The first thing I become aware of once we step out of the corridor from the fancy teleportation chamber is all the Terror troopers. Gods, they’re all over the place. A six-strong patrol marches right past us the moment we step out, and I have to step back quickly to avoid getting trampled as they just shoulder their broad-chested way through. All I get is a little heavily accented: “Clear the way!” to warn me in time, and the somewhat muffled voice being pitched a little too high makes me realise the leader is actually a woman. Given she’s just as tall and substantially built as the others I’m a little taken by surprise.
“For the love of … will you watch where you’re going?!” Art snarls after them as they power on across the broad flagstone floor, reflecting my feelings without enough of a filter to hold himself in check.
As one, the six troopers halt on the spot, but this is where their unison ends as they start to turn back very much in their own individual time. The sergeant in the lead steps around the group and immediately starts stalking towards us, as intimidating as the rest in her dark red brigantine armour and visored kettle helm. As she stops close by she lays her halberd casually across her shoulder, letting her shield settle on the floor at her side but keeping hold of it as she leans a little as she regards us through the anonymous smoked glass. “Your pardon?”
Art starts to step forward but I manage to shoot my arm out fast enough to grab hold of him and shove him back. Kesla steps up in front of our group instead, letting her hand settle on the hilt of her sword, and I know it ain’t an idle threat this time. I hear she’s got genuine beef with the Terrors, so I can’t help wondering how this is actually gonna go. As I let go of Art I find myself shifting my stance without really thinking about it, flexing my fingers as I start to feel the ready itch again.
“It was never requested.” Kesla says it in a perfectly reasonable tone, and she seems perfectly cool, but I wonder if I don’t still detect an edge all the same.
The trooper shifts very subtly as she cocks her head a little. “You might wanna be careful there, mistress.”
“More so than you lot, you mean.” Kesla cocks her own head. “You nearly ran my friend down.”
“Perhaps the dwarf should’ve watched her own path better, then.”
I bristle a touch at that, I can’t help it, but I manage to hold onto myself all the same. Kesla, on the other hand, just smiles a little. It’s one of the most predatory I’ve seen from her yet, if I’m honest. “We always do.”
For a loaded moment, the two big women just look at each other, then the trooper takes another step forward, lifting her halberd again this time so she can set the butt down on the floor. Gripping it tight in her gauntleted hand, I notice. “Do we have a problem here?”
Cocking her head the other way, Kesla shifts her stance a touch. “I can’t imagine why.”
Looking round now, I realise these ain’t the only troopers taking an interest in us now, another pair nearby are starting to make their way over, and another group of four who were making their way across this great tall domed chamber have stopped now, regarding us blankly. Most of the civilians going about their business as they move to-and-fro through the space seem oblivious, but a few onlookers are starting to gather, seeming as nervous as they are curious.
Then, as I’m looking, the attention of almost everybody currently paying attention to this little scene shifts … and cranes up. I don’t have to look, I got a proper idea what that’s about. The golem, Driver 8, has chosen this moment to duck out of the corridor and straighten up behind the others. Needless to say every one of the Terrors stiffen up at once seeing him.
Except the sergeant, she’s still regarding Kesla, I don’t reckon she’s even seen this new arrival yet, although I wonder how the hell she could’ve missed such loud, heavy footfalls on the stone floor. Instead she takes another step forward, keeping her shield lifted now, as if she’s expecting Kesla to draw her sword. “I reckon you lot might wanna show some deference, don’t you? ‘Specially your unholy metal attack dog.”
Kesla shifts again, and I see her fingers tightening a little on her sword’s hilt. “Deference? That’s a pretty fancy word there, luv. Too fancy for a ranker, surely.”
“More so for a sellsword, I should imagine.” The other woman’s got a real warning growl in her voice now, and I can see the tension in the way she’s gripping the pole of the halberd tighter still, her stance especially stiff now. A fight’s starting to look like a foregone conclusion, so I move my hand to rest on the axe on my left, in case I need to be ready fast.
Then Yeslee steps forward and sets the stave of her impossibly tall bow down beside her and starts talking, and I can’t understand a word of it. It’s a somewhat musical sounding tongue, but a rough one, somewhat gritty and guttural to my ear, but with a lilting edge that softens it some.
The effect it has on the Terrors is very interesting, especially in the roused sergeant, who takes a half step back and lets her shield settle again as she tilts her head again … then props the halberd in the crook of her elbow while she reaches up with her now free hand to flip the visor of her helmet up.
She’s quite striking, actually, perhaps not conventionally beautiful but there’s a definite earthy charm to her looks. Her jaw’s pretty broad, not so squared that it’s manly but prominent nonetheless, and her nose is somewhat wide and thick. She has a pretty mouth, though, full soft lips, and a very alert pair of sky blue eyes that are very interesting with her particularly pale complexion. Mostly she looks surprised, but as she looks from Yeslee to Kesla, then takes the rest of us in before turning back to the Fir Bolg ranger again, a certain subtle shrewdness starts to take hold.
When she responds, it’s using the same language, and again I’m lost. At best I can maybe try to follow the rough string of the conversation as Yeslee answers her again through the woman’s expression, or Yeslee’s when I turn to look at her, but that’s no better help, really. This woman ain’t much easier to read than Kesla. So I just stew, clueless, as they bandy words back and forth for a few more moments, then the sergeant pauses for a long beat, just regarding Kesla now. Then she turns to me, and I resume my cool stare now, mindful of appearing strong as I can right now.
Then another newcomer strolls into the midst of the gathering as blithely casual as if nothing was going on, making a beeline straight for Kesla. They’re dressed in subtly classy grey robes of high-quality wool, and while there’s no actual marking of any office or organisation I recognise this well enough as the uniform of an official of the Authority. They’re fairly young, a small, skinny human of indeterminate gender that’s certainly not helped by their jaw-length mop of mousey brown curls partially obscuring a somewhat pinched face. But their bright green eyes are very sharp indeed, burning with a fierce intelligence as they move forward with unswerving purpose.
Stopping beside the sergeant, they focus entirely on Kesla as they fold their hands together across their midriff and tip a clipped bow. “Mistress Shoon, of course?”
Clearly a little surprised by this development, Kesla’s a beat slow in responding with her own nod. “Um … yeah, that’s right.”
“Very good, I was informed I would not miss your … substantial companion.” Those green eyes flicker upwards for a split second, and I know that was regarding Driver 8. “I must commend you all on your promptness. My Mistress is most anxious to attend to our business.” The slightest crease of a frown touches their brow. “I trust there isn’t a problem here?”
Looking at the sergeant now, Kesla keeps her expression impressively calm. “Honestly, I can’t tell right now.”
The official turns to the trooper at her side now, having to look up a lot given her sheer size. “Sergeant? Should I be aware of anything?”
Technically, this shouldn’t really make any difference – the Terrors are very much in charge in Untermer, just as they are across all of Rundao, but she’s a lowborn ranker, much as Kesla already touched on, and she has no idea how important this seemingly unassuming Authority official actually is. If there’s one thing I learned about the military over the years, they don’t fuck with government if they can help it.
So when she looks back at us all again it’s with a more cautious critical eye, and she’s clearly been checked now. Her mouth works for a moment as if she’s chewing on something unpleasant, and she gives Kesla a particularly long glare before finally reaching up and flipping her visor back down before taking her halberd up again. “No, nothing’s wrong here.” Raising her shield again, she swivels with well-practiced smoothness on the spot before barking out a clipped order in that same unfamiliar language, and the rest of her patrol shift to attention.
When she stalks off she doesn’t so much as look back at the official, never mind the rest of us, simply heading back in the direction they were originally going while the others fall into formation behind her, marching as precisely as before. After a few beats the rest of the troopers around us seem to get the hint and they start to clear off too, ushering the civil gawkers away as they go.
After taking a few moments to watch the threat leave our vicinity, the newcomer turns back to Kesla and smiles. It’s a very pretty smile, actually, really lights their whole face up, simple and somewhat cool as it is. “Glad that’s taken care of. Looked like you could’ve done with a little help there.”
“It’s appreciated.” Kesla nods, clearly relaxing too as she takes her hand off her sword at last, fingers shaking a little with the last of her tension. “Reckon I might’ve been a little more worked up from earlier than I thought. Me an’ them don’t get on well at all.”
Nodding, the official continues to smile. “Of course, my Mistress has informed me of all I need to know regarding your party. That was why I hustled over so quickly once I saw your predicament after recognising your golem.” They step forward now, offering up a hand. “I am Junior Deputy Administrator Cafi Sirsk, one of Madame Daste’s assistants.”
“Ah, yeah.” Kesla closes the gap and takes their hand immediately. “Great. Kesla Shoon. But you guessed that already.”
“Yes, I did.” Their smile grows now as they shake, flashing some pretty flawless teeth. Nobility, definitely, with that kind of perfect dentistry. “My Mistress awaits us upstairs.”
“Course she does.” Kesla nods as she lets go, turning to look us over now. “Let’s get to it then, eh?”
No one argues against, not that any of ‘em would have. We already knew we were expected, Daste said as much in her message, so while I know I’m not the only one who’ll nonetheless be minding this intriguing newcomer, we go along easily enough as they start to lead us across the floor.
I’ve seen Untermer’s Transit House a few times in passing, but never actually been inside, never been any real reason before. The whole city’s a bit of a mismatched jumble of different styles, really, but this one at least seems to cling most directly to the classical Rundao sensibility, as monolithic yet classy on the inside as it is on the outside. Sirsk leads us directly to the tall, broad curving staircase cutting into the wall in the side of the chamber, and as they start to climb without a noticeable break in their pace Kesla just keeps on behind her, prompting me to follow as smoothly.
I’m a few steps up before I realise that there’s a small commotion starting behind us, then I realise how shallow and narrow these steps are and when I look back my suspicions are confirmed. “Ah, shit … Kesla!”
She stops promptly at my call and looks back down, and her frown when she realises the problem too is profound. “Oh for fuck’s …”
Driver 8 is stuck at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at us while Krakka and Art are stood on either side, both looking decidedly sheepish right now. Gael’s coming up behind us, and they don’t look much happier. This staircase is definitely not suited for the golem to climb up without causing it some significant damage or simply taking a tumble if he tries to be careful about it.
“Perhaps I should wait down here again?” he wonders after a moment.
“Oh fuck no, not this time!” She rounds on Sirsk, who’s frowning too over the predicament. “There another way up?”
“Well … yes, but nothing that would be any more suitable. In fact he would find some of the turns considerably more difficult to navigate.” They’re visibly blanching now. “I am very sorry, this was not a consideration at all.”
“Gael, reckon you can port him up there?” Kesla doesn’t look too convinced as she asks.
Looking back down at Big Man, Gael then turns to her companion, Tulen, who looks even less convinced. “You remember what almost happened last time we tried that?”
Letting out an irritated hiss, Kesla scowls. “Honestly, don’t look like there’s another way. I ain’t leaving him out this time. Last time it was unavoidable, but he deserves to be there same as the rest of you.”
“All right.” Gael nods, and suddenly they seem surprisingly resolved. As they step back down to the golem’s side I realise I’m a little slow on the uptake, so I turn to the young dragonhalf wizard.
“What’s that about?”
Tulen considers for a moment, then seems to get it, and their sheepish look just grows. “Oh, yes … well, the other day we wound up somewhere where he couldn’t fit, so I tried to teleport through to the other side of the gap with him, and I almost passed out from the strain. He’s very heavy.”
“I can imagine.” I frown down at Gael now as they reach up out and rest their hand on his own outstretched wrist. “Reckon she might not be able to pull it off?”
“Oh no, I’m sure Gael will be able to pull it off without a hitch. They’ve always been better at almost all of this than I have.”
Gael mutters under their breath, something I feel rather than hear, and then they’re just gone, although like always with this particular spell I get the weirdest impression of almost seeing some empty doorway open for the blink of an eye right through the pair of them. Instead all that’s left is the subtlest poof as the air must just rush in to fill the new, inexplicable gap. Magic … crazy shit, I’ll never get used to it.
“Shall we?” Sirsk is already climbing on, and after a beat Kesla starts to follow again, so I start after as well while the others fall in at their own pace. The stairs are comfortable enough to climb, but as we make the curve and the walls start to close in around us now I realise there’s actually quite a lot of them, the ultimate top actually looking like it’s quite a way up. Before long I’m starting to huff and puff a little, and I can hear Du starting to struggle a good deal worse than me. He’s still not all the way recovered, clearly.
Shay’s doing better, though, which surprises me considering how intense her own injury and resulting treatment ultimately turned out to be. Then again, I know she grew up in the Northern Reaches, spent most of her life climbing mountains I reckon, so she’s at home with this kind of exercise, hurt or not. When she looks my way she gives me a reassuring smile and I try to return it, finding her encouragement surprisingly heartening.
Even so, by the time we reach the final top of the staircase I’m not the only one who has to go to the wall on the side of the wide corridor and lean back as I struggle to regain my breath and composure. Dumoli almost sags right down onto his arse at my side, visibly slumping as it is, and he puts his head down almost all the way between his knees like he’s about to puke. When I look up to find Brung watching the pair of us with his inscrutable oyster of a face, perfectly composed after having just scrambled up easily on all fours, I find it really hard not to snap my frustrations at him.
“Oh dear …” Krakka, the tengu cleric, is leaning on his hammer now as he fights to control his own breathing, almost as stricken as Du now. “I really am not as fit as I used to be …”
“Suck it up, folks.” Kesla, for her part, looks as chill and comfortable as Brung, which is doubly infuriating. “We’re almost there.” Now she frowns and look at Sirsk. “Right?”
“Of course.” They nod a little way down the corridor, where I realise Gael and Driver 8 are standing by. The young wizard looks impressively composed, and I suspect Tulen was correct in her appraisal of her friend’s chances. “It’s just down here.”
“Great.” I manage to wheeze out “Give us a minute an’ we’ll be right there.”
If Kesla’s put out she don’t show it, instead simply turning to Sirsk again and shrugging. The young official, for their part, simply nods, wearing a subtle little smile now as they wait with their hands folded across their belly like before. They shouldn’t be waiting much longer anyway, I’m starting to feel a little better already.
It’s nice and cool in here, anyway, and much quieter than it was down below. The acoustics are interesting, too, I’ve noticed you barely have to speak above a conversation tone to be heard clearly over a surprising difference in here. That being said, given what we’re about I wonder if this place was really the smartest choice right now of our voices carry so easily here.
Certainly we’ve gone about this all with an eye on giving any potential pursuit a quick slip. Far as I could tell we weren’t followed back to the temple from the Late Bone, but then Brung’s senses were never so strong as Yeslee’s, or the golem’s even more spectacularly precise capabilities. Ultimately we quickly reasoned that, instead of taking any chances at all, we’d be best off heading somewhere where Gael could teleport the whole group at once, so Kesla suggested maybe we head to the Transit House. It wasn’t until we jumped from the temple’s own private teleportation room into this place’s special portal hub that I actually understood what she meant. I have to admit that was a much more pleasant experience than any other time I’ve had to port before today.
Pushing myself upright at last, I help Du straighten up too, and he gives ma a thankful nod before turning to shrug to Yeslee as she steps up beside him. She looks down at me for a moment, and her look is complicated, but I’m a whole lot more curious myself. I’m still a little vexed by the fact these two seem to have developed any kind of connection at all.
“All right, reckon we’re good.” I turn back to Kesla, waving past her. “Lead on.”
Kesla continues to play it cool, Simply cocking a brow before turning back to Sirsk and giving a nod. I give my back one last little stretch as I start after them as they walk on towards our waiting friends, Dumoli falling into step beside me with just a few little huffs to show he’s still a little more winded than me. Yeslee’s falling back now, I notice, taking up the rear of the group, and I get the impression that she really isn’t comfortable in these kinds of environs. I’m not surprised, she’s always struck me as the outdoor type, but with her it’s more, really. Like true civilisation really don’t agree with her at all …
“Y’all right?” Kesla asks Gael as we reach ‘em.
“Well enough.” The half-elf seems a tad sheepish again, I notice now. “I mean … all right, I understand where Tulen was coming from now, I felt a little light-headed for a moment or two after we landed. He is …” They look up at Driver 8, who’s just stood by as silently implacable as ever. “I’m sorry, but you are very heavy.”
“There is no need for apologies, Gael. I am well aware of how much of a burden I can be at times.”
“Oh no, that’s not at all what I meant –” Gael seems to blanche as they start talking just before Kesla.
“You ain’t a burden, Big Man. No more’n the rest of us. Each one of us has flaws in some area, that’s unavoidable. It’s just part of …” Kesla considers for a beat, then shrugs. “Y’know. Bein’ people, I guess.”
The golem straightens up a little more at that, and I swear it’s almost like he’s growing a little as he accepts what’s clearly something of a compliment, at least to him. Almost as if he’s happy that Kesla would so readily consider him to be a living, breathing person instead of … well, whatever he technically is. Personally, I’m still not sure I’m convinced.
“Very well.” he finally rumbles “This is where we are headed.” He points to a pair of double doors a few strides further down on the left.
Sirsk frowns as they grow very still, looking up at the golem for a very long moment. “I’m sorry, how does he –”
“Don’t bother, just go with it.” Kesla sighs as she starts to head for the indicated door. “None of us really understand it, he just knows these things.”
“Fair enough.” They hustle to catch up and then overtake her, ultimately reaching the door and holding up a hand to check her. “If I may?”
Smiling with indulgent amusement, Kesla simply shrugs. “Course.”
When Sirsk cocks their brow this time I swear they’re looking Kesla over to work out if she’s just messing with ‘em now. Finally they just turn to the doors and knock on it twice, then one more time after a brief pause, before lacing their hands together in once more and taking a step back. For a moment or two nothing happens, but then I pick up the very subtle, muffled sound of approaching footsteps from the other side … although even then I only really pick up on it cuz I’m actually listening for it. As if a more casual observer might not actually catch that sound.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Then one of the doors opens a little and a face appears in the crack, although I can’t really make it out, just a bright eye taking a look. After a beat the door’s opened the rest of the way and the person on the other side steps into the gap, quickly scanning the lot of us clustered in the corridor. He’s quite short, only an inch or two over Du’s height, but much more slight, a kind of supple, compact litheness to his build which is evident even through his immaculate black uniform, but more so in the way he moves. Something like Shay, I realise, but something about it feels subtly more threatening. Since he’s human his age is clearly writ across his features, and I think he might actually be growing decidedly senior, but he’s definitely held up well to the ravage of time, and his perfect baldness certainly gives him a particularly streamlined visage.
Certainly, as he takes us all in there’s a fierce intelligence blazing behind his dark eyes. Then he finally turns to Kesla and smiles, and while there’s a certain coldness to it, somehow it seems civil enough. “Mistress Shoon, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“You too, Master Halik.” Kesla nods to him, smiling back.
Stepping back, he pulls the door open the rest of the way and gestures for us all to enter. Kesla nods her thanks and steps through, and I’m quick to follow. Then, as soon as she’s in, she steps aside, and I’m so surprised I almost stop on the spot as I turn to watch her, only just mindful enough of the others coming in behind me to keep going in lieu of being trampled. Kesla either ignores me or just don’t notice, instead going right back to the doors so she can open the other one up too as wide as it’ll go. Oh yeah, ‘course.
Turning away now, I take a moment to check out the room. It’s large and high, the ceiling a good twenty feet above us, while there’s a whole lot of room in here. That said, the entire centre of the chamber’s been taken up by a long, thick table, the rich, dark wood clearly polished to an almost pathological mirrored sheen which boggles my mind a little to look at. I can see the tall floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall reflected so clearly on the top it could almost be made out of glass. There are chairs set all round it, and every one of ‘em is mounted on trundling little wheels while their seats and high backs are fully upholstered in some of the richest leather I’ve ever seen on furniture. The carpet underfoot looks similarly expensive, every inch of the floor covered in it rather than just a big rug, and the wool is so thick, soft and unfathomably deep that even mine and Du’s footfalls are significantly muffled by it. This whole room is almost disgustingly classy …
Then I realise we’re not alone in here, there’s another figure making her way towards us from the nearest corner of the room. She’s barely taller than I am, and generously round too, but I can tell immediately she’s simply a particularly diminutive human rather than a dwarf. She’s very sexy, too, clearly very comfortable in her soft curviness and pretty too. Her skin’s very much of a shade with mine, too, though her hair’s entirely black, pinned back but still artfully tousled in its intentionally careless loose bun. Most striking, though, are her sultry dark eyes, their sleepy lids heavily made-up with a lot of kohl, which nonetheless dance with sharp intelligence. She wears similar robes to Sirsk, I see, but these are light silk and very airy, cut to hang loose and flow free, and I immediately recognise the style, having seen it a lot on the noblewomen I used to see when I was growing up. She’s from Abharet, I’d put money on it without even hearing her speak.
“Well met, Mistress Shoon.” She says as she arrives, bringing my attention to the fact that Kesla’s stepped up to my side now. I was right, her accent’s quite like mine, just a good deal more refined. Now those mesmerising eyes lock onto mine as she smiles, and she has such a beautiful mouth it actually makes my mind start to wander seeing it. “I take it this is –"
“Yeah, this is Thelgaewynn Frostforge. She’s from your neck o’ the woods, in fact.”
“Indeed?” Her fine dark brows rise fetchingly. “Well met, Mistress Frostforge.” She tips me a surprisingly deep nod, and knowing a bit about formal custom I realise how generous the respect I’ve just been paid is. “I am Venne Daste, of House Kimahl.”
I return her nod as deep and respectful as I can, both honoured and, I gotta admit, more’n a little attracted. Never really been that picky, but I gotta admit I find this one in particular really intriguing. Except that we’re here on business, this woman’s clearly a big deal and I gotta be respectful ... oh for Freya’s sake, Thel. Get your shit together.
“Yes. Sorry. Um … my apologies Madame, it’s been a while since I had any dealing with someone so important from down South.”
This brilliant smile of hers almost seems to dial up another notch as she regards me for a long moment, her eyes giving me a more thorough look-over now, I notice. “Please, Mistress Frostforge, don’t trouble yourself. I am very much a citizen of Untermer these days.”
“Yeah, she represents her husband’s House in the local Authority now.” Kesla informs me “Married into the family, mind. Used to be a big deal back in Abharet before that, mind.”
“Well, perhaps not all that much, really. If you remember. The good days of my own House were already far behind us when I came of age.” Daste lets got a sigh that carried a note of weariness to it, and her narrowing smile takes on a somewhat wistful edge, but she weathers it well. “I detect a strong note of my home in your speech as well, I believe.”
“True enough, although like yourself I ain’t been back in well over a dog’s age now.” I look to Dumoli, who’s sidled up himself now, letting his hammer settle at his side as he casts what’s clearly an appreciative eye on our host. Brung, stood a little behind him, mostly looks wary right now, and I understand why. He recognises all too well that he’s in the company of someone highborn, and we all three know how touchy they can be about his kind. “Been plying the mercenary trade here in Rundao for a fair few years now, with these two.”
Looking the pair of them over, Daste’s gaze lingers a for a long beat on Brung, but I see no hostility or fear in her eyes on this occasion, just maybe a hint of surprise beside a whole lot of curiosity, looks like. “Of course. Well met, Masters …?”
While Dumoli’s still remembering himself, Brung simply takes a step around him so he can present himself properly, and he doesn’t just tip a nod – he bows. I’m a little surprised by it, actually. He’s clearly as impressed with her as I am. “Brung. Mistress.”
Her brows shoot right up at that, and her smile widens again, becoming almost incandescent now. Gods, she has some amazing teeth. Again, nobility and their spectacular dentistry.
Finally Dumoli manages to get himself in order again, but he still looks a tad flustered, I swear he starts to extend his hand before he remembers himself again and simply tips a deep nod. “Of course … apologies, Madame. Dumoli. Bitterbrow. Um …” He licks his lips and starts frowning. “Yes.”
Returning his nod too, Daste’s smile simply becomes more indulgent. “An honour, Master Bitterbrow. You are all most welcome of course, I simply wish it could be under better circumstances.” Then her attention shifts past us all as she looks to the back of our group, just as I hear the doors close again … and it goes up. Of course it does. “Oh. My goodness.”
“Well met, Madame Daste.” That somewhat hollow but bone-deep rumble comes in its lowest, most casually conversational register, but even so I swear it still rattles the room a touch. “I am designated as Driver 8, but my friends mostly refer to me as Big Man. You are welcome to use either name, of course.”
“Yes …” Daste just manages to breathe, and for the first time she seems a little flustered, but she’s already wresting her control back. “Yes, of course. Big Man. I think we can forego formal address for once, if you’re so minded. You are as welcome as your friends. In truth I’m rather flattered to have been granted this opportunity to meet you this time.”
“The last time was through no fault of your own.” He says it matter of fact like always, but somehow still manages to sound magnanimous. “The situation was beyond your control.”
Daste’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but she manages a rueful smile. “And yet, I must still apologise. That was not a fitting show of form for the Authority, and I would be remiss to let it slide.” She spreads her delicate hands wide. “And so, this time I chose a more neutral spot. Besides, given how you made it clear about our need for secrecy at this time …”
“You’re sure?” Kesla’s looking round the room now, and her attention lingers long on the widows, I notice. We’re high up enough now there’s an impressive view of the lower city spreading out beyond, the smaller, more varied buildings rolling down to the docks beyond the Square. The panes of glass in these windows are impressively tall and broad, I realise, no more than three apiece, and each is very clear. “Don’t look over private to me, ‘least not if somebody really wanted to listen in on us.”
“Of course.” Daste cocks a brow as her smile turns sly. “Then again, I’m sure some of us could change that for the better?” She turns to Gael now, who just frowns for a moment before realisation seems to dawn.
“Oh! Yeah, sure.” They turn to Tulen now. “How about Perrit’s Confusion? That should do the trick.”
Tulen frowns too for a beat as they look down at their right side, reaching to one of the small satchels hanging at their hip. “I don’t … no, I didn’t bring any witch hazel.”
“But you did pack flax, I made sure of that.” Gael’s already fishing into their own corresponding satchel, and I realise now what they are. Mages always have a components bag. Producing a small glass jar, they strap the flap up again before reaching into their robe and producing a small, slender length of polished wood that I immediately recognise as a wand. “Grind them fine, remember?”
“Of course I remember.” Tulen’s grinning wide now, her voice full of amusement now. “Who do you think you’re talking to here?” She produced a jar of her own. “Pre-ground. I have coarse as well, but we want simple warding, not an actual forcefield.”
“Yes, I know.” Gael’s response is similarly playful despite the tone they’re clearly trying to put on the words. “I’ve been out here in the field for over three years, Tu. It’s not my first time doing this for real.”
“Chill out, you two.” Kesla’s rolling her eyes as she taps her foot a little, one hand on her sword while the other’s on her hip. “This gonna take long?”
“No, no.” Gael steps to the table and sets her wand down on it before uncorking the jar and tapping out a few little shreds of plant matter from within onto the tabletop. “It’s fairly simple really, we can do this in a few minutes.”
Kesla cocks a brow. “Really?” She turns to observe Tulen, who’s not produced a mortar, into which she now taps two small sprinklings of a fine white powder, which she then brings to Gael as they add a pinch of something red from a small stoppered phial to what she’s already poured out on the table. As Tulen holds the mortay just underneath, Gael carefully brushes the whole lot into the mortar before her friend straightens up again, producing a pestle with which she starts to mash it all together. After a moment, however, she pauses and hawks up before looking towards the rest of us, and I see her cheeks darken immediately as their eyes widen. When they spit into the bowl they look decidedly sheepish. “Um … excuse me, please.”
”You couldn’t just use water for that?” I find myself asking.
“Not really.” Gael answers for their friend as she starts grinding the pestle again. “Water’s a decent enough bonding agent, but we’ve found that some spells just work more effectively with saliva.” They wince a little as they regard me, then Kesla, and I see their cheeks flushing too when they fail to hold Daste’s eyes for very long. “I know, it’s not exactly … pleasant. But that’s magic for you.”
“Hey, look at it this way.” Kesla gives ‘em a cocked little grin as they lean into their side and nudges gently with their shoulder. “Least you didn’t need any blood for this one.”
Gael looks at her for a moment, and their frown eases as they start to smile again. “Yes, of course. That’s quite right, I suppose.”
Tulen, meanwhile, seems to be recovering quite quickly from her embarrassment, likely because they’re focusing on their spell now. Finally setting the pestle aside, she puts the mortar down on the table now, then starts stripping her gloves off, Gael following her example. Once they’re done, Tulen retrieves the mortar and steps up to Gael, who’s now holding their right hand out, palm up but a little cupped, into which Tulen taps out a little of the mixed powder she’s just created. As Gael starts rubbing it across both palms and the insides of their fingers she does the same herself.
This time, when Gael starts weaving a sigil the lines are still blue, but they have a new texture, or perhaps more of an effect, seeming to pop and crackle with yellow-white sparks now, and the lines themselves tremble as I watch. Tulen’s doing the same now, and achieving the same effect, I notice. Now I’m noticing a sound coming from both sigils as they almost seem to hold ‘em in the air as they both start taking backward steps away from each other.
“If everyone would please step in-between us quickly, it would certainly be appreciated.” Gael breathes as the sigil starts throbbing faster, and the frequency of the sound seems to be picking up now. The other too, although it’s not reached this seeming urgency yet.
“Yeah, reckon they might have a point.” Kesla seems to be on the same page as me, it seems, grabbing Art’s shoulder now and manhandling him in front of her towards the centre of the room.
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” I give Du a little shove in the same direction, Brung already awake enough to move on his own, and the rest of the group seem to catch the drift too, all scrambling to make their way as close to the middle of the room as they can. Ultimately I find myself next to Kesla after all, cocking my brow up at her as she watches her wizard friend with cool curiosity.
Gael turns at the last as they near the side of the room, and doesn’t so much throw the sigil as simply let it go. It flits up into the wall and kinda bursts, a bright flare of crackling blue light which does no visible damage to the décor as it seems to spread and pulse up and around the walls. I hear a similar fizzing pop from the other direction and turn to see Tulen’s done the same on her side, and her own wave of strange energy seems to roll up to meet Gael’s as they both surge across the ceiling.
When both finally overhead meet I expect some kind of flare, or maybe a whoosh, I dunno … instead the two waves intercept one another and it all just … sputters out. With no real ceremony, suddenly everything seems pretty much to same, there’s no discernible difference. I turn to Gael again and they’re simply wiping their hands with one of their little handkerchief things, and Tulen seems an unconcerned as she simply dusts hers off while walking back to join us.
Art’s not the only one who’s frowning, watching the two wizards in turn with due incredulity. “So … did it work? I dunno if it worked. Was that it? That can’t have been it, surely.”
“Sometimes magic looks underwhelming, Art.” Gael boops him gently on the nose as they rejoin us, looking a tad smug now. “But I assure you, it worked.”
“Yeah, but …” I can’t help it, I have to sweep my arm about, indicating the room, and the windows across the way, still glaringly clear for anyone who might want to overlook us, ‘least if they could actually find a vantage point close enough. “Nothing’s changed. I thought this was s’posed to make the room more private.”
“It is.” Gael gently insists, giving the handkerchief a god hard shake before inspecting it with a slightly raised brow. Finally they give it two more good hard shake and must finally be satisfied with the results because they cram it back into their pocket. “It looks the same from in here, but no sounds will carry outside now, and no-one who might be able to look through those windows will be able to make anything out, either. We could have used another fog charm like we did back in Bavat, but that wouldn’t have been practical in such a large space, we would have had to exclude at least half the group. Hence …” They hold their hands out in indication.
“Cute.” Kesla’s already moving to the table again, just pulling one of the chairs out on its strange, slightly squeaky wheels so she can just dump herself into it, letting go a heavy sigh as she does so. “All right, can we just get on with it now? After that climb and beating three idiots up this morning I’d prefer not to have to stand for a little while.”
Through the corner of my eye I catch Daste’s brows shooting up at that particular statement, but Sirsk simply coughs politely into their little fist with the subtlest of smiles. Letting out her own smaller sigh, the Administrator nods her agreement and looks around the room for a moment. “Of course you’re right. Well then, I suppose we’d better get started then. Lady Naru, if you would?”
For a moment I’m a little lost, not understanding what she’s on about at all, then a figure simply materialises in the middle of the floor, no more than three feet from Kesla, who reacts instantly. Leaping out of the chair so forcefully it’s shoved back a few feet, she’s already starting to draw her sword before Daste’s raised hand and surprisingly matter-of-fact reassurance can stop her. “Calm, please. She’s not a threat.”
In truth, Kesla ain’t alone, half the group must start along with her, either going for weapons at their sides or simply moving into more defensive stances, Art even stepping in front of Gael as he grasps his sword, which I think is quite sweet, really. I can’t help tensing myself, my hand going to the axe on my hip before I can check myself.
If the newcomer’s remotely fazed, it doesn’t show in the slightest. She’s … gods, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman in all my life, actually. She’s tall as Shay, and similarly lithe, even though she’s stood pretty still I can just tell. At first glance I’d say she’s human, but … no, if I’m honest with myself that doesn’t feel quite right, there’s just something a little different about her. Nothing I can put my finger on, she doesn’t have that weird inherent glow anyone with elf-blood has, but whatever she does have is very much like it, something not quite seen but more just felt. She’s something special, certainly.
Her manner of dress says mage, but while she’s definitely got a lot of wizard vibes about her there’s nothing in her ensemble that suggests even a passing connection to the Silver Order. If she’s a hedge wizard, she’s definitely not your common or garden variety, instead every inch of her sings highborn nobility. These robes are lighter than Gael’s, what looks like a mixture of finest silks from the deep south of Abharet and soft, plush velvets, picked out in cool shades of silvery grey and purples ranging from pale lavender to a warm summer’s midnight sky. It hangs in a very flattering way from her frame, but I suspect when she does start to move it’ll flow like water, and in the most beautiful way, too.
She’s certainly got great bones, her skin and features fine as porcelain and incredibly easy on the eyes, a full-lipped mouth that doesn’t need so much as a touch of rouge and a slender nose with a gently flicked-up tip. Her eyes are a strikingly bright blue, as brilliant as Gael’s, and as fiercely intelligent too, although I see none of the young wizard’s naivety in her. These eyes have seen things, clearly. Her hair definitely completes the package, perhaps her most striking feature, a thick, lustrous mane of tumbling curls that have been left loose to fall from a perfect centre parting all the way to her waist, and every single strand looks like spun silver. It lights up beautifully, especially in the warm Untermer sunlight still streaming through the window, which might be where some of her inexplicable shine comes from, actually.
Most impressive of all, though, is her manner. When Kesla finally gets control of herself again she’s still got a foot of bared steel out and looks fierce as she did the other night. This woman doesn’t so much as blink at all the threats being show to her around the room, she just stands her ground, effortlessly graceful and achingly magnificent. Smiling now, I realise, subtle but more than a little amused, fingers laced together in a very similar stance to Daste’s. Her only movement is the unfussed, casual flicker of her brilliant eyes as she takes the group in one at a time.
“Hmmm … perhaps a little warning first might have been wiser, Venne?” Her voice is like honey, unexpectedly deep, a soft, sultry purr as beautiful as the rest of her. Not so much as a trace of accent, either.
Daste, to her credit, merely cocks a brow at her, a little a smile touching her own lips now. “Mistress Shoon, I assure you, this is no threat. Lady Naru is here very much at my request, but her presence is of great import to you as well.”
Kesla pauses for a beat longer, looking the newcomer over with as critical an eye as she did the rest of us when we first met, before finally straightening up her stance, sliding her sword home as she does so. Taking a deep breath, she lets it go slow and heavy, frowning deeply as she turns to Daste now. “That weren’t funny. At all.”
“My apologies, that was not the intention.” Daste sighs wearily, and now she’s looking like she’s been as strung out lately as the rest of us. From what I been led to understand that’s probably a pretty accurate assessment. “Lady Naru … Sulin is a friend. Not only mine but Darion’s too.”
“You know da?” Gael steps towards her now, seeming to have forgotten they’re still pulling their gloves back on in the now defusing chaos. Their expression’s urgent as I would’ve expected, but hopeful too.
The woman, clearly this Lady Naru, doesn’t answer right away. When she turns to look at Gael a very complicated wave of emotions seem to flicker, very subtly indeed, across her face, her eyes wandering all over ‘em as they take the young wizard in. There might be something like recognition, but whether she simply recognises the child of Darion Foxtail or it’s some deeper connection I really couldn’t begin to imagine. Truth is she’s far too subtle to even begin to fathom, even if I wasn’t already almost indecently attracted to her.
In truth, I’m not alone, actually. When I look to Kesla I realise she’s checking this Lady Naru out too, being very sneaky about it but I’m just catching it mostly cuz I’m actually looking for it. Given how clearly sharp this woman is there’s no doubt she’d pick up on it too if she looked, so it’s a good thing she’s so distracted right now.
After a long moment, Naru finally seems to collect herself enough to close the gap between her and Gael. “My apologies … yes, I do. Gael?” She extends her right hand, well-manicured and as delicate as I would’ve expected, but also steady as steel. “Please, call me Sulin. I’m practically family.”
Gael looks down at the hand, and while the slightest crease touches the gap between their brows it never become a full frown. Instead they simply ignore the hand and just step right up to Lady Naru, folding her into a hug. For a moment this strange woman’s surprised, but she melts quickly, wrapping her own arms round Gael in return and starting to smile again as she closes her eyes and just settles into it.
While this is going on I sidle up alongside Kesla, who tenses as I speak to her at the lowest volume I can, clearly having missed my approach. “She’s real pretty, ain’t she?”
Turning to look down at me, Kesla cocks one brow high indeed. “That’s a hell of an understatement.”
“Just don’t let it cloud your judgement though, yeah?” I breathe, simply smiling back in the face of her incredulity. “Gorgeous women got a habit of clouding minds in situations like this, and we still don’t know ‘er yet.”
Watching me for a long beat, Kesla finally just frowns as she she turns away again before muttering: “Long as you follow your own advice too we’ll be fine, then.”
Gotta raise my own brows at that, but she’s studiously ignoring me now so it’s somewhat lost. She got her read on me right, though, I’ll give her that. I can’t help smiling.
After a few more moments, Gael pulls back again, and their cheeks are really flushed as they become particularly sheepish. “Oh … Minerva, forgive me, that really was uncalled for –"
Lady Naru smiles, and it’s warmer than the sun. “No, no, please don’t apologise. It’s absolutely fine. I know full well the kind of stress you’re under right now. I’m worried about him too.”
“So you really know Darion then?” Kesla steps forward now, and her hand’s conspicuously back on her sword hilt again. Don’t look like she’s gotten over her initial conflict regarding our new guest yet.
“Yes, I do.” Lady Naru’s smile narrows but don’t fade as she looks the big merc over, and they’re close to the same height so it feels very much like they’re measuring each other up now. “I’ve known Darion since before some of you were born, I’ll wager.”
Kesla looks to Gael now. “He ever mentioned her before?”
Frowning, Gael looks to her friend, then back at Lady Naru, and any lingering embarrassment must slip away now as something like confusion touches their face now. “Well, no, but … I mean, that doesn’t actually mean anything.”
“I can vouch for Lady Naru, Mistress Shoon.” Daste’s frowning some herself now as she stands by. The diminutive bald man’s at her side now, and I get the distinct impression he’s standing guard, something about his stance carrying subtle warning now despite his seeming serene calm. Where I first thought manservant, now I realise bodyguard might be a more apt description.
“It’s quite all right, Venne.” Lady Naru’s still smiling, even in the face of Kesla’s strict glare. “Perhaps we got off to a bad start.” She offers up her hand again. “I am Lady Sulin Naru, Senior Consul to the Grand Authority.”
Whoa … that means she’s a big fucking deal. She’s one o’ the most important and trusted advisors to the surviving high nobility who still run Rundao from Tabaphic, at least under the ultimate governance of the Terror’s Provisionals. When I guessed she was of rich noble stock herself I was scary close to the mark.
This time Kesla’s examination’s more cautious, but I see there’s still a little scepticism there. She still takes the offered hand, though. “Kesla Shoon. I’m really of no major import at all.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Lady Naru gives Kesla’s hand a good, firm pump, her smile growing again. “A friend of Gael Foxtail is a friend to me, I promise you.”
Letting go of her hand at last, Kesla finally turns away and looks up now, and I realise she’s regarding Driver 8. “Did you not pick up on her before?”
The golem doesn’t speak for a moment, still as a statue now as he looks down at her with that strange red stare. “I am sorry, Kesla. She did not seem a threat when I entered.”
That makes her frown deep, but while I get the feeling she wants to reprimand him she ultimately holds her tongue, instead letting a weary sigh go as she simply shrugs. “All right, fair enough. If Big Man don’t reckon you’re a threat that’s good enough for me.”
“You ain’t Silver Order though, are you?” I venture now, as the tension finally starts to ease out the group.
Lady Naru looks at me for a long moment, the first time she’s really given me anything more’n that initial cursory examination, and I’ll admit I find her regard … well, I really shouldn’t be having these kinds o’ thoughts, Kesla’s right about the need to keep on my toes right now. “No, I’m not.”
“But you ain’t a hedge wizard either.” I look at Gael, who’s frowning a little now as they regard the woman. “Are you?”
“No.” Lady Naru looks Gael right in the eye, but not for long. Soon enough she turns away, looking down now as she smooths her robes out even though there’s no need for her to do so, far as I can tell there ain’t a single crease outta place in her entire ensemble. When she looks up again she turns to Kesla again, and she’s deadly serious now. “I am a sorcerer.”