Eledhe leaned to rest her chin on her elbow, the fingers of her other hand tapping a rhythm on the counter between them, much like they usually did on the hilt of her scimitar. She surveyed Haiyya a moment, looking vaguely interested. "You might be surprised," was all she offered in response.

She held out her mug to be refilled, slid a few coppers across the counter at a raise of the innkeeper's eyebrow, and turned back to Haiyya. Her blue-eyed stare with its discomfiting intensity had made more than a few squirm, but to her credit the other woman merely stared back. "Perhaps," began Eledhe casually, "you are unaware of the politics within mercenary circles. I know a one -" and her eyes flicked across the room at a surly figure planted in front of the fire with a mug "- who's been in this line of business as long as I have. However, he has a disconcerting knack for picking the losing side." She raised her eyebrows. "Your side doesn't win, and you get none of the booty. Incentive. If you pay a mercenary in advance they'll like as not walk away with it. And if you're on the winning side, well, for certain you can't be so unskilled as all that."

Still toying with her mug, she flipped her long black braid over her shoulder. "Perhaps I'm more inclined to support the winning side."

The irony of it was amusing. In reality, the smart mercenary was the one who had a touch of allegiance there, some loyalty over here, so that should one side take a nosedive and crash to earth, she need only float lazily to the winning one, none the worse for wear. Eledhe used the theory well. It assisted her in denying absolutely that she had any more allegiance here than to the next aspiring fool who hired her.

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Jate tromped upstairs, trying to decide which room would be his. Peeking in one, he saw an empty bed. Perfect. And Ash wasn't a bad sort, a rather quiet one. Slipping into the room, Jate eased into the bed with a sigh and quickly fell asleep.

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going on a journey through my old claims

((this is potr's post))

''I think I will retire as well,'' Silvryn said to no one in particular, though not without a disdainful glance in Eledhe's direction. Real beds or no, she doubted that either of them would be sleeping overmuch. Or at least, she wouldn't. The mercenary professed to be loyal enough, but Silvryn strongly suspected that a pretty sack of coins could change that rather quickly. Addressing said mercenary, she added, ''Do take your time in doing the same.''

''I, for one, intend to actually have a drink now,'' Kjan said with a casual wave in the direction of the departing. ''Have fun sleeping and all that.''

Five minutes later, Kjan was equipped with two mugs of ale (to make up for the one he'd lost earlier). Deliberately bypassing the area where the homicidal mercenary was chatting it up with the Phantom's favorite bard, he made for the nearest table and was almost there when an unseen obstacle nearly knocked him off his feet.

''Mind where yer feet're takin' ye!'' bellowed the unseen obstacle.

Kjan started, nearly spilling his drinks, then looked down to examine the speaker. Somewhat short, broad-chested, thick beard down past his sizeable belt....''You're a dwarf,'' Kjan observed brilliantly while trying to recall the significance of said brilliant observation.

''What was yer first hint?'' the dwarf shot back.

''You're short.''

''Aye, well, yer not exactly one t'be talkin' about height, laddie.'' The dwarf grunted, trying to push past.

''Wait!'' Kjan called after him suddenly. ''Can we talk for a bit?''

''Yer a loony.''

''No no, it's very important! We need a dwarf!''

The dwarf kept walking.

''We could really use some help!''

No response.

''I'll buy you a drink!''

''Wastin' yer time, laddie!''

''...We have lots of money!''

The dwarf stopped and turned around slowly. ''How much?''

Kjan took the steps two at a time and slid to a halt in front of the Phantom's rented room. Locked. ''Oi!'' he called out, knocking on the door. ''Whatever your name is! I've got someone for you to meet! Name's Erdhod!''

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There was a groan from within, and the Phantom, looking bleary-eyed and decidedly unhappy at being woken up, opened his door. There was a moment of silence while he surveyed Kjan, and folded his arms over his chest. "This had better be good. I can count the days since I last slept in a bed - actually, the days since I last slept at all."

He eyed the drinks Kjan still held, one in either hand. "If one of those is for me, I might not slam the door in your face."

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Kjan hesitated for half a moment. "Of course it's for you!" he lied at length, grinning brightly. After all, he still had one, and it was a small price to pay. Despite the Phantom's almost inhuman ability to go without sleep, Kjan knew from personal experience that when he did sleep, he clung to it quite fiercely. "I know better than to wake you without having a bribe readily available. And I'll have you know that it's something very good. Or someone. At least, I think he's good....At any rate, he's better than nothing, which seems to be the only other option. Apparently most dwarves don't like human towns."

Kjan kept talking in this manner until he'd managed to get a half-awake Phantom down to the table where Erdhod was not-so-patiently waiting. "Oh, and I may have promised him money already," he added quietly as they sat down. "Erdhod, this is the man who's actually in charge of the whole operation. And the money."

Erdhod looked expectantly at the mug in Kjan's hand. "Ye mentioned a drink as well, as I recall."

Kjan muttered something not-so-friendly under his breath and slid the tankard across the table into the eager dwarf's waiting hand. "Right. As I see it, I found the needed dwarf, so I've already done my part. You two make with the talking while I go get a drink for myself."

The Phantom had to sit down, blink one or two times, and take a gulp of his newly acquired ale, before he quite grasped the idea of the situation. The dwarf was across the table, squinting belligerently at him. Hopefully the Phantom’s skills at diplomacy weren’t especially diminished when he was sleep-deprived. He cleared his throat, and cast a glance at Kjan’s back. “So. You’re a dwarf.”

“And you’re a human,” was the slightly caustic response. He – Erdhod, was it? – didn’t seem an especially talkative type.

There was another pause in which the Phantom tried to judge the best way to delicately approach this situation. He tried for about three and half seconds before remembering that delicacy wasn’t quite a skill that came naturally to him, and abandoned it in favor of directness.

“Right. Well, as it happens, I’m in need of a dwarf guide, and I’d be happy to pay you.”

A grunt. “Dwarf guide to where?” and then, suspiciously, “how much?”

The Phantom coughed – delicately – and tried to look amiable and honest. “Er, to wherever your esteemed monarch and any other, um, dignitaries of known knowledge, happen to currently be residing.”

Erdhod grunted and folded his arms across his barrel-like chest. “Y’haven’t said how much.”

The Phantom eyed him. “Thirty silver,” he offered shrewdly.

“Highway robbery, laddie! I’ll not do it for less than fifty. And ten gold.”

He could buy himself a kingdom for that much. The Phantom leaned back and planted his boots on the table. Let the haggling begin.

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Kjan casually tossed a few coins in the direction of the innkeeper, then downed a sizable portion of his newly aquired ale on the spot. He was determined to enjoy at least one drink without having it taken away from him. Once the mug was about two-thirds empty, he glanced over at the Phantom, decided that negotiation really had never been his strong point, and instead wandered over to where Eledhe and the bard were still talking. "So you are capable of normal conversation with other people," he commented as he placed an amiable arm around the mercenary's shoulders, only to hastily remove it upon receiving one of the most terrifying glares he'd ever witnessed in his entire life.

Discreetly moving away from said mercenary, Kjan decided to instead address the bard. "I don't believe we've been propery introduced, milady," he said with a polite bow. "I'm Kjan....I'm sure that such a well-informed individual as yourself has already heard plenty about me."

Haiyya eyed the man with not a little suspicion and even more curiosity. He seemed to be the right hand of the Phantom claimant - at least, from the way he had acted earlier - but he was definitely an interesting character. She decided to play this out and see where it went.

Smiling and letting her eyes widen in recognition and surprise, she leaned forward eagerly. "Not truly? Kjan Therrinbrook? The Maester of the Dark? The King's Gallant with more kills and honors to his name than hairs on his head?" Her voice was as genuine as she could make it; she had a few small gifts in the area of acting. It went with her job description. "It's an honor, sir, truly an honor. Why, I've heard more songs about you than I could sing in a week! They say -" she leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice "-half the ladies of the court are secretly in love with you."

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

"Right. Thirty silver and ten coppers is it, then," said the Phantom, supremely self-satisfied and looking as though he'd never been tired in his life. He tossed the coins across the table and set his boots on it decisively. "Most pleasurable doing business with you, master dwarf."

Erdhod pocketed the payment so fast he might have swallowed it, and grinned toothily. "An' t' you," he said, and went back to his ale. The Phantom got to his feet and yawned, wandering over to Kjan and Haiyya. "He has songs?" he inquired, trying belatedly not to sound surprised, having completely missed her sarcasm.

Eledhe rolled her eyes and drained the last of her ale. "'Night," she said vaguely, to whoever happened to be listening, and took the stairs two by two.

Ah, yes. Rooming with the princess. Sleep unlikely. There was other fun to be had, though.

She breezed in, tossing her sword belt on one chair and her cloak on another, and spread-eagled on the bed. There was a moment of frosty silence in the bed opposite. Then Eledhe put her arms behind her head. "Too bad you can't room with tall, dark, handsome rebel leader," she commented casually. "Though I don't suppose either of you would sleep much."

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"I told you!" Kjan shouted triumphantly at the Phantom's back. He had easily identified the sarcasm, of course, as it was his first language. But he was also rather loath to pass up this opportunity. Smirking, he leaned forward as well. "Actually, it's three-fourths, and they're hardly secretive about it," he replied with a friendly wink. "Your description is fitting, lady bard, but I'm afraid you have been misinformed in regards to my name." Taking another sip from his ale, he grinned rakishly. "Kjan Armadur. Ever at your service, milady."

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Silvryn colored quite noticeably, despite her most fervent attempts to conceal her embarassment at what the mercenary was insinuating. Not because she'd ever consider it, of course, but because of the sheer audacity of it. Of course. All of her diplomatic training dictated that she ignore the comment and continue to meet the mercenary with cool indifference, but diplomacy was seeming less and less appealing. "Of the two of us, I would expect you to be the more inclined toward promiscuity," she found herself replying lightly, almost against her will. "Who was that man with whom you were conversing earlier? A previous client? A lover? Or perhaps an agent sent by the Regent to inform you of the next planned rendezvous? The Phantom may trust you, Eledhe Darkstar, but I see your true nature. How much is he paying you?"

"Dear dear," said Eledhe caustically, rolling over to balance her chin on her hand. She toyed with a strand of dark hair, twisting it carelessly around one long finger. "Hasn't he told you?" One would think he'd make a trifling matter such as that common knowledge."

A toss of her head to get her now-unbound dark hair out of her face, and Eledhe gave a long and decidedly melodramatic sigh. "My goodness, yes, it is so tiresome to be a mercenary...how I wish I were tied to whatever side I was born into, no matter if they win or lose. How horribly unfortunate."

Rolling over, she swept the back of her hand across her eyes pseudo-mournfully. "I see the error of my ways now...oh, my princess, how I wish to remedy all my heinous deeds..."

Melodrama abandoned, she sat up with a mocking smile and folded her arms. "How long did it take for you to decide you might as well dangle the handsome rebel leader from your little finger? So convenient. He'll dance like a puppet when you pull the strings."

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Eledhe was baiting her. That much was obvious. The mercenary was looking for a fight, and Silvryn just happened to have the privilege of rooming with her until morning. It would be prudent to walk out of the room now and deny Eledhe the pleasure. However, this was no longer a matter of petty banter, but of honor. If rumors were started that she and the Phantom....

"Our relationship is - and always will be - strictly professional," Silvryn replied rigidly, fixing Eledhe with her iciest stare. "To engage in any other sort of relationship would be impractical and injurious to the cause, not to mention simply absurd. We share a common goal, and that is all." She strode over to the window and stared out for a moment - it was starting to snow a little again - only to turn back around and give the mercenary a sidelong glance. "And may I ask why you are so interested in what transpires between our 'handsome rebel leader' and myself? It is certainly none of your concern if you are only in it for money. Perhaps you are merely projecting your own feelings onto someone else?"

Eledhe laughed. It came out somewhat harshly, more so than she intended. Feelings for the Phantom. Well, at least that was one thing she wasn’t guilty of. For a moment she considered explicating to the princess by the window – really, Her Highness might have been an ice sculpture, thought Eledhe, for all the expression she displayed – about how she’d known Phaerin Grey when he was twelve years old and your typical brat noble’s son. Feelings for him? Never.

Noble’s brat. Eledhe’s expression twisted into a sneer. She turned to fix Silvryn with an equally icy stare. “You’re more an idiot than I thought if you believe that.”

Lithely agile, she stood to lean against the wall. “You want to know what Phaerin Grey is to me? He’s a noble brat who’s, admittedly, had the intelligence to recognize that his class is the most conceited, self-centered, cruel group of human beings. But,” and she picked up a throwing star, letting it flick through her fingers and spin once through the air before catching it, “he remains a noble brat.”

Vaguely surprised by her own vehemence but in no mood to quell it, Eledhe spun with sudden violence to leave the throwing star quivering in the opposite wall. “And when he’s thrown the nobles to the dogs like they deserve – if he keeps his promises, like no leader I’ve ever known - then I’ll owe allegiance to no one.”

She strode to jerk the black disc from the paneled wood, and turned to Silvryn spitefully. “Another reason you two are perfect. Noble’s brats.”

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"He is a good man who has accomplished far more than I would ever expect from the likes of you," Silvryn replied flatly, turning to face the window once more. Had she been more petty, she might have come up with a better insult, but insults took time and Eledhe wasn't worth hers. "And he has never promised to 'throw the nobles to the dogs,' but merely to return order and justice to Kytana. There will always be an upper class, and rightly so."

She paused in tracing patterns in the frost on the window and glanced toward the mercenary once more. "Why so hostile toward the nobles in the first place, may I ask? If you did not wear...that and never opened your mouth, you might almost pass as one yourself."

Eledhe's lips tightened. There was a reason for that resemblance, but there would be no inducing her to explicate on the subject to Silvryn, of all people. "Need you ask for a reason?" she returned venomously, gaze nearly icier than Silvryn's. "Name me a decent noble and I'll name you a liar."

Without waiting for an answer she snatched her sword belt and cloak and stalked out, expression rapidly turning unreadable.

It wasn't until she was in the hall, wrenching at the buckle of her belt, that she wondered, with a scowl, at the rapid rise of her temper. It had been years since the slightest insult could rouse her to fury. You might almost pass as a noble yourself.

Eledhe swore under her breath steadily and eloquently for a solid thirty seconds. When she straightened, her hand went to her noticeably pointed Elvish ears. This only served to deepen the scowl. "Filthy nobles," she spat under her breath, and stalked off down the hall.[/i]

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Well. Not quite what she'd expected, but she riposted smoothly. "Oh, Armadur, not Therrinbrook. I should have seen that you were a little young to be a King's Gallant." Haiyya sat back and finished her glass of wine, inspecting him openly. "Aye, and not with his looks, either. Ah, well." She sighed. "I'm sorry to say, good sir, that I've heard nary a tune of you. Although -" the bard gave a wink of her own as she stood to collect her instruments "- I've been known to compose, on occasion - for those who are nice to me, that is. I think I'll be retiring; it's been quite a day." Checking the strings on her viol, she turned to leave.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>