Nothing to show for a long day on the streets. Perhaps he no longer had the heart to take the things that would mean his survival. Such an abnormal occurance for his conscience to get in the way of his job.

Then there was also the letter. Tsuko was expecting him to show up at the wedding. He had to plan. With a wedding like this, everyone noble figurehead in Olencia was bound to be there. That meant spies dressed as caterers or maids (so cliche, be someone different for once). It might even mean assassins to try and foil the succession of House Marlas.

He owed Tsuko for being so kind to him. How could he protect Tsuko and everyone else in his family without being conspicuous? He needed time to plan but the wedding was in less than a month. Planning took months if not years. He would have to do his best.

He walked into the Pony. Better not get inebriated if he wanted to remain in higher thought about the wedding. The winds were changing in Olencia. With the king dying and no successor, a long House war was brewing. And the king would need to send an emissary to the wedding. Who would he trust?

He sat down at a table and a waitress came to him.

"What would you like, dear?"

"Tea. Wormwood if you have it."

"Sorry, too rare. Haven't got a new shipment of that in months and the old one ran out a couple of weeks ago. No arrowroot either."

"Very well. Bring me the darkest tea you have."

"Right away."

As the maid left the Pony's door opened. An elderly lady with silvery hair in magnificent black leather armor adorned with patterns of leaves, vines, and flowers. Her hair shone like moonlight and Blyth was filled with a sense of awe just seeing the woman. To his utmost surprise, she took the seat directly across from him.

"Blyth Snowstar, are you not?"

How could she have known his name? He hadn't been drunk for a while and didn't forget telling his name with ease. Who was this women?

"Yes, my name's Blyth," he whispered. "I would appreciate if you called me Gael, though. Who are you?"

((OOC: No big deal, but there was just a bit of godmodding in there. I don't have a problem with that because that was a very Iffalna thing to do, but others might take issue with it if you make their characters do stuff, even things as simple as saying hi and sitting down.))

"You go by Gael, then?" Iffalna frowned. "Now look, What's-your-name, I have no patience for pseudonyms, so you need to pick a name and stick with it with me. I'm too old to remember new names once I have old ones firmly attached to their bearer. I'm almost too old to attach old names in the first place. I could call you 'What's-your-name' in public and you could just pass me off as your crazy old aunt from the Barrier, but I knew Withertounge and I know you. You're Blyth, plain and simple, and I didn't approve of Withertounge keeping you as an apprentice outside the order but he was a friend of mine when I'd needed him, and he needed me after, so I didn't turn him over for keeping you. Though perhaps I'd have better, you're not exactly well-trained, are you?" Indeed, Iffalna was very slightly afraid he'd lose control this instant and kill everyone. Once she'd investigated the sense of rouge magic in Olencia she'd felt as though she'd stumbled upon a spell with a delayed trigger, waiting for its' maker to set it off. She wasn't sure what the trigger was on Blyth, and she doubted Withertounge had taught him well enough to keep him from accidently setting it off. She was glad he'd come to the Pony so she could delay him until he consented to training. If need be, Iffalna was prepared to tie him up, throw a bag over his head, and magically hurl him toward the Keep.

"You're old to apprentice, but you need it. You know you can't control you magic, don't you?" Remembering Withertonge's love of strong, dark teas, Iffalna added, "You know, the Pony's stash of tea isn't what I'd thought it would be, especially considering that Penril knows better. Do you want to come up to my room? I think I have arrowroot on me, though I honestly can't understand Withertounge's love of wormwood. Tastes bitter to me, give me a cup of white tea any day." Iffalna stood and impatiently gestured to Blyth. "Well, come on. I haven't got all day, and there's free tea in it for you. We can't discuss what I want to discuss in the Pony's common room."

"Well, come on. I haven't got all day, and there's free tea in it for you. We can't discuss what I want to discuss in the Pony's common room."

Who was she? Impatient, to be sure, but so was he when things needed getting done. He liked her. She knew about Withertongue. How in the world did she know about him? It had been a while since he last thought about his mentor. His death had been pointless.

What did she mean by not well trained? He was one of the best assassins in all of Olencia. He kept in perfect form. There could be no doubt to his training. Unless... magic? How would she know about that unless she were a Slayer.

She seemed so congenial but he better be careful. A loose tongue and an admittance to magic could get him bound to the Slayers forever. She must be one. She had mentioned both apprenticeship and an order.

Although he knew that one slip of the tongue might get him killed or worse, Blyth followed the woman against his better judgement. He was interested, to say the least.

Becoming a Slayer would help him, not only with magic but maybe to also gain a purpose. And he was interested about learning of her relationship toward Withertongue.

"You may call me Blyth, but I will still pretend you are my crazy aunt. I need to keep that name as safe as possible because my life is most certainly one of subterfuge. I think you are to be trusted, though I can't say why. And how in the world did you get arrowroot?"

"Blyth? Good, I'm glad you decided quickly!" Iffalna chirped. So this one was going to listen to reason, perhaps. "Arrowroot I have from my greenhouse, though I'll be drinking some rose tea, thank you." She lead him up the stairs, and opened the door to her room. "And if you must be secretive, I can ward the room when we get in. Do tell, what line of work are you in, exactly? I really shouldn't have let Wormtongue train you, he probably didn't provide for you to progress...Reputably in this life. How have you been, since he died?"

"And if you must be secretive, I can ward the room when we get in. Do tell, what line of work are you in, exactly? I really shouldn't have let Wormtongue train you, he probably didn't provide for you to progress...Reputably in this life. How have you been, since he died?"

Wow. This woman was blunt. How had he been since Withertongue died? It had been a living hell. And perhaps his living wasn't so 'reputable' but for certain, he tried to make the best of his circumstance. This was the best money and she would have to live with that.

"My line of work is not something I am proud of." Blyth replied, lowering his voice. "I do it because it makes money so I can live and add to my collection. I don't know what word you would use for my 'exploits'. I've killed men, I've tortured men, I've stolen and lied my way to the top of the business. Basically, I do dirty work. If someone needs something done and it pays, I do it no questions asked. I probably should leave out the major details of my past work. Out of concern for your well-being of course.

I am not proud of the things I have had to do. But I will not, cannot repent for my actions. Each of them was absolutely necessary. And I don't think I will change my life. I have grown much too accustomed to the ways of living that I have practiced. Don't judge me. In my situation you would have done something similar. Or maybe you wouldn't have. Perhaps morality would have stood in the way of necessity.

But let us not talk of the things I have done. You have a greenhouse? What do you grow? Teas, obviously, and I would suppose flowers too. Is this greenhouse your job or do you take some other occupation? I want to hear more about you."

An assassin, then? Well, Iffalna had run into worse elements, and Blyth didn't seem to do it because he enjoyed it. At least he claimed he wasn't proud, and that meant he was either looking for a way out, despite what he said about being accustomed to his lifestyle, or smart enough to pretend he was. Wormtounge didn't pick them stupid, that was for sure.

"Oh, goodness, I'm very back to front today, aren't I?" Iffalna asked, shutting the door and stuffing the cracks with magic. There weren't listening devices in her room at least, and the only danger came from people listening at keyholes. A very small part of her was glad Penril kept the Pony, it meant there was a place for Slayers to go to conduct business without any worry of being evesdropped on or ambushed or bothered by magic-fearing folk who didn't know that if not for the Slayers all of Olencia would be overrun by Undead and Wurms. She filed that idea away for later, perhaps they could send some of the younger, more adventerous, independent Slayers into major cities to start and manage such establishments as sort of outposts for the Order...But she was getting ahead of herself. She had an ticking-time-spell asassin to apprentice, and by hook or by crook, she was going to.

"I warded the door just now, no one can listen at the door to hear anything. We can speak freely." She glanced at the fireplace and manipulated the magic in the air to cause enough friction to make a spark. It caught, slowly setting the wood afire and heating the teapot. "As I'm sure a bright young thing such as you can tell, I'm a magic user. Master Slayer, in fact, the Head Herbologist, but that doesn't tell you who I am, does it? I'm Iffalna Briarose, I was a friend of Wormtounge, and he wasn't an easy friend to have, but neither was I. Somehow we were both the right sort of prickly to get along well enough, and he was a friend to me when I was young and stupid and shunned by the Slayer Order by what they viewed as me cheating my way into the title of "Master", and I was a friend to him when he ran off sulking after Penril emerged as the leader in the running for Ablest."

Iffalna rubbed her left arm uncomfortably with her right hand, and looked away from Blyth. "What I didn't tell him, in the interest of being a good friend, was that I doubt he was ever really in the running. His morals were shaky, and his means certainly weren't sound, as evidenced by him keeping you as an apprentice for his own gain." It was hard for Iffalna to admit that. After he'd left the Keep, Wormtounge hadn't been the same man she'd befriended in her youth. A younger, less bitter man would have turned the boy over to the Slayers for training, regardless of his own plans and complusions to keep him and train him himself. But that was past, and Blyth was still here, and she had tea to make. So Iffalna got out her tea bags and some teacups, and set them on the counter.

Thinking aloud, Iffalna added, "I don't know why I brought arrowroot, normally I don't carry it. I keep it in my greenhouse for old time's sake and because it may have some medicinal value, but I leave that research to the medical folk and just use what they learn. I have a greenhouse at the Keep, a nice one, even. I research plants, when I'm not running the place in Penril's absence, and I manage crop production, which means I get a chance to scare all the apprentices and make them obedient to me."

She paused, choosing her words. "But it's normally not my place to approach people to get them to apprentice. It's not a choice, really, you need to be apprenticed if you don't want to kill yourself with your own magic. Do you need me to outline the ways you could? Your magic could just go rogue and kill you itself, probably at an inconvenient time; you could access it accidently and tap your own stores flat, killing you that way; you could channel beyond your ability and kill yourself that way--May I add that's not a fun way to die, I very nearly did that back in my younger days, and that was even after I was a Master-- and all sorts of other nasty things. And then there's the whole issue of you coming back as an Undead, and I really don't want to have to send someone to fight an ex-assassin Undead.

"So, from my perspective, you have two choices: You can apprentice, or you can apprentice. Do you catch my drift, Blyth?" The teapot started to boil and Iffalna grabbed it with a potholder, poured it over the teabags, replaced it, and turned back to Blyth. "Sugar and milk, either, or neither?"

"Neither, thank you. That stuff ruins the flavor. I enjoy the bitterness because it let's me know that I'm not the only one. I will take the latter choice, apprenticing. The first, apprenticing, seems to have a nasty ring toward it. I know what magic will do. I know it's risky, so you can spare me the speech."

This woman was more than he could handle. No subtleties. Fine, he would play her game. At the least, they would get along better that way. She knew his loss. She had been through similar circumstances, and even if she hadn't, age had given her a peek into his dark world.

"Now, down to the real business. Who will I be apprenticed under? What will I be learning? And you need to know about my magic. It is, well, bound. I can't do magic without a dagger in my hand. I used to be able to, before his death, but afterwards I developed a dependency on them for channeling energy. Perhaps, I could do it if I really tried, but it would be much weaker than if I had a dagger. I think it poses less of a risk to me. All the same, I've ruined good daggers by channeling through them. I try to use magic as little as possible, especially when my daggers will suit the purpose. Oh and by the way, I prefer the term free agent over assassin. Even people in my line of business are scared of that term."

It was true. Many of the thieves and cutthroats that he had met were scared of an assassin. They didn't operate by the same rules. Killing was an unfortunate byproduct of business for thieves and cutthroats but for assassins, killing was business. He had walked both sides of that very thin line. Besides, if she adressed him in public she would need some occupational name that wouldn't get him arrested by the guard (not that any of the guard could get there hands on him, not anymore).

"I'll also have you know that even if I am to take care of plants, my business is my business. That will have to be the one term of my apprenticeship. I shall be able to leave if necessary, to take care of 'details'. There are still people looking for me, even if the Slayers have been removed from that list. Oh! That brings me to two last points. Is the Penril you speak of the owner of this establishment? And, how would you like to attend a wedding?"

Well, good for Blyth, he was choosing the second option, and Iffalna could breathe again. And he had maintained a sense of humor throughout his doubtless difficult life. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Iffalna tackled the most manageable question first, as she handed Blyth the tea. "Penril? Oh, yes, he's Ablest. That tattoo? Ablest's mark. I don't know what twaddle he gave the rest of the world about it, but it's not some silly tattoo given to him by a tribe of cannibal elves or whatever." She thought about the next-most-manageable question, and spoke tentatively. "You'll most likely be my apprentice. I've never had one before, but then, you've never been apprenticed before, so we'll just have to have patience with one another. I'm a powerful Slayer, and I'm good with experimental magic, so we should be able to work around the dagger thing. I've never run into it before, but it's a bit of a ride between here and the Keep, and a fair bit of it is unpopulated, so we can do some experimenting." She took a sip of her tea and thought for a moment longer. "In fact, I'm fairly sure that's what will happen. The only person who could object is Penril, and I'm fairly sure he won't. He'll listen to me if I want to take you on." What she didn't say was it wouldn't be a huge loss to the Order if she got blown up or something. She was already old for a Slayer. The Order had gotten plenty of good years out of her, and if she was killed by a rouge apprentice....Well, then. People would miss her, but better crazy old Iffalna than the Ablest.

Then it hit her. "You can channel already?" She asked, half appalled, half pleased. Why hadn't they SENSED that? More optimistically, she carried on, "Well, Blyth, that's half the battle. You're only a few years from Master if you can channel! It took me until I was 22, and that was with Gemma prodding me all the time. Of course, it'll be more dangerous and you probably have some bad habits we'll have to undo, but we can deal with that when we run into it." It's a wonder he hasn't blown himself up already, Iffalna reflected to herself, But he hasn't. And that's good. If anyone can survive the Dragonlands, it's an ex-assassin...Er, "free agent". Speaking of which...

"As to you keeping your line of work...Well. If you have to do it for a living, then there's no need, the Order will provide for you for the rest of your life, apprenticeship included. Are you engaged in jobs now? You'll have to tell me. Perhaps you can break them off? I have money, we can pay back whatever fee you've been given.

"And about the wedding; I love weddings, to tell you the truth, but I've never been to an assa..." She caught herself, "Free agent's wedding. I've mostly been to the Farming-town's-Mayor's-daughter's-wedding-sort of wedding. They were good fun, I particularly enjoyed the dancing. I'll be your crazy old aunt, I suppose, so you can brush off me calling you 'Blyth'." Iffalna smiled devilishly. "I'll have to find something to wear...But yes. I'd like to go. Who is getting married? And would they want a miniature tree symbolizing fertility, or would they want it to symbolize something less traditional?"

Wow. Pen, Penril, or whatever he was to be called was Ablest. He had always detected some dishonesty in the story of the tattoo but he had passed it off as his own suspicions, created by the influence of his life. Before they talked about that, though, he had to set her thinking about him straight.

"First let me make the point that my business is not optional. Doing it for as long as I have, I won't be safe anywhere, even with the Slayer's. But perhaps I underestimate your magic. Perhaps it will do things that I cannot even imagine. But then again, magic is not the only way to kill, I know of many others. And there are other killers looking for me.

Second, the wedding is not one of a free agent. If I took you to one of those, rare as they are, either you, I, or someone else would end up dead. Actually, it is a double wedding. You see, it will preserve the line of Marlas. I happen to know the current High Seat, although I have not met his nephew, the replacement. There is a lot of political drama waiting to happen if either of them dies. I intend to be there to make sure that doesn't happen.

Lately, the houses have been stirring. In my personal opinion, Marlas is the most noble, while Calandae and Ghayth are becoming more brutal. I have "aquaintances" going over to those lands monthly, if not weekly. I have heard talk of the king being a little more than distressed if you know what I mean, and I know for a fact, that he has not current heir. There are some rumors floating around, though, and some say that they have found an heir right here in Olencia.

If anything is to happen, if a war is to break out or if one of the Houses is to become unstable, it will happen at the wedding. Your magic will be very much in need there if violence erupts. I know that shadowy characters from around Olencia plan to be there. Thieves and spies for certain. I've even heard of a few free agents who may or may not be there. All I can say is that we will have to be careful and keep a wary eye on the caterers.

You probably wish to know how I know the High Seat. It is a long story but it winds down to me impersonating a noble and then becoming good friends with him, He knows my identity, but I will be attending the wedding as a Mister Alarion Quint. You may be my aunt and choose whatever name you wish.

Now that all that is settled, we can continue our conversation as pertaining to the Slayer Order. But first, I wish to show you my humble abode. You may find your wedding clothes there, if your lucky and you look hard enough."

With that he rose, setting the drained tea cup down. He left the room without looking back, knowing that even if she didn't follow then, she would be able to find him later. As he walked through the tavern, he saw a lady with bright red hair and he felt a pang as he was reminded of Oriana. He left quickly and returned to Narrow Way, the place of his humble abode. He told his housemate and watchman, Trundell, who lived on the first floor, to cancel his appointment indefinately and to only bother him if a woman approached and asked for him.

((I'll let you describe the abode, as Blyth would not think about his own home. If you don't know where to start, read my bio for some clues. PM me if you need any help. Also, I might be absent for a day or two but I will try to get on if I can.))

((OOC: Okay, Blyth, I propose we wrap this one up in one or two posts each and get out and to the Keep before the city falls. Then Iffalna can be there for the meeting, Blyth can have a quick look-see at the Keep.))

Iffalna rushed to keep up with much bigger and younger (and spryer) Blyth as he rushed through the city. She'd have to establish that running off like that was not good, but...Oh, my, they were getting into some not-so-reputable spots of the city, and she'd have to watch herself! Iffalna prickled, she couldn't fight hand-to-hand (or knife-to-knife, or sword-to-sword) to save her life, and she wasn't a horribly intimidating sight. To the contrary, really. She rushed closer to her new apprentice, and but ended up being a block behind him, hardly able to see which building he went into.

But she did see, and she did follow, and she walked to the second floor of a barely livable dwelling on Narrow Way and found Blyth in a spartan room with a gigantic wardrobe.

"Gracious, child, you'll be my death!" She panted, wiping her brow. "And you have more clothes than I've ever owned in my long life! Assuming there are only clothes in there. And if there aren't, don't bother telling me, I'd REALLY rather not know. About that political drama you were talking about before you ran my old lady's legs off...Yes, you're right. There's a lot going on in Olencia right now, and there is a meeting at the Keep soon to discuss it. We need to head back, I run the Keep, and I'll be putting the blasted meeting together. I'm your Master now, and even if parts of your business aren't optional, you need to try to follow me to the very best of your ability, and you MUST tell me when you're going to leave. So unless you have pressing matters elsewhere, I suggest you come back with me to get a quick look at the Slayer Order before a disaster breaks out and we need to leave again."

She surveyed his room. "Do you have a horse and wagon? I'm sure whatever you've got is absolutely neccessary, and I'm willing to transport it, it's just that I'll need to purchase both quickly before we ride out to the Keep. I was planning the ride back to be leisurely so we could stop in Marlas Plains and experiment with your magic without bothering anyone but a few Wild Horses, but I'm afraid that won't work, now that I think about it."

She looked at her new charge. He was an abrupt, independent thing, wasn't he? Rather like his old Master...if Withertongue could be called that. She'd train him right, look after him, even. Even if he didn't want to be trained and looked after. It was the least she could do, and if everyone's luck held, they'd be adding Blyth to the ranks of Master in a year or two. She smiled a bit to herself. She'd be bringing someone VERY interesting to gossip about after the meeting, wouldn't she?

He had felt her following him through the busy streets. She was old, but quick to be sure. It was exciting to see her carry herself. Even her gait was demanding and authoritative. She was not very careful, though. Two thieves had been thinking about lightening her purse. They were now lying in alleys, knocked out cold.

"Gracious, child, you'll be my death! And you have more clothes than I've ever owned in my long life! Assuming there are only clothes in there. And if there aren't, don't bother telling me, I'd REALLY rather not know. About that political drama you were talking about before you ran my old lady's legs off...Yes, you're right. There's a lot going on in Olencia right now, and there is a meeting at the Keep soon to discuss it. We need to head back, I run the Keep, and I'll be putting the blasted meeting together. I'm your Master now, and even if parts of your business aren't optional, you need to try to follow me to the very best of your ability, and you MUST tell me when you're going to leave. So unless you have pressing matters elsewhere, I suggest you come back with me to get a quick look at the Slayer Order before a disaster breaks out and we need to leave again."

Oh she was so worrisome. He had to straighten his affairs though. And protect the ones he cared about from his retirement. People would be after him, even if they weren't before. Retirement was the beginning of the game. He especially had to protect her because she was not skilled enough in the shadowy ways he had learned to love.

"Do you have a horse and wagon? I'm sure whatever you've got is absolutely neccessary, and I'm willing to transport it, it's just that I'll need to purchase both quickly before we ride out to the Keep. I was planning the ride back to be leisurely so we could stop in Marlas Plains and experiment with your magic without bothering anyone but a few Wild Horses, but I'm afraid that won't work, now that I think about it."

She thought he would take it with him. No, Trundell could take care of the things and the house while he was gone.

"I will not be taking anything. Pick a dress out for the wedding. I think I should have a few that would fit you. They are in the basement, second rack on the right. You will have to go ahead of me to the Keep. Write directions to the Keep down. I'll find my way. I need a couple of days to tie up my affairs, but then I should be done for as long as possible. I intend to give this thing my full effort. Trundell will help you find jewlery if you need it."

With those short words, he left. He had faith in her. She could find her own way home.