A Late Supper - Chyril 22nd, ET

[Lir Calysta Markby]

As the trencher was passed towards Lir, she accepted politely and started to gobble her food down. This food is incredible. Nothing like that 'fish' broth.

There was talk of politics which the ship healer had listened to even as she ate. There were more names that were filled in by Skebihen and the next tidbit of information made her wonder what exactly Brann was thinking about.

"Money makes the world go round, does it not?" She grinned after she finished the food. "I had the honor of meeting Zhanna. A very knowledgeable woman and from my understanding a Grand Master of the healers' guild. I was wondering though and unfortunately did not have the opportunity to ask her myself, but do you know any of the other guildsman of the Healers' guild and where I might find them?"

[Grant]

"It is the Apothecaries' Guild, though they can be called the Healers' Guild or the Embalmers' Guild," replied Magholan. "I think they're more often known as the Society of Cirurgiens too, though I don't know from where that name comes. Anyway, no, I don't know of any other Guild Masters in that guild...though I suspect you might find other herbalists or healers in the city. None finer than Zhanna, though. I know she's the Grand Master of Cirurgiens right now, though I suspect she may step down what with her husband. She might even be the only Master artisan of that trade, though I suspect we have several Journeyers with franchise that could tell you more."

"Tell me...do either of you belong to a particular guild?" asked Dworkin. "I am a part of the Lexigraphers' Guild, though I found such a membership to be...merely a formality. Sahle is no doubt a member of the Bakers' Guild..." as if cued, the server nodded and pulled back a sleeve to display a trademark burned upon his flesh, a simple crescent moon within a circle. While a crescent might have seemed odd for a guild of bakers, what might have seemed more unusual was the grisly way in which the guild mark was fired into his forearm like some savage criminal mark. As if challenged, Skebihen clamped the chunk of bread he was eating between his teeth and turned up one of his own arms to reveal another trademark, though this one was tattooed properly. It took the form of a curved horn, a common symbol for harpers and heralds the world over.

"Some guilds are curious animals that fail consistency, but they still manage affairs well enough," murmured the old man. "For example, the Textilers' Guild includes hideworking here in Sabata, though I have not found the industries to be at all connected in other cities."

[Lir Calysta Markby]

Finishing off the rest of her food, she listened avidly as information was presented about the different guilds. The tattoos were a nice touch. "I had offered my services to joining the Cirurgien Guild, but according to Zhanna, it seems that the guild has met its limit of people they are willing to take on." Impossible to get rich while making an honest living? A random throught flitted across her mind.

"It seems that the only way to make some money currently is to be hired on by the Company as a guard, or becoming a slaver or slave." She commented nonchalantly, her violet eye glanced upon each at the table with her to see if she could catch their reactions but figured it was the truth. "Any other suggestions on how to be considered for an apprenticeship with a guild?" Besides killing off members of the guild to make more room...oh man, too morbid, even for you, Lir.

[Brann]

"No guild for me either," chimed in Brann, now just nursing his drink. He ogled the tattoos and then self-consciously laid his good hand upon his injured forearm. "I hope I haven't joined one inadvertently," he murmured, in reference to the seared knife wound.

"Having just arrived leaves me a little on the outside of such matters, of course," he explained. And then, in reference to Lir's report he added, "Are all the guilds so difficult to join? It would seem there is a very tight rein on such things, based on all I've heard around the table."

"And if it is so difficult, what's a body to do if the guilds turn him down? Is this Company Lir speak of the only option?"

[Grant]

"Hahahaha!" laughed Magholan, her face split into a smile. "You're asking me why is hard to find work in Sabata? Why is hard to find work anywhere? Sabata once had eight thousand, as much, within her. Today it is twelve thousand. Half again as many people in so little time. No, finding apprenticeship...or even just job...were once not so difficult, as no one came to Sabata to stay. But now?" Magholan spread her hands and shrugged. "So many refugees and ex-soldiers come after the War that jobs are now precious as gold. It has given more problems than just no work. Not all jobs need guild membership, if you look to the right place. The Tannery...the Vats...the Hemp Racks...the Almond Factory...even Glassworks all take simple labor straight out of the Rookeries. Once, this was well for both the rich and the poor alike, for there were so few workers to produce as much as foreign merchants could want. But now, souls are cheap and available, and they are paid poor. It has been said that the Jojoba Vats pay not five lance for week...and to keep even this work gives one to work long, long shifts. The unskilled laborers may not be slaves, but because of this, they are all but."

"But she is speaking of apprenticeship," replied Skebihen to Magholan. "Apprenticeships are far more personal. It isn't so much working as it is training." Turning back towards Lir and Brann, he explained. "An apprentice is expected to serve their master for yahren, learning their trade and assisting their Master. The Master is required to pay for the apprentice...to pay for their food, their clothing, their housing...most apprentices even live within the home of their Masters. This is a very...close association, as I'm sure you both know very well. A Master will not take on an apprentice lightly, even in the best of times...and these are not the best of times. But an apprenticeship is how you learn, not how you earn. To earn, you only need an employer...or a franchise to do business on your own. Of course, most employers will only consider a guild member for some positions...such as caravan healers or cooks. You see, the guilds don't employ people. They serve two important functions: To recognize the artisan craft a person might have, and to limit the number of independent places of business their Masters can open..."

"There are some guilds that allow you to purchase your apprenticeship regardless of local demand or familiarity, Skebihen," interrupted Dworkin. "The Red Rose Guild, for example. If you've the crowns to pay, they'll train you and keep you as an apprentice. And then there's guilds such as the...the Arcanists. One does not ask an Arcanist to join their Guild...such a thing would be absurd..."

"That's the local guild of magi," explained Skebihen quickly.

"...indeed. I once heard that in yahren past, the Arcanist Guild joined in Sabata for their annual guild meeting, and they did not like the new Guilds Hall, for it was on Beale Street in the heart of the city. So, they wove their magics and the building sprout legs and walked to it's current location, just beyond the Ergus Dome..."

"Bullshit! Such a myth..."

"It is true! One can see where the great legs once were even upon the Guilds Hall today!"

"Well...Dworkin does have a point. Different guilds could be approached in different ways to get training as an apprentice. As a healer, you will have trouble, for I suspect apprenticeships in the Cirurgiens can take far longer than most. Their skills are very difficult and specialized...and so they no doubt control their apprenticeships very carefully. The best way, tragically, is to get yourself noticed."

Magholan spoke next, her curious, natural accent coming out even more. "It is also true that...to make some money...is not best to go apprenticeship. Apprentice earns nothing but skill, and money comes only after Apprenticeship...when one is Journeyer. But is this not also true in all places?" she waved. "Can one be rich when one works for another? This is good question. I make no money until I get my shop, and this is three yahren to do. Three yahren I make no money, and serve Master," she trailed off, remembering her own apprenticeship so long ago. Her solution to the job prospect was not dissimilar to Lir's morbid thoughts, though perhaps far, far darker. She had seduced her way into her future Master's bed, learned despite his fraudulent, puppet "apprenticeship" that was meant only to keep her in his bed...and when she finally earned her Journeyer mark, she had seen to it that the man she had hated for so long met with a sudden, tragic accident. No one mourned for his passing, for he was known to be a horrible, evil man who took some pleasure in the torture of others. There were once rumors that the Guild had even bribed Magholan to arrange the matter in exchange for her own franchise.

"Madam, if you are already a healer...if you have already done an apprenticeship or learned the craft...you can always choose to stand before the guild for membership, you know," added Dworkin. "An apprenticeship is one thing...but earning wealth is a separate thing entirely, as the bard said. You see...I am a member of the Scriveners, but I have no franchise. This means that I cannot open my own place of business, so I must conduct my trade only on Market Day or in the Great Market. But if the Company needed another clerk, they would look very favorably upon me given my membership, as it proves my worth...and most of the local employers may choose to only hire guild members, as that stands as proof that they can perform their tasks properly."

Skebihen clarrified what Lir meant when she mentioned The Company. "The Company...that would be the Eastern Sands Company...is not a guild. They just employ people...people from many different guilds, as well as many people with no guild at all. The Company...the Vats...all those places Magholan mentioned...they hire people to fulfill a lot of different tasks. And some of those tasks don't require any membership at all. Of course, those are the jobs that are so scarce due to the immigration...and they hardly pay more than a slave...but you needn't have any recognized skill to earn a humble living."

[Lir Calysta Markby]

All the information presented was definitely interesting and were filed away for future use. To get myself noticed...noticed enough to get killed. Lir imagined there were pros and cons to being noticed but it would be an adventure to say the least.

"I'll keep my options open." A smile appeared and she glanced over at Brann to see what he thought of it all. Humble living? I didn't come to Sabata to stay a pauper. She thought to herself as she finished the last of her food, then asked with a sweet smile.

"I was wondering if all of you could give us some pointers on how to 'fit' into this new culture. I've also heard some words that I might have a general understanding what it could be but would also like to confirm it just so I am not inadvertantly insulting people." She grinned then as her violet eye sparkled with amusement. "Of course, no one's tried to punch me or outright kill me just yet so I believe it is probably a positive word."

She waited to see if her dinner companions were up for the task on Sabata education to also add her more refined questions.

[Grant]

"You'll just have to pay attention," advised Skebihen, waving at the question casually, "But don't try too hard. This is a city full of immigrants, so unless you intend to deal with the natives, you should be fine. As for me, I think I might slip out for home..." The massive bard rose up to his feet and deposited a few coins upon the table for the server. Magholan, seeing this, rose to her feet as well, recalled to herself and clearly curious just what mark it had become.

"If you're looking for something simple to tide you over, there's always the Waterkeepers," murmured Sahle. "They were asking about a few limited laborers to help them with a few well repairs recently. The pay is horrendous...I think they were offering the work for little more than meals...but it's something. The Waterkeepers are technically both guild and employer, contracted to maintain the city's water and sanitation. If you're interested in that, you could always check it out. I'm not sure where you would go for it, but..." the lovely man shrugged "...they've been sending out people to most public places recently. Do you both want anymore of this, or shall I seal it up for the eveningtide?"

[Lir Calysta Markby]

Skebihen's advice did not put Lir at ease but it was still sound advice. When Magholan and he decided to leave the table for home, she nodded. "Good evening tide to you both."

Finishing up her own meal, she grinned at Sahle. "Thank you for the news, sir and yes, I am done for the night." Her violet eye sought out Brann, "I can just check on your wound in the morning." Then she headed out with her packages to find a room to sleep in.

[Brann]

"No, I am fine as well," Brann replied to Sahle with a wave of his hand. "It was an excellent meal, thank you."

The dark-haired achadhiel bade farewell to the departing Magholan and Skebihen, rising politely as they left the table, before reseating himself and turning to Lir. "Tomorrow will be fine," agreed Brann with a nod. "The food seems to have taken my mind off the ache for the moment anyway, and I'd rather not disturb it."

After the violet-eyed healer had gone, Brann sat in thoughtful silence with his cup cradled in slender fingers. A handful of ideas careened around inside his head, ranging from the strange coin Domino had snatched up, to the recent political jockeying, to the general unrest in the city caused by the huge influx of unwanted immigrants. People like me, he mused over pursed lips. Even a job in the sewers might carry benefits, depending on what information he could gain from such a malodorous appointment. After all, in any large city the sewers formed a veritable second set of streets and avenues.

Then there was the Rookeries, which undoubtedly held its own set of hazards and rewards. Brann was still confident the way to any controlling thieve's syndicate was through that hive-like warren, at least based on what he'd heard around the table. There would be no help but to visit the slums soon and see what he could find out.

Realizing Dworkin was still present, the achadhiel's mind snapped to what seemed like an offhand comment made by the eccentric inventor. "Dworkin, you mentioned that some guilds don't gain apprentices in the traditional manner, for example the...the Arcanists, I think you named them?" Brann regarded the other man with steady onyx eyes. "How do they increase their membership? Are people invited specially or something?"

Magic was something that had interested Brann off and on for yahren, mostly from a practical point of view. In his line of work it would be incredibly useful, and to think of the challenge in conquering such a force! It set his toes tingling with excitement. Imagine what feats he could attempt with magic bolstering his skills! He awaited Dworkin's answer with barely bridled interest.

[Grant]

"Oh?" Dworkin looked up, his eyes clearly indicating that his mind had wandered for a moment. "Ah, yes...the Arcanists. Well...I was dealing with Longfellow a couple yahren back...he's a local surveyor of some reputation, and another good place to go for the odd job, in better times...and I had learned that he had taken on work for the Arcanist Guild a time or two. That's the first I'd heard of them...and in the older tongues, an arcanist was a potter. Or perhaps a master of sculpturing and ceramics. I considered it odd that a guild of...potters would need Longfellow's unique services, so he kindly explained a few things to me."

"The Arcanists are no longer about pottery at all. The name is just a...hold over from ancient times, and no doubt has little reference to the actual sorcerers themselves. You see, the Arcanist Guild is a the local guild of magic. By organizing into a guild, they've provided the Council with the means to control any...dangerous magi from practicing in Sabata. And should the Council need it, they supposedly have some way to contact the Arcanists. They don't meet often...several yahren could pass without an Arcanist Guild Meeting...and when they do, few even knew it happened."

Dworkin sipped his cup and placed it on the table before he continued, he hand spread wide over his cup as if to emphasize his words. "I've heard so many rumors about the Arcanists. I've heard that they're suffering...dying one by one...hunted down by tribus negri. Ah...tribus negri...the Black tribe...or the nomad's shaman. I've also heard that they're growing under the new Grand Master, an enigmatic man known only as the Sorcerer King, that brought some strife and division among them recently. But then, I've also heard that the guild's chantry has been found somewhere out in the desert...the same place from where rumors of this strange philosopher's stone originate. Frankly, I don't know what to believe anymore...but I believe that the Council contacts the Arcanists through a contact at the Bathhouse...a contact named Numa."

[Brann]

Brann nodded intermittently as Dworkin spoke, punctuating the main points of the inventor's explanation. The Arcanists sounded as mysterious as one would expect of a band of magicians, though Dworkin had dropped a potential means to contact them. The bathhouse would probably be a good idea anyway, mused a sweaty Brann, after enduring the Sabatan heat.

"Thank you, Dworkin," he said as the curious little man finished. "A most enlightening explanation. I'd never realized such a mundane origin for those of such exotic power - very intriguing."

Brann set his near-empty cup down and sighed, flexing his left arm gently. The wound had begun to throb ever so slightly, and the achadhiel realized he'd better get himself back to bed before the pain forced him there involuntarily.

"Alas, I fear my stamina is nearly wasted," Brann explained, motioning to his bandaged arm. "Thank you once again for your company and conversation, gentlemen," he said to Sahle and Dworkin as he stood, and then excused himself after leaving a few coins on the table to cover his meal.

Heading back upstairs, Brann reclaimed his room and lay down, praying for a more settled sleep to carry him through to morningtide.

[Grant]

~Fin! Dworkin says: "The world is but a forum, and you are merely a fabrication within it! Worship the great God known as The Internets, for without them we would all perish!"

...sent for skilz.

[Morg]

skilz0r3d 4 brann + lir.