Elthel spoke up, “We went to meet with Gunalar as you know. And the bastard set upon us the moment he had us inside! All of his bluster about a ‘peaceful meeting’ was just a ruse. Aseilia and Vrein… they did not make it out. Zilaster and I barely escaped. Zilaster has been poisoned!”

“Zilaster, I told you that fork-tongued oaf was not to be trusted!” the dwarf barked, his brow crinkling fiercely.

“Spare me… your… [i]correctness[/i],” Zilaster growled, “just… get me to Roscela.”

“She is downstairs.”

“Good,” Elthel said,”but… Zilaster, what about them?” Elthel turned her head and nodded toward the newcomers.

“Wait… here,” Zilaster twisted around, looking at Leon in particular, “if I do not come back up… I will send word. They saved me, Yanoriim.” 

The dwarf’s expression softened and he nodded, turning to a door behind the counter and with a jingle of keys unlocked and pushed it open. Elthel hurriedly ushered the weakening half-elf behind the counter and through the door which Yanoriim closed and relocked behind him.

[i]A basement hideout or a secret passage, I wonder.[/i] Iliskra thought as the dwarf put away his key ring and turned to face the three before him.
“I should thank you then,” Yanoriim said, “if you did save Zilaster and Elthel. They are close friends and good business partners.”

“Business partners you say, what business?” Iliskra asked.

“Not [i]your[/i] business,” Yanoriim smirked, “not unless Zilaster says otherwise.”

“Ah, so Zilaster runs the business.” Iliskra grinned.

Yanoriim’s smirk faded and he pursed his thin lips as if trying to forcibly contain anymore words from coming forth. 

“Well, I suppose you might like to hear that Gunalar is dead.” Iliskra stated with a casual crossing of her arms.

“What?” Yanoriim’s eyes widened, “Dead? How? Neither of them said anything about it!”