You let your gaze drift over the racks of female clothing. Practical would be good, but how practical is she willing to be? From what Little Bird said, and from her embarrassment, she was set to cause scandal in the streets! "I'd suggest something that can stand hard use, particularly if it's also going to be your war raiment. For me, that can be one outfit, but for you, perhaps two?"

Talae nods her head slowly, then more vigorously. "That makes quite a bit of sense. One kind of outfit for court, one for the wilds. I see there are some echoes of the patterns of the Dark in the Light. Let's start with practical then?”

Kinds of outfit? My purse is going to be empty before the morning is done... "Right then. Starting at the feet and working up" because I have to start somewhere... "Good boots. The Dark, as you call it, is all tunnels and stone?" You wait for Talae's confirmation before continuing. "More mud and sticks up here. You'll want something to match, I think." You lead the way towards a shoe display, steering for the work side of things. "Go ahead and browse, but don't forget socks too. I'll grab a cloak for you, and meet you back here." Now, where did Little Bird get to? I have a question to ask her…

Little Bird pops her head up from behind a low shelf covered in folded cloaks. "Don't tell me you ran away already?"

"Nope, but I do have a question for you."

Little Bird's eyes go huge. "About what she picked on her own?"

You shake your head. "No, I told Talae I wouldn't pry into that. How old is she?"

Little Bird's eyes narrow speculatively. "Why do you want to know?"

You sigh, "because Talae looked like a little kid with her hand caught in the candy jar. Elves don't age the same way as humans, so I'm awful at guessing ages. How old is she?"

Little Bird closes he beak and thinks hard. "If I'm converting Dark Cycles to years properly, than eighty or so? Is that adult for an elf?"

That explains a whole lot. And terrifies me even more. "On the edge of. If Tam was telling the truth, elves become adults somewhere between ninety and a hundred years old and can live to near a thousand. So if Talae is only eighty or so..."

Little Bird bobs her head solemnly. "A fledgling pushed out of the nest too soon."

"And with Rage to make a veteran warrior shake. I'd best select a cloak and get back to her." You glance at the low shelf, and spot a curious looking cloak. Black, but the flat, light-drinking black of the deepest parts of a cave. Silvery threads trace an intricate spiderweb pattern. You let out a low whistle and reach for the cloak, but hesitate. Has to have come from down in the Dark, but how did it wind up here? And Talae has left that place behind. Chased or fled, it’s a dead and buried part of her past now. And it's going to stay that way if I have a say in it. You withdraw your hand and scan the shelf again. Idly, you walk down towards one end where the warmer colors are stacked. There amongst the colors of spring and summer, you spot it. The light green of a new leaf, with a generous enough hood to conceal a set of pointed ears and enough length to stop just above Talae's boots. This will do much better. You pick it up and carry it back to the shoe display, only to spot Talae two rows over picking through loose shirts and pants. You go to join her, handing over the cloak you picked out. "This one looks about right, but what do you think?"

Talae considers the cloak, holding it up and letting it unfold to its full extent. "I do like it! I'll have to coordinate the color with the shirt and pants, but this is quite wonderful." She turns back to the display she was pursuing a few moments before and quickly makes a few selections. "Now for the 'court' outfit." She makes a face of mild irritation. "Never liked formal occasions at home, but if we did just save three princesses, so I'd better pick something for the inevitable Appearance Before the Throne."

You stack Talae's selections on top of her re-folded cloak before adding them to your choices. "What would you wear back home?"

"Piwafwi, dress if noble, robes if a priestess, slippers, weapons."

"Piw-a-fwi?" You say, sampling the unfamiliar word. "What's that?"

"Shadow-cloak is the trade-tongue translation. Black for concealment in light, and spelled for heat-vision concealment. Silver thread patterns for House and Rank identification."

"Oh, I think I saw a mundane one over on the shelf, but I thought you wouldn't like to wear a reminder of what you left behind."

Talae frowns, thoughtful, "I'll take a look at it, but your right, I'm not going back nor bringing it with me. Lead on, please."

"This way, lady." You comply with the politely worded order, leading her to the shadow cloak you saw earlier.

Talae looks at it for a long moment before picking it up and considering it. "No temperature difference compared to the other clothes, so probably no spellcraft. Coloration is about right, perhaps a shade too dark. The pattern however..." She goes silent.

You frown. She is seeing something that I'm not. "What of it? All I can pick out is spiderwebs."

Talae shakes her head. "It's a mixture of two or three Houses, plus some bits I don't recognize. Improvisation, perhaps?" She neatly folds the cloak up again and puts it back, but keeps staring at it. "An imitation, un-spelled, but clearly working from real examples. Or at least true descriptions. Probably intended for a costume."

You shift the clothes you are carrying to free up one hand, then gently lay it on her shoulder. "Something is bothering you. Need to talk about it?"

Talae shakes her head. "Not sure I can. Explain it I mean. On one hand, playing to the stereotype would give me a huge edge in formal situations, but..."

You squeeze her shoulder gently, "you don't want to live a lie."

Talae puts her hand on yours, then gently pries your hand off her shoulder. "Got it in one, Aris."

"Then don't. You got away from the Dark, got free of its clutches. Time to decide for yourself how you want to be seen by the high and mighty."

Talae frowns. "But what are the rules for proper appearance? Protocol?"

You chuckle. "You do realize you are asking a low-born fisherman how the courts of the Kingdoms work? I've no clue, but I would wager they are as varied as the people that comprise them. The surface elves, both High and Wood, will have their own sets. The Dwarves will have a completely different set. And the Human Kingdoms will have some of the most formal... and most varied. What is 'proper' at one will be wildly inappropriate at another."

Talae's jaw is flapping in the breeze. "But... but... how?"

"Hrngh. How can I explain this better. Were there any dances where you came from?"

Talae's brow furrows, clearly not sure where you are going with this. "Yes..."

"And did they all use the same music?"

"Yes..."

"The courts up on the surface have their own sets of music. You can either try to learn the steps to match, or..."

Talae starts nodding, "stop trying to dance to someone else's music and make your own."

That went over my head. "Eh?"

Talae grins, a playful light coming to her eyes. "A saying I've heard on the surface. Snake-head used it when he was plotting. 'If your prey dances to your music, then you know where they will go.' So don't conform to their expectations, and in turn make them dance to my music."

You are fully aware that you have a dopey grin on your face. Ohh, that might work... "Self-confidence and Impudence." To put it politely. "If the high and mighty don't choke on it."

Talae flips a hand and stars digging though the cloaks. "They invited us to the dance, not our problem if they don't like the resulting music." She holds up a golden-yellow cloak, the color striking against her white hair and ebony skin. Grinning, she heads for a display of dresses. What in the world have I just unleashed? You follow along behind, noting that she is looking for something in a matching golden hue. She finds one dress, a full-length alluring affair, and holds it up briefly before coming to claim her earlier selections from you. "I saw some slippers earlier that would go with this. Go find a fitting room to try your set on, I'll grab Little Bird and do the same."

"Ok." And where did Aflia get to? You spot her near the front of Elci's, locked into a conversation with a male half-elf clearly not willing to leave her alone. Uh-oh... You head that way with all speed, hoping to head off the inevitable explosion. You get within ear-shot in time to catch the tail-end of the conversation.

"...I'm just trying to get a handle on how you and your party got caught up in this mess Lady Cencin."

Aflia snorts. "Look, I already told you."

"Pure happenstance? I don't believe in coincidences."

You cut in. "Neither do I. Care to explain what's going on mr...?"

"Elfyr. Out of Althiem on official business, scouting ahead before the Heavies show up to reclaim the princesses. Imagine my surprise when I show up to find a warehouse burnt to the ground, the one known suspect dead, the princesses rescued, and no answer in sight."

"You and me both then." You turn to Aflia. "Go on and make your selections, Talae and Little Bird should be by the fitting rooms. I'll be here."

Elfyr cocks one elegant eyebrow at this, but switches his gaze to you as Aflia bows out of the conversation. Polite Interrogation more like. "You have any more answers than Lady Cencin?"

You roll your shoulders. "Perhaps we both have pieces to a bigger puzzle. We hit that warehouse because the Sirens, a local gang of kidnappers, were using it and had tried to make a grab at Aflia the day before."

Elfyr frowns, "so you had no Idea that the Princesses were there?"

You shake your head. "None. We did turn up at least one disturbing link though."

"Oh?"

"The Ironbark Band got wiped out about a week ago by a bunch of scaled snakey bastards. A snake-headed man was leading the Sirens in the warehouse."

Elfyr's jaw hits the floor. "Back up a step or three. Ironbark got wiped out?"

You nod. "Ambush. Hit from both sides of the roadway while strung out in marching order."

Elfyr's face grows pale. "Just like the Princess' guards. Same MO, same snake-motif."

"Same cult."

Elfry's eyes narrow. "What makes you say that?"

"The Sirens are mostly humans, led by snakes. Haven't had a chance to examine the bodies, but Snake-head had a serpent brand or tattoo on his chest in addition to the scales. Add in a tip-off from a higher power that foul things are afoot, and this whole mess stinks of a large and well-organized cult."

Elfyr looks at you suspiciously. "What higher power would that be?"

You shrug, seeing the girls emerge from the back of Elci's with clothing in hand. "Never got a name, only a damn good reason to believe the tip-off is real." You turn to head to the front counter and complete your purchases. Casually, you toss over your shoulder, "I was at the far left of the front rank in that column, and took an arrow to the head. Whoever it was, I'm still here to find out who hit Ironbark to get me."

You watch as the girls lay out their purchases. Talae has her golden dress, slippers, and robe, plus the sturdy set of boots, socks, dark green trousers, grey shirt, and leaf-green cloak. Little Bird has a lightweight cream silk shirt, already modified for her wings, and a matching set of sturdy pants, cut off at the knee. Aflia has a pair of dresses, one black and one white. There is also a set of three packages, already folded away neatly, apparently paid for. wonder what's in those? You add your boots, pants, silk tunic, and heavy cloak to the pile, then eye the total Ecli is running up on a piece of paper. Well, it is all of good quality, but youch! The bill comes to one hundred and five gold, which you steadily count out until Elci is satisfied.

You lead the party back to the guild house in the gathering twilight. It had been a long day, and you know Elfyr is going to be asking more questions. You spotted him heading for the waterfront when you left Elci's but lost track of him. After a hearty dinner, you head back up to your room and fall into bed. Things are getting a lot more complicated. The Bad Moons are restless and growing more bold, Agents of Athiem are poking about with heavy support incoming, the Sirens are pulling a vanishing act, that shadow cloak appearing out of nowhere, and I haven't heard from Riben as to how the town guard is taking all of this. You sigh heavily, and fall asleep.

Status Report:

Money: 5 Gold coins

Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations

Equipment: in good condition

The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings

Total Deaths: 1