Well the blood was in the water now, no choice but to let the sharks come. Ezrah suppressed a slight grin even as he felt bile rise in his throat. When he'd said the darkness was full of teeth, he'd nearly forgotten he was summoning their owners. He watched in silence as more searchers came squinting and muttering towards the light. Some were full of words and wit and questions, others silence, one full of over loud blabbering. Ezrah kept his back to the burning puddle, obscuring form and face against the contrast of the unearthly light and searching for similarities among those who'd been fool enough to heed their mysterious benefactor's call. All of them were young, as far as he could tell, and the roiling in his stomach grew all the more intense. One targeted children for a myriad of reasons and none of them were particularly pleasant. Still... the nagging sensation, the tickling at the nape of Ezrah's neck that told of possibility and profit, urged him to play this sham out. Some of these youths were small, others less so. If things got violent, he'd have a rough time of it, best to avoid that.
Most of the banter could be ignored, it was important to remember the role and the mindset. Ezrah must be above these proceedings but respectful of them, servant, but the servant of an infinitely superior master. There would be a time to exalt himself and a time to show proper deference. Some of these questions held darker undertones, hints of accusation and frustration, they would need dealing with, snuffing out before such thoughts spread. All good cults had patterns, Ezrah had learned them on the Crone's knee. He knew how much his life was bound up in them, perhaps he could bind up a few others. He bit back another spasmodic grin. This was the most damn fool thing he'd done since the Crone found her Unmaking. A pity she had no grave, surely she'd be turning in it.
"Umm... Who exactly are you, mister?" The girl who'd stumbled across him first spoke first, her voice timid, manner drawn in, wary, behavior appropriate for a gutter child though the fabric of her rags was fine once, too fine for one gutter born. The light of truth shines bright upon the humble..., "I am nothing, no one. You were called, you were summoned. Now you're gathered, guided."
One part true, one part bullshit, one part cryptic, that was the formula sure enough. The Marked knew that well enough, better than fawning sycophants of the Citadel of the Faith.
"Tell me, how is it that someone in the Drowned District has come to possess Dragon Silver?" Ahhh, so one knew of this particular trick, another apothecary or alchemist? No... no... he wore a sailor's rags, even if he didn't wear their speech. And that question was an imperative, a command. Gutter born didn't give orders, not unless they were draped in threats and not if a good knifing was an option. And yet gutter born or no, this one was in the sewers with the rest. To the knowing, a taste of mystery and the knowledge that they know nothing," How does a man come to possess anything? How does a tool come to possess its function? A fool, his questions? How do the highborn find themselves in the filth beneath filth? All answers are the same."
There, a risk, but not a bad one. There were commissioned men of low birth, but they were rare and rarer. It'd either be enough to shake him, or it could be dismissed as a thing of double meaning. Ezrah was no stranger to twisty, thorny rhetoric, Saandoval be praised....
"You there! In the cloak! If you really do represent this 'Shroud', why bother giving us maps, if you were planning on lighting up the whole damn sewer?" Ahh, and here was greater danger still, the doubter, the nonbeliever. Couldn't blame him really, who wouldn't be keyed up with all this madness at hand? Still, couldn't let such thinking take root, had to tease that monster with the sight of something else, distract it, confuse it, and lead it to the tiger pit. To the nonbeliever nothing save a choice and its futility," Perhaps he has more faith in you than I.... I question not his wisdom, only his timetable. You linger over long."
Ezrah extended one hand towards the four paths behind him, gesturing towards the one the map in his mind had picked out earlier," There lies the way forward, take it or leave."
