The Guilded Cage, Ch 2
A Fresh Point of View

While Dorias' caretaker was hardly an Elf of special means, they had lived a comfortable if unspectacular life.  The room in which the Yak had been quartered by the man named Graves was apparently the nicest in the dockside inn, which wasn't saying much considering the entire row of buildings was only a step above what one might find in the slums.

None of that really mattered to Dorias; the room was perfectly fine in all the important ways: it kept him out of the weather provided him a place to sleep, afforded him privacy and, most importantly, kept him out of the sight of the Wardens.  In fact, when it came down to it, living at the Stranded Kelpie was in many ways like living in the back of the library-- all except for the ever-present smell of the sea.  And fish-- the inn was only a few blocks away from where the fisherman processed their catch every day.

By the time Dorias had been at the inn a week most of the staff had come to know him; he considered that a good thing since they were all well-disposed toward Graves.  As the beneficiary of Graves' positive focus,  the Beast-kin was also afforded the good-will of the Stranded Kelpie's staff, and so they were of great help when it came to spotting possible trouble for him.  In fact, he became so familiar with the running of the establishment that he was able to find the right times to hang out in the common room and listen in on the important conversations.

Dorias was not a busy-body by nature but there was a certain amount of self-serving curiosity that had taken hold in him when it came to understanding what was going on in St. Almar.  Being generally disinclined to spend any amount of time on the streets he relied on the words of visitors to the tavern to learn what he could about events that could possibly affect him.  It was during one such late-night watch in the common room of the Stranded Kelpie that the Yak had his first visitor, and it wasn't Graves.

Dorias had his back to the door, which had become his preferred method of controlling the likelihood of anyone recognizing him.  The staff in the common room were particularly helpful in providing him a set of eyes and to warn him in the case that anyone entering could mean him harm which worked out quite well.  That particular evening, however, after the door opened only a short time before the tavern closed, Marta, a dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired waitress of some three decades made her way to his side.  Just as he was about to find his nearest point of escape she reached out and rested a hand on his forearm.  "He's here for you, but it's alright-- he's a friend of Graves."

Marta had been one of the first waitresses to get to know him.  She was down to earth and matter-of-fact in most dealings and, unlike many of the younger girls, she was worldly enough to know that Beast-Kin did not always equal trouble.  She had a ready smile but her tired eyes did not generally reflect it on her face until, he realized, that she reserved her true smiles for people she regarded well; he was a recipient by the end of the first week.  After he nodded in acknowledgement to her she removed her hand from his arm and proceeded into the back room, most likely to tend to the dishes.
 
Dorias placed his hand where hers had been; her fingers were finely calloused from years working and he respected that.  Although he was a librarian's assistant he too had a certain softness to his own callouses reflecting a hard worker in a non laborious field and it brought him a sense of kinship with the Human woman.  The thought was pushed from his mind as a cloaked figure pulled out a chair at the Yak's table and took a seat.  Speaking out from beneath a raised hood, his visitor said only "I'm Rebel... a friend of Graves."

The man was obviously a Beast-Kin; even with the shade of the hood a muzzle and whiskers could be clearly seen in the light of the tavern.  Rebel had a certain confidence to his walk, the kind that Dorias recalled seeing in Graves but, unlike the Human, his new 'acquaintance' did not much look the part.  Rebel appeared to be slightly lower-than-average height for a Human, which meant distinctly short for most Beast-kin breeds.  He had black leather beneath his cloak and, the Yak noticed, that included gloves on his paws with only the tips devoid of covering to allow room for blunted black claws.

Dorias sat back in his chair, shifting his mostly-empty glass of watered down ale away from the newcomer to provide him more space at the table.  "Ah be Dorias, but ah bet ye already knew it.  Beast-kin be welcome at th' dockside... why ya be hidin' yeh face, Rebel?"

Rebel responded by reaching up and pulling his hood back, revealing a very feline face.  The Beast-kin's fur coloration was reminiscent of a mountain lion's with golden-tawny fur along his outer cheeks and up the bridge of his muzzle while everything from his lower muzzle, around his eyes, and down his neck were almost white.  He had a half-mane, which was a rarity for most Cougars, but what really stood out were his stark, gray eyes with surprisingly round pupils, and his jet black lupine nose.  Before Dorias could second-guess his reaction of gawking, Rebel pulled his hood up again, announcing in a matter of fact tone "I keep my hood up for reasons just like that."

The Yak was immediately aghast at his reaction.  Half-breeds were not unheard of among Beast-kin but were far from common.  In fact, in all of Dorias' life he had only ever encountered one other, thus seeing Rebel was enough to give the normally stoic Yak quite a surprise.  "Ah apologize... that was rude o' me, an' ah hope yeh can forgive it."

The cloaked figure responded by rustling beneath his cloak. "I'm used to it.  Besides, I'm here for something more important than your apologies."

Rather than dwell on his social faux pas, Dorias accepted a small slip of paper that Rebel passed his way.  Uncertain as to the significance of it, the Yak glanced down and saw that there was writing on it; he immediately covered it with his hand, sandwiching it between his palm and the table.  Quickly looking around the room, he realized that nobody was looking, and he slowly lifted his fingers until he could take a quick glimpse at what was present; what he saw took his breath away.  Covering it again, Dorias regarded Rebel. "That be Ritti?"

His cloaked companion nodded wordlessly, confirming what the Yak had surmised; the paper he'd been passed contained runes from a nearly-forgotten alphabet known as 'Ritti', the written language of the Beast-kin.  Ritti had almost passed out of usage well before the Holy Empire conquered the kingdom that had been present before their arrival but the Elves had done even more to erase it, removing it and the accompanying spoken language almost entirely from the lands.  When Rebel finally did speak, it was in that very language. "So you can read it then, librarian?"

Alimys had taught Dorias many things while he was caring for the Yak and, ever the scholar, the librarian had a long-standing belief that knowing one's origin was important.  As such, the Elf had instructed Dorias on the ancient, nigh extinct language as a matter of course, making sure that the Yak knew that it was illegal to speak, let alone possess any written works in Ritti.  Then again, it was illegal for a Beast-kin to know how to read; Alimys often joked that three executable offenses wouldn't make someone any more dead than one but they nevertheless took great care to hide that knowledge from everyone.

Dorias, however, suddenly found himself face-to-face with it.  In a low voice, he murmured back a response, choosing Common in case they were overheard. "Ye know Ritti?"

Rebel leaned back in his chair. "I recognize the runes but can't read it... I know the language though, sure-- my mom didn't care much for a lot of the laws about that kind of thing."

The Yak nodded in empathy, then glanced around the room again before crumpling the paper in one hand before questioning his companion in a whisper. "Why bring it 'ere though?"

The eerie, lupine eyes gazed out from beneath the hood, framed by a feline face. "Graves got his hands on something and he thinks you might be able to help."

The prospect of getting a peek at what Graves was up to was more than enough to catch Dorias' interest, but the thought of finally having a way to be useful was too much to pass up.  "If ye show me Ah--"

Rebel shook his head and slowly stood. "I don't have it.  But now that we know you can help it'll be worth transporting."

Dorias glancd over his shoulder as his mysterious visitor made his way to the door.  He called out "When do ye plan on comin' back?"

Lingering at the doorway, Rebel stopped, and spoke to the wall rather than turning around. "I won't.  Just watch for a delivery."

One again, the Yak was left with unanswered questions but he didn't mind; he was also left with an excited sense of expectation.