Free Ride

The dark haired man reminded Taryn of a scarecrow with its innards pecked away. He stood tall enough to look Gruk in the eye, but carried less than half of Gruk's mass and his fashionable attire bore signs of serious warfare with the pavement. A strong bouquet of honey mead clung to him like marinade.

Gruk had supposedly seen him stagger out of a local drinking establishment while she was 'shopping' at the church. The poor guy got waylaid by cutpurses who'd also been watching from a nearby alley. According to him, they rifled through the man's pockets and rolled him around to knock free any loose valuables. Gruk took pity and waded into the fray, raining down a hail of fists that sent the baddies scrambling.

That was the story at least.

Taryn saw the last bits from a couple blocks away, so that much she could verify, but her partner in crime was overplaying the 'good guy' bit. She knew a 'wolf scattering the coyotes' gambit when she saw one.

"Dear heavens, my fair man, you've taken quite a spill."

Bloodshot eyes peered at her through disheveled hair for several seconds. Street light reflected off a tiny silver globe pinned to the victim's collar. Below the globe, almost too tiny to see, a series of numbers signified the drunk's official commission from the country of Eldevard. The man was a Geo mage, the fae realms equivalent to a taxi driver.

She smiled at Gruk. "You should be commended, kind sir. This man owes you his life."

"Any time," Gruk grunted.

Her attention shifted back to the victim. "Are you alright?"

Silence lengthened and, right when it appeared as though shock had addled the poor fellow, he nodded slowly; like his vertebrae needed oil. "I'm fine. Thank you. Thossse charlatans were..., um. Bad to me."

"Oh, indeed they were," she nodded. "Gods on a stick, where are the city guards when you need them?"

Gruk made a drinking motion.

She ignored him. "You are most fortunate that my body guard was here. Can you imagine how things might have turned out otherwise? Look at you. Dear dear dear. You're such a mess. Want me to clean you up? I've got a spell..."

The man waved her off. "No, thanks. My wife would kill me if I let someone else tidy me up."

No two cleaning spells were the same--each as unique as the caster's hand-written signature. A man coming home after a late night, freshly 'cleaned' by another woman, would have a lot of uncomfortable questions to answer.

Taryn knew this, of course. "I understand."

She watched Gruk pick something up off the ground and stick it into his pocket. "It pains me to ask, but... would you be a kind heart and grant us a boon? We need to get somewhere rather quickly and haven't the money to pay."

The geo mage smiled. "Most sssss... certainly. It's the least I could do."

Gruk picked another object up.

Taryn slowly brushed aside a wayward lock of auburn hair, making sure the geo mage's attention stayed on her hazel eyes. "Many thanks, sir. This means more than you can imagine. Have you a waypoint near the town of Seclusion, perchance?"

The mage rubbed the point of his left ear, which had a small scab forming. His attention caused the scratch to start seeping. He looked at his fingertip for a couple seconds and then wiped blood off on his shirt. "Mayhap... close. I've a solid one in the foothills south of the bog. Five milessss, give or take."

"Nothing closer?" She asked with a teasing tone. An experienced geo mage should have waypoints carpeting the country.

He waggled a finger, losing focus for a moment. "Din't say that, dearie. In case you haven't noticed, I'm inebriated. Were I um... better oriented, I might be able to drop you right at the docks. But, I might drop you in the water instead. The turtles in that swamp are big... eat a man whole. Seen it happen."

"Sobering spells are quite simple," she told him. "I could fix you up in a blink."

His eyes went wide. "Oh dear. Please don't. I know this other waypoint very well."

"Really?"

Gruk found a couple more coins and pocketed them.

The drunk nodded again, oblivious to the larceny behind him. "It's an old vineyard. I go there at least once a week. Good wine, especially their sweet reds. Did you know the family has run the business since 13334? My brother--"

She waved the drunk down. "No need to give me the whole history."

The man was a hardcore alcoholic and would talk her ears off to avoid wasting a good session with the bottle.  He'd probably been in this situation before. Many times.

"Sorry. That was rude." She memorized his commission number. "I respect your honestly sir, truly."

The geo mage belched. "Thankssss. Um, ready?"

Gruk grabbed another coin.

"Yes," Taryn said to the geo mage, and then gave Gruk a telepathic poke. Stars and sand, Gruk. Leave the poor slob something.

He grabbed another coin before she could react. "Me ready too, boss woman."

If we end up in the water, I'm going to--

A blink later, they stood outside the door of a winery.

--turn your clothes into chum.

Dry.

Unharmed.

Towering oaks ringed a building with weather-bleached wood siding. Moonlight reflected off a hand-carved sign in front, upon which flowing elvish script proclaimed "You stand before the historic Mistwood Glen Winery, established DR 12954." That made the place roughly 500 years old. By appearances, the building probably wouldn't last much longer. It fit perfectly with her impression of the geo mage.

...who gave her and Gruk a wobbly wave and disappeared.

Taryn whispered. "Nice place."

Gruk looked around. "Right."

Rows of grape vine sprawled haphazard across a gently sloping hill, as if the owner had been under a divine compulsion to avoid symmetry. Not one row paralleled another. Prairie grass spouted here and there, taking over in higher concentrations further from the winery.

The prairie descended the foothills into Mubjub's Bog, where dense forest blocked most of the bog from view, allowing the moonlight to reflect off the water in only a few spots. Near the center of the forest, tendrils of smoke rose through the leafy canopy--hearth fires from the cluster of platform homes known as Seclusion. They couldn't have picked a more off-the-path setting to hide out.

They had at least an hour of brisk walking before they reached the water's edge and hopefully there'd be a boat for hire once they got there - with another person to fleece.

She whispered. "How much did you get, by the way?"

"Seven or eight silvers. A couple crowns."

"Pretty good."

"Would have doubled that if you didn't jab me in brain."

"Oh please. The man didn't have much money."

"Me not see you volunteer to pay. 'Oh please, mister kind heart, blink blink, give us freebie.'"

She laughed. "Yeah, well, cheap lesson for him."

"Meh. His kind never learn. His money better spent on my beer."

"True that."