A Black, Sealed Envelope

by Romula Romanta

“Can I come in?” The young lady asks smiling timidly at Baresh.

“Of course you can… Just leave the mule there… tie to that post and we will be able to watch over it from the inside.” Baresh points at a post and goes back in, behind the bar, to wait for the new client.

Baresh sees the Rakash Lady enter, look around, and noticing the Chalkboard by the Wall, stride directly to it, read and reared some of the messages, as if looking for different meanings, finally she takes a chalk piece and writes a couple of lines with it. She then turn around to Baresh, a glimpse of resolution in her one silver eye, and… strangely, one of fatalism on her Grey eye. A trick of the light Baresh tells himself as the young trader comes towards the bar.

“Do you have Coffee?” she asks timidly.

“Well… at this time, I still have some of mine…, but, I will share some of it with a young Colleague like yourself.

The Rakash’s ebon features change with a smile. Flipping her blue-black long hair to the side she says “I don’t like ale…”

“Do not worry…” Baresh serves her half a glass of a strong coffee with a thumb of salt, as he learned to drink it with sailors. “My name is Baresh, at your service.”

The Rakash trader looks up, smiles and raises a swollen hand towards toward Baresh. Baresh gently holds the hand and the lady says in a deep yet feminine voice:

“I am Romula Romanta.” Baresh can feel that Romula tries to convey trust in her handshake, but the injuries to it make the handshake less than enthusiastic.

“Those Silverfish around our crossing Guild…” Romula lower her hand and grabs her coffee with the lest one. She takes a sip, her eyes roll (Should have warned her about the pinch of salt think Baresh to himself) and then finish it up, in one gulp… the way one is supposed to go through Cutpurse Alley…

“I hope you don’t mind my having used your chalkboard…” Baresh shakes his head and Romula stops herself.

“As long as it is in good taste, necessary… or sufficiently veiled… The Chalkboard is open to all.” Baresh smiles at the tall Ebon figure as he finishes his own coffee.

“And what brings you to Crossings, you look rather young you know. Crossing can be a cruel place.” Baresh smiles at Romula, trying to establish the bonds with this you trader.

“Well, I was raised by my father, who was barely able to give me some education and training in the things of the word. We lived from the meager savings of a retired circus animal keeper. That is what my father had been until he ran into some kind of trouble with someone at the circus, and having no permission to stay or anything, this was even before the our people’s migration, he decided to put distance between those persons and himself. My mother died shortly after I was born. Thus that father was all for me.” The young woman opens sac, and Baresh can glimpse, among many tuff of grass, the glitter of a few silvers. Romula takes one and puts it on the bar.

“Your coffee made me thirsty… I guess I will have to buy a pint of ale…” She smiles and involuntarily shakes.

Baresh chooses one of the gentle ales and serves her a cold pint. Romula takes the glass, sniff at it and suddenly throws her head back and gulps half of the glass before Baresh can say Yak! Almost immediately Romula’s eyes water and growling belch escapes her lips.

“I still don’t understand how people can drink this things…” Romula says.

“My father died about a moon ago. I feared something was happening. His savings depleted, and his character getting weirder and weirder by the week…” Romula looks around. “About a year ago, in one of those slow yak caravans, I saw him sending a letter towards crossing. I was unable to see to whom it was addressed, except for a number 5 or maybe a letter S as the start of the address or the name of the person it was for. He always had bad handwriting my father…” Romula smiles absent, for a second of the here and the today.

About 3 months later, my father told me to get ready, we were coming to Crossing. I knew he had received an answer to that first letter. But just as we were maybe a day or two from Crossing… my father, who had gone out foraging wood for a fire stumbled back into the camp, a bolt firmly stuck to his back… his backpack missing… he lost consciousness… I started screaming and howling until a couple of Rangers came to us, they helped tend my fathers wounds… then a Trader’s caravan appear, he took my father and I to Dirge, where he was headed. We were installed at the Darkstone Inn. All night I watched over my father. Just as the day was starting… he asked me for ale…”

Romula looks at her own glass of ale. She valiantly raises it, throws her head back and guzzles the rest of it. Baresh was ready this time as that growl like belch escaped from her.

“I ran downstairs and got the ale back to my father. By the time I have got up my father was trying to sit. I gave him the ale, it was the first time I saw him drinking. He gulped it in one long succession of gulps. -I had promise never to touch that stuff again, till the end of my days… He confessed to me sheepishly. He then put a hand inside his shirt and took out a black sealed envelope. Some scratches appeared on it where the dark tint had apparently been chipped. Here… you must give this to, well Baresh, excuse me for not confiding the name to you, my father also told me this person was a dwarf, a barbarian and a member of the Stone Clan. Besides that, all I know, and care for, is that he will pay 2 plats for this. But it must be still sealed for it to be of any use to him. Beware of the shadows. And be happy… not only will you be making money, but you will be righting a wrong long past made. With this, he died.”

Romula inhales deeply. She slowly exhales emptying her lungs. Her glistening ebon skin tense. She looks at Baresh.

“A black sealed envelope. There is a testimony in it. Testimony recorded under oath before a Pack elder sworn to secrecy in exchange. When these testimonies are over 20 years old… they are presumed to be real. Time, the gods, chance or destiny is said to unsealed, destroy or loose those that contain lies. And I have this one… My father trusted this person… and look what happened to him. I would have destroyed this one long ago, except… my father wishes… and yes… 2 platinum Kronars sound like a good prize for helping right a wrong. We will see.”

Before Baresh can stop her, Romula gets up and leaves the Tavern. Baresh needed to tell her about a few things he knows too. But, rarely do people stop to listen him. They are always so contented with just having him listen to them…

Baresh walks over to the Chalkboard… various messages. One seems to him to be the one just written by Romula:

S.N.

A safe private place… close to a Trader outpost. We can make the exchange. Come alone, unarmed.

R.R.