A copper to a wharf rat gets us the location of Calmorien's warehouse, on the far right of the harbor, some distance from the busy piers at the port's center. Good price.

I can smell the warehouse from a hundred paces away. All of Elftown stinks, but some parts are worse than others. After the tannery, the fish yards are the most noxious. The spicy sauce so prized by the humans is made by leaving dead fish parts out to cure in the afternoon sun, after soaking in salty brine. Even though Calmorien doesn't manufacture the sauce, but just stores the barrels for export, the reek permeates the waterfront around his warehouse. This may work to our benefit today, as the neighborhood seems somewhat deserted. Even in Elftown, there are better places to be than around here.

The building is squat and square, backed up against the sea wall. And made of solid timber, with only a few high windows. The double wide doors are guarded by two armed elves. Not uncommon for merchants who traffic in items of value. Sometimes it seems like half of Elftown survives by robbery and thievery and the other half by getting paid to prevent it. I've worked both sides of that alley. In the last week.

As we approach, Enturi moves slightly ahead of the rest of us. He stops a dozen feet from the guards, with me and Lynae flanking him, and the dwarf behind us. 

"We're here to see Calmorien," he announces. 

"Calmorien's not seeing you," the guard on the left spits out. The other guard snickers. "Move along, losers."

"We will see him, whether he wants it or not. Step aside." My companion is doing it again - getting all menacing, somehow, in a way I can't quite put my finger on. The guards start to look nervous. I move forward, to a half step in front of my fellow enforcer. We've danced this dance before. Lynae, seeing my movement, does the same. She's a quick learner.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, tough guy. Calmorien is seeing no one today. Not even regular buyers, let alone randoms like you popping up outta the midday mists like mosquitos. Buzz off. You got some real business here, come back tomorrow."

"No," insists Enturi. "We will see him today."

The guard looks uncertain.

"Maybe it's okay," the other one whispers.

"Believe me, Calmorien will thank you," Enturi continues smoothly. "I represent a new buyer, a patrician who is willing to increase his margin by a half yet again. I am sure that you would find yourselves rewarded for guaranteeing him the opportunity to consider such a relationship. I'll give you each five silver to take to him as a token of my goodwill." He holds out both hands, each with a small pile of coins.

"Increase his margin," mutters the first guard.

"Wouldn't hurt him to listen," says the second. The two elves move forward to collect. I step to the side. As the guard moves past me, hand already reaching for the coins, I unsheathe my cutting sword and slam the pommel down on the back of his head. He crumples. On the other side, Lynae mirrors my actions, dropping the other guard with a blow from the pommel of her own blade. Yeah. A very quick learner. She gives Enturi an appraising look.

"You're something special," she says, her voice low and sultry.

Enturi doesn't respond. Seems a bit clumsy putting those silver coins back into his pouch, though. Might even be blushing a bit. Heh.

He moves to the doors.

"Shall we?" He asks. I shrug. The dwarf is on the ground, hovering over the two guards, his hands moving.

"Save the despoiling for later, champ," I tell him. "That can wait until after we take out the big guys inside."

"What?" He looks up, indignant. "I'm not picking their pockets. I'm stabilizing them."

"-the hell?" It's my turn to be indignant. "Why stinkin' bother? I take this guy out and you wanna make him feel all better?"

"No," the dwarf sighs. "I just want to make sure they don't die until we have a chance to question them."

"Oh," I mumble. "Well okay, then." It still doesn't seem right to me.