Alarian

Thief Adept of House Syrtis

The following passages come from Trilfin Guildergrance's unauthorized biography of Sanjuro. Due to Alarian's unexpected death and involvement with the Bearers at a rather tumultuous time, we were unable to interview her. Guildergrance spoke with Alarian in early Strassa while attempting to interview Jarol Damris about Sanjuro. For lack of our own material, we include this excerpt for completeness sake.

Borrum Binbalik

I certainly did not expect to be invited into a thief's apartments, and truthfully, I almost did not go, not sure what horrors would await me, what wonders I might see. Maybe that art that had disappeared from the King's main hall or (worse!) his bedroom itself. But the t'skrang seemed weary after travelling and didn't wait for me to follow her. So I followed her.

Alarian was purple. I hadn't seen many purple t'skrang in my time, and such an unusual color would seem to make it harder for someone to be a thief, but perhaps the black spots which dotted her body, what was exposed through the black cloak and black and green tunic and trousers helped her to stand out less. I followed the oversized crest, noting the gold rings and jeweled studs which dangled from the flaps of skin on the back of her head.

I caught up to her side as she moved deftly through the crowds of the Cliff City. "I apologize for this. Normally I'd invite you to sit down for a meal, but I've been aboard that riverboat for a week, and have many things to do before I leave again." She muttered something under her breath, something I didn't catch, but it sounded like she said "messenger thief" in a rather harsh tone.

I looked at the basket on her back, an air and water tight construction, and wondered what kind of riches it might have held. If she knew what I wanted to know, she didn't acknowledge it, let alone answer it. I began questioning her, delicately. Thieves, I've found, can be very touchy when it comes to their trade secrets. (Makes them incredibly difficult to write up.)

She answered questions about family and how long she'd been in the trade more easily than I originally had suspected that she would, and I was about to suggest a more sensitive subject when I stopped, surprised when she put her hand in her pouch and began to drop coins into every beggar's bowl she passed.

We reached an apartment in the cliff eventually. I gripped my notebook tensely, ready to see the inside of a thief's apartment and record every detail as she approached the door. But instead of opening it, she knocked on it. An aged t'skrang woman answered. "Alarian!" she exclaimed happily, poking her snout out of the door. "Is Sanjie with you?" The woman stared at me briefly, then turned her attention back to the thief. "Sorry, ma'am, no," Alarian answered as she unshouldered her pack and dropped it to the floor. The pack! Certain that it would contain something of note, I leaned over it to look inside, forgetting my place. Alarian said nothing. "But I have a message from him," she continued as she rooted through her pack.

I saw nothing unusual. A bedroll, some spice, rations. Nothing unusual at all. She shoved the contents roughly aside and dug into the bottom of the basket. She blinked as a light quartz shone through, having come out of its cover cloth. With a quiet curse, so the older t'skrang wouldn't hear, she covered it up again before straightening, a scroll in her hand, sealed with an insignia from House Syrtis. "Sanjie's well," she smirked, and I sensed it had something to do with the name. Surely they weren't talking about Sanjuro? I cannot see him putting up with that nickname for long. (Note: If I get the opportunity to interview him, I must inquire about the name.) "Oh, thank you!" the woman smiled, accepting the message. "Hold on, I've just finished baking cakes--I'll pack some up for you and your friend." She ducked into her apartments and appeared in a flash with a box of wonderful-smelling cakes. The thief thanked the woman and turned to leave. "Tell Sanjie his parents love him!" the woman called after the two of them.

Wordlessly I was offered some of the fresh cakes. Delicious as they were, I couldn't finish them all. Alarian helped herself to one, then absently handed the rest to a trio of small urchins who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Without stopping we went straight to her apartments.

Again I held my book, ready to record the insides of a thief's domicile. And again I was disappointed. The furnishings were sparse and plain, if well-made. I was offered a drink, which Alarian served me. Just as I put the liquid to my lips, I heard a hoarse croak behind me, coming from the balcony. The t'skrang had gone out there with a chunk of salted fish, and as I followed, I caught her feeding it to a baby roc of all things!

She turned to me and looked puzzled. "You haven't a good name for a roc, do you? He's been here for months, every time I return, he's waiting." When I shook my head, she shrugged, scratched its head, and returned to the table, after putting the spice from her pack in the cupboard.

"Now, what would you like to know?"

This wasn't at all how I had expected a thief to live. I was still recovering from the charity and the bare walls when I had been hit with the roc, and I momentarily forgot my questions. She passed me another drink to help me cover my discomfort, then stood to check her messages.

"I'm sorry," she said wearily, looking up from one roll of paper.

"I have to go and see someone about a job. It shouldn't take too long, not more than an hour. If you'd like to meet later in the tavern downstairs?" My mouth full of drink, I nodded and stood to leave. On the way out, I glanced at a receipt she had received recently and hadn't bothered to look at. It was from Omasu the obsidiman, a record of twenty thousand silver paid in return for services rendered. Truthfully, it was better that I had no drink at that moment. She exited the room with me, but before I could ask her about the payment from the trader, she was long gone, in complete silence. I'm honestly not sure when it happened.

I dutifully waited for her to appear later at the tavern, but instead of a thief, a message was brought for me:

"My new job requires that I leave immediately. I hope to have the chance to speak with you later, after Kaer Labinau has been liberated.

Regards,

I folded the message carefully and put it in my book to be commented on later. My mind was so boggled with my shattered illusions of what it was to be a thief that it wasn't until the next day that I recalled that Labinau was the particular kaer in which Ubyr was said to live.*

*Note: More current reports have suggested that Alarian safely emerged from the kaer.

A Letter from Alarian to the Bearers

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Last Updated 05/28/98 by Paul

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