An Unlikely Source

The afternoon heat pressed lazily against the walls of Equanday’s Villa, where for once the world felt distant. The hum of the markets of Port Nyanzaru drifted faintly through open shutters, softened by shade and wealth. Inside, the party had begun to settle; armor loosened, voices lower, the tension of the jungle briefly held at bay.

Then came the knocking. Sharp. Rapid. Insistent.

Kwalu, one of Equanday’s servants muttered under his breath as he crossed the polished tile floor. “If this is another fruit seller, I swear by Waukeen…” He pulled open the door.

Shago stood there; dust-covered, sweat-drenched, and smiling like a man who had successfully navigated chaos and come out ahead of it.

Kwalu blinked. “Yes?”

“Excellent,” Shago said. “You are exactly the person I hoped would open the door.”

Kwalu frowned slightly. “And who would that be?”

“The one who knows where the important people are.”

“If you’re here to sell something, we’re not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything,” Shago said. “I’m here to see—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Kwalu cut in, already beginning to close the door. “Whatever this is, you’ll need to—”

Shago leaned slightly to the side, peering past him into the villa. And then his face lit up.

“There he is!”

The servant paused mid-motion.

Shago straightened and pointed past him with absolute certainty.

“The Legate! Tavril!”

From inside the villa, Tavril drifted closer to the door. “…Shago?”

Shago’s grin widened. “Yes! Good. This saves time.”

Before the servant could recover, Shago slipped past him into the villa.

“Sir—!” Kwalu protested, turning.

“I am expected,” Shago said over his shoulder.

“You are not—”

“I am now.”

By the time Kwalu found his voice again, Shago had reached the main room. His gaze swept once across the gathered party before settling squarely on An’ric. He studied him for a long, thoughtful moment, then nodded with complete certainty.

“Yes,” Shago announced. “You are definitely dying.”

Silence fell like a dropped plate.

An’ric rolled his eyes. “Greeeaaat.”

Evalise snorted despite herself. “Strong opening.”

Tavril closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shago. Explain. Slowly. Preferably without declaring anyone dead in the first sentence.”

Shago stood akimbo looking very proud of himself, then gestured broadly like a storyteller about to deliver a masterpiece.

“You are curious how I found you, yes? And how I know An’ric is… slowly turning into a sad, walking skeleton.”

A slight grin creased Arabess’ lips  “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“It begins with my cousin, Nalo.”

Evalise leaned back in her chair. “Of course it does.”

“My mother’s sister’s husband’s brother’s other wife’s son—Nalo—sells fish. Very bad fish. This is important because no one buys them, so he has time to listen.”

Tavril opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Nalo hears from a sailor,” Shago continued, “that a priest—very serious, very intense—has been asking questions about a death curse.”

“I’m assuming that would be me,” Tavril muttered.

“Yes,” Shago said, nodding. “You have the face of a man who worries professionally and asks unpleasant questions.”

Cal grinned. “Accurate.”

Shago continued, pacing now. “So Nalo tells his wife. His wife tells her sister. Her sister tells a man who cuts hair for the soldiers at Fort Beluarian .”

Tavril sighed softly. “Naturally.”

“That man,” Shago said, “hears that the priest has a ward. A noble one. Slowly dying. Being eaten by something unseen.”

Shago lowered his voice, as though sharing a secret meant only for the room and gestured toward An’ric.

“So I think; who do I know that fits ‘noble, quiet, and currently losing a fight with undeath?’”

An’ric exhaled softly. “I preferred it when this was a private affliction.”

Shago resumed his story.

“So I go to the temple. I find High Priest Shilau M’wenye.”

Tavril straightened slightly. “And you told him?”

“Yes,” Shago said proudly. “I said: ‘Your Legate’s ward is dying in a dramatic and spiritually inconvenient way.’”

Tavril closed his eyes. “You did not.”

“I may have improved the wording.”

“You did not.” Arabess and Cal said in unison.

Shago ignored them and continued. “At first, he did not know how to answer. He becomes very concerned. Very focused. Then he agrees this is a problem,” Shago went on. “A very holy problem. So he prepares six scrolls to aid An’ric.”

At that, he tapped his satchel with a satisfied grin.

“Very official. Very blessed. They smell like incense.”

Arabess raised a brow. “You just… asked?”

“I explained,” Shago corrected. “Very convincingly.”

Cal leaned forward. “Define ‘convincingly.’”

“I told him it would reflect poorly on Helm if the Legate’s ward died.”

Tavril winced.

“…and that we could help fix it if he prepared the scrolls”

Arabess let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.

“It worked.” Shago said. 

Tavril shook his head, but there was reluctant approval in it. “And the Governer, Commander Portyr?”

Shago straightened again, slipping into a rigid imitation. “Commander Portyr says, ‘Scout Shago, why should I allow this?’”

“And I say,” Because the High Priest has already approved it.’”

Evalise smirked faintly. “You went over her head.”

“I went around it,” Shago corrected. “More efficient.”

An’ric smiled, faintly amused “And that worked?”

“No,” Shago said.

Cal barked a laugh.

“Then I reminded her who sponsored me,” Shago added, pointing at Tavril and An’ric. “Rank. Responsibility. Authority.  I used all of these words.” He spread his hands. “Very cooperative after that.”

 That landed. Tavril and An’ric exchanged approving looks.

Then Shago reached into his satchel and carefully drew out one the scrolls, holding it with surprising reverence.

“I followed you,” he said, quieter now, “because word travels fast here. Faster than ships. Faster than runners.”

His eyes flicked briefly to An’ric.

“Faster than what is taking you.”

“Also,” Shago added, brightening again, “a parrot confirmed your direction. A very reliable parrot,” Shago said. “Better than Nalo.”

From the doorway, Kwalu, who had somehow endured all of this, cleared his throat.

“…Should I inform Master Equanday that the dying one has been found?”

An’ric closed his eyes briefly. “Please don’t phrase it like that.”

Shago nodded approvingly. “No, no. He is correct. Clarity is important.”

“No,” Tavril said quietly, already stepping toward An’ric. “We’ll speak with him shortly.”

Shago held out the scrolls.

An’ric looked at them for a long moment before taking one.

“So,” he said quietly, “this is what time looks like now.”

Shago grinned, “I told them I would find you.”

Tavril met his gaze. “And you did. “You’ve done well.”

Cal eyed the scrolls. “So all that… fish, cousins, and parrots… actually worked?”

Shago nodded. “Yes.”

An’ric let out a slow breath. “Let’s not waste the time Shago bought us.”