“Granzun. That was his name, ‘least when he was still with the Guild. Might still be going by it now, though I doubt it if he really is mixed up in nefarious shit this bad.” Art of Shadows puffs his cheeks out with a heavy breath, still looking down at the floor the way he’s been doing for most of the time since we got settled in. Like he doesn’t want to look anybody in the eye right now. “He was … is a big bastard, one o’ the biggest orcs I ever seen in my time. That’s why I’m mindful to reckon it really is him an’ not just some other orc merc somehow wound up getting hands on a familiar weapon. Way Gael described the one they fought …”
Even now, I’m still surprised by how someone with such feline features can be so expressive. He’s not a happy camper right now, it’s writ large across his face. He's certainly a striking one, now I’ve been able to get a proper look at him. Smaller than some bakaneko I’ve known, lean and lithe, and not at all intimidating now I see him in a more social atmosphere. If I didn’t already know what lethal violence he’s actually capable of I wouldn’t be able to believe it if someone told me, even looking at his impressively appointed prowler’s gear. That’s what he is, I’ve learned – my original guess was right, turns out he really is Thieves Guild, or at least was once upon a time, before he became one of the Creeping Bam. And not just a common pickpocket or burglar, either – Art, as he prefers to be called, proved from his earliest days in training that he had it in him to be something truly, lethally exceptional, so they moulded him according to his full potential. So now he can vanish completely into shadow, move more silently than a light breeze, and open an opponent’s arteries and let him bleed out before he even knows he’s been stabbed if he needs to. Makes him dangerous enough to take seriously, especially in this company.
Most of this strange new crew seem to be special enough to take similarly seriously, even the half-elf wizard, Gael Foxtail, despite their youth and … I don’t really know what to call it, actually. There’s something about them that sets them somewhat apart from the others, even though they’re all very comfortable round each other. I get the impression they haven’t been out of their fancy magic Academy in Bavat for all that long, something like naivete sometimes showing itself in the way they handle themselves, the way they talk. They’re smart, there’s no denying it, and very pretty, I can’t help noticing that … but they clearly still don’t know half as much about how the real world works as they really should.
That said, I also get the impression they do know more than the other wizard, the one I understand is only tagging along with the group, instead of a proper member. Tulen Kelsira is very striking indeed, almost the most intriguing individual in this whole group, and they’re very friendly, too … a little too friendly, in fact. She definitely hasn’t got it clear in her head yet that, while we certainly don’t mean her harm, it’s not always smart for her to act quite so trusting with people she’s literally just met without getting to know ‘em a bit first.
Kesla Shoon … yeah, she balances that out some. She’s welcoming enough, but wary with it all the same, and that’s wise, I’d be the same. But then she’s … gods, this woman is intimidating, more than just about anybody else in this room, if I’m honest. Sharp as any blade in this room too, I don’t doubt, might be she’s smarter than either of the wizards in some ways, I think. The way her eyes just look right into you, right through you … like she can see what you’re thinking clear as if it’s written on your forehead.
But it's the Fir Bolg that most surprised me, when we finally met her. Seeing the long black arrows in her substantial quiver was enough for me to work out it was her doing all that fast, scary, deadly accurate shooting earlier in the Round. I heard stories about her race when I was growing up, but I never met a Tuathan forest guardian before today. Part of me didn’t believe they were genuinely real.
Yeslee Toll is even more intimidating than the group’s nominal leader … hell, she’s almost more intimidating than the golem. Ever since she finally settled down in one of the chairs with the rest of us, she hasn’t really moved, sat forward with her now unstrung black longbow lightly gripped between her long fingers, stern-faced, never taking her eyes off us. Don’t reckon I even seen her blink.
She’s tall too, taller than her bow, which on its own is tall as Kesla when it’s strung. Long, lean, rangy limbs, wiry with ropy muscles I’d imagine – they’d have to be for her to be able to draw that bow with such ferocity. There’s something passingly elvish about her features, but there’s too much of an animal in them to really mistake her for one, the subtlest hints of a snout to her face, and the way her pointed ears are far too broad. I saw her teeth once, when she spoke to Kesla after she first came in, well after the others, to inform her she’s confident there’s no signs of anyone she didn’t like lingering. They’re more like a predatory beast’s teeth, almost sharp as the bakaneko’s. Her eyes, which seem to pierce right through to my soul, are big and bright and blazing with a fierce intelligence, although I can’t actually read anything in their rich violet depths.
If she didn’t unsettle me so much I might find her quite attractive, actually. Her rich tan-coloured skin seems very smooth and warm, and finely compliments her hair, a mass of thick curls the colour of creamy, expensive chocolate, bound back into a long, thick, heavy braid that’s fallen over her shoulder now to lay across one of her knees. I’ll admit that when I find her eyes too intense to keep looking into I distract myself by looking at it, and it really is quite beautiful, easily her most striking feature.
“What happened to him?” Kesla gently presses after a few moments, once it’s become clear the young thief’s reluctant to elaborate on that particular point.
Art blinks, looking up into her face, and there’s a war of emotions going on in his face, behind his eyes. He shoots a look at the other two individuals clad in well-appointed, expensive-looking black leather gear, the ones I’ve learned are still with the local Thieves Guild, although I can also tell they know Art from way back. The hobgoblin, much as I can read his expressions at all, seems to be friendly enough with him, but it’s fundamentally clear the pretty young halfling is really pissed off with him about something. So she makes a conspicuous effort to ignore his look, while the hob simply lets go a little sigh and nods back.
Taking this as permission enough, Art takes a deep breath and collects himself at last, although he keeps wringing his paws like he’s been doing since we sat down. “Well, he was another orphan, originally. Ain’t many full-blood orcs in the Guild, ‘least not in Untermer, so he just grew up in the melting pot with the rest of us, really. He was bigger’n us, an’ stronger, but … he did have a talent for sneaking, spite of his size. Not good enough to be a proper prowler, but good enough that when he was old enough he started getting work with some o’ the crews like the rest of us. But when we finally grew up …” He winces, looking to his friends again.
“Yevnik got his claws into ‘im, like he did with Art.” The hob, Zuldrad, growls, and there’s a little more expression to him now, like he’s chewing on something he don’t like. “Wanted to use that strength of his for other things. So they turned him into an enforcer. Y’know, raw muscle, breaking legs, skulls, whatever. A proper killer when they needed one. One that made big messes that made big points.”
“Gods …” Gael hisses under their breath, and the look they give the bakaneko as he scowls, looking proper haunted again, is surprisingly heartfelt. I wonder if there’s something between ‘em, maybe.
“Gran kinda became one o’ the sticking points made me leave in the first place.” Art’s own growl’s a feral thing, making me think of a beast on the hunt in a forest down south, like I used to see sometimes when I was a kid. Mainly must come from a place of anger, but more than a little bitterness too. “Got me proper thinking about what that old bastard was actually doing to me. To all of us he’d … took an interest in. Made me realise it was wrong, that he was turning us into … something nasty.”
The halfling, Darwyn, squirms in her seat a little bit, although she winds up floundering a little in the expansive padding since her feet are dangling so high off the floor. Looks like she’s having problems keeping up her façade of irritation with her former old friend the way she’s looking down at the floor now, something like guilt starting to colour her face a little. “Gran got himself into a bit o’ trouble after that. Starting getting too caught up in his work, got too hard for the crews to control when he had to flex. Killed a few he weren’t s’posed to, overstepped some. Got so Cobb had to cut him loose, gave him the boot.”
“Expelled him from the Guild?” Kesla blinks in surprise. “I thought that … wasn’t done.”
Art shrugs, less like an evasion than he’s just uncomfortable, his hide crawling with something unpleasant. “Usually it ain’t, but … Gran was one of us, and Cobb still loved ‘im. So he pushed him out ‘stead of cutting his throat an’ dumping the body in the harbour. Though in a way that was … kind of a message in itself.”
“He disappeared after that. Mostly.” Darwyn finally looks up, but still doesn’t acknowledge Art, instead focusing on Kesla. “I’d see him round, every once in a while, but … it was always pretty awkward.”
“How so?”
The halfling turns to me, almost seeming surprised I’ve spoken at all, and she doesn’t answer for a long moment, watching me, seeming more thoughtful now. “Well … I reckon Cobb always figured he’d take the hint, just leave. Y’know, choose exile, if you will. The way he got booted, it was kinda saying he should get outta town, never come back. But he stuck around. He really wasn’t s’posed to be here anymore.”
“But he stayed. What was he doing?”
“Never said. I asked a couple times, but … wasn’t so much that he didn’t wanna talk about it, more like, I dunno … almost like he couldn’t. Like there were rules he didn’t like to break, an’ silence was a big part of it. I didn’t press, but … never gave me a good feeling.” She sighs, shifting a little as she looks back at the floor again. “Last year or so I ain’t even seen him once, anyway. I was almost surprised to find out he’s still alive.”
“Yeah, well he is.” Art’s still growling ever word, and now it seems like anger’s winning over the rest of the emotions he’s at war with. “Ain’t a good thing for us, I can tell you that one for free.”
Silence falls across the group, and for a moment I think about sitting back into the seat at last, maybe letting myself rest. I fight the urge off, pretty merciless actually. From what I can tell what alcohol’s left in my system is pretty much all burned out now, but I don’t want to give what little there is a chance to get a grip on me now. I doubt there’s any real danger of anything new happening, not yet at least, but … I’m not comfortable enough to relax, not yet. Certainly not under that uncompromising stare.
I turn Yeslee’s way now, glaring back best I can. She’s unwavering, like a basilisk, I swear I’d be stone if she really was one. I can’t meet her eyes for long, I break contact and instead sit forward the rest of the way, planting my feet as well as I can on the floor from my position as I lace my hands together between my knees. Finally I just start inspecting our surroundings again.
It's true the temple to Minerva’s one of the largest structures in the Round, but it’s also a good deal easier on the eyes than the more monolithic houses of Rao the Peacemaker or Mithra, the Blind Lady. It’s definitely more inviting than the intimidating obsidian manse of Corvina, the Raven Queen, squatting like a brooding vulture in the midst of the cluttered buildings filling the round with little real rhyme or reason in their arrangement.
The whole building seems to have been built out of gorgeously sleek, smooth-cut white marble, picked out in gleaming curves and arches that catch the dancing light of the many lamps, candles and braziers lit in deference to the stone’s inherent coldness. This seems to be enhanced by the detailing that picks out much of the designs, my eyes frequently drawn to inlaid patterns of what I’m sure is burnished silver. Some patches are large enough that I see myself reflected in them, and this also seems to enhance the illumination around us. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been in, by far.
When we first came in it was made instantly clear that we were expected. A delegation of temple staff greeted us right inside the entrance, three of them heavily armoured guards who collected our prisoner in short order and left with a small, elderly human wizard in tow. She seemed to be weaving a spell the moment she started following them, which Gael quickly informed us was intended to dampen any residual magic that might be clinging to the prisoner, just in case anyone tried to trigger his curse after all. It was something like a relief to hear that, knowing there’s much less chance of him just dropping dead on us before we can get round to questioning him.
After a few pleasantries were shared with the other wizards in attendance, we were gently ushered into one of the rooms to the side of the chapel itself, finally settling in this lounge, with comfortably expansive leather seating and a calming atmosphere. Refreshments were offered but Kesla waved them off, at least for now. We still have business to attend to before we can really make use of any proper downtime.
“Okay, so …” Kesla sits forward the rest of the way like me now, stroking her chin thoughtfully as she considers … well, everything, I guess. “We know one of them, but it’s someone you ain’t seen or had any dealings with in a good long while, and you got no idea who he’s actually working for, if it is the same whoever it is they were before. We got a lead with the Guild-issue gear, but that’s a tenuous link at best since we don’t know how they got their hands on it.” She ponders for a moment, then looks at Darwyn. “No chance this Granzun could be the one got that stuff to ‘em, is there?”
“No.” She shakes her head, pretty vehemently. “No, it won’t have been him. ‘Least not directly. He might’ve given ‘em an in, but … no.”
“And we’re sure it ain’t this fella … what was his name again?” I look at Kesla. “The Guild bigshot?”
“Which one?” She fixes me with a flat look I can’t interpret. “Cobb or Yevnik?”
“The one you don’t like.” I try not to snap it, or glare unduly as I answer. Might just be the very long day we’re still not done with might be getting on top of all of us now.
“Yevnik.” She sighs, turning back to Art again. “What d’you reckon? With all the evidence put together, you think maybe there’s a possibility he’s our bastard? You did say it was him turned Granzun into a monster in the first place.”
“Ain’t never been any love lost between him an’ Cobb, so he’s always kept an eye on that old bastard.” Darwyn answers for Art, but then the bakaneko seems reluctant enough right now. “He’s bent as a length o’ cheap iron, but far as any of us can tell he’s loyal to the Guild. Either it’s one amazing fucking act, or he’s honest enough in that.”
“No ideas about any others, then?”
She considers for a long moment, eventually looking to Zuldrad for his own opinion, but he just shakes his head. She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “None I can think of, but then that’s the problem. We’re all thieves. Keeping secrets is kinda what we’re best at.”
That makes Kesla frown, and she turns to look at a few of the others in her band, seemingly searching for fresh opinions. None are forthcoming, at least until the tall, graceful half-orc warrior, Shay, simply gives her own tired shrug. “She’s got a point. We’re not going to know, not just going from appearances.”
“Means that live one’s all we got to go off right now.” Kesla turns to Gael. “Side from that blood trick o’ yours. Which you said was a long shot, right?”
“It might be, yes.” The young half-elf wizard nods, vaguely working her fingers around the shaft of her tall metal staff in a manner than clearly speaks of nerves. “I certainly wouldn’t want to hang all of our hopes on it unless we have no other choice.”
“Right.” Kesla takes a deep breath and sits forward until she can plant her feet more firmly, then starts to push her way upright. She’s way too young and in much too good shape to be so stiff in rising, but I get the impression it’s been a long day for them, even longer than ours from what I heard. But she makes it up well enough, then stoops to pick up her sword from where she laid it at the side of her seat before planting herself, working with swift ease to strap the belt back round her hips. “Best get to it.”
“Gods, do we have to?” Art huffs, dropping back into the thick, plush cushions of his own chair and tightly crossing his arms. He sees Kesla turning his way, surprisingly calm in the face of his reaction, and immediately starts to back-peddle. “Um … shit, sorry boss. It’s just … c’mon, it’s been a hell of a hard day. I’m sure I ain’t the only one’s beat an’ hungry right now. Can’t we at least take an hour or so to just … muster up some energy again?”
She cocks her head to regard him for a long moment, and I can just about see her softening looking down at that earnest, slightly nervous face. Wow, these folk really do care about each other, it’s clear as glass. He might call her “boss”, but that seems to just be a fond affectation. “I don’t need everybody for an interrogation. Anybody just wants to crash, they’re welcome to it. Far as we know we’re safe right now, might as well make the most of it. I just wanna get this shit outta the way now, case time’s more pressing than it seems.”
Well I’m not sitting this out, so I push myself forward enough to hop down from my seat. “Count me in, then. I want answers much as you.” I stoop to collect my axes, but after brief consideration leave the big one where I’ve laid it.
“Fair enough.” Dumoli starts to work his own way out of his chair, although he’s planted himself a little deeper into the cushions so it’s taking greater effort to free himself. I roll my eyes as I slide my right-hand axe through its loop.
“Leave it, Du. I got this. You might as well crash with this lot.”
He turns slow, frowning up at me, and almost looks offended now, I reckon. “What are you talking about? I’ve got a stake in this too, same as you.”
“You do, but you gotta admit it’s been a long, shitty road getting this far, an’ I’m sure you’re tired as me. Don’t make sense for both of us to run ourselves into the ground.” I nod towards Brung, and he follows my gaze to see where our goblin friend seems to have already followed the mood of the group. When we came in he ignored the comforts of the well-upholstered seating and just went straight to the oversized hearth we’re all gathered round, dropping on his backside with his back right to the low blaze burning inside it. Now he’s curled up like a cat in front of it, mostly silent save that subtle clicking purr I’ve long grown used to from our years of camping together on the road.
Seeing proves enough to convince him, so he flounders at the last, now just perched on the edge of the seat as he lets out a deep sigh. “All right, damn it. You win, so I could do with a drink.” He frowns down at the floor and leans forward again, this time dropping onto his feet with far more noise than strictly necessary thanks to his heavy, steel-shod boots, and starts looking round. “Where’s the bar?”
“Oh, yes.” Gael might be as tired as the rest of us, but you’d never know it the way they’re on her their feet almost before any of us realise it. They cast about the room for a moment, then raise their hand, waving to something off to the side. I’m slow picking up on the fact there’s been someone in here all the time, but then the attendant’s white and silver robes seem to help them blend into their surroundings, at least until the step forward.
Bowing courteously with a cool, neutrally friendly smile on their rather androgynous face, the youthful human folds their hands together at their waist. “Master Foxtail, how may we be of assistance?”
That seems to stump them, the young wizard frowning for a moment. “Oh … yes. Um … yes, of course. Some refreshments for my friends, please. I don’t know what you have on hand, though … um …”
Another bow. “No need, Master Foxtail. We anticipated your needs, the kitchens are already preparing a hearty repast for you and yours, and there will be wine and ale on the way momentarily. However, I shall request some of the refreshments be brought through now.” They give one last bow and turn before Gael can even respond, moving out through the doorway I’d quite lost track of with light-footed ease.
Gael blinks. “Okay … turns out they’re particularly efficient here.”
“Hey, that’s fine by me.” Art seems to be getting comfortable in his chair now, looking a good deal happier than he was before. “I’m with Dumoli, a drink sounds grand right now.”
Du cocks a brow my way as he settles back into his chair, and I can’t help smiling back, although I’m sure it looks tired as it feels. I’ll admit a drink sounds as great to me right now, but some food to soak up the alcohol so I don’t just pass out on the spot sounds better. Except that I elected to join Kesla instead, and besides, I wanna know what’s up as much as she does.
“Fine, you lot settle in. We’ll be back in …” Kesla frowns, casting a glance to me for a moment that I’m not clued-up enough to answer, then waves her hand vaguely. “When we’re done. Just don’t eat everything, yeah? I’m hungry too.”
“So am I, but I’ll join you.” Gael looks their clothes over for a moment, smoothing out what needs it, then picks up their staff. Finally they turn back to the others. “Anyone else?”
Darwyn gets up almost immediately, but given how the situation’s been laid out to me it’s not a surprise. She looks round the rest for a moment, seeming non-plussed by some, especially Art, but that’s no surprise either. “What? Y’know why I’m here, I got Cobb’s interests to protect.”
There’s a long moment of silence as nobody else seems particularly inclined to get up now, and I can see the day really has taken its toll on the group as a whole, not just us. Even the golem, Driver 8, doesn’t stir in the spot next to the hearth he crouched down into when we first entered, in fact I haven’t seen him move once since. All I get looking at him now is the vaguest niggling sense that he is watching us now all the same, but he remains conspicuously silent as the rest of them.
Then Shay says: “Yeah, why not?” before unfolding her long, lithe legs and rising from the long couch with the same comfortable, enviable ease that Gael recently displayed, plucking her own swordbelt up in the process.
Beside her, Tulen blinks at the rest, surprised, before focusing on Gael. “Should I –”
“No, I think we’ll be fine.” Gael waves her down before she can start to follow. “I’ll send for you if we need you, but I think we’ll be all right.” They shoot a very subtle look at Kesla that I barely manage to catch, and the tall mercenary woman gives a very clipped nod in simple response.
“It’s cool, I can keep ‘er company.” Art smiles towards Tulen, whose pale blue cheeks seem to darken a little as she returns it, a little coy but warm enough all the same. Gael gives him a surprisingly cold look that he completely misses, and I notice Darwyn glaring daggers at him again too.
“Just leave it.” Kesla whispers to Gael as she lays a hand on their shoulder, gently guiding them away from the group now. For a moment it looks like they might be thinking about arguing, but they drop it quick enough, although they’re still frowning mightily as they start towards the door with Darwyn in tow.
“So you’re from Abharet, I hear?” Shay’s held back, taking a moment to adjust the lie of her swordbelt, but clearly she’s mainly used it as an excuse to engage me in conversation. I have to crane somewhat to look her in the eye as I slot my other axe into place on my left hip, and I can’t help a moment’s suspicion at her question, but she seems earnest enough.
“Um … yeah. Originally. Not for a while, mind.”
Shay starts walking after the others, but she’s clearly moving at a leisurely pace in deference to my comparatively stumpy legs so I have no trouble keeping up as we leave the room. “I hear the days are longer down there. Compared to Rundao, that is. It’s warmer too. What’s that like?”
I can’t help frowning up at her now, a little thrown by that question. “You don’t … huh. Where are you from, then?”
“The Reaches, up north. I was born in the mountains, where the Icespine starts.”
Ah, so. That makes sense, then. She’s used to relatively short days and far longer nights, while the dawn and dusk both last a long time, and even in the summer it never gets too warm. If this really is her first time out of the North, which I’m gathering it is, she’s already experiencing a very different environment to the one she’s used to. “I see. So how are you finding Untermer, then?”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Sunny, and warm.” She smiles, a little sheepish but companionable enough even so. “The longer days are definitely gnawing at me a little too. I take it it’s worse down south?”
That makes me grin despite my tiredness. “Yeah … personally, I wouldn’t say worse, but yeah, it’s a good deal more temperate in Abharet. I grew up in Yhuret, it’s not too far south of the border, but I been further Poleward in my time. The forests are lush, and the greenest you’ll ever see in this world. Sometimes I miss it, Rundao definitely ain’t the same. The leaves don’t change colour where I came from like they do here when autumn arrives.”
“Jungles, right?” There’s a real spark in her eyes now, a genuine twinkle of excitement, and she’s not paying attention to where she’s walking now, moving backwards now so she can regard me as we move. “My da taught me about stuff like that. He said that the forests down there are huge, and they get really hot but there’s so much moisture that everything stays wet all the time. Even the air.”
“Humidity, yeah.” My grin stays where it is, I’m enjoying this conversation, as much for the nostalgia as anything else. “There’s places where the jungles are deepest where the trees get really tall, like they’ll stretch hundreds of feet into the sky, and there are whole seasons where it’ll just rain constantly. We call those the Rainforests.”
“Yeah, he taught me about those too. He said there were ancient civilisations that used to exist there, before the Sundering threw everything into chaos and the heat after made the jungles grow so wild and out of control. That today there are places in the deepest parts of the forests where there are whole cities, but empty and ruined.” Shay smiles fondly at that thought, and I’m intrigued to know who this father of hers might be. Is he the orc or the elf? “Sounds like quite an adventure, if I do say so myself.”
“Well I hear the Northern Reaches are pretty wild and dramatic too, so reckon you seen your fair share of adventures too.” I see Kesla and Gael have stopped ahead of us now, just on the edge of the chapel, and while I might suspect they’re waiting for us to catch up I reckon it’s more likely they just don’t know where to go. “I understand you’re new to the group, so did they pick you up while they were there?”
Shay stops now, giving me a more considered look, a little wary but mostly just critical. I wonder if maybe I just touched a nerve, and if so I wonder what that’s even about. “A few weeks back, yes. Before that I was … freelance, if you will.”
“So you were still a fellow merc, then.” I offer up a friendlier smile now, hoping it does the trick. “So not much of a change, really. You’re at home with the work. And I saw you out there earlier, you were … really something.”
Cocking her head, Shay continues to examine me, and her expression’s becoming more appraising, with hints of her own smile touching the corners of her mouth now. “Thank you. It took me many years to get that good, and most of it was thanks to my parents. Especially da. He’s a far greater fighter than I could even hope to be.”
“You two coming or what?” Kesla calls now, jogging us both from our reverie, and when I turn they’re watching us, the big woman with a look of mildly amused indulgence while Gael’s simply blushing, seeming a little embarrassed by her friend’s implied impatience. Personally, I don’t reckon Kesla’s really all that bothered by it. The halfling seems largely indifferent.
Stepping up to them at last, I take another look at our surroundings, and slowly realise that when we came in before I really wasn’t paying too much attention because this place really is magnificent. The chapel is a substantial space all on its own, the central chamber of worship around which the rest of the temple revolves, a beautiful vaulted ceiling stretching high above our heads, might be a good hundred feet up, supported by pillars thick as ancient tree trunks. The gleaming white marble of the structure and the silver highlighting looks especially spectacular in the strong light from the thousands of candles arrayed in row upon row along the walls. The dark, almost black wood of the arranged pews, meanwhile, offers a strong contrast, as does the single splash of real colour in the place, a long line of thick red carpet running the length of the central aisle to the altar to Minerva.
The great statue at the back of the chamber is what most immediately draws the eye, at least now I don’t have other matters to draw my attention. At least thirty feet tall and sculpted from what seems to be a single piece of flawless white marble, it’s somewhat stylised but beautifully striking all the same, a very flattering representation of the goddess indeed. There’s a certain avian quality to her features, I imagine intended to evoke the owl she favours as her totem, especially in her wide, slanted eyes, but there’s an intriguing warmth in her face all the same, the subtle smile she wears having a surprising calming effect. Once again there’s silver inlaid in strategic places to give the statue greater detail, particularly her eyes and her long, flowing tresses, but I get the impression that the rod in her left hand and flame in her offered right are solid pieces of the metal rather than plated. Some kind of flame of knowledge, maybe? I don’t really know enough about this particular religion to judge.
Leaning into Gael’s side, I whisper up at her, feeling the need to use more hushed tones now in this place. “Um … out of interest … what exactly is that she’s holding out?”
Gael frowns for a beat, then looks to the statue and smiles. “Oh, right. It’s the Spark of Inspiration. Minerva’s the Goddess of Knowledge and Wisdom. The Spark brings Serendipity to the lucky ones who are graced with its gifts.”
I have to cock my brow at that. “Come again?”
“Serendipity. A bolt of inspiration. It’s when a brilliant idea just comes to you out of the blue. Like when artists or other creatives are visited by the Muses. They’re her servants.”
“They like Thorin’s Valkyries?” I notice Kesla and Shay exchanging a glance when I say that.
“After a fashion, yes. Divine servants who serve their godly masters and fulfil the requirements of their particular purviews when dealing with our side of the Veil.”
Half of what she said kind of goes over my head, but I reckon enough of it came clear enough for me to get the gist. “Right. Cuz the Sundering kinda put the kibosh on the gods walking among us, means they can’t get their hand in direct anymore.”
This brings a more amused smile to Gael’s face. “Again, after a fashion. Those of us who are in tune with the other side of the Veil can still commune with them, hence the godly clergy, although there are others who occasionally find themselves … in the right headspace to hear it too. Like warriors in the heat of battle, every once in a while you might feel Thorin’s hand on your shoulder.”
I blink at that, and there’s another look that passes between Kesla and Shay. “Yeah … once or twice.”
After a moment of thoughtful silence – or perhaps moderate existential dread in my case – Kesla breaks in with: “So anyway, since we don’t know our way round here ourselves …”
“Oh!” Gael’s quicker on the drop this time. “Of course. Um …” She falters, starting to cast about now.
“Master Foxtail, how may we assist you?”
This makes all of us jump, we can’t help it. Even Kesla seems a little perturbed to find the attendant suddenly stood right beside her, a short human barely an inch or two taller than me, but a good deal slighter, looking up at Gael expectantly. She’s got a subtle smile on her face, something I’ve noticed is almost like a uniform expression among the staff in this place, actually, like she knows things far beyond any of our kens. It’s unsettling all on its own.
“Oh for the …” Shay casts a slightly baleful look Gael’s way, which just makes them blush deeper. “Really? How do they keep doing that?”
“My apologies, Mistress Swift-Kill.” The smile almost fades as she bows in contrition, but I’m sure I can see it subtly haunting her lips, visible only because I’m looking for it. I try not to roll my eyes. “You simply seemed at a loss.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kesla cocks a brow Gael’s way while Shay frowns at the attendant, likely trying to work out how she’s already known in this place. I suspect she could probably point me out of a crowd, Darwyn too, and I don’t like it one bit. Magic’s never really sat well with me.
“We are somewhat at a loss, yes.” Gael admits at last “It’s the young man we brought in with us, somewhat unwillingly. It occurs to us that we’re ill-informed of his location, which is unfortunate since we have business to discuss with him.”
I’ll admit it takes me a moment to work out exactly what the young wizard just said, but the attendant seems to get it right away. The smile comes back full-force as she nods. “Of course, Master Foxtail. Please follow me.” She indicates the most direct path across the chamber, passing between two pews, before setting off on her way.
Again, Kesla looks at Gael with her brow raised, but this time the corner of her mouth’s quirking a little too. “You couldn’t have just sniffed him out like you do?”
“What are you …” Gael frowns back, and while they’re of a height there’s the strangest sensation than they’re having to glare up at their friend now. “I’m not a dog, Kesla.”
This time Kesla grins wide, giving them a gentle little shoulder check before moving past so she can follow the attendant. “You can’t take a joke either, it seems.” She walks backwards for a few paces, stretching her hands out wide in a near-shrug, then tips them a wink before turning back to her path.
Gael glares after her, bristling some now. “Why you … Kesla! Come on, that’s not fair either!” They start stalking after, and I just watch as the young half-elf catches up to her friend only to be immediately pulled into a close one-armed hug before they continue.
Finally I look up at Shay, who’s just stood where she was before, hands on hips, head cocked a little as she watches them go. After a beat she must sense me watching her, turning my way with a slow raise of her brow.
“What exactly is that all about?” I wonder aloud.
“I really couldn’t say, I’ve not known any of them long enough yet.” She cocks her head their way. “Shall we?”
“I dunno, I’m getting hungry now.” I admit, only for her to cock her head the other way now, still looking down at me in that same stance. “Nah, you’re right, it can wait. Just know you’re goin’ into this in the company of a hungry dwarf. Ain’t the smartest way to conduct business.”
After a beat she grins wide. “You know what? I like you.”
“Yeah, well you’re all right too.” I start walking now, and she falls into easy, confident step after me as we pass between the pews. The others are already well ahead of us, the attendant waiting off to the left on the far side of the chamber by one of the doors leading out of the chapel, but nobody’s moving so fast we need to rush to catch up.
The conversation’s dried up now, I guess, but we’re comfortable in each other’s company, so it’s a trade-off I can live with. When we finally reach the door on the far side Gael’s already gone through after the attendant, but Kesla’s waiting for us just outside, and as we arrive she gives us both a look. It’s not reproach, there’s clear amusement in it, but maybe there’s a little bit of a check in it too. Shay simply shrugs, while I keep my face good and blank as I look up at her, just daring her to comment. She holds her tongue instead, shouldering the door open all the way as she essentially leans through it, stepping forward at the last before she starts to fall. I’m getting the impression her own tiredness is making her a bit irreverent, and it's clearly catching because when I look up at Shay again she’s fighting her own wry smile.
It's only as I step through that I realise Darwn’s behind me now, which almost unsettles me. She really is uncanny sneaky, now I think about it, her own diminutive size definitely masking her even from someone similarly short, but there’s more to it than that. She’s a prowler like Art and their hobgoblin friend, I hear, so it’s clearly a by-product of the training. I wonder if she’s just like this all the time, if the stealth’s become so deeply ingrained in her now she can’t actually turn it off anymore. Wouldn’t surprise me.
She catches me looking as she steps through after me, and there’s a moment when she gives me something of a pointed look, although it seems a good deal warmer than I expected given how she’s been since I met her. Now I think about it, though, given how she’s clearly mostly pissed off with Art, might be her being away from him now’s improving her mood some. Even so, she still challenges me as she lets the door start to slowly swing closed behind her. “What?”
“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just … I dunno, just thinking.”
Regarding me for another moment, she cocks a brow. “That can be dangerous sometimes, I heard.”
I don’t sense an implied threat in that, just a statement of interesting fact, so I don’t bristle. Reckon it might be further sign I’ve pretty much finished sobering up now, that. “That as may be, but none of us can help it. You certainly don’t strike me as somebody who can just switch it off at a whim.”
This time she genuinely grins at me, and I’m surprised by just how bright a smile it is. It’s a breath of fresh air, really, and her face lights up from it. “I’d say same about you, Mistress Stormforge.”
“Thel, please. Since we’re stuck together in this, might as well get friendly.”
“Then please, call me Dar.” He smile softens, then she looks past me and her eyes widen a little. “Bloody hell … get a look at this.”
As I follow her gaze, part of me is aware enough to take note of Shay now stood stock still a few feet further into the room, but most of me is just shook by what’s clearly aweing her too. I thought the chapel was impressive, but the space we’re in now makes it look like a tired little antechamber. The same clean, crisp white marble climbs up around us, reaching even higher into the air above our heads, but the room spreads out for what seems like hundreds of metres, an impossibly vast space given what I remember of the building’s external structure. There are windows high up in the walls that I can’t make out all that well now the night’s rolling in, but I can see enough to judge these must be some pretty impressive stained-glass masterpieces when they have sunlight pouring through them. Right now, in deference to the time, the illumination’s instead coming from several generously filled candelabras stood at strategic points throughout the room’s length.
I’ve never been in a library before, but I heard enough to recognise one when I see it. There’s impossibly tall bookshelves lining the wall, higher books accessible by stepped ladders that look to made to roll around on wheels, and shorter ones set in rows along the vast length of the chamber. Two large tables are set out in front of the first free-standing shelves, each with several large, very comfortable looking leather chairs arranged round it. I can’t see exactly how it’s set up beyond, but as I step to one side so I can look down the near side of the room I can just make out more tables set out between the other shelves at varying points.
Looking round at it all, I try to do a little math in my head and quickly come up short on ability to even start coming up with an answer. The walls alone must hold thousands of books, many thousands of them … hell, there could be millions in this place, looking at it now, this place is so huge. How could there possibly be this many books in the world? How many people would it even take to write all of them?
“Gods … look at this place.” It’s only when I hear her winded words that I realise Kesla’s stood close by too, clearly brought up short when she saw this just like the rest of us. “Gael, how … how the hell does this even work? This room is …” She falters, words seeming to fail her.
“You’re right.” I manage to spit out, just barely. “This building, the temple … this room’s way too big.”
“It’s magic, isn’t it?” Shay ventures, and it takes me a moment to realise she’s a good deal less rattled than I am.
“Quite subtle, but yes. It’s just a simple dimensional displacement enchantment on the space itself, so there’s more room in here than the real estate actually allows for.” Gael’s smiling wide, clearly very pleased with themselves, and it seems to take them a moment or two to realise Kesla and Shay are both giving them looks. The smile turns a little sheepish, but they don’t lose it. “Um … yeah, sorry, I just get a little carried away about this stuff sometimes. It’s … um, it’s basically a copy of the Grand Library at the Academy. All the major temples have one, so that it can be instantly accessed by any of our Order who find themselves in need of a particular piece of knowledge while out on the road. There are copies of every single book we have at the Academy here, just like in every other location, just in case.”
Kesla and Shay share a look now, and after a moment they both nod, appreciative now. “That’s … yeah, that’s actually really clever.” Kesla admits, and Shay keeps on nodding her agreement.
“Yeah, sure. It’s real fancy.” Darwyn doesn’t seem anywhere near as impressed by the idea as the rest of us, now if anything she seems a little suspicious of the place now she’s gotten over her initial surprise. “But we got business, right?”
For a long moment Kesla just looks down at her, unreadable now, but her eyes certainly are piercing right now, and it’s impressive that the halfling doesn’t squirm half as much under it as I’d expect. Then again she doesn’t seem like someone who’ll easily back down from much of anything, really.
“Yeah, sure.” Kesla finally allows “You’re right.” She turns back to the attendant, who I realise has been waiting patiently a little way down the near side of the room since we came in. “Lead on.”
Giving a little bow, the young woman regards us all for a beat with her inscrutable smile, then turns back to the path and starts walking again, the rest of us slowly falling into step behind. I fall back to walk with Darwyn now, watching her sidelong for a few moments as we go, and she doesn’t take long to pick up on it. When she finally turns to regard me she’s nowhere near as annoyed as I would’ve expected.
“All right, what is it?”
I hold my hands up, disarming again. “Hey, no offense meant. I’m just naturally curious. I mean, you’re not one of ‘em, I understand you’re here because of an obligation?”
“My boss asked me to help ‘em out however I could. Mainly that means he really wanted me to keep an eye on what’s going on, where this trail leads. Protect the Guild’s interests in general, and his in particular. Right now our interests are aligned, so it’s mutually beneficial for us to work together on this.”
That makes me cock a brow. “So … what about if this goes somewhere you don’t like? Say, I dunno, something you lot think it’s best we don’t know about? That gonna be a problem?”
Darwyn’s a long time answering me, and while we’re walking we pass more tables, the odd wizard type sat at more than one, each dressed in some variation of the Order’s characteristic livery. Most simply pore over leatherbound volumes or making notes, too engrossed to even notice us, but as we pass a particularly pretty young elf of indiscriminate gender, much like Gael, they look up to watch our passing. There’s more than a little suspicion in that look that makes me a little uneasy. I glare back with the sharpest frown I can muster, but they’re not fazed for a second.
“Yeah, I dunno what to say to that, actually.” Darwyn finally admits, and she’s so matter-of-fact about it I’m really not sure what to make of it. “Guess you’ll just have to hope we don’t find out.”
I watch her for a long beat as we continue, but she just ignores my look now, and I’ll admit I might be a little too tired to pursue it now. Or maybe just hungry. Now I think about it my stomach’s grumbling again, definitely nagging for some more fuel for the fire now.
“There you are.”
We’re most of the way down this near side of the inexplicably long room now, from what I can tell we’ve come to the last set of tables in the run, and these seem to be occupied too. This time whoever it is has risen to greet us, which is surprise enough for me, but while Kesla seems a little taken aback too she’s enough at ease that she must’ve been at least half expecting this. There’s two of ‘em, both tall and well presented in their classy robes, and also clearly familiar to this group given the warmth of their greeting.
The shorter of the two is already stepping up, and making a beeline straight for Gael, actually. He’s a big one, a solid, broad-shouldered human with a well-groomed beard and a very friendly face indeed, brightened even more by his blinding smile as he opens his arms and folds the young half-elf into her arms before they quite have the chance to respond. They return the hug warmly, smiling broad themselves as they lean into it, and they seem to stay there for a long time. Long enough that the other one has plenty of time to join us too.
“Mistress Shoon.” He’s a dragonhalf, one of the most full-on dragon-like I’ve encountered in my years, with gleaming leathern scales of striking green and disconcertingly bright yellow eyes that remind me more than a little of Brung’s. There’s a different look in them though, an aloofness I’ve never encountered in our goblin friend, although his pronounced muzzle’s still curling into something approximating a smile as he steps forward with hand outstretched. His robes are richer and more well-appointed than the human’s relatively simple, understated garb, but this is nothing compared to his impressive horns, which I could almost believe had been specifically styled to present the most impressive visage possible. He seems friendly enough, but somehow there’s just … something about him that makes me take a set against him all the same. I can’t help it, he just rubs me up the wrong way without doing anything.
“Well met, Master Saxiros.” Kesla gives a far more subtle smile as she takes his hand, giving it a quick pump before letting go again, and while she’s being friendly enough I think I detect the subtlest edge in her too. It’s not quite dislike, just … wariness, maybe. “You’ll forgive our presentation I hope. It’s been a rough day.”
“So I heard.” As soon as his hand’s released he clasps both behind his back, assuming such a rigid stance he could be made of iron. “It’s a bad business, clearly. Master Foxtail surprised me somewhat, actually. They made it sound like something close to chaos out there. I trust you’re all still well?”
Behind him I see Gael jump a little at the mention of their name, finally pulling away from their friend while he seems just as quietly embarrassed by their mutual reaction. Clearing their throat, they check over their gear while he smooths down his robes, avoiding each other’s gaze now. I try not to smile too much seeing it.
“Good enough, I’d say. It was a hairy spot, but we came through without too much difficulty.” Kesla looks to her friend for a moment as she adds: “Gael got a little beat up, but nothing Krakka couldn’t set right.”
The dragonhalf turns to look at them now, lifting his spiky brows a little as he regards them. “Indeed?”
“They took us a little more by surprise than I would have preferred.” Gael’s blushing red now, clearly uncomfortable, but I wonder if it’s less her own awkwardness than from just getting caught out in the first place. I saw them fight, they’re certainly capable enough for a wizard. They’ve no reason to feel ashamed. “They have a wizard of their own, it seems.”
“A talented hedge wizard, surely?” Those bright yellow eyes flicker to the young man, who’s clearly forgotten his own embarrassment in the face of this surprising news, then back to Kesla. “You can’t think –”
“Might be another situation like Ashsong, least ways it’s pointing to the possibility.” Kesla shrugs. “Mostly spit-balling theories, can’t be sure given how little we saw. But Gael said they looked too well trained for a hedge wizard, so we’re thinking maybe another warlock.”
“Gods …” The dragonhalf’s frowning deep now, clearly not liking this development. “That’s not good at all. It certainly explains this nasty business with their … insurance policy, but …” He strokes the bony spikes on his chin for a moment, thoughtful, then looks up again, regarding me for the first time. “Are these the new arrivals you spoke about?”
“After a fashion.” Kesla shoves her hair out of her face, but a few errant locks are quick to return as she turns my way too. “Thelgaewynn Frostforge. She’s one o’ the mercenaries we were looking for. Turns out they got as big a stake in this as we do.”
“I see.” He regards me for a moment, more coolly than I’d really like to be honest, but I try not to read too much into it as I step forward as he leans down a little, offering his hand. “Taphun Saxiros, of the Silver Order.”
“Clearly.” The word’s out before I can quite stop it, and I can’t quite help my ironic eyebrow raise either, but I try not to look too sarcastic as I clasp his clawed, long-fingered hand and give it a good pump. His grip’s firm as I would’ve expected, and he doesn’t shrink from my contact either, so I hold his eye as he looks me over. When we part I stand my ground, tucking my thumbs into my belt in deference of the fact that resting them on my axes could be construed as a threat.
“So that must mean that you have lost people in this too, then?”
“Yeah, unfortunately it does.” I set my jaw as I look up at him, fighting my own frown. “Two of ‘em. Good friends, a mother and her very young daughter. So reckon you can appreciate this is pretty personal for us.”
Saxiros blinks, shooting a brief look at Kesla, then nods as he turns back to me, his face seeming to soften a little. “Yes, it clearly is. Well then, I hope the Silver Order can be of help to you in this, then.”
That makes me blink. “Um … sure. Thanks. It’s mighty appreciated, then.”
Giving another nod, Saxiros looks past me to Darwyn. “And your friend?”
“Darwyn Trustfoot.” Kesla folds her arms. “She’s from the Thieves Guild, been helping us out with our hunt.”
The look he gives her is a good deal sharper, like he’s personally affronted, but he stops short before saying what he clearly wants to, simply turning back at last to give the halfling a cautious look. “Hmmm … fair enough, I suppose it’ll wash. It wouldn’t really be the first time.” He stoops again, a deal lower this time as he offers his hand. “Charmed, of course.”
Cocking a brow as she leans from one foot to the other, Darwyn just looks down at his hand for a long moment before turning to Kesla. She seems thoroughly non-plussed.
“Honestly?” Kesla cocks her head. “If you lot do decide you’re gonna deal with the Order direct on this, this is who you’re gonna be dealing with. So y’know …”
“Ah.” Darwyn looks like she’s holding off on rolling her eyes, but she still don’t look much more impressed. But she still steps forward at last, reaching out her own hand too. “When you put it like that …”
They make it a quick shake, and Saxiros looks like he’s chewing on something decidedly unpleasant the whole time, but he goes through with it all the same. Even so, when they let go he can’t help working his hand like it feels dirty, and Darwyn’s looking down at her own like she just picked up something nasty too.
“All right, anyway …” Kesla interjects now, clearly getting back to the job in hand, and I don’t blame her. “Enough with the pleasantries, I know it’s a big deal but –”
“Of course.” Saxiros is still frowning as he turns to regard her now, but there’s no reproach in it. “You’re right. I take it you want to speak with the one you took alive, then?”
“Yeah, we do. It’s been a long day but we wanna get this done now while there’s still the possibility of a trail we can pick up.” She looks past him to the younger male wizard, who’s stood by with Gael, looking a little crestfallen now. “Sorry, Jathran. ‘Fraid reunion’s gotta wait a little.”
He sighs as he looks at the floor for a moment. “No, it’s all right.” He wraps his arm round his friend’s shoulders now, giving them a companionable little crush. “We can catch up when you’re done. Just watch out for them, please.”
Kesla arches her brows at that, looking at him for a moment with a very serious face. “Oh … yeah. ‘Course I will. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”
“Should I accompany you?” Saxiros asks, and now I’m looking at him I see something new in that face, an expression that looks very at odds with his features. He looks uncertain, I think. Like he doesn’t want to come in there with us, but he has to offer it up all the same.
“No, reckon we’ll be good just us five, Master Saxiros.” Kesla clearly picks up on his reluctance too, and she’s being tactful about letting him down easy. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
The dragonhalf bows respectfully, and covers his subtle sigh of relief well enough that I almost don’t catch it. “Very well, Mistress Shoon. Good luck, and we’ll see you when you’re done.” He looks across the others for a beat each, lingering on me for a little longer, and gives another civil nod. “Mistress Stormforge.”
“Master Saxiros.” I nod back, mindful enough to show deference in what’s clearly his domain right now.
His regard for Darwyn looks a little less sincere, but he brazens through it well enough. “Mistress Trustfoot.”
For a long moment it seems she’s not gonna return the sentiment, and I wonder if that might prove a disrespect too great for this pompous puffed up bureaucrat. I can certainly see from the subtle narrowing in his eyes as the silence draws on that he might just snap if she does press her luck. Then she sighs and nods back, although she’s clearly speaking through gritted teeth as she finally responds with: “Master Saxiros.”
Saxiros glares down at her for another beat before finally turning to Kesla again, regaining his composure a little quicker now as he manages a broad and very sharp, toothy smile. She simply nods in return and turns back to the attendant as she starts to take a few backwards steps the way we’ve been headed, quick on the uptake now. She gestures for us to follow again and turns into her next step.
Gael hangs back for a moment or two longer to share a few brief words with the younger wizard, Jathran I think it was, and we let ‘em. As the attendant leads us to a doorway on the right in the back wall of the chamber I lean close to Darwyn, keeping my voice low now. “Bit harsh with the big boss wizard, weren’t you?”
Darwyn gives me a look, not irritated but a little complex all the same. “Never met ‘im before myself, but Cobb’s had the odd dealing with that Saxiros bloke before. Apparently he’s a spectacular twat. Given what I just saw, I’m inclined to agree some.”
“Yeah, but … y’know, if you’re gonna be striking up a business partnership with the Order on this –”
“Doubt it’ll matter any. Like you said, we’re dealing with the Order, not him specific. He can just put up with whatever we decide if he wants us to be civil.”
Cocking a brow, I give her a drawn-out sidelong look, but she doesn’t rise to it. Then we’re at the door, the attendant already holding it open and Kesla and Shay seem to have already gone ahead. I turn to look back over my shoulder and see Gael break away from her friend now, giving him a jovial little pat on the arm before giving Saxiros a more respectful clipped bow. Then she hustles over while Darwyn simply ducks on through the door herself.
“Sorry.” Gael breathes as they arrive, sheepish again.
“No harm done.” I look back to find Saxiros has already sat back down, reaching over to take his book up again, but Jathran is still stood by, watching Gael. “Y’know you don’t have to come in, you could just hang out with your friend. Seems like a nice lad.”
“Oh yeah, he is that.” Gael’s smile is clumsy, but they cover well enough. It doesn’t stick, though. “But uh … no, I better come. I need to. This is for my da. I have to do this.”
“Okay, then.” Nodding, I gesture for them to go ahead, and they’re not long stepping through the door ahead of me. Taking a deep breath, I follow, giving the attendant an appreciative smile as she responds with a respectful bow as I pass. Then the door’s closed behind me and we’re left alone.