The story so far: Our heroines are on a scavenger hunt for the local Thieves' Guild. One trail has led them to the visiting traders' campground and its dubious tavern, where they hope to find a particular pearl...

Darklis plunks down on a stool in front of the barmaid. "'m lookin' fer a job," she mumbles.

"Eh?" The barmaid has clearly just woken up from dozing, her head in her hands. "Whatcherwant?"

Darklis leans forward across the bar. "'m lookin' fer a job," she repeats. "D'ya know of any hirin' caravans, mum?" Mum like ma'am, not like Mom.

She blinks, in dull confusion, and eyes Darklis up and down. "_You_ want a job with a caravan?"

Darklis puffs up. "'m little, but 'm wirey! Stronger'n I look! Usta arm-wrestle m'brothers right to th'ground!"

The barmaid shakes her head slowly, in an it's-your-neck sort of way, and points toward the largest table. "Zeke, over there, 's who you want to talk to, I guess, then. He's not _so_ bad."

She adds hopefully, "Talk to 'em pretty and maybe they'll buy you a drink?"

Darklis digs a coin out of her meager supply and tosses it on the counter. "'ll buy m'self one, an' thank y'for it."

The woman brightens noticeably as the coin goes swhoop! into her pocket. "Ale, miss?"

Darklis nods. "That'll do me lovely."

She pours a thick discolored glassful of brown, and sets it in front of Darklis. "There y'go. Er...you sure about the caravan, miss?"

Darklis is not at all sure she wants to drink stuff that color, is what she is not sure about. She drops a solemn wink at the bartender, and nods. "Trus' me. I know what 'm doin'." Heh. She hopes.

The large table has three men sitting at it. They look like they've all just come in from a long ride: dirty, tired, and bored.

Darklis considers the tired dirty probably smelly bored men, and thinks maybe she'd better have a sip of the sludgy brown ale after all. Gulp. Ewwww. Glass in hand, she pops off the barstool and makes her way to the table. Gulp. Ewwww. "'ch oneoya's Zeke?"

Nikole, having gotten to see Darklis' drink, skips ordering one of her own and instead tries to look like she's waiting for someone.

One of the men looks over and leers at Darklis appreciatively. "Hey, doll. You a native of this town?"

Darklis shakes her head firmly. "You Zeke?"

"That's me!" By this point all the men at the table have sat up and are paying attention to Darklis. One of them pulls out a chair and makes a show of dusting it off.

Darklis snorts, amused despite trying to be tough, and sits down. "Thank y'. 'm Dara." She turns her attention towards Zeke, and tries to ignore her ale. "Just inta town?"

One of the others starts to answer, but Zeke waves him to silence. "Why, yes. Bringin' in grain an' stuff for the South Quarter." He sighs, a touch dramatically. "And a long, tirin' trip it's been..."

"Poor boys." Darklis grins faintly, and retreats into her ale after all. Gulp. Ewww. South Quarter? Ooh. Maybe they have the pearls. "'m lookin' for a job," she says, and points a finger at Zeke. "Labor, eh, not lover. s'plentya houses you can get a pretty lady."

Zeke and his companions blink nonplussedly. "Eh?" Zeke repeats. "You want a job as...labor?"

Darklis does her best exasperated look. "'m small," she says argumentatively, "but 'm strong an' quick. 'm lookin' t'see s'more of th'world, yeah?"

Zeke opens his mouth and closes it, like a fish. One of the other men puts in, "Y're a doll...but you want a man's job?"

Veeerrrry gooooood! Darklis nods, and waves her ale a bit. Gulp. Ewww. "That's right. 'm lookin' t'do things my way, see?"

Zeke finds his voice at last. "What?!"

The man who spoke before asks, "What can ye do?"

Darklis wrinkles her nose up. "I know a biddabout horses. 'nuf to drive 'em. 'm quick on m'feet and 'm a good climber. Good for goin' up high piles and makin' sure they're fastened tight, eh? I don' panic an' I don' eat a lot."

The third man starts to say, "Whadd-" but is interrupted by the mug Zeke slams down on the table. "No! Absofraggenlutely not! No dolls in our outfit."

Darklis gives Zeke a level stare over her ale mug. "'m short, skinny an' flat-chested. Use yer imagination an' pretend 'm a boy."

Zeke snorts, and waggles his finger in Darklis' face. "Dolls," he says slowly, with great emphasis, "are trouble."

The second man says, "But-"

Zeke interrupts again. "No but! No dolls! Not even crazy ones! Go away, kid."

Darklis sits up, all offended. "'m not crazy! 'm lookin' for a place in th'world, see!"

"Your place in the world," says Zeke bluntly, "is on yer back or in a loony bin. Or whatever. Get off." He turns his chair pointedly away.

The tallest man shrugs apologetically at Darklis, but makes an invited-to-leave gesture with his arm.

Darklis leans back, sullen. "How'd'I prove m'self?" she demands.

The third man says, patiently, "Girl. If y'want a tumble in the hay for a few copper, and can keep yer mouth shut, I'll take you up. But there's nothing else for you here. Go on."

Darklis' shoulders drop, and she pushes the chair away from the table. "Fine. 'll jus' try sommere else."

The group turns back to their game, muttering. "Crazy dolls..."

Darklis droops her way back to the bar, and takes a slug of ale. Gulp. Ewww. "Wuhl, *that* didn' work."

The barmaid, completely awake now and scrubbing at the bar top with a damp rag, tsks sympathetically. "I don't get it. You're a pretty girl; why'd they say no?"

Darklis mumbles, "'m notta boy."

She coughs politely, "I dunno about the little one, but Ged and Zeke are not after the boys. And you're their type, too. What, d'ye have the pox?"

Nikole chokes.

Darklis looks up, and sort of laughs. "Nah. 'm wantin' laborer work, see, not brothel work. Wanna prove 'm ... 's good as a boy."

The woman lets out a little "aaaahhh" of understanding. "Caravan's not the place for you then, miss, nor this neighborhood neither."

Darklis shrugs. "But I wanna see th'world, see." She takes another gulp of ale, and forgets to go 'ew' this time.

"Noone comes here but those" - she flicks the rag dismissively in Zeke's direction - "and the snotty ones from farther south."

Darklis' eyebrows drift upwards. The ale's mostly gone. "Whoozey?"

"Have another?" the barmaid says promptly, reaching for Darklis' glass.

"Hookay." Darklis helpfully pushes it towards her. "Whozza furthersouth ones?"

More brown stuff splashes into the glass. "Oh, _him_," she grumbles. "Truth to tell I think he _does_ like the boys. Never comes in here, just sends Young Stoneface over, like we're not good enough."

Darklis takes a healthy swig of brown stuff. "Yun Stonefashe?"

She flops down on the barstool and continues grumbling an obviously well-rehearsed rant. "-and it isn't as if he's cute, neither, but at least he _bathes_ once in a while and you'd think he'd be grateful for a little kindness. And ale! Everybody says our ale'd put life into a dead cow - don't you think?"

The barmaid hiccups, and blinks mildly at Darklis. "Oh. I'm Esther."

Think? Think? Nope. Darklis doesn't think. Not a bit. She shakes her head vigorously, and then realizes that might be the wrong thing to do, and nods it just as vigorously. "Dea' cow," she agrees vehemently. "Ether. 'm Darrr...."

Esther barely notices. "Him and his fancy show tent. No rooms, no ale, no good morning, no by-your-leave, just tea and gruel, tea and gruel." She makes a face. "Something not right about that one. Stingy weasel."

Darklis clucks her tongue indignantly. "Stinshy weshel. Ahh should teachim a leshon for y'!"

"Huh." Esther eyes Darklis with amused tolerance. "What could you do? You can't even hold your ale."

"Mind you," she adds thoughtfully, "what that boy needs is a good lesson in, in _something_." She bristles.

"Manners," Esther concludes triumphantly, after a long pause for thought. "No manners. 'Specially to a lady."

Darklis wraps her hands around her ale glass, defiantely. "I can *too* hol' m'ale. *Shee*?" She lifts it up demonstratively, and takes another gulp. "Thish'sh whaddi can do..." Thump. The glass goes back down.

Darklis studiously picks the ale up, sips again, and then leans towards Esther, whispering, "'shwat I kindo ... " The ale goes back down, out of the way, and drunken Darklis rotates her head towards another table, peering. "He'sh kinda cute. Ishe yer weashel?" She points dramatically at a thin-nosed man sitting alone.

Esther leans over to look, and wrinkles her nose. "Nah. Too old."

Nikole senses trouble in the near future. She tries to catch Darklis's eye.

Darklis' other hand slides across the bar while Esther looks, dipping towards the pouch the woman put the coin in a few minutes ago, all in a remarkably smooth gesture for a girl who can't say "is" clearly.

Esther turns back, having completely failed to notice. "Nah, he'll be asleep by now. This'sh his time off, so his boss can go gallivanting later."

Nikole clears her throat!

Darklis leans waaaaay forward, and puts a finger over her lips. "Shhhh," she whispers, and opens the palm of her hand, displaying the pouch. "Shee? I can steal hish heart for you." She grins, drunkenly smug.

Esther squacks, grabbing for the pouch. "Hey! Give that back!"

Darklis does, dropping it back into the woman's hand. "*Shhhh*!"

She blinks. "Wow. You're good at that. Hey, why doncha join the thieves, insteada hanging around those louts?"

Darklis leans further forward. Any moment now she's going to fall over the other side of the bar. "'m tryin'," she whispers very very quietly. It probably doesn't carry further than, oh, Nikole, three bar stools away. "Godda gedda *pearl*. Anna *lethe-sniffer*. An' ... shit, I ferget whaddelse."

Esther stares in frank astonishment. "You're a _newt_?"

Nikole stands up, having given up on whoever it was she might have been waiting for, and heads for the exit, passing right behind Darklis as she does so, and tugging on her shirt.

Surreptitiously, she twitches the pouch out of sight. "Eh, well, nothing to steal here, miss."

Esther flicks a hand at Nikole and mouths the words "get her out of here!"

Darklis rolls her entire head, not just her eyes. "Why'ds everybody say that? 'f I wanned t'steal y'purse I'da jus' left, huh?

Nikole stops and looks over at Esther, then at Darklis. "Is she causing trouble?"

The men at the large table look over, interestedly. Esther says quickly, "No, er, yes! Take her away!"

Nikole takes hold of Darklis' arm. "Come on, you've had enough." She guides/drags the smaller girl toward the door.

Darklis staggers and leans. "'m nod causin' trubble," she protests mildly.

Esther rolls her eyes and goes back to polishing the bar, with unnecessary force.

Nikole supports Darklis toward the door. "Well, if you drink any more, you will!"

Zeke whistles wolfishly at Nikole. "Hey! You less crazy than your friend?"

Nikole bares her teeth and hisses at Zeke!

Darklis blinkblinks at Nikole. "Yer leakin'. Ssssssss."

Nikole giggles and pushes Darklis out the door.

Raucous laughter follows you out the door.

"Sssssssss," Darklis says happily. "Ssssssss."

Nikole says "You're drunker than Salbatore the night he stole his first vunnock."

Nikole steers Darklis back toward Uncle Goratze's campsite.

Darklis weaves her way back. "Ssey hashtuff for th'south quadder!" she announces.

Nikole says "Quiet!"

Darklis drops her head way down and looks out from under her eyebrows suspiciously. "Shhhh!"

Nikole nods. "Shhhh."

Darklis straightens up again. "'m bein' sshhhhhh! You be shhhh!"

You may or may not notice another cluster of tents to the east and slightly south of the bar.

Nikole notices the tents, but probably doesn't feel obligated to do anything about them unless there's a sign saying "Queue here to steal pearl".

Nope, no sign.

Are any of them the fancy tent Esther mentioned? Darklis might notice that.

Nikole keeps trying to get Darklis pointed toward Uncle Goratze's, where she can be forcefed some of his wakemeup.

Most of the tents in the cluster are sort of dingy dark canvas, but there is one white one you can see on the edge that sticks out..."

Darklis is not pointy! She can't be pointed! "Thersha tenn obberdere," she says, and waves a hand wildly at the white one. She doesn't, though, seem terribly inclined to go anywhere that Nikole isn't leading her to.

Nikole says "There are lots of tents over there, aye."

Nikole has the patience of one who's done this before.

"Thersha *whide* one. Ether thaid he hadda fanchy ten."

Nikole says "We'll come back when your head's clear. Now come *on*!"

"Hokay! Wherewegoin?" Darklis brightens right up, and staggers more enthusiastically.

Nikole says "Back to Uncle Goratze's. You need some medicine."

Darklis oooooohs. "Medishin." Pause. "Medishin'sh *icky*."

Darklis says "I shink we shoul' go lookit th'tenn inshted."

Darklis reels thataway. Or tries.

Nikole says "Not while you're like this."

Nikole keeps a firm grip on Darklis.

Darklis says "Whashwrong with how I'm like?"

Nikole says "You're drunk as a skunk."

Nikole says "I'm glad I didn't try their ale!"

Darklis' eyebrows rise way up. "Wash good!"

Nikole says "Aye."

You paged Darklis and Nikole with 'Okay, do we want to stagger back to Uncle Goratze's and tactfully draw the curtain on Darklis' rehabilitation?'.

Nikole pages to Darklis and Marith: I think so. It's better to not ask what goes into that stuff.

To be continued...