The Heart of the Matter

Devlin took a small step towards the old halfling. He raised the Staff of Gorlband towards Lord Popora, his other hand touching his chest -- a typical salute of war wizards in the Sharn army.

"Lord Boromar," Devlin greeted with a low, respectful tone.

The old halfling shifted his weight on the mat. "This is not the barracks," Lord Popora replied, signaling one of his servants. "Spare me the formalities, wizard."

Devlin grinned. "I try to be courteous to all my clients, and would-be clients."

One of the elves knelt to the halfling's side, pouring him a goblet of wine, her painted face looking as if some spirit hovering over the old halfling lord. Lord Boromar stared at the half elf and his companions, examining them closely like a lion sizing up his prey.

"I was expecting one wizard," Lord Popora said as he took the goblet. "Who are these other people?"

Before Devlin could explain, Vago quickly answered his master. "These are the wizard Devlin d’ Lyrandar’s compatriots. The elf is Rothaide Lareine, a priestess of the hearth mother. While the human is his bodyguard, Gian."

The patriarch of the Boromar clan muttered something that sounded like a curse. "I asked for one wizard and you brought me a circus show?" This elicited a burst of laughter from the shifters and halflings on the other mat.

Devlin thought the old halfling would throw his goblet at Vago and punish him for disobeying his orders. But Lord Popora quickly regained his composure.

"You can't get good help these days," the old halfling muttered as he shook his head. "Let's just talk business." He then signaled the group to sit on the mats in the center of the room.

As the visitors took their seats, two of the female Aerenal elves gracefully walked towards them. They offered Devlin and Gian goblets of the halfling drink, Tal. One of the elves handed a goblet to Rothaide, but the priestess shook her head and muttered something in elvish. The elf servant's face turned red, as if she was being castigated by an disapproving parent.

Suddenly the door behind them burst open and a burly shifter walked into the room. He was carrying a barrel of ale under each of his arms. He quickly headed to the company of shifters on the right.

As Devlin and Gian sipped their Tal, the old Boromar began to speak. “The city of Regalport in the Lhazaar Principalities is beset by a deadly disease and has been quarantined by the Lyrandar Dragonmark House. No one gets in or out of the city without their permission. I have business interests on Regalport. I know you deal with delivering spell components for your wizard’s guilds. I want you to deliver a load of House Jorasco spice to help the people on that city. Are you willing to do this for me?”

Watching Devlin mulling the idea over, the halfling lord took that as a sort of acceptance and continues.

“Of course,” Popora said, “Were it something as simple as delivering spice, I would hire any tug captain to do it. There is another matter at Regalport I need addressed.

“I have two children. Zonnos here is my eldest.” He motioned towards the other halfling seated on the right. The young Boromar lord gave a loud belch as the shifters hoot.

“My youngest child, Mika, is on Regalport on clan business. Since the quarantine was imposed and the blockade put in place, there has been no word from her. The Dragonmarked House has been less forthcoming with information, and it is not interested in the problems of a concerned parent. I want you to head to Regalport and find Mika. She is young . . . and impulsive. I worry for her well-being. Can I trust you to this delicate matter?”