I did not enjoy my current situation too much, the touch of other men's Arts on my skin, if it was not healing, always made my skin crawl. Even Khyons. I was propped up in the upper left corner of the fancy Elven abode and made invisible. Nearly everything in the room was made from wood, actually, the room was made from wood as was the building. I have been in many log cabins in my life and with certainty I can say that this made even finely made log cabins resembling about as much as the stray kitten resembled a mountain lion. We were quite far from our metaphorical home. Three to four Counties west I always lurked on the East side of Arkansas so I couldn't be sure but I was pretty sure we left Clark and it was at the place where it was kinda too directly West for it to be Jefferson, not that Jefferson was a slice of heaven but once we passed particularly tall pass and I saw greenery, but more importantly two rivers was that my heart truly sunk. We were in...I believe the correct spelling was Arkansis, between Arkansas River and White River. Due to a large amount of forests most of the county was ceded to Khuna Elves, or what most Dwarfs and Humans called Forest Elves...but rarely to their face. Khuna was the most feral of Elves, and not only because they lived in a manner most associated with Natives, but because when you dealt with them you were always one wrong word away from meeting their sciina knife. Their favored close-quarter weapon, between 10 and 15 inches long forward curved war knife, and that was exactly what it was. War Knife, it was never drawn unless it would go into whatever enemy was foolish enough. They had a normal knife with which they did most other stuff, hunting, cutting various stuff, skinning, you know...knife stuff. Sciina was never used for such stuff, it was drawn only for two things: maintenance and killing. And as maintenance goes, the mundane blade was so sharp that its superstition went that the odd sound heard when the blade was thrown or swung was reality straining to keep it from splitting it into another dimension. I don't know about that but I saw Khuno I was on the job once cut a guy's head diagonally from the left of the crown and through all the bone from the forehead, through teeth, until it exited at the lower right side of the jaw. Later out of morbid curiosity, I examined the cut. It was so clean that it did not even crack the teeth it went through, I would think such a cut impossible without the help of the Arts, yet there it was, right in front of me. I had no wish to be on the opposite end of it and only two Khuna Elves I killed I did from a respectable distance with Arts so they didn't even have a chance to reach for it. And now I was going with Khyon for their Capital, to fetch his wayward Assassin.

That was another thing that bothered me. While Khyon hasn't really gotten to the point of being a chatterbox, he always liked to talk, yet he was unusually tight-lipped on our way to Sinder'A Khal, Khula Elven Court city. He did address that part, a day before we entered the actual city. And when he did I almost slapped him for being an idiot. We made for nightfall, no fire though. The reason I did not like our position was not tied to Khuna, not entirely anyway. The fact that the U.S. ceded this comparatively nice piece of land to Khuna so easily was not out of the kindness of their warm governmental hearts. Their territory sat smack dab in the middle between the Cherokee and Quawpaw territories. Pieces of it were likely stolen from one or both tribes, it was slightly too convenient that the border was conveniently at the banks of the two largest natural obstacles around. Arkansas and White Rivers, I had no doubt that before that hunting grounds likely ranged on both sides of the river. However, if governmental types hoped that Khula would control tribes it backfired spectacularly. Within a year they started non non-aggression pact with both tribes. Whether they found the word insulting or not, Khula were Forest Elves. They had no interest in developing any outside of the abundant forest territory, which covered roughly two-thirds of the ceded territory. As long as the two tribes did not bring the war to it, the two tribes were given the go-ahead to do as they pleased with the remaining third, including settling. They were just to stay out of their forest cities unless invited, and they were not to hunt in several specific parts of the forests. Other than that, Khula completely ignored Natives.

So while I had pretty cordial relations with Quawpaw, ranging from them letting me pass through their territory without making a stop there and “poaching” their game, over them completely ignoring my presence and allowing me to stay on their territory for as long I wanted to a few villages where I was welcomed as well as anyone not of their tribe. Cherokee however would really, really like my scalp, especially now that it was cleaned up a bit, and almost got it several times in the past. Also, I admit that the behavior of both groups was accidentally my fault, accent on accidentally, you pull the trigger in one situation and save one Chief's son, you pull the trigger in another situation and kill Chief's son. Too late to cry about spilled milk. Khula might kill me, but Cherokee will kill me, and not overly fast. Seeing our destination so close I was antsy. Still trusting that Khyon at least knows what he's doing with his people, I settled for the night under some ferns leaving Girl and Khyon's horse some 100 feet from our hidey hole. I even didn't want to risk dried meat for dinner because of its smoke smell. I rather nibbled on the “travel biscuits” that I ironically learned to make from another Native nation I was on decent terms with, Apache. More specifically Chiricahua. The biscuit had no meat in it but they were 1. Tasty as hell 2. So abnormally nutritious that I was often warned not to eat more than two at once. But I do have a sweet tooth and just after corn flour, the most important ingredient was honey. They had a bunch more various berries and herbs in them but I was already sold. As far as I know honey was one of the good things introduced to the “New World” from Europe and Asia. Before that sweetness would entirely depend on berries and herbs. I don't doubt they were fine, but fuck that. The only minus biscuits had was that they were hard as a rock so once you crack a piece you mostly sucked on it until your saliva softened it enough to chew and swallow. But all of that aside, they could last for years if stored properly and you had to eat only two in 24 hours to stay alive and moving. They were magic without Art. Once I crossed two weeks of desert, with only 10 of these and two Watterskins. I was not exactly the man who entered the desert, but I was alive and able to get to the first settlement. So now I was laying on the ground under the fern and sucking on the piece of biscuit trying to see the stars from underbrush since that usually got me to sleep when from my left came a low voice “Hákon?” I almost chuckled but my paranoid streak kept me in check, that and the sight of Cherokee knives when I closed my eyes “No, it's my mom. Do you really want to have a conversation now while we ride the entire day with your jaws clamped, like they are welded?” There was a bit of silence and I felt he wouldn't speak even now if he did not feel he had to “Listen Khyon I'll help you out. You wanted to say something about that I might hear some things about you during this, and that you'd prefer if it would stay a secret.” I cracked another piece of the biscuit and started to soften it with saliva “So let me put your mind at ease. I don't care.” There was a longer confused pause “What?” I shrugged like he could see me. “Exactly what I said. Everyone in camp knows you are not a simple trader, or they wouldn't try to recruit you first keeping me as a backup plan, so they might be curious. I couldn't give a less of a fuck are you a spy, assassin, or agent of that famed Elven secret police. or even damn King in Waiting. You always did right by me, spared my life, traded at a loss occasionally, those are the things that matter to me. What position you take in your own society, is neither my business nor I care. Others are free to find out by themselves.” I heard an exhale that was likely a remnant of a silent laugh “That simple?” “I'm a simple asshole, treat me nicely and you'll never find out what a shart is. The only thing is, if that is what made you squirm all the way here making our trip miserable I'd slap you senseless if I wasn't afraid of a Drow-made Cherokee tomahawk slamming into my forehead.”

This time he chuckled “Once you'll tell me what happened you are almost nonchalant about one tribe, and paranoid about the other while they share hunting grounds.” “If we survive this I might.” “We'll survive, go to sleep.” Now propped up into the dark upper corner, appreciating architecture and covered in Invisibility I was almost half certain we will. Khyon was not too forward with the plan. Basically short version of it was “Stay hidden and act if I call upon you.” Despite my questions, he didn't go into any more details, he sat and sipped at the tea kindly provided by our courteous hosts, well courteous to Khyon I might well be another pack animal or a pet. And as a good pet, I was without tea in the corner. Upper corner, but the corner nonetheless. I was just called Kyon bastard for a thousandth time and swore that I'd burn this wood paradise to ash if this lasted much longer when I felt it. Same feeling I had when Ronald was in my room, feeling of abused Ether. I relaxed trying to leave as little print as possible while doubling my mundane senses. Not that I had to wait for long. Precisely at the middle of the ceiling body slid down seemingly floating but then light bounced from the incredibly thin wire she used as a substitute for the rope, a wire that with the right move could easily cut throat, and with some power even behead so there was some trick. Her body in a glove suit, made mostly from silk with leather reinforcements used wire mostly as balancing support so it slides straight down without sound. The mechanism of how it works almost made me forget why I was there in the first place, which was bad, and that mostly silken body glove left little place for imagination, which was good. Yet because she descended head first once she reached Khyon's eye level she had to move her leading hand to the side so their eyes could meet, and I saw it. The mechanism was the size of a large matchbox. It was hard to believe it contained everything needed but yet there it was. A small metal part shaped like a bent tea spoon extended until her thumb. While pressed it would release a spool of wire hidden inside the box and lower her down, once she lifted the thumb mechanism would lock in place. The other side was likely secured behind an illusionary ceiling, and there was likely a way to cut it from this side, although I would have to see it from closer to discern how. I wondered when she changed the ceiling tile with illusion because it was the real thing when we entered. Khyon made sure of every tile himself because I was invisible since I was presented to the rulers. A good 8 hours before. She was good. How badly you had to fuck up in the assassin guild to be thrown out if your skills were at this level?

“Khyon.” Her face was also covered in tight silk fabric, leaving only two holes for eyes that were jet-black, everything except the white of her eyes, was jet-black. Her hair which was likely rather long was tied into an elaborate bun and tightened with two pins that probably were also weapons in their own right. The voice was husky and muffled by the fabric. “Dal'Ena” There was something like a short laugh “I remember when you called me just “Ena”.” Khyon was cold as ice, colder than I had ever seen him “And I remember when you knew what we stood for, you especially.” There was the sound of a blade cutting through the wire and she, free from her constraints made a flip almost in place, like gravity had no hold on her before landing in perfect imitation of Khyon's position From somewhere he produced another cup, and poured tea from her. A gesture that just reminded me how long I was hanging. She removed her mask. She was pretty. To Humans, all Elves are to a greater or lesser degree, but that was not all that was there to it. While Anne, although not really Elf, oozed primal carnal desire, and Red had a simple untainted beauty you could only compare to untouched Nature, majestic vistas, and at the same time private small places such as the untouched creek. Dal'Ena Amursil was regal, regal in a way that if she did not move, talk, or breathe...it would not be hard to imagine her as a statue of long-dead royalty. Her nose was narrow and long, maybe a finger width from her full lips and so straight and symmetrical that one could take instruments and I doubted it would find a flaw. How was it called? Golden ratio. The marble pale of her skin together with the black holes in her eyes. Both Anne and Red were prettier than her but if I were to give a crown I'd give it to this assassin I did not know the first thing about. I frowned and got my head in the game, Khyon needed my support, and crowns can be placed on dead bodies too.

Dal'Ena took a measured sip of the tea “So if this is not a social visit, why did you travel so far and risk so much to meet me?” Khyon took his own sip “Because I'm here to call on a chit, time to clear the books.” Thin as penciled in Dal'Ena's brows frown “Funny, I don't remember asking you for any favour.” Like he did not hear her he drew a piece of paper “Be here in five days with all the necessary equipment for infiltration from the sea.” Two things happened nearly at once. She drew on a thick part of the hairpin revealing the entire thing to be a mini stiletto. Her hair remained perfect since the “scabbard” kept it tight but the last thumb width was the handle reviling inch and a half of a blade with an unhealthy green hue, The second thing was as soon as I noticed her hand closing around it I made a focus and sent a violent wave of heat to it, wood evaporated leaving almost pleasant smell in the air, the still red hot blade fell on the tea set slightly damaging it. The red scar marred her white skin. Khyon waved his hand and the wound vanished before picking up his tea cup. She looked at him “That was just a mild paralyzing agent.” “He did not know that.” “He?” “What I do is larger than us, so yes I brought a backup. Frankly, he probably likes you because when you foolishly lunged for that blade there would be just a grease stain to explain to our hosts. I would not call the chit for any shit, this is important Ena.” She looks at him almost insulted “Too late to work me with “Ena” now, I'll do this and then I don't want to hear from you ever again!” “I so wish that would happen.” She leans her head confused he sighs and snaps his fingers. Invisibility vanishes first then, telekinesis. It was one of my better landings, especially because the moment I started to fall I drew both Helen and Drow's hand crossbow. By the time I landed, I had both drawn and pointed toward her. She, on the other side, had a segmented blade in her belt drawn and under my Adam's apple. It was likely also poisoned but, Helen and three poisoned bolts were also pointed to her eyes, at best we were at the draw. Until Khyon gently placed his short sword to her jugular from behind. I continued like I was in the conversation the entire time “What he meant was that this is the first stage of a two-part plan, it is likely that only one of us will survive. By the way, I hung in that corner for a while can I get some tea?”