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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: SHAYLINE

Damn it, from the sound of it the whole plan’s going to shit already. Lady Naru made contact with Kesla just ten minutes after we first made it into our private box, making her freeze on the spot with her sword held at a strikingly awkward angle just as she was about to sheathe it again. The message was brief, at least, but when she finally snapped out of it again and fumbled her sword back into its scabbard she was frowning deep enough she looked fit to spit right here.

Apparently Tulen had just gotten through to her from down below, still in the tunnels even though the plan was that by now they’d already be in the cellar levels under the Playhouse, ready to make their move. Instead they got caught out before they even made it all the way inside, apparently running into an ambush which left Art badly hurt and the rest of them hung up with a serious fight on their hands. That made me swear a particularly nasty oath under my breath, and Kesla joined me, clearly only just stopping herself from thumping the wall behind her in frustration.

Needless to say we don’t have a choice in the matter, we have to move now, much earlier than we intended to. At least Lady Naru’s group have made their way in backstage, although they’ve literally only just achieved their own sneaky infiltration so they’re not yet in position, and with the company apparently hustling to get the play going they’re having to lay very low right now. Right now there’s not a whole lot they can do to help the others down in the tunnels, any more than we can.

“This is not gonna be pretty.” Kesla growls under her breath now, picking the key out of her pocket and leaning close to the door as she listens at it for a moment. Honestly, I really don’t know if she’ll really be able to make much out doing that, the orchestra are really playing up a storm in the theatre below us, the opening scene just now starting to unfold. Or maybe that’s not actually a bad thing, not really. After all, almost everyone’s eyes will likely be on the stage right now, so we only have to deal with whatever’s out there, in the corridor.

“Maybe we can just bluff our way through.” I offer up, mostly just hopeful even in the face of everything else that’s already going wrong. “After all, it didn’t seem like they actually know we’re here.”

Kesla gives me a wary look as she pauses just before slotting the key into the lock. “You really believe that?”

Unable to keep the scowl from my face, I just roll my eyes and step back. My hands go to my lap almost unbidden, checking the knives now strapped into the makeshift sheaths on their inside of both my thighs. Hoping they really are as invisible as we intended them to be when we were setting this up. Once again I’m acutely reminded of how ridiculously dressed I am for what we’re actually about, and how intrinsically uncomfortable I still am. This is not a good start.

The heels … well, honestly, they’re just the start. I can just about walk in them without having to really think about it, but this is purely down to my elven blood and the fact I have an intrinsically strong sense of balance. I still hate it, they’re genuinely killing my feet and slowly but inexorably putting a cramp in my calves I know I’ll pay for later from them being permanently over-extended. The rest of the costume is much worse, less down to how it feels than just how it makes me feel …

The angry self-consciousness is the worst of it, of course. I’m well aware that the way I normally dress does somewhat flatter my figure, but it’s still comfortable for me at the end of the day, and just as useful for me as it is stylish. This dress is just … it’s embarrassing, pretending to be something I’m not, something I can never be, that I never aspired to be and have no desire to be. Dressing like someone who wants to be ogled and lusted after, not so much to provoke actual titillation as to augment their desirability and therefore enhance their standing within their own social circle … Lady Naru tried to explain how it works but it just downright baffled me, and even Tulen ultimately agreed that it never made a whole lot of sense to her either. But I still had to go along with it, if I was going to pass for a wealthy young noblewoman in this kind of social scenario, I have to present a very particular and highly cultivated appearance.

Which means wearing a corset, apparently. Getting laced in somewhat tighter than I’d like, not so much that I’m having trouble breathing but still enough that I’m uncomfortably aware of the distinct snugness of the garment. That being said, at least when she crafted it using her magic Lady Naru fashioned it in such a way that I can still move how I need to, if and when it comes to it. But that doesn’t change the worst part of the whole thing for me. I’ve never had a problem with my breasts before, I mean I’ve never actually gone out of my way to flaunt them but I’ll admit that, much like the rest of my body I’ve at least learned to be proud of them. But the way the corset pushes them up and squeezes them together in such a blatant way … honestly, there’s something about it that feels genuinely vulgar. I mean it’s no different than a barmaid in a bodice, which I know is done for much the same effect, but somehow this just feels so much more … manipulative. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Well to hell with it … as soon as we got in here I decided to just go ahead and hide them, much as we’d decided I would as soon as it was convenient anyway. I’m somewhat aware now that, given we’re about to head out again it might have been somewhat premature, but … at this point I really don’t care anymore. I still wish I could do something about the bloody boots too, but for now I’m just going to have to put up with it. As for the rest …

“For fuck’s sake … I need a fucking sword.” I growl under my breath after a moment, just for myself, but Kesla pauses all the same just after pushing the key into the lock, turning back to give me another cool look.

“Let’s just deal with this first, shall we? Then we can get you one. All right?”

Holding my tongue, I just step up behind her and flex my fingers for a few moments, waiting for her to open the door. Finally she turns the key and waits for a long, loaded beat before finally opening it up just enough to peer through. I hang back now, trying to stay out of sight of whoever might be out there.

She still doesn’t say a word, but the way she lets a little breath go through her nose speaks of subtle frustration all the same. She turns her head just enough to give me a quick sidelong glance, then waves me back a little more, and I take the step as directed, letting my fingers curl into tense fists while the rest of me starts to stiffen without being bidden to first. Anticipating a coming fight, even though that’s the last thing we need right now.

Stepping back herself, Kesla opens the door the rest of the way, straightening the lie of her sword in the same moment as she draws herself up to her full height, assuming her role again. Seeing this reminds me that I am still technically performing, so I take a deep breath and force my fingers open again while I straighten my own back, square my shoulders and lift my chin, setting my jaw as I finally step up behind her now. Just as she steps out into the corridor.

When I follow her out, stepping with care I hope comes across more as haughty deliberation, I find the lights are a little more muted now but the space is still just about bright enough that Kesla can see well enough too. There are less guards now than there were before, but I still notice enough to give me pause that I have to work hard to hide my wary scan of our surroundings. And then I see the young man who saw us in, hustling over with a little frown on his face, and it’s all I can do not to curse under my breath.

There’s a moment just before he arrives I swear he’s about to speak, and I know he must be about to inquire what could possibly be wrong so soon, especially with the play just starting, but he muse rethink in the last moment. Instead he clears his throat and gives a deferential little bow, looking to me now. “My Lady, how may I be of assistance to you –”

“Toilet.” Kesla cuts him off, putting a good deal of gruffness in her voice while once again affecting that surprisingly convincing accent. “Where is it?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” He just gives a low nod this time and starts to back away, already gesturing to follow. “If you would come with –”

“No, just tell us. I can follow directions well enough.” She’s even more brusque with him now, and gives him such a savagely hard stare I’m not at all surprised he visibly squirms under that one uncanny dark eye.

Again he looks to me, just for a split-second, and I just roll my eyes, making it seem like he’s not even worth my time. This seems to do as good a job as Kesla’s withering glare.

“Of course … um, yes. My apologies, my Lady.” He clears his throat again, pondering for a beat, then turns and points down the line of the corridor we haven’t covered yet. “Turn left from the door, it’s the second door down on the right. But … are you sure you don’t –”

“Thank you, that will be all.” Kesla’s already turning away, and I follow her without giving him another glance, maintaining the act the best I can. Hoping he still hasn’t twigged to what we’re actually about, or that he might follow us anyway, purely through a sudden determination to try endearing himself to us after all. Looking for a really good tip at the end of the night, probably.

The guards, at least, barely even give us a glance as we pass, Kesla stalking along with her solid, warrior’s swagger while I just work on maintaining a self-important glide. Inwardly cursing every step while simultaneously praying to whichever god’s currently listening these bloody heels don’t betray me before we make it.

We reach the door at the other, closer end of the corridor without incident, and Kesla tips a little nod to the particularly large half-orc waiting there with his hand laid on the hilt of his sword. His eyes widen just a tiny bit as he registers the gesture, then he nods back, stepping aside before opening the door and pushing it wide for us. When we pass through, I make sure to give him as little regard as I did the others, even though it makes me squirm inside like every other time. Gods … da taught me too well, that manners are an important thing indeed in this world, and that you’ll do best making your way through your life if you treat people with the same kind of deference you’d prefer they direct to you. Having to act contrary to how I was raised now is really twisting me into knots that I have to fight hard to stop myself from gnawing on to try and break through.

The even larger human guard on the other side seems momentarily surprised as he steps aside a good distance to allow us through, likely as startled by someone moving now at this critical early point in the performance. But Kesla just gives him the same curt nod and he returns it before tipping me a much deeper bow, and this time I tip him a clipped nod of my own, unable to fight the internal crawling any longer. Then I follow Kesla as she starts climbing the shorter, wider passage up the ramp, just wanting to get away from all of this nonsense so we can instead get to what we need to now. Hoping I didn’t finally give myself away as I go.

Kesla just shoves the relevant door open with typical brusqueness as she leans in to check the way ahead, then pulls back out enough to give me a satisfied nod before pushing it open wide to allow me access, and I slip through without hesitation. The room is impressively large, with a surprisingly high ceiling, and it definitely seems to be of a type with the décor of the rest of the place. More of that red wood and gold leaf, although here at least it seems to be interspersed with large stretches of cool, gleaming polished marble and shiny brass. It’s definitely the most fancy toilet I have ever been in, certainly after being brought up in the much simpler climes of the Northern Reaches, but this is enough to put even the Silver Order’s impressive hospitality to shame.

There’s two whole rows of sinks running down the centre of the room, with impressively wide cubicles lining either wall, closed off with polished redwood doors. But the most baffling detail of all has to be the weird circular couch at the back of the room, very plush and clearly very soft indeed, lined with the same rich red velvet as the seating back in the box, surrounded by a cluster of similarly plush round stools. As I walk up to take a look at it, I see it’s been built around a wide pillar, while there’s carpet laid out around it too, unlike the marble floor under my feet.

“This is … I don’t understand, what is this for?”

When I look back at her, Kesla’s cocking one of her now far more inexplicably heavily scarred brows. “Last time I had to deal with highborns on a job, I came across this very conundrum, and I couldn’t help myself. Had to ask. Turns out some o’ these fancy noblewomen are real high-strung, an’ they get prone to fainting. Something to do with some of ‘em lacing their corsets too tight or something? I don’t understand it either, but ‘parently sometimes they gotta sit somewhere quiet and have a breather to calm down. Hence that … weird thing.” She shrugs. “I dunno.”

Turning away, I start walking back towards her, looking over the sinks now. There’s an impossibly large, single-pane mirror mounted over them, and I already saw there’s an identical one on the other side too. That’s just … bloody hell. Rich people. When I turn back I see Kesla watching me now, and she shrugs again, as though she already knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“All right, then …” I plant my hands into the small of my back and plant my feet before giving my spine a little stretch. Again wishing I could just get out of this fucking dress. “Now what? How are we supposed to get backstage?”

“Honestly?” Kesla scratches at the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders now with clear discomfort. It’s a strikingly familiar action which is made instantly odd to me purely because it looks like I’m seeing a complete stranger do it. “I got no idea. But … hmmm … all right, look. There’s one thing we could do, but it’s risky. You feel up to it?”

Much as the idea of anything that might work right now appeals to me, making me want to just jump to an agreement without hearing her out, I hold back, instead weighing the options for a moment. “I’d say it depends, really. How likely is it to blow up in our faces?”

Kesla ponders for a moment, then shrugs again, wincing a little this time. “I dunno. Fifty-fifty, maybe?”

Frowning, I watch her for a long moment, mindful that we’re clearly on a pretty serious time limit right now. “Better than nothing, I suppose. What do you want me to do?”

“Just wait here, inside the door. On the blind side. I’ll jump things off, but … just be ready to join in, ‘case this goes south on me.”

Now I almost ask her what she actually plans on doing, but instead I hold my tongue. I trust her to know what she’s doing, this is a big deal that we’re about and I’m sure she’s got enough confidence that this should pay off, or she wouldn’t suggest it. So I just nod and walk past her to the door, finally standing with my back to the wall on the far side, where I should be blocked from sight when it’s opened. I rich under my skirts and slip the knife strapped to my right thigh free, holding it low at my side, before tipping her another, somewhat less confident nod now.

Returning it with her own wariness, Kesla takes a deep breath and steps up to the door, pulling it open and leaning into the corridor before calling out, again affecting that odd accent. “Excuse me? My good man, could you help me for a moment?”

Oh, okay … I think I have an idea what she’s planning now. Yeah, I get it now, what she meant by this being risky. I take a breath and lean my head back against the wall now as I wait, offering up a silent prayer to Thorin as tighten my grip on the knife.

I hear the heavy, thumping footfalls outside first, before a low, very bassy gruff voice asking: “Ma’am? How can I be of assistance?”

“Oh no, it’s not me.” Kesla’s already pulling back in through the door now. “It’s her Ladyship. She has a rather … unusual problem, and we require a … man’s help with it.”

Bloody hell, Kesla … are you trying to appeal to him that way? How well’s that going to work?

His steps slow, and for the briefest moment I think she might have tipped her hand, but then he clears his throat, and when he speaks again he stutters just a little on the first word. “Why … of course, yes ma’m, I would be only too willing to help.” He follows her through as she back inside, pushing the door closed behind himself as he comes. Starting to look around now as he takes his first steps inside in earnest. Looking for me.

He's a big one, I don’t think I’ve seen such a large man before, certainly not human, he’s a good six inches taller than she is and much broader, especially across the shoulders, while his smooth shaven, scarred head just emerges from them without any neck. He’s a bruiser, clearly, but something about the clarity in his voice, and the sharp way he regarded us outside in the corridor, warns me he’s probably smarter than he actually looks. Something’s already warning me this ruse won’t work for very long, not with this one.

Then again, I don’t think Kesla’s going to let it get that far … she just rushes him, no warning at all, already starting to leap as she’s drawing her fist back, and between her momentum and already impressive strength it certainly looks like she hits him very hard indeed. The sound, too .. gods, it doesn’t sound like a regular punch, there’s a surprising metallic crack to it as she makes contact with his face, and when she lands, following through on the over-extension, I see why. I didn’t even notice her palm those nasty-looking heavy brass knuckledusters out of her pockets when she came back in, but then clearly neither did he.

He doesn’t go down, but he definitely wobbles, stumbling badly on suddenly rubbery legs for a few steps as he reels sideways from the hit, and Kesla’s already following through, dancing aside to follow him as she pulls back with her other arm. She lands a second punch, not so hard without the added momentum but still directed with full force, this time driving it hard into his stomach, and he doubles over, again managing to keep his feet but only barely. He gasps as he stumbles, spitting up a big mouthful of bloody drool that seems a good deal chunkier than I would have expected, at least until I realise that’s teeth, and I wince seeing it.

The fact he’s still conscious is more than a little alarming, though, when I look to her now I see Kesla’s visibly surprised too, even given the force of her blows, and as she frowns at him I see she’s rethinking her strategy. Wondering if she should just draw her sword and kill him on the spot, but … no, now I’m thinking about this it seems like a bad idea to kill him like that. We might still need to hide what we’ve done, at least for a little while, we don’t want someone stumbling on a cleaved corpse or even a lot of blood, not just yet. And I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing as she looks to me now.

Even so, as I step forward now, there’s a moment I still approach him with the knife pointed at him blade first, my own instincts taking over so I come damn close to killing him after all. It’s only at the last instant that I pull myself back, but I still try to put my whole strength into the hit, reeling back as I grip the knife in both hands and then bring it hard down on the base of his skull, pommel-first. There’s another, even louder metal crack as I strike home, and he drops instantly … but still doesn’t go all the way down, instead falling to his knees while his hands just come up in time to catch him so he ends up on all fours, groaning low and sounding completely miserable while another mouthful of blood and phlegm comes out of him.

“Thorin …” Kesla breathes after a moment, staring down at him in open amazement. “How the fuck …” She looks to me again. “Maybe you should stab him.”

Looking down at the knife, I find myself genuinely considering it myself. But instead I just shake my head. “No, I don’t think … no. That’s not …”

Frowning again, Kesla lets a little sigh go and steps up … then wheels back and kicks him in the side, every bit as hard as she just punched him. He lets out a much more winded grunt as the sheer force of the impact flips him over onto his back, hitting the floor hard which surely knocks the rest of the air out of him. She pauses for a beat before following through this time, starting to hesitate but fighting through, then leaps astride him, dropping to her knees as she straddles his belly. Already reeling back to hit him again.

But he’s still with it enough, amazingly, despite the spectacular beating we’ve already delivered just with a few hits. His face is a mangled mess, his lower nose battered badly askew while his jaw looks halfway shattered, knocked a good three inches off to the right while his teeth are a broken mess, half already gone. And there’s so much blood … but while his eyes are wild and a little glazed, there’s still enough focus in them to focus on her, and when she lands he sucks in a somewhat ragged breath and tenses … in the same moment he shoots both arms out, hands going straight for her throat.

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Kesla doesn’t react quite fast enough, his hands just managing to find their target, and the moment they’re wrapped around her neck they start to squeeze. She gasps, immediately bringing her own hands up to wedge between his twists and trying to pry them apart, but they seem to be made of iron. He just spits out another little bloody wad and screws his face up as he growls something that might just be wordless, or simply ruined by her punch, as he starts to squeeze harder.

I react before really thinking about it, because if I actually had I’d actually have said to hell with it and stabbed him right in his face. Instead I stalk up and bring my foot down hard on it, leading with the heel, and somehow it seems to land perfectly, the slender end of the heel going straight into his eye. Or maybe through it, I can’t really tell, at least until he lets out a much bigger moan which might be a scream mangled by his ruined jaw, and there’s a second spurt of blood under my boot.

The effect is pretty spectacular, though. He lets go instantly, letting Kesla reel back for a few moments while she starts coughing and whooping as she gulps in lungfuls of fresh air, and brings both hands to his face as I stumble back, suddenly unbalanced. I kind of lose track of what happens next as I’m fighting to regain my footing, finally stumbling into the wall and barely managing to catch myself against it, righting myself on these bastard fucking heels. Biting back a curse as I end up breathing heavily.

When I finally turn back Kesla must have slapped his hands out of the way before starting to batter his face, landing punch after punch with sickening loud, meaty impacts. Each hit sounding wetter than the last.

“Oh fuck …” I breathe, suddenly scared as I shove myself against the wall and just manage to totter over to her, reaching down to grab hold of her right wrist and pulling hard to try and arrest the flight of that fist, and even then she nearly yanks me off my feet. Again I’m reminded just how strong she actually is, especially when her blood’s up. I’m not sure if I just prove to be the stronger thanks to my orcish blood, or that she must twig at the last that it’s me, but it stops her in time, and for several moments we both just stay there, panting heavily as she comes fully back to her senses.

I’m a very long moment finding the courage to actually look at the poor bastard’s face, and my gorge rises the moment I do. “Oh … fuck, Kesla … what did you do?”

“Shit … I guess I got a bit worked up there.” There’s some regret in her voice as she takes in her own work, but not so much as I might want to hope for, perhaps. Like she’s already moving past it as she realises there’s really nothing she can do about it now, and that at least he’s no longer a threat.

Certainly this is what I’m trying to tell myself right now, but when I look at what’s left of this poor bastard’s face, I’m not too sure I really believe it. I don’t know if it’s her brass knuckles or just her own brutal strength and powerful survival instinct, but she turned this poor man’s face into pulp. There’s really nothing left of his jaw, his cheeks or his nose, just a mangled, battered and blood-soaked mess, and I can’t even see his eyes in the chaos now. His chest’s no longer moving, either, so she’s definitely killed him. Oh gods … that might be the worst way I have ever seen someone die. Outside of what we saw in Lady Vezrim’s home, at least.

“Well we need to …” I pull back now, somehow managing not to unbalance myself again as I straighten up and start to move around the corpse, searching the walls with greater deliberation now. “Fuck … oh, we have to hide that. Um …” I’m a moment really focusing on what I’m actually looking at even so, but then I realise we’ve lucked out after all.

“Yes! That’ll do it.” I go to a tall open-fronted closet set in the wall just beside the first of the line of cubicles on this side of the room, where there are maybe half a dozen slots cut into it containing dozens, perhaps hundreds of small folded towels. Reaching out, I pull one down and shake it out, finding a two foot square of almost impossibly soft, thick cotton flannel cloth, which I immediately scrunch up in my fist before throwing it to Kesla. “Here! Wrap up the head the best you can.” I pull down three more and toss them over, then grab two more and stalk back, looking at the floor with a more critical eye.

Scrunching one up, I toss it down before stepping on it and starting to work it back and forth across the first splash of bloody drool he spat up, then continuing to mop up the larger spots and splashes of residual blood after. Finally I stop and repeat the process with the other towel, tackling the second splash and the worst of what’s left of the splatter. By the time I’m done I look up to find Kesla’s already crouching at the head of the corpse, scooping her arms under its armpits to wrap around the chest and start to hoist it up off the floor.

“Oof … oh bloody hell …” Her face quickly darkens with the effort as she struggles, but when I start to step towards her she shakes her head, gritting her teeth and tensing her spectacular thighs in order to lift in earnest. She has to strain something fierce but finally picks the body up enough she can drag it backwards towards the cubicles. Now I start after her with greater purpose, before remembering the towels and doubling back to pluck them up.

I take a moment to inspect the state of the floor once I straighten up. It’s not a spectacular improvement, there’s still scattered spots and a little more gory splatter from where Kesla beat the late guard to death, but with the patterning of the marble it should just about pass muster at a glance. I’m hoping that’ll be enough, at least for a little while. These kinds of people don’t tend to look at the floor, so it should be long enough for us to make some headway, as long as we at least hide the body itself.

Catching up with Kesla now, I move ahead of her at last and push open one of the cubicle doors halfway down, reasoning this one is going to be the least likely for a visitor to just pick on a whim. I toss the towels inside to fall into the back corner beside the commode, then I just wait for Kesla to reach me.

Strong as she is, she’s still huffing and puffing with a particularly flushed face by the time she reaches me, sweating some while her tendons are standing out, veins bulging from the effort. She makes eye contact with me for a charged beat and looks away quick, growling under her laboured breath before finally managing to spit out: “Oh … not … a word … I’m regretting … this decision … already …”

“Well to give you your due credit, it did work. In the end.” I try not to sound too smug as I step out of her way so she can back into the cubicle.

It’s a good thing this place is so opulent, grand and well-appointed, the stalls alone are far wider than any I’ve seen before now, this one easily affording her enough room to drag the body to the commode, manhandling it about until she’s able to sit it down on top. Then she slips out from behind and just drops against the partition wall for a few moments, getting her breath back again. Her face slowly growing less flushed as her pulse starts to slow down once more.

“All right, then. Now what?”

Letting a heavy sigh go, Kesla pushes herself away from the wall, only wavering for a moment before finding her feet again, and turns to me. “You still want a sword?”

Frowning, I look down at the knife I’m still clutching in my offhand, and finally start to slot it back into the sheath on my thigh. “Oh! Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

Nodding, seeming a little resigned, perhaps, Kesla steps back to the body and unbuckles the swordbelt, carefully dragging the strap free before turning and holding the whole bundle out. I frown a little as I step into the cubicle at last, reaching out to collect the offered weapon and its harness.

Once I’m actually holding it, my initial confidence starts to waver. I’ve trained with swords this big before, when I was young and still being taught the blade with da he insisted I learn as many of the kinds available to me as I could. Even so, I soon found my personal preference with lighter, leaner steel built more for finesse and speed, whereas this broadsword, heftier even than Kesla’s impressive bastard sword, is much more of a handful, intended to win through muscle and savagery. I remember that one time she and I crossed swords in earnest, back in the mountains, and I tried to take her on with the borrowed sword of one of my fallen allies … and if that fight had been allowed to reach its conclusion I suspect she would have won that one, very much at the cost of my life. I’m not really made for this kind of steel.

Even so, when I draw it from its scabbard and hold it out at arm’s length, looking down the lines … honestly, it is very well made. Not the impressive dwarven steel that Kesla carries, but this is high quality work even so, when I give the blade a testing bend it springs back to true with impressive ease, while it’s definitely suitably weighted for one-handed work like I’ve seen her favour. The edges are good and keen, too, telling me this weapon definitely isn’t just for show, although its condition tells me it’s still not seen much action in its time. But at least the dead man looked after it well enough to serve me now.

Wrapping my offhand around the lower haft of the hilt, I spread my feet and give the blade a few test swings, producing some suitably hearty whooshes as it parts the air … until my balance starts to slip and I remember the heels, having to throw my left arm out as I totter to regain my balance. “Shit!” I hiss, feeling my face heat up immediately, and set my jaw as I turn and take some more careful steps back to retrieve the swordbelt and scabbard.

“How’s it look?” Kesla asks as she pulls the cubicle door closed, then starts to frown as she realises it won’t stay that way, and there’s no way to lock it from the outside. “Hmmm …”

“Well it’s not really my preferred style, but …” I give it one last little hack through the air before whipping it round so I can guide the tip into the scabbard’s throat and slide the blade home. “It’ll do. Perhaps I can find something a little more suitable as we go, but for now I can live with it.”

“Well that’s good, cuz from what I remember they’re all armed much the same. Hontiresk likes his security big, so that’s pretty much the standard.” She tries pulling on the door, which creaks a bit as she tries to pull it tighter into the frame, but the way it’s been installed this won’t work any better. “Oh for … bloody thing, this ain’t gonna work, but we can’t leave it like this. Any ideas?”

Cinching the belt the best I can around my hips, I find the strap is much longer than I’d really prefer, obviously meant for someone significantly wider through the hips, so I just loop it in a knot instead and tie it off as tight as I can before adjusting the lie again. It’s not perfect, but I guess it’ll serve. I let the sword hang, then look down at my feet. “All right … how did this work again?”

Planting my feet the best I can, I take a deep breath and bend down at the waist, stretching until I can easily reach my ankles, and start to feel along the edge of the sole of my left boot. It takes me a long moment to remember the trick Lady Naru explained to me. These books are spell-crafted just like the rest of this ridiculous costume, but at least with these she wove a little extra something into its structure as she formed it around my foot and lower leg, for just this occasion. I suppose now’s as good a time as any. So I give it a try, hoping I’m recalling the combination right.

First two taps, then one more and a stroke, before three taps, all down the outside line of the heel itself. I just remember to bend my foot forward and lift my own heel in time before it has the chance to unbalance me, the entire sole quivering under my foot with the strangest vibration that makes me shiver a bit as it starts to reshape itself. I have to admit it’s not at all unpleasant a sensation, actually, and it’s a miracle I maintain my one-footed balance while it's happening.

Within moments, the heel has become far thicker and flatter, the sole straightening out enough that I can lay my foot down at a far more comfortable angle. There’s still a little arch there, but no more than I’m used to in my own boots, and it’ll definitely serve if we have to fight.

Kesla gives a low whistle. “Wow … that actually worked.”

“She’s a sorcerer, remember? Why would you ever doubt her?” I shift my weight so I’m resting most of it more comfortably on my left foot, then bend so I can repeat the process on the other boot. This one works as well as the first, and soon enough I can start stepping about the floor with a good deal more ease, while my feet are already thanking me for taking away the wretched strain those bloody heels were putting on them. “Ooh … gods, that’s better. Remind me to thank her later, if we’re still alive.”

The look Kesla gives me tells me she really doesn’t appreciate the joke, and I sigh as I turn to the problem at hand. Walking forward, I step into the stall and pull the door closed, then slip the latch to lock it in place. Then I step back and look down at the bottom of the door. Yes, this should work well enough …

Dropping down onto the floor, I slide across the cool marble tiles and slip through the gap underneath the door with just a little twisting and squeezing when it meets my backside. Within moments I’m springing up onto my coiled legs and straightening back up to my full height, smiling at Kesla as she gives me a cool look, one brow cocked with clear sarcasm. “Very graceful.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I look down to inspect the front of the dress, although I’ll admit I’m not all that bothered how it actually looks once I start thinking about it. But the floor’s definitely clean enough, and we’re both wearing a lot of red anyway. What blood I might have gotten on it doesn’t seem to show right now. “I’d say we’re done here. We should move.”

Watching me for a cool beat, she finally nods in agreement, taking a moment to inspect her hands, which seem clean enough to my eye. I suspect she used at least one of the towels to clean the worst of the blood away from her bracers and fingers while she was wrapping the corpse’s head. Finally she steps back and turns to the door, stalking to it with purpose now. I take a moment of my own to check everything over one last time, particularly double-checking the new fit of my boots, before following her.

Just before she reaches it she pauses, looking down at the floor for a long moment, and finally lets out a heavy sigh. “Fuck it … at this point, I doubt it matters anymore, anyway. If we do this, we orob’ly don’t need the disguises any more. You don’t really convince now, anyway.”

Before I can ask her what she means, she’s already reaching up and rubbing both hands up and over her face, and as I watch there’s the subtlest hint of something like smoke starting to wisp under her fingers as they stroke the uncanny scarred skin. And as she moves both hands upwards the strange visage starts to slip, the scars fading in rippling vapour until fer face resembles the one I know again. Finally she shoves both up and back over her ears, and the hair there melts away in much the same way, leaving that much more familiar undercut, all the way to the back of her skull. Once it’s done she turns to me again, and when I raise my brows she lets a much more relieved sigh go. Comfortable in her own skin again, I suppose.

She waits at the door for another few moments, listening warily, then turns to me. “Sounds good. Far as I could tell, he was it in this corridor, so with a bit o’ luck we might be able to make it downstairs without too much trouble. Just keep your wits about you as we go, in case that changes. We been lucky so far, but …”

“Yeah, I agree.” I sigh, giving the hilt at my hip a little pat for reassurance. “Best not to press it now. Might not hurt to offer up a prayer or two to Thorin as we go, too.”

That has her grinning, cocked and rueful but good-humoured enough. She nods again, then turns the doorknob and pulls it open, leaning out to check in both directions before stepping out. I take another breath and follow her, flexing my fingers as I go, just in case.

I just happen to look down the corridor stretching on behind us, heading towards the back of the building, when the door at the end of it suddenly opens, three figures stepping through. I recognise one of them, but the others are new. But they all stop where they are pretty much as soon as they see us, the one in front frowning deep as she takes me in, then the larger woman in front of me. And her frown gets very deep indeed.

“What the fuck …” The dragonhalf woman from the Heath draws the sword on her hip, already taking a step towards us, and I see her eyes flash bright like burning amber as her face darkens. “You!” The black-clad half-hob with her just stands there, looking startled, clutching one of the most enormous swords I’ve ever seen to her chest. Meanwhile the substantial half-orc guard accompanying them just blinks, which I suppose on that stoic face might qualify as surprise.

“Oh shit … go! Fast!” Kesla grabs hold of my arm and yanks me roughly across the floor, planting her feet once I’m in front of her and giving me a little shove, and I’m only unbalanced for a moment before I snap back to my senses, and do what she asks of me. Unsure if she’s following me now, but I’ve got other more pressing concerns demanding my attention now. Like where I’m heading now …

At least with my boots altered the way I prefer them now, I can run with confidence, so I just focus on the road ahead as I break into a full sprint, grasping my newly-acquired sword at my side to keep it from clattering about. I barely clear the doors leading round the back of the boxes before the first one’s thrown open, and whoever’s coming out, likely to investigate all the shouting, steps through right as Kesla follows me along. I slow as I hear two bodies crash together and someone goes down, turning awkwardly as I almost stumble to look behind, and the first thing I see is the dragonhalf charging at full speed right after us, which almost makes me start running again anyway. But then I see the half-orc guard who let us out now sprawled face-down, just starting to pick himself up while Kesla must have simply turned her fall into a roll as she comes up from a low crouch and barely even slows down as she just launches herself after me.

Our eyes meet for a split-second and she hisses: “Keep going! Don’t worry about me, just fucking go!” I don’t say a word, just turning to do what she says.

We’re on the ramp itself now, much the same as the one on the far side, curving round on its middling slope down to the lobby, and I run flat out as gravity lends me a hand to make me even faster. We’re halfway down, Kesla already hot on my heels while I can hear them running hard to catch up now, when I see two figures making their way up the other way at a far more leisurely stroll, more of these oversized guards just making their rounds. Damn it …

“Forget it!” Kesla hisses again close behind me now. “Turn! Now!”

What the hell does she … oh hell, I see what she means soon enough, the side-entrance coming up on the inside of the curve in the wall, double doors closed but obviously leading into the theatre itself. I can’t help it, I spit: “Really?” but don’t wait for a reply, already swerving to approach it at the tightest angle I can while putting as much of an additional burst of speed in as I can given I’m already running about as fast as I can. Through the corner of my eye I see the other two guards now coming up the other way, starting to run as fast as they can fighting the climb now they’ve twigged that there’s something off here. I’d much rather get there first if I can help it.

Turning my body at the very last instant, I don’t even bother trying to open it by the handle first, I just bullrush the doors with my shoulder, aiming as square on to the crack between them as I can given how fast I’m charging in. Even so, I clench my jaw and fight the urge to wince, anticipating what’s coming but hoping it won’t be too unpleasant.

The hit’s nowhere near as jarring as I anticipated, but then these doors aren’t locked so they don’t stand up at all to my sudden, forceful impact as the latch just snaps and I’m spilled right through … before slamming much harder into the guard who was stood by on the other side. This unexpected crash does hurt, but he’s caught completely off guard, not standing up to me running into him for an instant, so I bowl him clean off his feet and he goes flying, tumbling head over heels over a rail into dark, empty space. I barely catch myself in time, my whole arm smarting from the painful impact, but the rail’s just tall enough to catch me in time.

He crashes down below a bare moment later, but I’m already moving, the intensity of the situation keenly impressed on me as I turn and start running down an uncomfortably steep staircase to the theatre floor below a good deal fast than I’d like. It’s a miracle I don’t take a tumble before I reach the bottom, but I might just be running on too much adrenaline right now, lending me a scary amount of focus that gets me to the floor in one piece.

When I pause at the bottom, it’s entirely to get a grasp on my surroundings, even though this is my first time in here, and it is a truly ridiculous space to be in right now, especially under these circumstances. It’s not the first time I’ve been in an enclosed chamber this vast, but with most of the lights down it feels more like a huge cave than anything man-built. Almost all of the light here now is coming from the stage, smaller, much dimmer sources of illumination from within the boxes not even reaching us down here, but with my eyes I can make out what’s going on just fine. Including the fact that the man I managed to punt off what turned out to be a balcony at least thirty feet up is unlikely to ever get up again after that landing. And it seems he might have taken a few patrons with him too …

For now most of the audience don’t seem to have picked up on this just yet, still focused on the play unfolding on the stage, but I can see more than a few who were sat around the poor bastards he managed to land on are getting to their feet, clearly alarmed. Then I see more movement around me, and I realise there are more security making their way towards the site of the crash, and then when I turn it become clear some of the closest are actually coming for me. Damn it … I don’t think here and now is really the best place and time for this.

“Shay!” Kesla doesn’t bother trying to modulate her volume now, she just yells it as she rushes down the steps towards me. “The stone! Use it now!”

Oh hell … I almost ask her if she’s really serious about that, but as I see more of the guards now starting to twig that we’re the threat, I realise she’s got a pretty damn good point right now. Worse that the dragonhalf is now climbing down too, making a very clear effort to catch up as she skips steps with reckless abandon. There’s no time, she’s right.

Shoving my hand up under the scarf tied over my chest, I grab hold of the largest necklace hung between my breasts and yank it away, feeling a subtly painful bite at the back of my neck as the clasp resists for a moment before snapping. As I manhandle the jewellery for a moment, going mostly by touch as I search for what I’m after, my eyes are already focusing on the nearest guards, already close enough I literally just have seconds to do this. Finding the largest, heaviest of the facsimile diamonds Lady Naru created ostensibly to give me a means of communication with her that could be hidden in plain sight, I give the gem a hearty squeeze between thumb and forefinger and take a quick, sharp breath. Knowing what I’m about to have inflicted upon me from past experience and already hating that I have to do this right now.

As the false stone cracks between my fingertips, everything just seems to fall away as I just retreat into my own mind, folded into a strangely empty dark void of silence and formless emptiness. But I know I’m not alone, although how I know that I really don’t understand. Any more than I know that it’s Lady Sulin Naru herself in here with me …

Shay? What are you … what’s wrong? I didn’t expect you to be doing this so soon –

My Lady, I don’t have time! You have to call him in NOW!!! Right now! Please, just send him STRAIGHT THROUGH, he has to come straight into the theatre itself! NOW!!!

What? Shay, I CAN’T do that, that’s insane! What does Kesla –

PLEASE!!! I told you, there’s NO TIME!!! If you don’t do this NOW we’ll be overrun! Just SEND HIM NOW!!!

There’s no way for me to tell, when I’m just as suddenly thrown unceremoniously out of that uncanny, genuinely nightmarish state of subconscious strangeness, if it was myself breaking contact or Lady Naru severing it instead. All I know is that when I return to myself with such jarring extremity that I almost stumble on the spot, I have a strange moment when I notice my would-be attackers don’t seem to have gained any more ground than they had before I activated the stone. I could have sworn that I was in that state for longer … but as the first one closes in I don’t have any more time to think about it now as I take a step back and draw the sword. Instantly dropping into a ready stance as I tense up, preparing to counter whatever attack’s about to come.

Just as the back wall, just to the side of the stage, literally explodes in a great blast of splintering timber and pulverised masonry, the whole building shaking violently from the force of it. As Driver 8 charges to our rescue …