Her instincts screamed trap.
A key turned in the door’s lock and she fought down the urge to turn on the priestess and run her through. Fingers already tightened on knives as she took in the scene.
A man stood at ease behind the captain, clad in shadows. He wore armour and a mean looking sword, but he wasn’t Barlo. That, at least, was a blessing.
Her knife buzzed in hand as she drew back. A glance found Aliana still by the door, pocketing the key in some inner recess of her dress.
“Don’t do anything rash, miss Mergara. Oh… my apologies. Mertle.” Captain Quistis hadn’t moved from her seat but pinned that flint stare onto Mertle. “And please take your hand away from your weapon. There’s really no need for it.”
Mertle said nothing and pushed her tongue against the false tooth. A harder push would shatter it and spill its alchemical mixture. A single drop of Dragon’s Soul and she’d be out in the night with a trail of corpses behind her as long as Valen was wide. The option felt at hand, especially as her back touched the wood panel of the wall.
“I did say you two would spook her. Both of you have the grace of a stone to the face.”
Mertle did not turn to the new voice. It echoed from the farthest side of the room. A woman walked out of the shadows, stepping towards the table as if on a leisure stroll.
The woman from the rooftop, she walked past Quistis and her silent guardian, and took a seat two chairs over. Every colour on her was a variation of black and dark blue, as if she were clad in night itself.
“You attacked the Storm Guard soldier.” Mertle couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice. There was the attacker sitting right next to the second most important person of the Guard. Reality tilted off its axis again.
“Yes. You’re welcome.” The woman pointed a white hand to the other side of the table. “And she got you out of that hot spot with the thugs.”
And there was the last piece of a puzzle that she had no idea how to fit into coherent shape. The beggar woman sat at the table as well and she must’ve been there the entire time. Mertle hadn’t even noticed. She wore a kind of military uniform that resembled none she’d ever seen before, a black and blue that resembled none in the city. There were no visible buttons on it, so not one of Lucian’s. The missing arm’s sleeve was pinned at the shoulder.
“I would really appreciate you taking your hand away from that knife, Mertle,” Quistis said, speaking softly as if trying to coax a cat. She kept the smile but her eyes hardened. “This meeting took a long time to arrange. We’re not here to hurt you. Please, come and sit with us.”
Aliana walked past and pulled out two chairs. She sat on one and padded the back of the other, “Come and sit, girl. Don’t crowd the corner like some scared alley cat. You’re amongst friends.”
Just one more push against the tooth and she would be ready to run. Could she get the key off Aliana before her own immunity wore away? The room had no windows to let the air out, no other door—seen at least—than the one the priestess had locked.
“What’s going on?” she asked, stalling for time, trying to figure out the best escape.
When without any option at all, set the fire and run. Sarrinare sneered behind her eyes, seeing the five arrayed against her.
“Your… Sil said that you should trust me, girl.” Aliana sniffed, annoyance clear on her face. “Do as you were told and come here. If we meant you any harm, we would’ve found better ways than this. We mean to chat.”
That swung her balance towards the table. Without slackening the grip on her weapon, she took a cautious step forward, eyes darting between half-lit faces, and the man waiting at the back.
“You’re spectacularly good,” the woman wearing midnight said. “I knew you were coming. I was watching for you. Nearly jumped out of my skin when Aliana called me down.”
“She’s more than good, Deidra,” the beggar said. Her voice was a rough whisper that spoke of long seasons of smoke. Pipe, or something similar. “She never broke character. Not for a moment. Her heart pumps ice, or I’m a blood mage.”
“Why do you keep this room so morose, Aliana?” Quistis lifted a hand and produced a bright sprite to hover above the table. It banished the shadows with a groan from all those gathered. “There. Much better. Oh, for the love of… Mertle, please sheathe your knife. We only mean to talk. Nothing more.”
“If you prick me with that knife, girl, I will tan your hide something fierce.” Aliana stared at the blade stopped halfway to her throat, glaring as if she meant to melt the blade by displeasure alone.
But Mertle’s gaze caught on the man.
“You… she stabbed you.”
“Yep. She did. Five times. For realism,” the soldier answered. His name was Vial. “I am still quite sore over it.”
“Shush. You volunteered,” the woman—Deidra—answered with a sly grin. Up close and in the light she didn’t cut as menacing a figure as out in Valen. “It had to look good or what would the point have been?”
“It felt personal, lady Deidra.”
“Oh, does baby need a kiss on the booboo?”
Mertle lowered the knife and sat down, head spinning and threatening to send her into a dizzy spell. “What is going on?”
In the middle of the table sat a familiar sight: a jug of wine, wet with condensation, surrounded by six pewter cups. Mertle eyed it wearily, and then threw a glare at Quistis.
“You’ll burn a hole through me if you keep that up.” The captain squirmed slightly. Deidra reached over the table, picked up the jug and poured everyone a cup. “It’s only wine. From Aliana’s stock. She’d kill me if I altered it in any way.”
“Like she’ll believe that from you,” Aliana herself huffed. “You made a right mess of that night. Lucky the ladies were on-hand.”
“Rumi insisted on assisting and had me over the barrel. Regardless.” Quistis accepted a mug, passed it to Vial, and smoothly moved past Aliana’s barb. “Mertle, there are no strings or traps here. Regardless of what you decide, you’ll be free to walk out of here at the end. As safe and hale as you’ve arrived. You have my word.”
“Cheap thing to offer,” Mertle grumbled. “You’ve given me your word plenty of times already, and every time dishonest.”
Deidra laughed and the beggar choked on her wine.
“She’s called you out, Quis. Must sting, good lady Proper being told off?”
Was this another of the Guard’s tricks? What did they stand to gain? Why was this person here… Deidra. Mertle knew the name. Sil had mentioned her shortly. There was a large reward on her head, or at least that was as far as her recollection went.
Panic flared in her chest. Here she was, with a mug of wine, sitting between a Storm Guard Iluna, a night weaver, a priestess of the Dryad—she knew first-hand how much Aliana terrified Tallah—and a soldier that had volunteered to be poked full of holes for realism. Her gaze settled on the last person at the table. What had the night weaver said?
“You helped me?” she asked carefully. “With the thugs?”
“I was there, aye,” the woman answered. She fished out a pipe from an inner pocket, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it with a spark from her fingers.
An ash eater. Now the tableau of things took shape, humiliation growing in the gap left behind by the sudden death of her pride. Deidra’s words of praise took on barbed edges as understanding dawned.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
They’d known her as Tianna. And they’d known her as Mertle. How far their knowledge extended, she could only guess. In a way, it helped her fears ease up. If these women wanted her harmed in some way, they would’ve had ample opportunity to accomplish it… or just let it happen in the alley.
“Your face is a marvel to watch,” the ash eater said. She let out a puff of blue smoke. “Went through about four different emotions in a blink. Have a sip of the wine. It’s quite good.”
It was. Did not have a kick and left a slightly tangy aftertaste, but it was quite good. All of them drank.
Deidra lit up her own pipe with a match, and for a few heartbeats there was only silence and the soft sounds of sipping wine. Now that she had a moment to calm down, Mertle could see that they met in what was essentially a storage room. The space for the table had been cleared from among bags, boxes and barrels of various alchemy supplies, foodstuffs and long-lasting preserves. The place would be cool in summer’s heat, and not freezing in winter’s chill.
A root snaked its way across the ceiling, buds of white leaves covering it to bloom come thaw.
“Well, let’s get to the core of this whole endeavour,” Quistis said, meeting Mertle’s eyes. “We support what you’re doing. We support Tallah Amni and her plans against Empress Catharina.”
Graceless din not even begin to describe the captain just then.
Absurd. Inwardly, a part of Mertle giggled. This, at least, was a game she understood well and had watched it played out too many times to count. Sarrinare grinned as she placed imagined hands on Mertle’s shoulders. Here we go.
“You’re conspiring against your own empress.” It wasn’t a question. “I don’t believe Tallah’s got any plan of the sort.”
“As far as you know,” Deidra said. “Tallah’s not one to share plans. Never was. But given the blood debt she owes the empress, I can bet my eyes she aims to repay it.”
“And… you’re her friends? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well you should. Tallah and I are…” Deidra thought for a long time as she chewed on the end of her pipe. “You could say we’re sworn to kill one another. Which is what’s going to happen if we’re ever allowed to clash. Otherwise, enemy of my enemy and all that.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her cheek, them stopped and looked confused. “Void, where’d I put my glasses? Always misplace the bloody things.”
The ash eater handed over a round pair of spectacles.
“Everyone you see here, aside from Aliana, has a blood debt that needs paying,” Quistis said. “I owe Cinder a life very dear to me, which is why I’m here and why I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure your safety.” She dragged in a deep breath and spoke in a rush. “You know her as Sil. I’ve only ever known her as Dreea. She is my blood sister.”
The bottom dropped from Mertle’s chair and she reeled on Quistis. Not a lie in view on her face. The honesty on display shocked. So did the pain in the woman’s eyes.
“Sil doesn’t have a sister,” she said, suspicion running high. “She would’ve mentioned it.”
“Silestra doesn’t remember having a sister,” Aliana said. “It’s one of the things we cut out of her when Tallah brought her into our care. Either that, or allow her to rot from within. She’s a work of art, given what we had to do to make her.”
“Sil would never have agreed to—”
“Sil would never, but Dreea did. Tallah agreed to the necessity.” Aliana’s words had a hint of finality to them, a real anger that Mertle had never seen in the woman before. “Captain Quistis here has been in mourning for years. If you care for Silestra’s well-being, you will never utter the name Dreea to her.”
“You were right in what you told the smith,” Quistis said. She smiled apologetically, showing again how far her intrusion into Mertle’s privacy had gone. “Sil is not who you think she is. I hope you will love her still.”
It was all too much to take in and chew.
Sil had always spoken of being a single child, but admitted to very little about her childhood. Her parents were long passed. She’d grown up in Drack but hadn’t been there in decades, with nothing tying her to the place except vague childhood memories.
Quistis, she remembered from their earlier meeting, sent her stipend home to her parents.
“Where are your parents, Captain Quistis?”
“Just Quistis, please. And they’re still in Drack, living out their old age. My mother’s an alchemist, and my father an engraver. To them, my sister died in service.”
That fit much too well. But Aliana would probably know that from Sil and— Her head spun.
“Why don’t we start you from the beginning?” the ash eater suggested. She leaned over the table and offered her one hand to Mertle. “Name’s Lucretia. Luci to friends. We haven’t been properly introduced yet.” Her grip was hand to wrist, a mix of human and elend greeting.
Next was the night weaver, “Deidra. You might have heard of me.”
“Only vaguely.”
“Good. It’s all lies anyway.” Deidra’s smile was infectious and had Mertle wondering how she’d ever found the woman frightening. “Luci and I have been acting on your behalf since the Descent. You’re a hard elendine to keep track of, Mertle. I can’t praise you higher.”
Together with the smile, Deidra managed to get her blushing and smiling back.
“What is all this?” Mertle asked, eyes swinging between the five people in the room.
“Well, I’ve gone to considerable lengths to test and shield you,” Quistis said, thumbing in Vial’s direction. “We took a huge gamble on what you may do when discovering the whole scuffle. But you performed spectacularly well and helped us manoeuvre suspicion away from you.”
Mertle opened her mouth to protest, remembering the toughs, but Quistis cut her off. “Rumi’s plans were already in motion. I’ve had her running around on other jobs, but the woman’s got a mean streak that’s a league long and several wide. She’s now been reassigned in her duties so you and your alter-ego should be as safe as can be.”
“She’s chasing me now.” Deidra waved her hand and grinned. “I wish her the best of luck. Always wanted to sneak up on an Egia. Should be a proper challenge.”
“Quite,” Quistis gave a cold glare to the woman. Deidra only smiled back. “For my part, I’ve done all I could to make sure you, Mertle, have what it takes for what we’re going to ask of you. The lengths you’ve gone to have impressed on us the love you have for your friends. I’m hoping you’re interested in being part of something greater.”
“How did you know I was wearing Tianna?” The question had been burning to come out. Fine, they had her measure… but where had she erred?! She considered it might’ve been Aliana that had turned her in, but that felt unlikely.
“You’ve made one mistake and you were very lucky you made it to me.” Quistis showed her palm, “The hands of a pyromancer are never cold, not even in a panic.”
Mertle passed a hand over her face, smearing the ash across her forehead. “I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you. It was so hard to think in the moment.”
“Was that your first time wearing the disguise?” Deidra asked from the side, her tone pleasantly conversational. She poured herself a second cup of wine. A pop behind them announced Vial opening a fresh bottle to pour in the decanter.
“Yes.”
Deidra slapped the table and extended a hand to Quistis. “Pay up, you prissy naysayer. I told you it was a first attempt.”
The healer sighed, dug into the folds of her clerical robe and extracted a golden griffon. Deidra’s fist tightened around it. “Fine, fine. You were right, I was wrong. All the more reason to be doing this.”
“Doing this… what?” Mertle asked. “You had me interrogated. Followed.” She patted her tender face. “Burned.”
“Sorry,” Lucretia said from the other side of the table. “Was a hard thing to time right. Didn’t expect you rushing at the man like that. The weave had to look like it came from your fingers. Any farther away, and the disconnect would’ve been noticeable to your Egia lady friend. Sorry for your eyebrows.”
“Not the point. Thank you for that by the way. But why?”
It was Aliana who answered, her tone sucking the air from the room, “Because we’re going to place you into a position where a single mistake is going to see you dead in the worst possible way. We’re moving you into Aztroa Magnor, as a Storm Guard recruit.”
Something cracked behind the priestess. A root the size of a person pushed out through the wall, twisted snake-like as it grew, and stopped just above their table. Quistis had to scoot her chair aside as the thing grew and spiralled downward.
Mertle braced herself for whatever new insanity was to come. She dared the wine again, drinking to drain the cup. Whatever the priestess had said made as little sense as the rest of the night and she was less than inclined to believe it.
The sprite disappeared and the root bloomed. White leaves and phosphorescent flowers covered it in an explosion of light. Scents of summer filled the narrow room, floral and rich, with the earthiness of moss and fresh grass. Far distant memories surfaced, of sleeping on naked earth at the base of ancient trees underneath the ever-clear Nen sky.
The soldier moved away from Quistis’s back, towards the door, taking up a casual guard position.
They expect you to try and run. She pressed the tip of her tongue against the hollow tooth, still teetering on the decision.
The wood split with deafening cracks, and was followed by a song of buzzing bees, gurgling brooks, and chirping birds. A dark shape emerged from the root, nearly tall enough for its head to scrape the ceiling. Mertle gaped at the erupting creature. A dark body like a cross between a stag and a dray, it lumbered forward on four hoofed feet, its gait clanking on the wooden table. A mane of moss and lichen hung off its back.
The thing shook itself and the song of the forest dimmed to a far-distant hum.
A face formed atop its head, a mask of bark with twin slits for eyes beneath irregular antlers.
“I see you, child of the dying land.” It spoke with the song of the forest, words twisted out of a symphony of birdsong, whispering wind, and gurgling streams. “I welcome you to my house.”
Aliana was on her feet, head bowed, hands clasped demurely in front of her. “I did not expect you visiting tonight, my Lady. I would have prepared sap.”
Mertle spat her wine in the Dryad’s face.