard Gendra as she stood up from the pile of flotsam she had been examining. He smiled appreciatively. He did like truth in advertising as far as steel armor went, and Gendra had an impressive breastplate. She was a sharp one, though, and had already spotted him by the time he thought to move deeper into shadow.

"Keyes! Figures you'd be here," she walked toward him, glancing over her shoulder and motioning to one of her men. "Check his pockets."

Keyes stepped forward, his hands raised innocently in front of him, a net bag hanging from one of them. "I am only a simple urchin harvester—"

The officer made a rude noise. "Not you, fool. Him." She jerked her chin at the pile of rags she'd been looking at. "Tourist found him when the tide went out. As long as you're here, take a look." She walked back across the rocks, not bothering to check if he was following.

And of course he was. Gendra knew this was like catnip to a Charr. The body was wedged up under a rock overhanging one of the pools, but the returning tide was already starting to pull at it, working it out into the open. As they stepped closer, the mass rolled, bringing the swollen face to the light.

"Crap!" Keyes swore and nearly slipped into the pool with the awful thing.

Gendra reached out a hand and steadied him, looking up into his eyes. "You know him?"

"I—damn!" Keyes wished his brain was a bit less foggy. "Er. Damn shame. That's what it is. Just terrible."

Gendra repeated her rude noise. "Yeah, well, don't fall to pieces on me. I know how sentimental you are. Besides, we already know who he is. His wife had us up at dawn this morning looking for him. Someone attacked the guy last night, supposedly. Guess they came back to finish the job."

The good news was, the pudgy fellow with the silk cravat wasn't going to miss his trinket. Keyes didn't want to think about the bad news.

[Mixxi]

Keyes held the bottle up and let the tiny ship float on the sea at the horizon.  After  breakfast and another round of sleep, the sunlight on Jorry's balcony didn't make him want to curl up in a little ball, so he had finally convinced mother-hen Jor he would live.
At least for now.  He frowned at the ship in the bottle. Did this trinket have anything to do with that man's murder? Rather a coincidence that he ends up a floater right after he loses the thing. And if it was connected, was he killed because he lost it, or because the killer thought he had it? Keyes itched to untangle the puzzle, but in spite of no longer feeling like his skull was caving in, he was still having a tough time organizing his thoughts. Maybe he'd feel better back at his own place. Time to convince the mother-hen that the chick could leave the nest.

*     *     *     *     *

Down in the main taproom of the Three Sheets, Jorry handed a tall glass filled with pale blue liquid to Lionguard Gendra. Several small flowers cascaded down the side of the glass, and a large piece of fruit perched on the rim. Gendra accepted the thing with a look of distaste.

"Not your usual, Gen. Although the flowers look real pretty reflected in your armor."

The big, blonde Lionguard rolled her eyes and jerked her chin toward a table by the door where an ostentatiously-dressed woman sat nervously twisting a handkerchief and darting looks at two of Gendra's men standing a discreet three paces behind the table. "Got a bereaved widow to win over. Seems she had a run-in with the killer a few hours before he came back to finish off her husband. Damned if I can get a decent description out of her, though. I thought maybe she needed some lubrication. Oh, and I thought Keyes might be able to shed some light. I've got a feeling he knew the guy, too. He around?"

Jorry cast his eyes upward. "Resting upstairs. He had a rough night of it. I've seen Risen that looked better."

Gendra snorted. "Send him over if he comes down. I think he'd be interested." She headed back toward the table.

A moment later, the object of their conversation stepped from the passage behind the bar and smiled at Jorry, spreading his hands. "See? All better. Thanks for putting me back together again, Jor."

Jorry looked doubtfully at the still-pale face, the tangled hair, and the crooked grin. "You still look like hell, but then, you always look like hell." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where Gendra stood with her back to them. "Gen's looking for you. Thinks she might have  a puzzle you'd like." Keyes looked past him, interest flaring in his hazel eyes, and Jor put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Only if you're ready. Mysteries have a way of hanging around. A day of rest wouldn't kill you. Which is more than I can say for just about everything else in this town it seems."

Keyes grinned. "I'll be fine, Jor. Always am."

"Until you aren't. Just watch it, Keyes." Jor stood aside to let the younger man out from behind the bar, and watched him approach the table. That's when the screaming started.

[Mixxi]

Keyes and the widow had caught sight of each other at the same moment--when Gendra turned to sit down. The woman's reaction was to leap to her feet and shriek like a warhorn, pointing a shaking finger at Keyes. Keyes stopped short and rapidly sorted through a variety of possible actions. Ducking behind the bar or running out the door, while attractive, would be disastrous. A rebellious portion of Keyes' brain briefly considered a similar outburst of over-reaction, screaming and pointing at the woman as the one who had clocked him with a brick. Keyes settled for a mildly puzzled expression and looked around in confusion, taking careful note of the location of key players in the drama. He turned slightly to the side, placing his face in half shadow.

Gendra was moving toward the widow, trying to get her to speak coherently. Her two men had come off the wall ready to act and were bearing down on Keyes. They weren't familiar to Keyes. Jor was standing flabbergasted behind the bar, looking angrily at the woman that was disturbing the drinking of his patrons. Keyes raised a hand slightly and looked back at Jorry, his mind spinning rapidly. He met the barkeep's puzzled look and shrugged, muttering softly, "Crap, Jor, stay out of this."

The widow cowered against the wall (Really? Cowering? thought Keyes. Who nearly killed who last night?) and spoke to Gendra in gulping fits and starts. The Lionguard waved her to silence and nodded at her men, tipping her head in Keyes' direction. Turning back to the woman, she fixed her with a stern glare. "You're SURE it's him?"

Keyes didn't get a chance to see the woman's answer, although it probably included hand-wringing and a sob or two. The two guards had grabbed his arms and started pushing him toward the table none too gently. Once they got close to Gendra and her witness, one of the fellows, a tall, dark-haired human with arms like deck piers, twisted his hand into Keyes' hair and yanked his head back, bringing his face up to the light.

Keyes' head exploded and he could only think wildly about Jor having to clean his brains off the tavern floor. Someone had yelled, and the young man vaguely realized the sound had come from his own mouth. The guards seemed surprised by Keyes' reaction to their loving care, and tightened their grip on him--a good thing because his knees gave way at that moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Keyes had enough sense left to see Jorry reaching behind the bar for his cudgel, and he realized that the situation was rapidly getting out of hand. Somehow he managed to stabilize himself and control his mouth enough to say "Stop."

To his surprise, everyone did indeed stop. The guards even relaxed their grip on him. More fool them. He'd have expected more from Gendra's men. Pouring everything he had left into a shout, Keyes broke free from the men and was out the door before they could react. He knew he had only seconds before the burst took its toll on him, but a lot can happen in a few seconds. Keyes rounded a corner and disappeared into Lion's Arch.

[Mixxi]

The soaring ships of Lion's Arch floated on a tide of people. Keyes watched the ebb and flow from his perch high above the Trader's Forum, tucked safely under a catwalk over the bank. This is where he had first fallen in love with the city; his first little hidden refuge when he had only been 15 years old. It was still one of the best. The Forum spread out below him, full of meetings and trysts, deals and arguments. Everyone thinking they were safely obscure in the crowd. No one looking up. He relaxed and let the city wash over him like cool water.

From his vantage point, he hadn't seen any unusual activity among the Lionguard. Although he would have been flattered by a full-scale manhunt, he knew Gendra well enough to believe she had already discovered from Jorry that her murdered merchant couldn't possibly have been killed by a crazed and violent Keyes. He almost felt sorry for Gen, knowing that Jor's righteous indignation would be truly terrible to behold. And there was Mina, too, who had been enthusiastically stripping Keyes' clothes off around the time the fellow had been offed. Not that Keyes had been aware of that fact. He shuddered involuntarily.

He continued to scan the crowd. The Lionguard wasn't what he was worried about. Something else was going on. He'd been picked as the fallguy before, and he knew it was a dangerous occupation. That time, though, he'd known who to look for, which had made it survivable. This time, though...

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and rested his chin on the timber in front of him, letting his arms dangle over the edge. The boardwalk above him had enough of an overhang to keep him in shadow, and it felt good to stretch out.

As he watched, familiar faces surfaced in the ebb and flow of people below him. Neomi, a basket of peppers in each hand; Valya and Serafina arguing over a rifle, each no doubt sure in their praise or criticism of the weapon; Vilidius hurrying into the bank, another fat satchel clutched protectively under his coat. The crowd surged and swirled again, and a man raised an arm in greeting, the silver in his hair catching the light. Keyes caught his breath and leaned forward.

The man had hailed a woman, and she turned toward him. Her heart-shaped face might have been beautiful, but it was hard to tell at this distance. A purple scarf tied back her dark hair, and a bow rested comfortably between her shoulderblades. But it wasn't the woman who had caught his interest. The man she was talking with threw back his head and laughed, and then reached down to rub the ears of a drakehound at his side. He wore protective leathers but not a uniform, and the sword at his hip reflected the light off of crystalline facets. Ewin had been right, Keyes thought. Rafe Harkner had changed.

Keyes Harkner leaned back into the shadows, and into the darkness before dawn 15 years before.

[Mixxi]

Keyes was a light sleeper for an 11-year-old, and the sound of the latch being lifted always brought him out of bed quickly. He was already pulling on his boots before the footsteps sounded in the main room of the little house. Picking up his bow, he climbed up on a stool and opened the window. The footsteps were different today, though, and he paused, his hand on the sill.

There was a thud in the other room, a sound of disgust, and rapid booted footsteps crossing the floorboards toward the hearth set in the wall between that room and his own. Keyes listened intently, his curiosity overcoming his better judgment. He heard the rapid snick of flint on steel, and the surprising sound of someone whistling softly between their teeth. His father never whistled.

An old, once beautiful tapestry hung in the doorway between the sleeping room and the main room, and Keyes crept softly over and pushed it open a crack. A man in the cream and gold leathers of the Seraph knelt at the hearth, his face lit by the glow of sparks in tinder. His shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a leather thong, and the blooming firelight turned silver strands in that hair golden. He turned at the small surprised sound that Keyes made and looked at the boy, an eyebrow raised in mock alarm. "You going to shoot me?"

Keyes blinked in surprise and confusion. The man tucked the tinder underneath the kindling and gestured to the bow the boy held.

Keyes thrust the bow around the corner of the doorway back into the sleeping room and then cautiously edged out into the room, looking into the gloom. The man got to his feet and gestured toward a chair by the door. "Your father's over there. I'll get him into bed." He paused and looked down at the boy. "Get warm by the fire. I'll make us some breakfast."

Keyes moved toward the hearth and stared into the growing flames as the man half-walked, half-dragged his father into the sleeping room. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the slurred curses and whining complaints. When the Seraph emerged from the room, he had Keyes' bow in his hand. He held it out to the boy and smiled. "Fancy a morning hunt?"

* * * * * * *
Four years of mornings later, and the two hunters stood at the edge of the trees in companionable silence, scanning the meadow. The boy was nearly a young man, as tall as the older hunter and built with the same narrow shoulders and hips. His companion looked far older than his 35 years, thanks to hair that had begun to go grey when he was not much older than the boy. Although he wore the same worn leathers as the boy, he had a Seraph greatsword on his back and the straight spine of a military man. In the meadow, a rabbit broke cover, and the boy raised his bow and fired.

The two watched the arc of the arrow, one with anticipation and one with slightly exasperated patience. The rabbit bolted back to the bushes. Keyes looked at his cousin Rafe and sighed. "I really am rubbish."

The older man returned the look and responded solemnly. "You really are."

Keyes opened his mouth, closed it, and bent suddenly, picking up a dirt clod and flinging it at his cousin, who knocked it away, laughing. Slinging his own bow over his shoulder, the Seraph reached out a hand for Keyes' bow and drew it experimentally. He returned it with a sigh. "It's a good bow, really it is." Rafe looked back toward a clearing further along the ridge. "Let's try boar instead. It's a bigger target."

His younger cousin waved his hands and shook his head. "Not a chance. If I miss a rabbit, it runs away. If I miss a boar, it kills me."

Rafe nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Maybe you need more motivation."

Keyes laughed.

"I'm only partly joking." Rafe started off along the ridge. Keyes made a strangled sound, but hurried to catch up with the jogging hunter.

The boar was certainly a bigger target. Keyes' mouth was dry and he hesitated at the end of his draw until his arm began to tremble. He lowered the bow. "I'm going to get us killed." He looked defiantly at his cousin. "This is crazy."

Rafe sighed and leaned his shoulder against the trunk of the tree they stood beneath. He looked out at the boar. "It's just an animal. It doesn't think. It's a target. You shoot it, and you win. If you miss, you kill it another way." He looked over at Keyes. "You're nearly of age to join the Seraph, you know. To come fight with us. It'll be more than just animals, more than targets. You'll need to shoot things that think and that are trying to shoot you." He paused, and nodded, acknowledging Keyes' surprised expression. The silence stretched into birdsong and the wind in the treetops. The older man looked off over the valley toward Ascalon Settlement. "I've been reassigned to the Hinterlands. I think you should come with me. It's time to leave."

Keyes stared at his cousin. He made it sound simple, like something that was always going to happen. Did the world really work like that for some people? Leave the Settlement and his father? Keyes was still reeling from the suggestion when Rafe pushed off from the tree trunk and reached over his shoulder for his greatsword. He drew the enormous blade easily, holding it lightly balanced in a double-handed grip. He smiled encouragement at his younger cousin and nodded toward the boar. "Go ahead. If you miss, I've got your back."

Keyes flushed under the confident look his cousin gave him and pushed the talk of the future to the back of his mind. He could do this thing. He turned back toward the boar in the distance, drew the bowstring and released the arrow in one smooth movement, watching the arrow slice through the bright morning air. The arrow struck true, burying its shaft in the boar's muscular shoulder. Keyes was transfixed by his success. Beside him, Rafe brought up his blade and commented lightly, "Perhaps next we'll work on your power." The boar turned and charged.

Keyes was dumbstruck. "But I shot it. You saw. I shot it." The boar was closing on them at an alarming rate.

Rafe stepped in front of his cousin, calling back over his shoulder, "Points for accuracy at least!" He braced himself, blade raised to the side and slightly behind, waiting for the boar. Keyes fumbled in his quiver and nocked another arrow, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He couldn't let Rafe just protect him again. He could do this thing. Aiming past his cousin, he sighted on the charging boar and quickly loosed another arrow.

Rafe swore when the arrow struck his arm, and the heavy sword sagged in his grip. Keyes felt his stomach drop, and then he was running forward, pulling the sword from Rafe, and closing the gap with the charging boar. The panic welled up and blotted out everything else, even light. Keyes was running blind, and when he reached the boar he swung the huge blade wildly in great sweeping circles.

Rafe had dropped to one knee, watching in fascinated horror. The beast was dead long before the boy stopped swinging. Dropping the blade next to the carcass, Keyes ran back to the wounded man and knelt beside him. "I'm so so so sorry!" He grabbed Rafe's arm, and the man hissed in pain, pulling away. Keyes held the arm steady and looked into Rafe's eyes, holding his attention until he acknowledged him. "THIS I can do. Bruises, cuts, broken bones. I know this." The two looked at each other, the truth of the words standing baldly between them. The Seraph didn't resist as the boy gently removed the shaft and bound the wound.

* * * * *

Down in the Trader's Forum, Rafe Harkner smiled a good-bye to Sabinae and was swept away by the tides of Lion's Arch.

[Mixxi]

Keyes had been invisible in the cracks and crevices of Lions Arch for four days. He smelled as good as he looked, and he felt even worse. But he'd been here before, hadn't he? Grimly, he chewed on a stolen piece of dolyak jerky and shook his head. No. Not here. Not this blind.

He had seen nothing to worry him, nothing that gave him a clue about what was going on. Was this simply a case of a wealthy merchant getting offed in a dark alley? Was his widow just an hysterical woman jumping to conclusions? It would be prudent to wait longer, Keyes knew. But waiting had never been easy for him. He hadn't noticed anyone looking for him or following him. Either they had given up on him, or they were very good. He swung lightly out on a hanging block and tackle and landed on the warehouse roof. The eaves of Lion's Arch were a broad road to him, and he ran, wrapping the night around him.

Two minutes later, he swam through dark water behind the Western Ward. Silently pulling himself up on the rocks, he quickly rolled to the deep darkness under a set of peeling, wooden steps. The night air chilled the drops clinging to his bare arms and legs, and he suppressed a shiver. Out on the street-side of the darkened building, a patrolman passed with his lantern. Keyes pulled himself over the balcony railing and crouched below a window. It was quick work to slip the latch. He waited for several minutes, reluctant to silhouette himself against the window opening for anyone who might be inside. The continued silence reassured him, and he slipped over the sill into the darkened room beyond.

Reaching up, he pulled heavy drapes over the windows. Only then did he risk a light.

He had expected to find the room searched. He had not anticipated this level of destruction. Furniture lay in jagged, splintery heaps, papers collected in drifts in corners, the bed and cushions had been shredded. This hadn't been just a search. It was a message, a demonstration of thorough savagery. He bent and picked up the shattered fragments of a small bow and turned them idly in his fingers as he took stock. Hiding places had been found and opened—floorboards pried up or simply smashed, holes opened in the walls and ceiling. Personal things had received particular attention. His clothing lay in a charred heap. He sniffed and winced. Well, that explained why the clothes hadn't finished burning.

Keyes cursed softly and repeatedly. He needed to talk to someone, to lay his thoughts down and sort through them. The answer had to be there. He couldn't go to Jorry. Last night's dream had been particularly bad. He was at the tide pool again, looking at the obscene, bloated thing. And when it rolled, it had had Jor's face. He couldn't bring this down on Jor.

Slipping out the way he had come in, Keyes moved through the pre-dawn shadows toward the docks. A stumble and stagger for the benefit of the watchman, a wary hand resting lightly on the length of ash at his side for the benefit of anyone who might be watching from the darkness. He scrambled up a jagged, broken wall and looked at the windows of the Three Sheets across the water. Only the taproom lit at this hour; either Jorry cleaning up or worrying about him.

He crouched on the wall and dropped his head into his hands. Not this blind.

A light flared off to his left and he turned toward it, shrinking back into deeper shadow. Just the excavation. A tent flap had lifted and a man in Priory blue stepped out, already fumbling with laces and heading for the privacy of another ruined wall. Keyes drew a quick breath and smiled. The Priory. He might be blind, but he just might not be alone. There was paper and ink on a worktable outside the tent. Keyes needed to write a letter.

[Mixxi]

((Synopsis of in-game development--Ewin and Keyes meet, discussing Keyes' suspicions. Ewin has already identified the ship in the bottle as the Capricorn, so Keyes is comfortable talking with him about developments. Ewin provides a place in the Grove for Keyes to hide out.))

[Mixxi]

Keyes knew he had no business sneaking back into Lion's Arch this soon, but it was hard to stay away when he had so many questions. Besides, things were looking up now that he was rested and clean. He ducked his head and grinned to himself. And talking to Rafe's friend hadn't hurt either. It felt good to be able to put the whole tangle into words, even if he had a sneaking suspicion that the Sylvari was humoring him. He was kind. Keyes could see why Rafe liked him.

He slipped through the swirl of travelers in the plaza, heading for the dark shelter of the backwater. His hood slipped over his eyes for a moment, and he reached up to push it back, accidentally bumping into the Sylvari woman in front of him. He grunted an apology as she looked at him in surprise, her skin pulsing with a light yellow glow in the warm Lion's Arch night. He needed to be more careful.

Forcing himself to walk at a leisurely pace, he left the crowds behind and moved into the alleyways around the Forum, heading toward the canal. He needed to find out more about Lanzo Mokari and his widow. As he moved, he breathed in the tropical air of the Arch, listening to the nightbirds in the bushes and the occasional burst of voices from the taverns. By the Six, he missed the Arch. A drinking song drifted down to him from a balcony high above, and he whistled the tune softly through his teeth. Which was a shame, because he never heard the man behind him or the baton whistling softly toward his skull.

* * * * * *

The library was exquisite. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, the leather and gilt bindings glowing, and the early morning sunlight from the bay window sparkled on polished wood and crystal lamps. The thick rugs and deeply upholstered furniture spoke of wealth and comfort. Only one of the room's two occupants were able to appreciate the pleasant surroundings, however. The woman was a young Sylvari, and she stood uncertainly on the hearthrug, avoiding looking at what was behind her.

The door opened, and the Sylvari looked eagerly toward the newcomer, clearly relieved to see her. The woman who entered moved through the ornate room with proprietary grace, dropping her cloak onto a chair back as she joined the Sylvari. This human woman did not avoid looking at the other occupant of the room.

The young man was sprawled in a low-backed armchair, one arm hanging limply over the side. His head had fallen backward and his eyes were half-closed, face slack.

The library's owner looked curiously at him and reached out to lay her fingers on his exposed neck. "He's not dead, is he, Llynet?"

The Sylvari was shocked. "No, of course not!"

"Then I suggest you continue. I shall monitor your progress." The woman moved to the window, settling onto the bench seat there.

The Sylvari's citron glow flared, and she bit her lip. "I'm not sure I'll be able to get what you need, Lady Mokari. He's very protective of the information. I have been trying for quite some time..."

The woman sighed and turned to look at the garden outside. "Then break him. He's a thief, Llynet, a criminal. You don't need to be gentle."

The young Sylvari moved to stand behind the chair, looking down at the man's pale face, watching the faint pulse beat in his neck. "I might damage him..."

"Undoubtedly. And he'll probably hang when I turn him over to the Lionguard. You might be doing him a favor." The woman turned her attention back into the room and gestured abruptly. "Now get on with it."

Llynet bowed her head, her long fingers reaching out to touch face, temples, forehead. Wisps of violet light lingered on the man's skin where she touched him, and his eyes opened, staring directly into hers. The woman on the window seat smiled and leaned forward.


Keyes didn't have a gods-damned idea where he was. Some sort of cave? Warehouse? Or were those trees in the surrounding darkness? Every time he tried to focus on the shadows beyond the small pool of lavender light, things started slipping sideways. It was dark. It was cold. The ground was stone. And there were things in the darkness, because he could hear them move. Slither? Crawl? Something that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

He had to get out of here, he knew that. And he had something that could get him out. He had a key. If only he could remember what it was and where he'd put it. That kept slipping sideways, too, just when he was about to grab it. The noise in the darkness was getting louder, closer, and Keyes could feel the bubble of panic rising inside him. He gritted his teeth and swore softly at himself. What the f**k was going on?

There was a sudden bellow in the darkness behind him and he spun, hands scrabbling uselessly where weapons ought to be. He felt the cold stone under his bare feet and realized he didn't even have his armor, just shirt and breeches. He tried to control his suddenly panicked breathing, and cursed, willing himself enough focus to meditate. Which of course made things worse. What was wrong with him?

And something moved in the darkness, rushed out at him, making a gods-awful racket. Keyes yelped and managed to lay down a ward before the thing got to him. But it crossed the warding perimeter and kept coming, slamming into him and knocking him off his feet. Keyes scrambled up, grappling with the intruder, looking up into the familiar face. "Jor?"

The big Norn was in a bad way, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Keyes struggled to keep him upright and failed, easing him down onto the stone. "S**t, Jor. What is going on?" His friend pushed him away and tried to climb to his feet again. Keyes stopped him and frantically started inscribing sigils, not sure which wounds to close first.

The Norn grunted and caught Keyes' wrist. "No time. They're coming. Get us the hell out of here, Keyes."

"How in Grenth's name do I do that?" The human clenched his fists impotently, looking wildly around at the surrounding darkness. "I don't know where we are!"

"You've got the key. Use it. Get us out of here. Now, Keyes. Use the bottle."

And the darkness exploded into teeth and claws and rending spines, rushing at them. Keyes shouted, throwing himself in front of his friend, a ward blooming around them. The creatures were tearing at the wall of blue, the air full of snarls and shrieks. The desperate human flared his virtues, edging the two friends in azure flame. But it was not going to be enough. Behind him, Jorry gasped and begged him. "Use it. Please..."

Of course. He had the key. He could do this. Keyes reached out, his hand searching. He only needed to get the key from where he had hidden it. It was easy...so close.

And a blue flash burned his questing hand, throwing him back onto Jor. Only it wasn't Jor. It was another Norn, Berend. Berend was here, but he was dying, cursing the puny human who was letting him die. But it wasn't a Norn at all. The Sylvari was burning. He needed to get him to water, quench the flames. To a pool of water hidden among the trees. Hide him, keep him safe. The Sylvari started to scream.

Keyes could stop this. He could save them all. He had the key. He reached out, through the ward, through the blue fire, and picked up the small thing from where he had hidden it. He turned back to save them and fell into the darkness.

[Mixxi]

The young Sylvari woman stepped back from the chair, lavender fragments falling from her like petals. She stood silently, breathing, her eyes regaining their focus. The human woman had moved from the window to the fireplace as night had fallen in the library. She waited impatiently for the Sylvari to speak, ignoring the crumpled figure in the chair.

At last, the Sylvari looked up, her glow dim and her eyes weary. "He showed me. I can take you there." She stepped toward the woman and paused, her hand on the chair back, looking down at the man. His face had gone from pale to ashen and he was soaked with sweat. "He didn't seem like a criminal."

The other woman waved dismissively. "Men have a talent for justifying even the worst actions. You've done the right thing here, believe me." She stepped to the door and spoke to a man standing outside. He and another man entered, moving toward the limp form in the chair. "We'll drop him off by the docks on our way. He will remember nothing?"

The Sylvari tilted her head and continued to look down at the man's face. "Nothing."

[Mixxi]

"Time to get up, Harkner. Check out time." Something was prodding him in the ribs in nearly exact counterpoint to the sledgehammer impacts behind his closed eyes. He rolled away from the rough voice and the poking and curled up against something hard and...sticky?

Keyes opened his left eye a slit and recoiled, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. Nothing else in the world was exactly the color of the Lion's Arch drunk tank floor. His stomach and lungs heaving, he fought to keep his feet, and was grateful for a steadying hand on his elbow. "Easy now. You're out of practice. Been a few years since you've been here." Keyes felt like his eyes were glued shut, and he rubbed his fists against them, making sure his head was still attached at the same time. Blearily he peered up at the toothy snout hovering above his shoulder.

"Trant? What the—ooh. Grenth take me now." Half of him was spinning and the other half was filled with very bright, very sharp bits of broken glass.

The hand on the elbow shifted to his shoulder and gave him a small—for a charr—shove toward the cell opening. "Go on. Captain'll fix you up with some grub and something hot to drink." The small charr ignored the face Keyes made at the mention of food and pointedly picked up a mop and bucket. "Time to clean up this place before the next lot arrive. Out."

Keyes summoned a flicker of dignity and protested. "Not drunk."

The charr sighed and pointed at Keyes' legs. "Those your robes?"

The human looked at the charr in confusion. "Robes? What the—" He gingerly bent his neck and looked down at the rough, sack-like thing that covered him from neck to ankles.

"I'll make it easy. The answer is no, they're not. You were so stinking drunk that you'd pissed yourself, and the other guests were complaining so much we had to take you out and sluice you down. Just be grateful Cap'n made us cover you up with something. Now, go." The charr made ready to give him another shove. Keyes stumbled down the familiar hallway.

Keeping a steadying hand on the stone wall, he had gone several paces before he realized that Lionguard headquarters was not exactly the best place for him to be right now. He had absolutely no idea what he would find at the end of this hall.

Of all the possibilities, trenchers of bread and cheese and mugs of steaming tea were definitely the most pleasant. Lionguard Gendra sat on a bench at the long wardroom table, sliding a whetstone along her blade. She looked up at Keyes and made a rude noise. "I've seen better looking Risen."

"You're not the first to tell me that." Keyes hesitantly stepped toward the table. "Er...you're not going to arrest me or simply kill me where I stand, are you? Because if you are, I'd really like to have some tea first."

The big blonde woman swung herself up off the bench and sheathed her sword. "Not today, Keyes. Jorry told me about how he was nursing you back to health when Mokari got done for. Apparently you had another of your less-than-successful fights. You're off the hook, screaming widows not withstanding. Jorry may be a lot of things, but he's no liar, not even for Keyes Harkner." She poured a stream of amber liquid and handed the vessel to him.

Keyes sank onto the bench and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. The various parts of his body were starting to slot into their familiar places, but his memory was disturbingly dark. He had come to Lion's Arch to find out more about Mokari. He'd arrived last night at the Gates. He remembered the alley, and the taverns...a drinking song on the air...and then.... He suddenly bent double and retched dryly, the mug shattering on the stone floor.

Gendra swore and picked up the pieces, looking at the trembling man with a mixture of disgust and pity. "Keyes. What the hell? I thought you were done with this."

The young man stayed hunched, his head down. "I was. I am. Kormir's light, Gen. I do not know what is going on. I swear...I wasn't drinking." He looked up when she said nothing. She had crossed to the window and tipped the broken shards out onto the rubbish heap. Turning, she leaned against the window ledge and looked at him steadily. Keyes shook his head. "Yeah. I don't really believe me either." He dropped his head into his hands again.

The norn moved to the table, poured another cup, and put it in the disheveled man's hand when he raised his head again. "Keyes, you'll lie to Grenth with your last breath. But today, I'll believe you. I don't know what you were up to last night, and I'd probably be better off not knowing. I like you for some reason. But if you make trouble in my town, I will personally tie the knot that ends you." She gave him a smile and a slap on the shoulder that was only a little harder than it needed to be. "Take a minute to get back on your feet, then take off. Your clothes are in a sack in the yard. And I would like the robes back."

She crossed the room and headed back down the hallway, leaving the young man hunched on the bench, gingerly sipping his tea.

[Mixxi]

Keyes' teeth itched. He hated this set, but the aggressive lack of dental hygiene it displayed kept unwanted conversations short. Tucked up in a tiny table under the eaves in the Crow's Nest, he nursed a tankard and peered through a curtain of greasy hair toward the large, round table that dominated the main room.  He'd been sitting in this place in various disguises for the last fortnight. And nothing. He mentally cursed himself for the hundredth time. The trail had gone cold while he'd been licking his wounds.

Although the Captains' Council wasn't officially meeting tonight, decisions were definitely being made that affected the smooth running of Lion's Arch.  The bombastic Charr Captain Farth Scarclaw was surrounded by several agitated captains whose cargoes had been lost in the recent storms in Bloodtide. An Asura and two humans in Consortium blue and gold were arguing over manifests with Captain Hao Luen, a human of Canthan descent who handled finances for the Captains' Council. As Keyes watched, Hao's assistant glanced toward the door and moved away from the others. The disguised human frowned, sorting through mental notes and finally dredged up a name for the fellow. Mihan Huan.  Keyes followed the direction of his look and unwillingly ducked his head, inhaling sharply.

Madame Mokari had just entered the tavern. Keyes' chest hurt, and he realized he was holding his breath. He'd give himself away in another second. Covering his confusion with a prolonged pull on the tankard, he tried to relax, focus. He tried to imagine Ewin's voice in his head. The Sylvari had given him back the time he had lost two weeks ago. The mesmer had patiently teased the memories back into the light and let him see what had happened in that library. The Sylvari woman bending over him, their eyes locked. The other woman, watching--the woman who had just sat down at a table 20 feet away from him. Keyes couldn't decide which he would lose control of first, his stomach or his bladder. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and forced his lungs to stop working double-time.

She was one of those women who looked like she needed to be protected. All softness and impractical clothing. At least until you caught a glimpse of her eyes and wished for a warm fire or a fur-lined cloak. Or maybe a flamethrower. But how many got as far as the eyes when that magnificent distraction nestled about a foot south of them? The young man who was slipping into the booth across from her clearly wasn't elevating his view. She wasn't about to give him the chance, either. With a leisurely trailing finger, she slipped something out of the valley of the promised land and held it cupped in her hand, tipped so that Mihan Huan could see it.

Keyes didn't need to see it to know what it was. It was that gods-damned bottle. As soon as Ewin had helped him figure out what the Sylvari woman had been sifting through his grey matter for, they had hurried to where Keyes had hidden the little ship. Too late, by half. He had to hand it to the woman, though. Her hiding place was much better than the one he had used.

The bright young bureaucrat  tore himself away from admiring the terrain and glanced at what the Mokari woman was showing him. Keyes narrowed his eyes. No surprise on the fellow's face. Just a short nod and a quick glance at his boss, Hao Luen. Now what did that mean? Complicity? Fear of discovery? It looked like he might soon find out, because Mihan had reluctantly climbed to his feet and was heading back toward the main bar. Madame Mokari watched his progress and then let her eyes wander over the other patrons. Her glance rested briefly on Keyes, but apparently he wasn't the lady's type, thankfully. Keyes leaned forward unintentionally. Mihan had passed his boss and continued on to the Consortium group, where he was talking quietly with the human female. Interesting webs you spin, Lady Mokari, Keyes thought.

Suddenly Keyes' view was obscured by a large set of Charr fangs and the snout they were attached to. The uninvited guest had dropped down into the chair opposite Keyes and was leaning toward him insistently. "You look like you're looking for some fun. Something special maybe? I got just what you need. Cheap too—"

Keyes tried to convey indigence and "get the f**k out of here or I will kill you" at the same time, apparently unsuccessfully on both counts, since the Charr ramped up the sales pitch and Madame Mokari was starting to take another look at the deadbeat in the corner. Time to go. Keyes abruptly stood and lurched into the table, allowing himself a small smirk of satisfaction as the table edge caught the Charr hard in the stomach. Tucking his head low, he clutched his own stomach and lunged for the door. Crockery shattered behind him as the Charr started after him, but Keyes hooked his foot around  the chair leg of the patron nearest the door and sent the poor fellow rolling to land under the claws of the oncoming Charr. No time to check what had happened to Mihan Huan and the fair Mokari. Keyes slipped over the balcony railing and swung into the scaffolding beneath. Things were getting complicated. He needed to talk to someone.