Trading for Elementals of Wind and Wave

When Marco returns and has finished imparting news, both new and old, to the covenant members. Phaedrus approaches him, "Greetings Marco, nice seeing you again."
"And the same to you, Phaedrus." The old Redcap looked over the young and eager looking magus with interest. "So, has the council considered my offer? Have your deliberations been fruitful?" He gave a grin that showed enormous confidence that all had gone as he had hoped.
"The council has decided that the book you brought might be interesting enough to trade for; I'd like us to sit down over some beverage and discuss this."
At these words, Marco's grin became even more pronounced. "Well, it is a little early in the day for me to drink, but I would hate to let you drink alone." He took Phaedrus by the arm as though they had been friends since childhood and together they sought the gifts of the vine.
Once they have found a table and sent a kitchen helper for wine, Phaedrus says, "I'm not going to bargain with someone who inherently distrusts me if I can avoid it, would you agree to share my Parma for the evening?"
Waving over a grog, he replied "Certainly, it will give us something to do while we wait, though I am quite accustomed to magi." and with that he turned to the grog and began to order a hearty quantity of wine, ale, and food. 
When the ale arrived he passed a flagon to Phaedrus and proceeded to down another flagon in a matter of moments. Scarcely had he set the flagon down than he had picked up a pitcher of wine and was filling his leather cup. Looking over at the amused Phaedrus, he exclaimed "Ale for thirst; wine for the palate!" Noting that they had but three more cups of wine in the pitcher, he called for a couple more.
Sipping his wine Phaedrus replies, with a smile, "Yes, and I can see that relating all the news has made you thirsty. I hope you had no trouble with your provisions during the trip?"
"Aah..." began Marco with an expansive gesture of helplessness, "truth be told, had I not found your covenant so quickly, I would have been in trouble. After leaving the Mercere House in Coventry - a fine building..." and with this he departed on a tangent, describing the plain and yet elegantly proportioned tavern which served as the Tribunal's sorting house and supply post for the Redcaps who frequented it in lustrous detail, spending every effort to account for the ladies who resided there, the manner of the food, the amount of alcohol available - both before and after his visit, the quality of the accommodation, the stocks of vis kept safe within, the camaraderie between the passing Redcaps and the sheer, impressive vitality of this apparently bustling crossroads in the Mercere network. Eventually, he returned to the tale at hand, "but sadly, I was no more than three days from Coventry when I happened to be at a loss for rations and coin. You see, I had taken it upon myself to sleep the previous night in a small glade in a wood within sight of the road. Now, as you may know, I have met the fae on many occasions, and found them as often likeable as not, and thought that should there be trouble, I should be the better for my past experiences. I slept with one eye open, and one hand near the hilt of my dagger lest some Unseelie come upon me in my sleep, and low and behold, one did. Quick as a flash, I grasped the scrawny thing around the throat..." and with this another tale did ensue describing, at great length, how Marco, after interacting a variety of characters, managed to arrive at the covenant hungry and penniless. By way of proof, he showed Phaedrus a tiny cobbled shoe which he tucks away after a few moments of inspection.
"So, that is my tale, Phaedrus, what tale can you trade for it?" He grins at the young mage, and then looks about merrily at some of the grogs who had drawn near to listen during his immodestly loud account of his exploits on the road. As he waits for Phaedrus to begin, he drains his cup as though the telling of a story had parched him terribly, and eagerly pours himself another.
"Well, let me start with the water creature we met when going to investigate the fort on Caer Caradoc", Phaedrus answers and launches into a colourful description of the incident around the bridge. Just as Bedo splashes into the water there is a knock on the window and a convenient grog lets in Kuari, with a nod for his friend, Phaedrus continues "of course I needed a birds eye view of the proceedings, to know what kind of creature I had to handle, fortunately my friend here could help me out." Kuari flies over to land, very carefully, on Phaedrus arm. Looking up at the grog Phaedrus asks, "Could you get some snacks for Kuari, a pitcher of water and a few cups?" Then he continues with the story, glossing over the time between leaving the brook and returning to deal with the creature.
While Phaedrus describes his vision of the creatures grisly dwelling there arrives some choice bits of sausage for Kuari, a pitcher of clear water and three cups. Phaedrus fills all three, putting one in front of Kuari and handing Marco another.
Marco looks curiously at the water for a moment, and wondered whether it was clean enough to drink. "Hmmm..." he thought to himself, "this magus wants to pace himself to see the whole night through. Maybe I should have a word with the bartender, and get him to tell the girls we'll be a bit late back..." He glanced uncertainly around at those looking in his direction and quietly announced "When in Rome!" as he tossed back the cup of water.
"You are not used to communities taking care of their water supply are you?" Phaedrus commented. "On the contrary," countered Marco "a great drink requires good water. If your covenant would but turn a hand to making spirits, I fear the quality would be very good. This water you have is excellent." 
Phaedrus alternates wine and water while continuing to tell his story, and as a good host he makes sure to refill the wine cups as needed, leaving significant space for the bouquet to collect, and slightly more space in his own cup, hoping that geometry might also help him keep a clear head. 
By the time Phaedrus relates the part where Marcus and Mnemosyne go to the village to report the bodies, the latest wine pitcher is empty (with the majority of wine resting within Marco). At this point Marco produces a skin from the bag at his waist. "This," he said, leaning in an oddly reverential air "is whisky, given me by a monk I visit now and then. He lives at the most astonishing monastery, nestled between the hills in the far north, where the brothers conspire to produce this marvellous medicine, which, I am given to understand, goes down quite well with a bit of water."
He sat it upon the table and as he uncorked it there was a moment of disappointment as he realised that the skin was nowhere near as full as he recalled, but the moment was fleeting. He filled his own cup, and then gestured to Phaedrus to proffer his cup. "This'll put hairs on your chest" he said with a wide grin.
Holding up a clean mug Phaedrus looks curiously at the golden liquid pouring from the skin. Sketching a toast he sips the strange liquid, and carefully keeps a straight face when it attacks his nose and mouth. 
"Hmmm, interesting... I could grow to like this. Did your monk say how it was made?"
Having seen the effects of distilled drinks once before while travelling with his parents Phaedrus is very careful to alternate the interesting drink with less intoxicating things. "No, I'm afraid not, though I know that it rests in barrels much as wine does, as I for my part have had a hand in emptying more than a few! You should go and visit them, my friend. I commend their hospitality to you."
Marco noted, from long experience, that the occupants of the pub were reaching that merry point where the ale was beginning to work its wonders, and the worries of the day were slipping from their thoughts. "Music!" he called out, "who'll play for us?" Excusing himself from the table for a moment, he wandered off through the crowded tavern, and reappeared a few moments later looking quite pleased. After a few uncertain strokes, somewhere across the room, a fiddler found his confidence, and by-and-by the feeling in the tavern grew.
Phaedrus takes the opportunity while Marco is away to spontaneously cast a variant of "Endurance of the Berserkers" to keep the spirits from robbing him of his reasoning, quickly following it with a "Maintaining the demanding spell" that he can cast silently.
Feeling his head clear when the spell takes effect, Phaedrus follows it with the second spell to free his attention for the business at hand, but an unfortunate off-key squeal from the fiddle ruptures his concentration. Irritated by his failure to concentrate he decides to try another concentration spell and opens an intangible tunnel to Kuari. Phaedrus keeps the tunnel open for a while while listening to the fiddler and sipping some water, trying to establish what made him loose concentration before. When he sees Marco returning he lets the spell fade.
Marco and Phaedrus continue to drink until the passion that has gripped the occupants begins to fade and the covenfolk depart by numbers to their beds. Very much the worse for wear, Marco bids a brazen farewell to the last half-dozen grogs and the serving staff, and lead Phaedrus out.
Standing beneath the empty sky, a pale pink stain limned the clouds beneath which the sun would rise some hours hence. It was not so much late at night, as very early in the morning, the hours seeming to have stolen by like poachers in a moonlit wood.
With a broad, cheeky grin, he gestured to Phaedrus to follow. They crossed the covenant, entered a small room and ascended a narrow stair. Marco tapped his knuckles gently upon the door at the top, and entered. Within, there was a large cot, which occupied nearly the full breadth of the room, and sat upon it were two of the covenant's women, who were helping Marco out of his outer-clothes. "Come on lad, get yer boots off, and get up on here with these ladies."
"You certainly have a round-about way of getting down to business." answers Phaedrus, shaking his head in wonder, before stepping out of his boots at the door. Then with a bow for the ladies he follows Marco into the room.
One of the last things that Phaedrus remembers about that evening is Marco's reply; "Whether ye be at work, rest, or play, your time is slipping by, so why not have some fun." The other thing he vaguely remembered was an awful lot of nudity, and the vague sense that he had been vigorously intimate with one, the other, or both of the young ladies. 
Either way, he was awoken the next day by a pleasant breeze from an open window near his head. He was still in the same chamber, wrapped up in a bed sheet, and quite alone. His clothes were neatly folded on the washstand, and there was a parcel and note resting atop it. The parcel appeared to contain a book, and the note was from Marco, and written in surprisingly articulate Latin. 
Sitting upon the bed, Phaedrus scanned through the note. It basically stated that Marco had much enjoyed Phaedrus's company. The young ladies had been marvellous company despite the fact that he had partaken of a longevity ritual. He regretted that Phaedrus had been unable to enjoy himself at the tavern, nor been fully able to tear himself away from his work while having a drink. Had his evening been better, Marco writes, he would have offered a slightly lower price for the book, but as he had a pretty good evening all-told, he is willing to part with the book for X pawns.
<will check price later. Way past bedtime...>
Looking up from the note in wonder, Phaedrus tries to recall any hints of Faery heritage in Marco, but apart from his satyr-like antics, worthy of a disciple of Bacchus no less, he seemed fairly human in all respects.
<< Yes, Marco can perceive magical effects. He has also spent most of his life getting drunk with magi at their expense, and little transpired that night which he has not witnessed before. Some of his wilder tales regarding his exploits are actually true, though naturally exaggerated. By the way, you might want to add some description to the story regarding your magical addiction - it is a major hermetic flaw after all.>>
: << Phaedrus don't think he's addicted to magic! A bunch of botch dice is a totaly reasonable risk to take to check his concentration skills! (I have a feeling I'll be dreaming up "good" resons to cast unreasonable spells for the forseable future...) I had thought of keeping some non-fatiguing sponts going for a while, playing with moving the things on the table, but did not want to complicate matters.>>
Then he gets dressed before carefully unwrapping the parcel, to see what Marco left for him. Inside, he is not terribly surprised to find the book he has been negotiating for.
Wrapping the book carefully Phaedrus heads of in search for breakfast and Marco to finnish the deal, expecting to find them both at the same place.
<<Forget about the magic, the clothes are (on a reread) obviously right beside the bed... >>