3 Midsummer, 6105

As it turns out, Charaz's airship has left the docks. After twenty minutes of wandering about while listening to the boy determinedly saying, "I'm sure I'll find them soon," the winged Hekoye decides the boy is stalling. He escorts the Vartan boy to his quarters, and extracts a grudging promise from Charaz that he'll remain there.

This accomplished, Lochinvar returns to the docks alone, to solicit his own, rather less imaginary, contacts. As he walks amongst the floating, tethered ships in their berths, he spies an old Vartan friend, Shinybeak, flying a crate down from one of the vessels to the flatbed of a waiting wagon.

Lochinvar calls out a greeting to the other Vartan, looking to have him wait by the flatbed before flying off to fetch more cargo from the ship.

Shinybeak glances around, then parts his beak in a grin and waves one wing in greeting to Lochinvar. He leans against the crate after setting it in place, folding his arms over his chest while he waits for the other to join him.

The half-Hekoye doesn't pick up his pace to reach his old friend, but reaches him soon enough. "Ahoy there, old friend," he says. "It's been a while, no?"

"It sure has," Shinybeak replies in Vartan, a language he's always been more comfortable with than Rephidim Standard. "Been too busy with your Temple friends to visit us lowly dock workers, eh?" He has a joking tone to his voice as he speaks, making it difficult to say if the jest masks real offense or is simply an observation.

Lochinvar lets his ears lay back a little, still familiar enough with his friend's manner to pick up on the ribbing. "Busy yes," he replies. "Not always with 'Temple Friends' though – my work keeps me out on the fringes of Rephidim mostly."

The Vartan scrawks a laugh. "Work is still work, no matter who it's for," he remarks. As if to reinforce the point, the foreman on the ship hollers, "I ain't paying you to talk!" at the Vartan, and Shinybeak's neck feathers ruffle. He calls back a mocking "Aye-aye, sir!" and glances at Lochinvar. "I got 'nother five crates to unload and then it's quittin' time. You wanna lend me a hand for old times' sake?" He grins again.

"I guess I could," replies the Ranger. "Gives me a chance to show you that I'm still one of the best people this place ever had." He grins at Shinybeak, then launches himself up towards the vessel that was being unloaded.

The hippogryph's math is apparently as bad as ever – or maybe he was just counting on the other workers to be faster – because Lochinvar has carried down five crates by himself, with Shinybeak ferrying separate loads – before the ship's hold is finally unloaded. Shinybeak grins at his companion when they're done. "Bah, you used to be faster," he says. "Soft Temple life has stolen your strength. I carried down six crates in the time you took to do four," he boasts.

"Only because I had to deal with crates that were still tied down!" Lochinvar protests. "Anyway, this mean you're done here for the day now?"

He nods, flapping his wings for emphasis. "Since you're such an old friend, I'll buy you a drink for your troubles. There's a place near here – The Wooden Leg. If you've got the time … "

Lochinvar looks at his friend, with a bit of mock shock at the question. "Have you ever known me not to have the time for a drink?" he asks, grinning.

"Ah … " The Vartan clops along the planks of the dock, then flaps down one of the rickety staircases, disdaining the use of the steps, with Lochinvar at his side. "There was that one time … no, wait, that wasn't you. Hmm. Can I get back to you on that?" He grins, too.

The winged coyote chuckles, shaking his head a little, following Shinybeak to the tavern – his own footfalls much quieter than the Vartan's. "I'll think about it," he replies.

The Wooden Leg proves to be easily recognized, marked by the polished wooden leg that holds its flapping signboard over the door. A vaguely Dobermanish-looking Gallah works the taps, while a crowd of dock workers of all races mill about the tables and the bar. Shinybeak maneuvers through the press with an ease born of a lifetime of practice. Once at the bar, he hollers in his heavily accented Standard, "Two beer for I and I's friend!"

Lochinvar smiles a little to himself, though doesn't comment on Shinybeak's grasp on Standard, especially since the winged coyote has a grasp on that, as well as other tongues. He pats Shinybeak on the shoulder. "I'll find a table," he tells the Vartan.

Shinybeak nods, and waits at the bar for his order while Lochinvar secures a table on the far side of the room. He joins the winged coyote bearing two large tankards in triumph, and slips back into the Vartan tongue as he sets the mugs on the table and sits. "What brings you down to the docks, any road? Somehow, I don't think you came just to help me carry unload The Wallowing Serpent. Though you're welcome to do that anytime!"

The Ranger wonders to himself if that ship was of Nagai registry. It sounds it, from the name. He chuckles a little at Shinybeak's suggestion, takes a draw on his mug, and shakes his head a little. "Bit of business, really," Lochinvar says. "Though not Temple related. This is personal."

"Oho." Shinybeak takes a long pull from his mug, then continues, "Anything you want to tell your old friend, or is it private as well as personal?" he asks slyly.

Lochinvar doesn't seem to comment on that, instead he continues. "A Vartan woman came into Rephidim some time after Candlemass. Pure white fur and feathers. Not through proper channels though. I'm wondering if you might have heard anything on the grapevine of her entry?"

The Vartan laughs. "Oho!" he repeats. "So you've heard of the legendary Silver Vartan, too? Her myth grows! I'd heard about her, but not this is the first I've heard that she had come to Rephidim in the flesh."

The Ranger tilts his head at Shinybeak's comments. "She's … legendary?" he asks, a bit astonished at that.

"Well, to hear the folks here talk, she is." The hippogryph grins again, and takes another draft from his glass. "Especially Kiokevar. He spent a good three weeks solid spreading her fame at every bar and tavern on the docks while he was on leave. 'A Vartan lady as shiny as the stars of the Procession, as beautiful as the finest jewels of Paradys,'" Shinybeak quotes, with a mockery of a love struck air. "It's quite the joke."

Lochinvar doesn't seem to crack much of a smile at this joke. "So you're not aware of her arriving? How about this Kiokevar? Where might I find him?" the half-Vartan asks.

"No, I'm not." Shinybeak tilts his head, sobering to reflect his own friend's seriousness. "Kiokevar … " He runs his fingers along the underside of his beak thoughtfully, "I think he's still out on The Locket. The word he spread was that his bright lady was going to the Red Cliffs in the Himar. He said, 'I would follow her through the Gateway, to Abaddon and beyond, if only I could win her.' But no one took him seriously. Heh – if he felt that way, why didn't he, after all? But … why so serious? If you don't know about her through Kiokevar's stories, where did you hear of her?"

Considering that it's better to avoid answering that question for the moment, the Vartan/Hekoye then asks of his friend, "When is The Locket due back?"

The Vartan shakes his head. "Not sure. They'd know down at the Port Authority." He taps his fingers on the table, looking at Lochinvar expectantly.

"Port Authority," Lochinvar muses, pausing to take another swig of his drink. "Right … I'm going to need to head there anyway for some other inquiries."

The corner of the Vartan's beak quirks, and he pokes the winged Hekoye in the ribs. "Come, tit for tat. I told you what I know. Aren't you going to tell me why you're looking for Kiokevar's White Lady? I thought her just some fancy of his he got wrapped up in, but now you're making me really curious."

Lochinvar takes another drink from his mug, and pauses to consider his reply. "My cousin arrived not too long ago, and mentioned her. Her description is … similar to someone I know," he says.

Shinybeak blinks a few times. "Really? You know her? From where?"

The Ranger holds up a hand to stop Shinybeak. "Hold on a moment … I said that she sounds similar to someone I know."

"Well, how many silver Vartans can there be in the world?" Shinybeak says, sensibly. "That's like someone saying, 'I know a fellow who looks similar to Lochinvar.' Bah! It must be the same person."

Lochinvar sets his mug down and hrms back at the Vartan. "Think what you will, then."

The Vartan chuckles, and takes another draft. "All right, then. Who's your lady friend 'who looks similar', then? A woman from your past?" He grins suddenly. "An old flame?"

The Ranger sighs a little. "This person I know is from my home village," he says.

This appears to be all the confirmation Shinybeak needs, as he laughs heartily at Lochinvar's put-upon attitude. When he's done, he pokes the Hekoye's ribs lightly with his elbow. "Indeed, my friend. Fear not, I won't spread your tale wide like Kiokevar did his."

"My tale?" asks the half-Vartan. "I've not told you any tale… "

"Not much of one, certainly," the hippogryph concedes, taking another drink. "And getting one out of you is more painful than pulling pinions, so I'll give it a rest. I don't suppose you've got any news you're willing to share with your old friend?"

"Certainly," replies Lochinvar. "If you're willing to hear about news from the outskirts of Rephidim?"

After finishing his drink, the winged Hekoye makes his excuses, anxious to return to the Port Authority before it closes for the evening. He arrives in time to see the clerk rattling his keys in the front door as he locks up.

The Ranger hurries quickly towards the clerk, seeing that he's just on locking up. "Whoa! Hold up there!" he calls.

The clerk looks up, tail twitching. "Hello again, Lochinvar," he greets, adjusting his spectacles as he draws the key out of the lock. "Twice in one day? This is a surprise."

"Indeed," replies the Ranger. "I need to get some more information, actually."

"We-ell … " The man glances down at his pocket, then sighs and digs his keys back out. "I guess since it's for the Temple… What do you need?"

"First, a passenger manifest for The Bird of Paradise. Then, I need information as to when The Locket may be back here, as well as its flight plan," the Hekoye/Vartan asks.

The clerk mm-hmms, opening the door with an absent-minded air, and starting towards the record books as soon as he gets a lantern lit. "Close the door behind you, please – don't want anyone else wandering in to keep me here. Now, The Locket – seems like I just heard that name recently… You want The Bird's last manifest, right? From when it docked two days ago?"

Lochinvar follows the clerk into the office, and closes the door behind him. "That's right, yes," he replies.

"Here you go." He flops a thong-bound tome already on the front desk open, flipping back a few dozen pages to the list. "There's the list for The Bird of Paradise," he says, pointing to a manifest that lists both cargo and passengers, then turning away to search the shelves behind, a frown of concentration on his face.

"You have a copy I could take?" asks the winged coyote.

"Not tonight, Lochy," the clerk says, wrinkling his nose at the thought of extra work. "If you really need one I could copy it out for you tomorrow, I guess." He runs his finger over the binders of several volumes, still looking for The Locket information, then snaps them. together "Aha! Now I remember." He pivots and takes a book out from beneath the main counter, then opens it, flipping through the pages.

"Then, you have something I can copy this out myself onto?" asks the Ranger. "I just need the passenger names."

"Oh, all right," the mouse concedes, looking a little grumbly still. He stops his search to produce a sheaf of paper and a pen for the winged coyote, then goes back to flipping pages in the other book.

Lochinvar takes the pen, and starts copying down the names of the passengers. "Thanks," he says, not looking up.

"Eh, that's okay. Ah! Here it is!" The clerk wriggles his ears in triumph. "I knew I'd heard that name recently. The Locket: 8 Midsummer, 6105: Received word that airship damaged in storm on Unity 5, 6105. Flight to Olympia delayed while emergency repairs conducted. Further repairs will be required at Olympia. Expected to delay return to Rephidim until … ouch, Ring 33. Hope it's not bringing you anything important, Arques."

The Ranger looks up from his writing. "Do you know where it might be at present?"

"Probably at Olympia by now, getting the final repairs," The mouse says. "Unless they couldn't get it back operational. But The Locket's got a good engineer; if he thought he could get it up and running enough to limp to Olympia, I'm sure he could."

Lochinvar sighs a little at the news, looking back at his writing. "I hope so … though if it takes too long, I may have to travel there myself and meet the ship."