It wasn’t every day that you got to walk arm-in-arm with a local celebrity. Dalthan reminded himself of that each time he saw people look reverently at the beautiful woman at his side. There was a glimmer of awe sparkling in the bystanders' eyes as they silently watched the [Archpriestess]. The worshipful looks made the [Rogue] feel as if he were walking beside a goddess. With few exceptions, those same people turned their expressions of awe toward him and immediately replaced them with the hard glower of suspicion.
Of course, he used the term ‘people’ in his mind, but it wasn’t precisely accurate. For every elf, human, or dwarf he saw there was at least one goblin or orc. To say nothing of the more exotic creatures. Many of the monstrous citizens, like the strange man-sized ants that walked upright, were races that he’d never seen or even heard of. The alien folk were no more restrained than their humanoid brethren, spiking their interest with a sharp note of jealousy as they studied Belial’s companion from a safe distance.
It wasn’t the first time that Dalthan had ever been the object of unfair scrutiny. Growing up on the streets of Wavecrest, he’d grown accustomed to shouldering the blame for any suspicion that people conjured into their minds. It didn't matter how unlikely it was or how nonsensical the accusation was, when you were a homeless orphan, all it took was being in the wrong place at the wrong time and anything that happened was laid at your dirty feet.
Now, to be fair, he was occasionally the guilty party. A boy had to eat and he’d only grown more successful as he grew in experience. But the very nature of his business in the city meant that it had to be done discreetly. It was far more often that he’d been wrongly accused than caught red-handed. Just thinking about some of those incidents made him bristle with indignation. As if he’d ever been so sloppy as to linger around the scene of a crime long enough to be implicated. Even when he went through his stint selling fake real estate, he’d been careful to dye his hair and never be caught in the same block twice.
The nerve of some people. They were all so judgmental because he’d participated in a little aggressive wealth redistribution. The part that always amazed him most was that the least impacted were often the most vehement about his wrongdoing. Once he’d had to run from a fisherman who had overheard Dalthan explaining the day’s take to another street rat while they loitered outside a Low Town pub. Why had the salty old sailor cared about Dalthan talking some rich trophy wife out of a few coins? The fisherman should have been thanking him for facilitating the transfer of funds from the Financial District back down to the dockyards. It wasn’t as if any of them were going to see a shaving from those coins any other way.
That incident and many, many, incidents like it had taught Dalthan that people tended to be short-sighted. To their own demerit. Even now, in this place of lies and betrayal, humans and non-humans alike were joined in their desire to perpetuate the status quo. Like prisoners who’d developed an inordinate affection for their jail cell, they would rather waste away in the darkness than risk tearing the walls down. Instead of blaming Dalthan for carving holes in the stone, they should have asked themselves if it was time for them to pick up a hammer and chisel as well.
Like the sudden bite of a spider, a searing pain blossomed against his bicep. His scattered thoughts immediately returned to the present. A sharp intake of breath hissed past his lips as he directed his newly focused attention toward whatever had just bit his arm.
His green eyes found Belial’s hand lightly patting his arm with a soothing touch. He hadn’t been bitten, he’d been pinched. Incredulous, his gaze rose from his hand to meet the woman’s glimmering red eyes.
“You seemed to be distracted.” Belial said the words in a soft murmur that sent a shiver of anticipation running up and down his spine. It felt unfair that she could have that sort of effect on him. Was it a high charisma score? Or was something else at play? Not for the first time, Dalthan wished he’d found the opportunity to learn more about these silly numbers and the role they suddenly played in his life.
Unaware of his thoughts drifting away from her again, Belial continued with one corner of her lips curling in a sardonic half-smile. “I would like to visit your hometown one day, Dalthan. The women there must be captivating for you to find me so boring. That, or they are far more patient with indifference than I.”
“I’m afraid you would be disappointed by what you find, Lady Belial.” The thief forced himself to offer her a dashing smile. It was strange how uncomfortable he was around the woman. She was gorgeous and her connections made her more desirable still, and yet the calculating light in her ruby eyes made him feel like a mouse beneath the gaze of a hungry cat. “While the women of Wavecrest are not without a certain charm, patience is not one of the virtues I’d consider common.”
“I’m afraid that the fault in our lack of conversation is mine alone,” The thief continued. “As thrilled as I am to accompany you, Lady Belial, it has been an extremely long day. I would be far more entertaining if you give me a chance to recuperate in my quarters. Where did you say that I could find those?”
“I haven’t told you where they are. Yet.” The [Archpristess] gave him a coy smile that was at odds with the provocative luster in her ruby eyes. “Is my company so abhorrent that you want to excuse yourself at the first opportunity?”
Dalthan winced, a sign of how tired he truly was. Such an open expression was the very opposite of how he usually conducted his business. “Of course not, m’lady. As I said, I’m simply exhausted and I worry that I’m unsuitable company in my current state.”
“Psst,” Vex hissed so loudly that Dalthan nearly leaped out of his boots. “Human Daalthaan, I have an idea.”
The blue slaad’s attempt at subterfuge was laughable, at best. Dal could tell that the monster was trying to be discreet, but its stage whisper was easily heard by himself, Belial, and at least a half dozen other citizens that were nearby. To make matters worse, Vex didn’t bother to change his strategy after Belial looked over her shoulder with one white eyebrow arched quizzically.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Unperturbed by Belial’s reaction, or perhaps simply oblivious to it, the slaad continued, “This blue slaad has been told by a green clutch mate that humans usually nest together. You could nest with the [Archpriestess] and recover from your quest without needing to leave her company.”
Dalthan failed to stifle a groan at the frog’s fantastic idea. The grin slowly spreading across Belial’s lips only made things worse.
“Thought of that all by yourself, did you?” Dalthan asked, his eyes slipping shut as he drew in a deep, calming breath.
The top of the massive toad’s head broke the dark surface of Dalthan’s shadow. It rose high enough for the monster to give the thief an affirming nod. “I have noticed that some of my pets prefer to sleep in the company of others as well. Sometimes it even leads to the creation of smaller pets.”
Dal felt Belial choke back a laugh.
“You must be the worst [Beastmaster] in the entire city.” Dalthan said with a tired sigh. “Speaking of which, do we need to go back to your apartments so you can see about your animals?”
The slaad recoiled as if it’d been struck. “I do not keep animals. I keep beasts. I’m a [Beastmaster], Human Daalthaan. Not an [Animal Tamer].”
“There’s a difference?” Dalthan tilted his head in confusion. “And stop being so nervous. My name is Dalthan. You were doing much better before Belial found us.”
“There is a difference.” Belial chimed in, a note of amusement softening her usual husky purr. “We can discuss that later. For now, perhaps you’d like to follow your friend’s advice?” As she spoke, the priestess purposefully leaned closer to make sure the thief could feel the supple curves of her body pressed against him. “I think it was a fantastic idea.”
“I don’t know,” Dalthan began. It took all his remaining willpower to resist the urge to agree. Every fiber of his being was vibrating with anticipation. But there was something about the look in Belial’s eyes. Every touch of her body was soft and inviting, temptation made manifest. But the gleam in her red eyes was as hard as a nine-inch nail driven into a coffin lid.
“I’d be happy to enjoy your hospitality. Believe me, I would.” Dalthan hated the wheedling tone creeping into his voice but it was so difficult to say ‘no’ to the woman. Especially when he didn’t want to. “But I think we should postpone our plans for another day.”
Dalthan caught a glimpse of flawlessly white teeth as Belial nibbled briefly on her lower lip. “Very well,” the [Archpriestess] said after a long pause. “But I want you to come with me to meet a friend of mine before I show you to your apartment.”
Dal’s relief was so palpable that he could have collapsed onto the street and fallen asleep. He might have done exactly that if he hadn’t been worried about ruining his new clothes.
“Fine,” the dark-haired man said with a nod. “Lead the way.”
~~~~~
Dalthan wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find at the end of their journey through the city, but a shop with wicker figures and wind chimes made of bone wouldn’t have been his first guess. Or his second guess. It likely wouldn’t have even been on his list of guesses, if he hadn’t been too tired to worry about compiling one of those.
“I thought all the stores were on the same tier as the Well?” Dalthan had slowed his steps, finding himself oddly reluctant to continue. It wasn’t the strange displays in the window, though those didn’t help, so much as it was the atmosphere along the street. It took him several seconds to notice exactly why it bothered him so much.
It was empty. For the first time since he’d arrived in the Hub, there wasn’t a single soul in sight. This was made all the odder because Dalthan knew they’d been walking down the second tier’s bustling street only moments ago.
“This isn’t a store,” Belial said as she reached out to rap soundly on the heavy oak door. The sound seemed distorted as if it were echoing down the hall of a deserted tomb. “This is Agadeem’s house. She’s a witch of some renown and I think you should speak with her.”
Dalthan perked up immediately. “You mean like the one that flies around with the sign for Polly’s?”
Belial frowned, her brows narrowing dangerously. “No. Not like that one at all.” There was a note of menace in the [Archpriestess]’s tone that had been absent until now. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, no! Certainly not.” Dathan forced out a dry chuckle as he took off his wide-brimmed hat to use it as an impromptu fan. “I just admire that woman’s…err…work ethic.”
“Like you admired Sylvia’s?” Belial’s eyes flashed like a bolt of lightning cleaving through the night sky. “She and I had a very interesting talk while you were gone.”
“You..did?” Dalthan waved his hat faster, trying to fight against the suddenly rising temperature.
Fortunately, he was spared any further discomfort when the door opened with a squealing creak that Dal felt in the marrow of his bones. At his first peak past the threshold, a wave of vertigo washed through him while his mind tried to adjust to seeing a space that was entirely too big to be contained by the small building. He’d just had time to clear his head when a high, scratchy voice clawed eagerly at his ears.
“Well, well! If it isn’t Little Belly! You better lay off those cherry tarts or I’ll have to start calling you Big Belly, girl!” The woman who spoke was old. Perhaps the oldest Dalthan had ever seen. Draped in a dark green dress, her stooped frame stood in the doorway with one hand on the latch and the other clutching a gnarled wooden cane.
“Auntie Aga! Don’t bully me in front of my friend!” Belial whined, her tone completely out of character with her usual personality.
“And who might you be, dearie?” When the ancient witch spoke, Dal noticed that she was missing all but two teeth. Thoughts of further study slipped from his mind when the aging woman settled her amber eyes upon him.
He immediately felt the desire to answer her.
“My name is Dalthan Sol’Magor,” the thief answered so fast that he almost stumbled over his words.
No sooner did his name leave his lips than the [Rogue] frowned.
If the old woman saw his expression, she paid it no mind. “Welcome then, young Dalthan. I’m Agadeem the Witch Queen. If you haven’t heard of me, don’t be worried, child.”
“I’m only the greatest prophet in all the Hub.”