The Dragon's Cry

You look around furtively.

"So where is this contact of yours?" you ask.

The clatter of swords comes nearer.

"Quickly," she says, indicating an alley, "we must avoid capture."

Seeing that it is a dead end, you stop and cry "Wait! It's --erk!"

The silver woman's hushing gesture clamps down on your vocal cords, and just in time. The guards run past single-file, mail shirts clinking. You let out a slow breath. It seems a little ridiculous to have avoided the guards that easily, but you're not about to complain. Quickly you take in your surroundings.

The alley is dank and moldy. A water pipe seems to have burst and drained some time ago, leaving the ashes and flame-scarred wood soaked. A day -at least, you think it's been about a day- of stagnating in shadow has brought out the more rancid odors in the burned and wet materials. You look around for the woman but can't find her...

"Dragonling!" comes a whisper from a dark alcove. The silver woman beckons from a concealed passageway, the faint glow of her tiara glinting off her silver hair.

Cautiously, you step forward, the darkness enveloping you.

"This way," she says.

You pass through a short hallway and a beaded curtain into what appears to be a storeroom of some kind. The place is unexpectedly dark, but that's not a problem for you. In a moment you can 'see' the contents of the room: small clay objects, their details lost to your dark-sight, are lined up on shelves upon shelves covering the walls, and you discern another curtain on the opposite side of the room. The woman stretches her hand out, indicating you should stay back while she looks through the curtain. After a moment, the woman beckons you forward, and you see her make a gesture off to one side as you pass through.

You head in that direction, heading down a faintly illuminated hallway. You pass a room in which an old man, presumably the shop's proprietor, is busily engaged in cleaning up shards of clay from two collapsed shelves. He does not notice you. You pass quietly out the front, and again stand on one of the town streets. This area looks relatively intact, but there seem to be a lot of broken windows, as if someone were making a show of force --though not as enthusiastically as in other parts of the town. You desperately hope whoever did this isn't also looking for you.

A closer look at a few of the shops' smashed windows tells a different story: much of their displayed merchandise is missing, so you naturally chalk it up to vandals, who have absolutely nothing to do with--

"Excuse me, sir."

You jump. While your heart slows down, you turn around to see the old storekeeper gazing at you with a look halfway between disbelief and hope. You approach the old man slowly. "Yes?..."

The silver woman stands a way aside, waiting expectantly.

"I-- I've always thought fortunetelling was rubbish, mind you," the old man quavers. "An old hag once told me I would meet the one with the tail and he would help me."

You can only blink in puzzlement.

"I've always been taking care of myself," the old man continues. "'Don't need nobody,' I always say. But..."

"...Go on," you prompt.

"These raids, you see. I'm not as young as I used to be. Plus these new cockamamie laws..."

The old man stops and looks around warily.

"Look, would you please take this?" He holds up a small package, a plain brown piece of leather wrapped around a box and tied with twine. "Take this to my daughter. She may need this, though I suspect she is as stubborn as I am about receiving help from others." A small smile crinkles his lips.

You follow his gaze to the silver woman, and you are amazed to see her eyes glistening... with tears?!

She slowly closes her eyes, nods to you, and turns away.

The old man carefully places the package in your hands. "Take care of yourself, young man. And though she may not want or need it, take care of my daughter, too."

You can only nod silently.

The old man smiles, silver eyes shining. With a last glance at the silver woman, he walks back into his shop.

You stare at the doorway for a moment and turn around to stare in disbelief at the silver woman.

Feeling your openmouthed scrutiny, she turns around, slowly and deliberately. Walks up to you. And snatches the package away.

Her eyes bore into you, daring you to voice even a hint of a question. You hold your hands up placatingly and lean back in a show of deference. The woman glares at you a moment more and then stalks off majestically through the street.

You sigh, look back at the lonely shop, and follow.

"So, where do we find this contact?"

The woman remains silent and keeps staring straight ahead. You have to make an effort to keep up with her.

"We've already found him, haven't we?" you say, warily voicing your own suspicions.

After a moment's silence, the woman answers, still not looking at you: "There is another."

"Who?"

The woman stops suddenly and turns as if to answer.

"You there! Stop!"

Oh, no. They've found you! Adrenaline floods your system and every muscle in your body tenses, ready for a sprint. Eyes focused, you quickly scan about for the owner of the voice--and discover that it's a lone guard, heading in a completely different direction, in pursuit of a little blond girl in a black cloak. The girl has no trouble keeping ahead of the guard, but on the other hand the guard has no trouble keeping up with the girl.

The relief you feel at realizing you're safe -- so to speak -- is tempered by a burst of sympathy for the girl. On one hand you think the girl can more than likely take care of herself just fine, but on the other hand, something in you would feel much better if you helped her out. It would only take a moment; one guard can't be too much trouble. On the one hand again, though, he could have backup on the way, in which case you'd be in deep--

In the end...

• Sympathy wins out and you help the girl.
• Caution wins out and you stay with the silver woman.

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