…..:::::|. Tarnished Silver Alley .|:::::…..
For nearly every reason the youth didn't sleep well that night. They each tried to rest their thoughts but questions kept stabbing at their calm; both personal and professional.
Halycind had spent the night staring at her rosetone music box thinking all the most hateful things about herself. Siin had shown his love richly in this form. The box sounded lovely, was made with care and skill, and was a warm reminder of his steadfast overwatch. He’d meant what he confessed to her. He’d shown her his desire for her. He’d spent time watching her do a hobby he had no practice in. He’d been such an attentive friend after reuniting and was on his way to becoming the most perfect feather. Her first feather. But he was distant now. She just knew in her gut her drunken actions had pushed him away. She hated herself so much for messing up her chance with him. He hadn’t looked on her the same when they sat at that table or talked to her the way he had when they’d kissed. She’d cried on that music box for half the night, trying to settle her mind and trying to think of this ‘Venge quarry but her head kept going back to what she’d done to Siin. Why, now, did those cut gems of his look on her so vacantly? Had he known the gory details of her betrayal.
The mark on her hand.
Siin couldn't get the memory of darkness out of his head the whole night. His dreams were racked with thunder and smoke and stars and Halycind’s tears. He’d spent far longer wrapping and pinning his hair into his wolaenki, when he awoke, than the style’s process needed. But he kept getting struck by splintered thoughts of sharp things and someone getting in trouble. Why was that darkness so coupled with his love for Halycind? The woman he'd wanted to offer flowers to and feed fine wines and meals. The woman he’d wanted to confess his love to, finally. A long list of fetched foods and something about nine rings had suddenly jumped to his mind during sun-rising as he’d readied himself for this ‘Venge and his middle had grown angry again. He’d been about sick of his head making his body go from emotion to emotion like a jostling sea. He'd been made Quarrymaster for this seizure. If he was unable to concentrate then the whole hunt would fall apart. Splintering thoughts of his Halycind aside, he’d needed for all of this to go well for them. The lives of those he loved were at stake.
Because they’d each turned in so early the night before, Siin and Halycind had not spoken and Kodlaa had not the mind to even notice their avoidance of one another. Not on many occasions did Kodlaa go stoic, but her family needed for her to become an Agent. Every major house in Ashok had had an Agent rise from its den at some point or another and Dorari wanted to make its recent annex mean something. They'd faced so many troubles being both caretakers of Dorari Falls and liaison to their Dicus neighbors in Sidian Gardens, that they wanted to not seem as needy of Ashok’s resources as they'd become. Kodlaa wanted this, she wanted to please her people. She wanted to contribute something to the honourable name of Ashok. Kodlaa was told she'd have to negotiate with a seedy sort during this cloak and dagger operation. So she went over every negotiation strategy she could muster to memory. Her grandfather had been a master at grifting; talking his way into and out of deals and trouble alike. Her father was still a very active merchant prince, ferrying wares between Vrubaan and the outer islands of Ashok’s northern borders. She knew there was some of that skill running around in her blood, already, but she’d never used her gift of gab when life and death were at stake.
The three wolaenki still thought of all these dreadful things walking through town to the rendezvous point. Today was the last of May Rising, the grandest day, always held on the Solstice to close the celebrations, so the crowds were at their thickest. So much so the city had long named the ending crowds, The Solstice Crowds.
These three didn't see any of May Rising's Solstice Crowds, however, nerves and worries had blinded them to it. They saw none of the carousers that packed the walkways, none of the mummers reciting plays of histories gone by into their passing ears. They were offered more rose-coloured cakes and colourful teas but none of them could eat or drink.
The briefing, the night before, had been long and full of strange terms. They knew their education into these Agency tactics and maneuvers would be arduous, but they all felt hugely unprepared. They’d listened as much as their brains could comprehend but they’d all had maddening questions swirling around with all the other thoughts in their heads. Questions of what sort of man this quarry might have been? Questions of his character and ways. Had he been scouted by the Dead Ranks like Marvynn? Was he as frightening as Marvynn turned out to be? Was he as crazed? Anything could have been the case for Marvynn for he was just a mage, a high level mage, but still just a mage; they had been tasked with capturing a mancer.
And for the WarQueen herself to have had a say in how this hunt went did not fair well to ease their thoughts of a successful capture.
While mancers popped in and out of aBn Tera on occasion for Siin to have seen and grown a distaste for, the girls had never had open dealings with any person wielding such high practices. Regardless of legend or truth, mancers were still rife with Power unfathomable. For anyone to think wolaenkis could catch one, had to have been smoking yaan.
Their formers, though, seemed to strangely trust them with the hunt and seizure of a man that could very well explode them all with the mantia and craft he’d mastered.
No, they didn’t see the joy of the crowds, they only saw trouble in the streets of Havvenchael today.
Siin spoke, as they walked the cobbled backstreets, a cold authority on his address to the girls. "Whatever was on our minds...we forget them. For the hunt.”
“For the hunt.” Kodlaa affirmed, softly.
“Agreed.” Halycind whimpered. Then said again in full voice. “Agreed. For the hunt.”
Finally gathering more of themselves, now, they made eyes to one another steeling each other for the task they were about to perform.
Halycind combed the crowds with her eyes searching for patterns in the flow of foot traffic, hiccups and breaks in any of that flow that may have been unnatural or forced. Rogues and shadowy figures almost always blended within crowds but at some point they had to move against it to achieve their hidden goals. She saw nothing extraordinary save, some make of crossbow she'd never laid eyes on before in a bowyer's gallery. She would have to inquire with the bowyer about it once their final instructions were given.
Siin was the only of the three that now seemed resolute. It was strange, perhaps, since he'd been training as aBn and taking the Terile Function, his confidence and general air had seemed a lot more prominent and dominant by nature. Halycind hated herself even more, observing this, because it was such a draw for her but she shook the negativity from herself at the memory of his spoken charge moments ago. He’d already shown himself a worthy hunter, indeed.
He’d lead the group now into an arched alcove off the alley of the main square, which had been designated before as their meeting point. Two figures folded from around a pillar there, clad in muted purple cloaks. Siin tilted his chin upward in wordless greeting.
They had been mannerable enough, these 'potatoes', but there was never going to be a time he trusted a Jemedh. Then he scanned the square for the third of their rank.
“Where's Shaw?” Siin opened with a cold tone.
“City gate. Waiting for Weroance.” One of them said in such a broken accent, they clearly knew ENGL had not been their first language.
Halycind jumped with a nervous twitch. She was to break off from her friends? Had she missed that part of the briefing last night? She felt such comfort with her familiars, she knew they would watch her back, were she to falter. What was this Shaw person going to do? Let her die? Adrenaline shot up her gut and she shook her head at her growing feeling of inferiority.
Their orders had been clear. Apprehend an alomancer, acquire the object of his travels here in Havvenchael and kill the beast he road in on. All of the stipulations around it, however, had not. And even as these two oddly cloaked people—that were starting to look more and more alike the longer the three were in their company—spoke in broken tongue, the wolaenki still couldn't quite understand how exactly they were to accomplish this hunt.
Relief greeted them in the form of warmer well-known faces.
“She wants him alive.” A stern finger was pointing at Siin. “I'm talking to you, aBn.”
Siin rolled his head grumbling.
Two Agents had come up the walkway looking very different than they normally had. Halycind and Kodlaa both found themselves wide-eyed at the drab one, no longer drab—dare even say, attractive. Veygornne, with his long wavy tress bouncing rhythmically in the breeze of his walk, was pointing a muscly arm at Siin. The tantantoa running down those sculpted arms screamed of all the glorious kills he’d bested in his life sofar.
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Now they could see how he could have been marriage material. The grey and black of his flouncing hair falling over many neckerchiefs, the mix of it in his beard framing the square of his jaws, the crystal clarity of his sand-coloured eyes, the smoothness of his stride—he was damn near fetching. The fineness of Ruu's waist length straight hair couldn’t even measure in comparison.
“Veygornne and Veyorlin will be shadowing you to—and I mean no offense by this—keep an eye on you.” Ruu instructed the mage.
“I take none...I know I'm under watch.” Siin's eyes looked to the men surrounding them now.
“What’s that?” Kodlaa blurted as she pointed to a long tube-like contraption strapped to Ruu’s back.
Ruu smirked, “Something I hope not to have to use.”
“I’d prefer, though, you keep your distance.” Siin added, looking at the Jemedh man who was to be shadowing him.
The girls richly wondered what Siin's severity was for. He seemed so cold toward those in purple cloaks. They knew there had been tension between the two cultures—Zhuer and Valtaega Jemedh—but they also saw a personal hurt in Siin’s demeanor.
One of them stepped forward, the one known as Veyorlin, and made his way around the left side of Siin, speaking with a grin, to rank with Veygornne.
“You are to understand...it is pronounced vee not vay…” His tone was almost playful toward the old wolf.
“That's my Da's dereliction. He went to Snakemeld far too often...and was smitten with all that exhaustive poetry your people tend to write. But he had never actually spoken with a Jemedh, so his pronunciation was bound to be off.” Veygornne smiled out of the side of his face.
Kodlaa and Halycind had to truly consider themselves for a moment. Yes, the girls knew by the Agents hair being out and free they could both blend in and track winds through their follicles, and yes, they knew by donning mundane attire the Agents could better fold in with the crowds, but they had not known such a simple change could have an affect on the attractiveness of an old man.
Wait, how old even is he?
I...I don't rightly know.
Veyorlin was blinking his dark eyes and grinning. “Jemedh writers do tend to be long-winded.”
Siin almost chuckled.
Ruu flapped at Kodlaa's own headscarves and tunics in approval of her classic Eberhavven pinks and oranges.
“And you, little one. Trying to assume a stereotypical fair-hair?”
“I like my scarves.” She stated boldly.
Out of the group Halycind was the only one sticking out like a throbbing swollen thumb; in her blinding white cloak and armour. She didn't much care, now, as she had solidly grasped that the portion of her hunt was to actually hunt a creature outside the city gates.
“Agent Ruu,” Kodlaa hesitated to speak. “I have to be honest, I heard nothing much else after 'profferer' yesterday. I was thinking 'bout me Da and me Ma and me ewe and hyenleon and how important it was that I—“
“Eberhavven, shut up.” Ruu brought her chin up to his face with his finger. “We know what this means for you...that's why we’d planned to go over it again. You all fret so easily.” He looked around at the insane amount of people on the streets. "And with these Solstice Crowds, we'll need to be extra clear of mind, understand?"
Kodlaa’s head nodded sharply on his finger.
“Weroanqua, do you remember your course in this?” Veygornne tilted a stern gaze to her.
“That I do.” She shrugged. “Crack his wagon wheels.”
“It's an Aagenite. It's wheels are a bit harder to crack.”
“We saw Percival do it.”
“Percival's ridiculous. We can't do what Percival does.” Siin made a face at the sheer absurdity of his mentor's power. Percival had wiped that beast away as if it were chaff. Aagenites were not chaff.
“Maybe not how he did it, but I can end it.” Halycind's words were decisive and she was pretty much wearing her glory in white.
Ruu hummed in agreement.
“Where is Percival, anyway?” Halycind realized his absence suddenly.
“He's with the WarQueen. Scrying in on all of you.”
They jolted.
“Hey, she doesn't want you bustin’ up her city, so she's keeping a close eye...literally.” Ruu surveyed the surroundings being sure of their comfortable solitude. “Now listen, Wiylin is for the aBn to collect and the aBn alone. Don't trip over yourselves thinking the other won't do their job. I trust the mage to make good on his seizure.”
“Now, aBn, Wiylin's a Bar Level Alomancer with a maddening focus in Pyrocentry. Do not let him ignite his salts. And he loves his salts, so he'll be reading them constantly.
“And if he smells a tail, he'll flee.” The female under purple cloaks interjected. “He is able to move as we do. So do not spook him. Teleportation has siidii aim. Unless you are keenly spatially aware.” Her words were charged with dislike. Siin glared at her expectantly.
She sighed and relinquished the whole of her truth. “He has escaped before. We've attempted his capture twice now. Both times he turned his pursers into super-heated saltglass. We got secret word he was venturing here only a day ago. We want to return him to our Valtaega for execution by his Sovereign.”
Siin rolled his jaw and rubbed his chin with almost a fist ready for punching someone. “Oh, now I see why you want him.” The girls looked up at him strangely. “He's a Jemedh mancer.”
“And a slaver. Which we are not. So he must die. But only on our land, by our hands.”
Siin shook his head and put hands to his hips to listen.
“Elsa and Veyorlin are here just in case things go pear-shaped.” Ruu tilted.
“Which could easily happen were he to not find what he came for. He carries an array of salts on him to use as spell components in his pyrocentry. Some very flammable.”
“Oh, so he could turn this whole place into a salt forge.” Siin interpreted.
“Yes.”
Halycind cocked her head. “And what did he come for?”
“He was headed someplace else, actually, until yesterday. Scouts saw him in the dales. Then suddenly he hung a right to Havvenchael. He is most likely using his mantia to locate the thing he is trying to obtain.”
“We didn't know what it was before yesterday...but now we do. An Immortal candle.” Elsa let her words settle on them. “In time you will understand what it is that is truly at stake here...what you are truly in charge of, but just know that that candle is a devastating invention. It is one of twenty-four crafted by a man of our own kind in the past you call, The Blue Era. And as a mancer, Wiylin will be able to use it to great effect.”
“A candle? Dangerous?” Kodlaa questioned.
“In a wicked man’s hands, yes.”
“If they’re from the Blue Era then they’d be really old. Can’t we destroy them?”
“These are indestructible.”
“Who would make an indestructible candle?”
“A’al’huhn.”
“The randy rock guy?!” Both Halycind and Kodlaa blurted loudly. The others shared varying looks of bewilderment onto them as they felt they’d missed some sort of discussion the two girls had shared.
“The Sire of Nations? Yes.” Elsa corrected with reverence. “The Scerci use them currently as a conduit, a sourcing component, for conscripting Immortal newborns into their two separate bloodhoods.”
“Ooh, it’s a baby wand?”
“I-In essence.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Given how randy he was.” Kodlaa summed.
“Loving. We call him.” Elsa tried to corral.
“Suit yourself.”
Elsa sighed. “But between conscriptions the candles are heavily sought after by craft users for, often times, heinous aims.”
“He can't get it.” Ruu impressed. He seemed different now, more angry, charged. His irises had gone a series of many-colours during Elsa's explanation.
“If he thought he had it...would it keep him quiet?” Kodlaa squinted.
“Yes, hence your negotiations with the merchant who has it.”
“And we don't know who that is.”
“Also your job. All we know of him was what we told you last night. He is shifty, sometimes wears lavender, and has some crates stamped with the League of Thieves red mark upon them.”
A chilling weight befell the colourful girl and her soul sank under the pressure. She could barely remember to inhale. She had missed them saying all that last night.
“Look, just be sure he doesn't get it. You may do what you wish once you have it but when you, aBn, finally get to the mancer...use this to contain him.” Ruu handed Siin a small black marble. Its weight was markedly heavier than its size and Siin immediately recognized the substance. He hummed to himself and nodded affirmation to Ruu.
The three were then handed soft blue stones which they all immediately recognized.
“If you need to speak to one another...don’t.” Ruu ordered.
“Then why?”
“Just in case. They are mainly for the Weroance to check in with her Quarrymaster. But don’t answer her unless we’re all frying in salts.”
They nodded.
A single Kawa stone jumped from Ruu's other pocket and a blue hazy face formed from its middle. It was a concerned looking Percival.
“Wolaenki...once you're successful, muster in the chancery to close this missive.” Percival sighed somewhat nervous for them. “We're threading the needle here wolaenki. This is a lot different than what you're used to. I'm going to need you to let this develop organically and quietly. Much of what we do is based on an ever-adjusting scale of observations and machinations.
Siin nodded, “Hence the 'open palm, closed fist' philosophy?”
“Yes.”
“Be easy...I don't want to have to break Brisbe's town.” He pleaded with them a surety that he would most certainly make good on his warning. “Zsha Ban Rood.” Percival saluted.
“Zsha Ban Rood, Son.” Ruu returned the salute as Percival's face faded.
The three Agency Prospects looked down about their feet drawing clear understanding of the weight of all their formers' words. Nothing, but the job at hand meant anything to them now. Not Siin's disdain for the ones in purple. Not Halycind's guilt. Not Kodlaa's need to prove herself. Only the quarry.