Lochinvar returns to his quarters, carrying the copied list rolled up in one hand. Charaz stands in the middle of the front room, swinging a wooden practice sword around to face the door, breathing a little heavily. He has a slightly guilty expression on his face as he says, "Hi Lochy! I was just practicing with one of your swords. You don't mind, do you?"

The Temple Ranger sighs a little at his younger cousin, grateful that it's just a wooden sword. "I suppose not," he says. "As long as it was just that one you were playing with and not others?"

Charaz nods his head several times for emphasis. "No sir! Just this one!" He gestures with it, and the coyote notes that the Vartan boy watches where the tip goes closely. "You got a message while you were out," he rattles on, "from one of the Temple runners. He said you were expecting it." The boy points to Lochinvar's desk. "It's over there."

Lochinvar arches an eyebrow a little, and looks over to the desk. "That's all he said?" he asks, going over to the desk, picking up the note to read it.

"That's all he'd tell me. He looked a little surprised at me being here, but I told him I'm your nephew." The package, a small box wrapped in brown paper, holds the samples, wrapped in more paper and gauze, that Lochinvar gave to the Inquisition, along with a sealed envelope.

The Hekoye/Vartan works a finger into the envelope, ripping along it to get at the note.

Once he breaks open the envelope, he sees the date on the letter, 3 Midsummer, 6105 and below that the stamp of the Inquisition. It reads:

Lochinvar hrms a little at the paper. "Well, that's a little more information for that," he muses. "Took them long enough."

"What is it?" Charaz asks, peering around Lochinvar's arm to look at the parchment.

"Just some information from a case I was assigned to briefly," Lochinvar replies. "I guess that I'm still assigned to it, also."

The young Vartan squints and clacks his beak as he mouths the words of the note out to himself. "7 Unity?" he says. "It took them a whole holiday just to write four lines to you? Do they not like you?" he asks curiously.

This elicits a chuckle from Lochinvar. "It's not to do with likes or dislikes, Char," he replies. "This is something called 'bureaucracy'… The art of taking many days to do very little."

"Oh." Charaz rocks backwards, placing the practice sword point down so he can lean on it. "I'd be really good at that! Dad always says I'm good for very little." He grins.

Lochinvar grins a little at that. "Well, maybe you could consider that as a career," he suggests.

The Ranger works on opening the box, just to see if there's anything new in there, or if they've just returned the samples.

"Is it exciting?" He takes a few careful swishes at the air with the wooden blade. "Maybe I will." The box just has the same samples Lochinvar gave them, tidily repackaged and labeled. The scales are in their own cases of translucent chitin.

"I wouldn't really say so," replies the half-Vartan, looking over the sample cases.

"Then I'll stick with becoming a Ranger!" Charaz says enthusiastically. He takes a jab at his shadow. "Are those part of a mystery we're going to solve?" he asks, his voice hopeful.

Lochinvar looks back over at his cousin. "We?" he asks. "Charaz, when I am investigating things such as these, I should not and cannot take you along."

The Vartan lets the blade droop to the floor, and he tilts his head down, as well. "Oh. Umm. Why not? I could help you, you know," he says. "And you could teach me how to be a Ranger. Like … an apprentice?"

"Because some places that I have to go can be dangerous," replies the coyote. "And there are more proper channels for apprenticeship than just 'tagging along'."

"All right," Charaz says, putting up the practice sword and folding his hands together. "What are the … um … channels? I'll do it. Uh. Whatever it means."

"First of all, get a letter of application, signed by your parents also, to the Temple Registrar," Lochinvar says, quite aware that this letter is not likely to be forthcoming for the moment.

"By my parents?" Charaz's eyes widen, then he lowers his beak. "I bet your parents didn't sign one," he says.

"I was quite a bit older than you before I came to Rephidim," replies his older cousin. "Also, I was directly recruited from working at the docks due to special circumstances."

Charaz repeats, "Oh," again. Then, "What were those circumstances? Maybe mine are special, too," he pursues, doggedly.

"I would doubt it," says Lochinvar, "seeing as you would need to have gone on an expedition to Arcadia, as well as help unlock the secrets of a mage's tower deep in the Himaat."

The Vartan boy opens his beak, lifting one hand as if to reply, then snaps it shut again with a clack. He sits down on the bed. "Maybe not," he concedes, pulling his tail into his lap and playing with one of the shinies in the tuft.

Lochinvar nods in agreement. "Anyway, as to the other matter," he starts, "I got a list of the passengers and crew that was on the ship you came in on. You said that some of them knew of Ariecha's coming here?"

"Uh … did I say that?" Charaz twists his head around, looking nervous again. "What I meant was that, umm, I thought maybe one of them might've known. There was one of the sailors who'd talked a lot about other ships and passengers and stuff."

"He did?" asks Lochinvar. "What did he say?"

"Just stories and stuff. He had a great story about a ship he served on for a nobleman, where this mage guy was making up a story to put inside the noble's head about all the adventures they were having. So that the poodle would remember it like it were his adventure. Except that real airship travels aren't interesting enough, so they kept faking adventurous things. Like a pirate attack on the ship!" He squawks in laughter. "They used all avians and Vartans for the pirates, and then the good guys would knock them off, wham! bam! and they'd fall to their deaths – except they wouldn't die, of course, they'd just fly away 'cause it only had to look real from the noble's perspective."

Lochinvar sighs a little. "Anything useful for my finding what's happened to Arie though?" he asks.

Charaz stops laughing. "Er. Maybe. I didn't ask him about Arie. I figured I'd see her when I got here."

"So in other words, no-one on the ship you were on mentioned her in any way?" Lochinvar asks, a little exasperated.

The Vartan shifts his hooves. "No," he admits.

"So I went all the way down to the dockmaster's office to get this list," says Lochinvar, holding up the list, "for nothing?"

The boy drops his head and hunches his shoulders. "I didn't think you'd go to all the trouble. I just thought we could ask the one sailor, Jimi."

Lochinvar sighs a little. "Well, at least you can recall his name now."

He nods meekly.

Lochinvar looks this name up on this list, to see if there's any details for him listed.

The manifest list, unfortunately, only has the passengers listed on it, not crew. The Port Authority ought to have a listing of the crew, but since that changes least often it would be kept in separate place.

The Ranger tosses the list onto the desk. "Well, he's not on that list," he says. "Doesn't seem to list the crew. I guess I'll have to go down to the office again tomorrow to find out where he's living or staying."

"He said he likes to stay at the Three Thieves' Inn when he's in Rephidim," Charaz pipes in. "I finally remembered that name, too."

Lochinvar ahs and nods at that. "I know of that place… again, not the type of place you could come along to, really."

"Awww! Jimene said I should check it out, 'cause it's run by a Vartan," his cousin protests.

The winged Ranger sighs. "I'll make a deal with you, okay?"

"Okay!" Charaz perks up at this prospect, watching Lochinvar.

"You can come with me to the inn," starts Lochinvar, "but you must stay by my side at all times. Alright?"

"ALL RIGHT!" The Vartan leaps from the bed, punching one fist into the air. He thrusts out his other hand for Lochinvar to shake. "Deal! You won't regret this, Lochy!"

"One other stipulation," the Vartan/Hekoye adds, with a slight smile. "Calm down a little? Please?"

"Oh," Charaz says. It seems to be his favorite word. "All right," he mumbles, his feathers smoothing down from their excited ruffle.

As the two Vartans – one looking a good bit more like a coyote than would be usual for a Vartan – enter the establishment, few eyebrows are raised. The place hardly seems to have changed since Lochinvar's dock days. There are various patrons at the bar and seated at tables, many of them Vartans. Charaz starts to run forward after entering, opening his beak to shout, but he freezes mid-motion, and, with care exaggerated to the point of comedy, says to Lochinvar, "That's Jimene!" A brown-and-tan hippogryph with feathers whitened at the ends from age drinks at the bar, with a Rhian companion.

Lochinvar puts a hand on his younger cousin's shoulder, to both remind him to be calm and quiet, as well as to hold him back lest he decide to launch himself into the crowd. "Alright," he says, and starts walking towards the bar.

The younger Vartan takes a deep breath, then tries to imitate his cousin's walk as they cross to the bar. The sailor lifts an eyebrow as he sees them headed his way, then grins. "Ah, there's my little stowaway!" he says, waving to Charaz good-naturedly. "Need to find another airship with low security and a good-natured captain already?"

Charaz winces. "Hi, Jimene. Don't pay attention to him, Lochy. It's just his joke. Lochy, this is Jimene. Jimi, this is my cousin, Lochinvar Arques."

Lochinvar scowls down a little at Charaz at the mention of "stowing away", then looks up at the people at the bar. "Hello there," replies Lochinvar. "I hope that he provided little trouble on the way over here?"

Jimi laughs. "Sure, Char," he says, winking broadly. "My little joke. Not at all, Mr. Arques," he says, offering a hand to the other. "Say, didn't you work on the docks a few years back?"

"I did, yes," replies the Hekoye/Vartan, nodding about the "joke". "But I haven't worked there for over four years now."

"Heh." The old Vartan eyes the other man's Temple uniform, and smiles. "Moved on to bigger things, I see. I think I remember hearing about that. So what brings you back to an old dock haunt? Slumming? Or nostalgia?"

"Trying to get some information, really," replies Lochinvar. "Charaz here said you might be able to help."

"Ah." Jimi glances to the boy. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it," he quips lightly, then adds on a more serious note, "How can I help you?"

"A … relative of ours apparently traveled here a few weeks back," the Ranger says. "Charaz believes that you may have heard of her arrival, but she didn't come in through regular channels, if you know what I mean."

Jimi takes a pull from his drink, and nods, chuckling. "Sure, I know what ya mean. Though maybe I ain't supposed to, you being Temple and all." A quick glance over Lochinvar's uniform again. "Care for something to drink, either of you?"

"This is personal business, nothing to do with Temple," replies Lochinvar. "As for the drink, just tell Jakka that I'll have my usual – as for Charaz, anything without alcohol."

Charaz looks decidedly insulted by Lochinvar's choice of orders for him, but Jakka swivels her ears at his request, and chortles. "Coming up, Loch. Got tea on," she scrawks in Vartan.

Lochinvar chuckles back at Jimi. "Just because I work for the Temple now, doesn't mean I don't still come here, you know," he says.

Jimi bobs his head in a nod, taking another draught and setting the mug down. "All right then. Who's your relative? Anyone who looks like you? Or him?" He points to the Vartan boy. "Be easier to track if it's one like you, I'll give you that."

"Not like me or Char, no," replies the winged coyote. "But I think that she's distinctive enough. A white Vartan."

The Vartan licks his beak, and nods again. "Yup, that's distinctive enough. The White Vartan of Abaddon. Heard she'd been seen again, and was headed on home. Who was telling us about that, Jakka?"

"She ain't from Abaddon," Jakka retorts. "Ain't no Vartans from Abaddon, white nor otherwise. Dagh-dumb sailors."

"I know exactly where she is from," Lochinvar interjects. "And yes, she was on Abaddon for a time. She is from my home village though."

"See? Toldja," Jakka scrawks, looking pleased. She sets a cool mug before Lochinvar, and a steaming one to Charaz, who is standing between the two adults, a little back so they can talk easily enough. The sailor is too busy absorbing Lochinvar's comment to respond to the bartender.

"From your home village? Quite the news, really. What's she like? Is she really young? Always wondered if she was just white with age or what, but everyone tells it like she's young." Jimi watches Lochinvar curiously.

Lochinvar decides to answer just some of those questions. "It's not white with age, believe me," he says. "She's about my age, thereabouts," he adds, smiling a little.

"My word. Is she really as beautiful as they all say?" Jimi continues. "Met people who claimed to see her before, but never anyone who grew up with her."

The Ranger tilts his head a little, a little perturbed by all the interest in Ariecha. "I like to think so," he says, a little unsurely. "But anyway, have you heard where she might be?" he asks again.

Jimi stirs from his reverie to nod to the question. "Sure, there was a guy in here just a few hours talkin' about her when her name came up. Seems there was some Vartan besotted with her and now everyone's makin' fun of him over it, even when he ain't there, eh, Jakka? Any road, we're all laughin' about his little fantasy, and this guy said, 'Nope, she's no fantasy. She was a passenger on my airship. Left her at the Red Cliffs. Think she was headed on home to whatever foreign world she came from, 'cause she didn't look like she belonged to this one.'"

Lochinvar nods to that. "Do you recall his name at all?" he asks.

Jakka finally answers Jimi's repeated question with, "It was Toro Blackleg, Loch." She wipes another glass, leaning on the back of the bar as a Korv scrawks an impatient demand for a drink. She makes an offhand gesture at him and his feathers ruffle.

The winged coyote tilts his head a little at the name. "Brown furred Gallah mutt? One leg?" he asks the bartender.

The female Vartan nods. The Korv is scrawking again, and she fills a mug. "Some birds just don't know when they're not wanted," she mutters, and slides it down the bar to the irritated, yet determined, patron.

Lochinvar chuckles a little and nods. "You know if he's still in port?" he asks.

"Yup," Jakka says. "He asked for a room upstairs, then some cute thing offered him a place instead. Bet he'll be back on the morrow, though. He always comes by to toast the heads when he's in town."

The Hekoye/Vartan nods. "He sticks to a usual time coming in?" he wonders.

Jakka mphs, squinting in thought. "Round sundown, most nights."

"Very well," Lochinvar says. "I'll make it a point to be back tomorrow."

Charaz holds his mug of tea cupped in his hands, and grins. "Me too!" he scrawks, then goes wide-eyed and quiet, as if worried he got too excited again.

Lochinvar shoots Charaz a glance quickly. "We'll see," he says.