“We’ve got ninety-nine problems, but a ditch isn’t one,” My‑re said to the archmage Havelock and Vomarian Fae. In the village of Sanaras, deep within the Rirorni Empire, she entered the Rirorni living room of her foster mother A’renna’s home. The pair sat at a rectangular tea table. My‑re pulled up a pillow-cushioned wooden chair beside a crackling fire warming the room. She placed her hands on her legs and said, “A’renna will help keep the ship hidden in the gorge while we determine the location of the final steps of Araminth. Now, what’s the plan? What do we do?”
Several heartbeats of silence followed.
“Well?”
“There was always the assumption that Araminth still lived,” Vomarian said. His face scrunched with uncertainty.
“Fine, I thought that too. What was the plan assuming she was alive?” My‑re asked.
Havelock cleared his throat. “I’m taken a bit off-guard, too, as it was my assumption. As the situation has it, once the general whereabouts of Araminth were known, we’d deploy the mere dragons. They have a renowned sense of smell and could track a grey cat hidden in a dwarven iron mine. Now, coming from one primary point of origin, we’d begin using a hexagon grid to-”
“Get on with it.”
“Yes, we’d start a search pattern to sniff her out,” Havelock finished quickly.
“How would you sniff her out?”
Vomarian perked up like a student, knowing the answer to a question. “We have several sets of her worn clothes. Dresses, shoes, normal outfits, and undergarments.”
“Right, that still sounds like a good plan. Let’s do that.”
Clearing his throat, Havelock said, “Well, that’s feasible, assuming she lived and still expelling her scent to track. Assuming the Rirorni carried on with their tradition of burying their dead, they would unlikely find her through six feet of dirt. Even if we knew her last location, any scent would have dissipated.”
My‑re sighed, “The nine hells. We’re back to square one and don’t even know where to start looking.”
“Not entirely,” Vomarian answered. “We can still search the local archives for any record of Araminth’s passing. Failing that, we can ask around the local establishments for any hints or clues.”
Rolling her eyes, My‑re said, “An Alastarian, an archmage, and a Shagornan Elf walk into a Rirorni bar. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, where we all die.”
The elf threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m open to suggestions. Go on, if you think you’re so clever?” Vomarian snapped.
Narrowing her eyes at the mage and the elf, My‑re folded her arms hard across her chest defensively. “Going in and asking around for Araminth would get us noticed. It also wouldn’t help my situation of being banished from the Empire.”
“You’d be in disguise. Besides, it’s unlikely anyone outside of Sanaras would recognize you,” Vomarian commented.
“Yes, I could argue that jurisdiction’s sentence would only apply to the town of Sanaras and not the entirety of the Rirorni Empire,” Havelock commented.
“Yes, a compelling argument I can have with the noose around my neck,” My‑re snapped. “Now, be quiet. I’m going to think out loud.”
“However-”
“Shhh!” My‑re hissed. “It’d take months or years to ask around. That won’t do. If someone knows Araminth, we must find them and, more importantly, get them to talk.”
“How?”
My‑re forcefully held out her hand toward Vomarian for him to remain quiet. Her eyes darted around the living room, looking for anything for inspiration. Nothing.
Havelock smacked his lips. “While we wait for brilliance, do you mind asking if there is more of that Rirorni tea? I also wouldn’t say no to a few more of those honey dates.”
“Ask her yourself.”
“I don’t speak the Rirorni language,” Havelock replied.
“Mother, may we have more tea and dates, please!” My‑re yelled in Rathiri.
A’renna arrived shortly with a brewing teapot and a plate of nicely arranged rows of honey dates. She set it down. My‑re watched Havelock enjoy himself, licking his sticky fingers after each.
“Of course. I’m so stupid. We need to bring the person who knows about Araminth to us,” My‑re exclaimed.
“How?”
“We need something to entice them out into the open. Something that will draw their attention,” My‑re said. “Something big.”
“I thought that was exactly what you didn’t want?” Vomarian commented.
“Shhh! I’m still thinking out loud,” My‑re shushed.
“The Unsinkable III?” Havelock questioned.
“Too big.”
“I have a few magic items we can sell,” Havelock continued.
“Too small. However, I like the selling bit. Bigger.”
“I am not selling my golems.”
My‑re shook her head and waved him off.
“The only other thing we have of any value is the mere dragons,” Havelock said.
My‑re turned her head slowly toward the archmage at the suggestion. Thinking, she held up her hands so the others wouldn’t speak. After a few moments, she snapped her fingers. “The mere dragons. We proceed in selling the mere dragons. That’ll get everyone’s attention,” My‑re said.
“Oh no. You are not selling those mere dragons,” Vomarian pointed at her. “They don’t belong to us. If we lose those dragons, the consequences would be quite severe.”
Havelock commented, “Not if the price is exorbitant.”
“We can’t risk it,” Vomarian said. “What if some rich Rirorni warlord comes in, meeting the price, and we don’t sell? We’ll be outed and have a heavily armed, angry customer with an army behind them.”
“The elf’s right,” My‑re said.
“The nine hells, I’m right.”
“The buyer needs to be someone who can’t buy. That way, we can bring the mere dragons into Rithakhar, put them on a grand display, and help find the person with the information we need without selling them.”
“Oh, I do enjoy a good riddle,” Havelock said, clapping his hands together.
“That doesn’t make any sense. A buyer who isn’t buying. Who exactly would that be?” Vomarian snorted, folding his arms tight in skepticism.
“It’s obvious?” My‑re hinted and saw a broad smile of knowing on the archmage.
The Shagornan Elf shook his head and implored with his body language for someone to answer.
“The buyer is Araminth,” Havelock answered.