Velentham stepped from his cloaking, changing his appearance into that of a burly young sailor. It fit in this city that stunk with fish and unwashed fishermen. At the docks, ships were anchored in the harbor, cranes and winches unceasingly loading boxes and crates into the bellies of cargo holds with creaking and groaning protest. Velentham walked onto the docks, watching the sailors come and go, before his eyes settled on a portly captain with a thick beard.
The man stood, one eye squinted, puffing away at a pipe. "EY!" he shouted in a thick voice. "Careful there or I'll bust yer head."
"Pardon me, captain," Velentham said with a bow.
"Eh? Got me crew, ain't got room fer more, see."
"I merely wished to ask a question of one as learned of the world's geography as yourself."
"Ain't from ere, eh boy? Speak up, ain't go'tall damnable day."
"Have you heard any stories about a portal under a keep."
The captain stared at Velentham then let out a howling burst of laughter. "Spoke like a damnable child, stories," he said, then his mirth left and he pointed a finger toward his ship in admonishment. "EY!"
"The portal, Captain," Velentham interrupted again.
"Wha... ah, portal unner a keep... mage stuff, an don't let those mages what run this dump tell ya they don' charge high taxes. Damn near sky highest port tariffs, worse 'en Waterdeep, n' that's sayin' a hellufalot."
"Do you know of a portal under a keep?"
"Boy, there's stories abound bout places like that. If yer wise, you'll ask for bedtime stories from the mages, see? I ain't got time. Off with ya."
Velentham openly scowled and walked away. Mages running the city. Mages running economics. One class of people he could understand was mages. He'd passed a short, squat building in the center of the town, laden with official looking flags and a guard. He knew he would have to reveal himself as he truly was - full Celestial splendor - and then seep into the minds of the mages in charge to find what he wanted to know.
