by Andrew Rowe
Some looked like letters in a foreign language glowed softly in varying colors, but the largest mark was a single tendril-like sigil of black that wrapped around her hands and slipped under her sleeves. She had similar black markings that spread up her neck, but he couldn’t tell if that was an extension of the same mark or another tattoo in a similar style.
At this distance, it was a trivial thing for him to sense the metal hidden within her sleeves. And her bodice, both front and back. And her skirt. And her boots.
She was carrying enough weapons for a platoon of soldiers.
He recognized her immediately, but her presence here was even stranger than Asphodel’s.
The heavily armed woman smiled as she met his gaze. “Wow, those are rough. Here, you might need a stick to get some of that off.” She knelt down next to him and handed him a stick, then leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “You do not want to get mud on my floor.”
Taelien let out a tired sigh. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it, Wrynn.”
“Good!” Wrynn beamed, putting her hands together in front of her.
“Then welcome to my humble establishment. Can I take your cloak?”
“It’s his, actually.” He waved at The Wandering War, who was still standing in the rain nearby. “Not sure if he’d want me to hand it off to someone.”
“If it’s soaking wet—,” Wrynn paused, frowned, and leaned closer to the cloak. “Huh. Enchanted cloak? Okay, if it’s not dripping, you can hold onto it.”
“You may hang it up.” War folded his arms. “I have no need of it here, and he should recover by the flame.”
Taelien slipped the cloak off and handed it Wrynn. “Thanks.”
She grinned as she accepted it. “Ooh, this is warm. You’ll have to tell me where you got it. Keep wiping those boots, I’ll be right back.”
When Wrynn returned a moment later, she knelt back down and spoke in a more serious tone. “You’re injured.”
“He’ll survive,” Asphodel added helpfully.
Taelien gave Asphodel an irritated look. From most of his friends, a line like that would have sounded conciliatory. From Asphodel, it was merely matter-of-fact.
“He’s the one you’ve been waiting for?” Wrynn asked. “Never mind, rhetorical question. Okay, Sal. That’s good enough. Go get warm.”
Taelien nodded gratefully, setting the cloth down and turning to face the tavern’s entrance. “Thank you...but why are you here? I just saw you at your shop in Selyr a few weeks ago.”
“Girl’s gotta keep busy somehow.” Wrynn winked at him.
That answer told him nothing, but that wasn’t a surprise. Wrynn never gave anything away for free, information least of all.
Taelien wiped his face, pushing away an errant lock of hair. “Since you’re here, I may have some things to trade later. And a present for you, too.”
Wrynn gave him a knowing smirk. “A present? I love presents! I’d say you shouldn’t have, but I’d be lying. I’m curious what you have to trade, too.” She moved back into the tavern. “I have other customers to serve, but I’ll want to hear what you brought later.” She pointed a finger at War. “And you. Clean your boots next.”
War nodded in silent assent.
Taelien might have questioned War’s willingness to follow the instruction without any hint of complaint, but he knew who he was dealing with.
Apparently, even War could sense how dangerous she was.
Taelien stumbled as he attempted to stand, but Asphodel caught him and helped him. Fortunately, she had the foresight to grab his good arm. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Come on.” She half-maneuvered, half-carried him to an empty chair next to a roaring fireplace.
They passed a number of other patrons on the way, most of whom seemed to be either eating or playing various table games. Taelien counted ten other people in total. A pair of hunters playing cards. A few ordinary looking civilians. One white-haired man, flirting with a barmaid that was almost as heavily armed as Wrynn herself.
A table of Thornguard near the corner, all in uniform. He’d have to keep an eye on them.
This place is almost certainly some kind of front, either for one of Wrynn’s businesses or a Thornguard operation. Possibly both.
No sign of Jonan, but that could mean anything. Invisible or asleep are equally likely.
Exhausted, he sat in a chair by the flames.
The fire didn’t seem warm enough.
Taelien shivered.
This time, it was the cold.
Asphodel sat down in a chair next to him, frowning. “Your injury makes this more difficult.”
Taelien started to fold his arms in frustration, winced as the movement hurt too much, and then reverted to his previous posture. “I have no idea what you’re talking about or why you’re here, Asphodel. I’m supposed to be alone.”
She shook her head. “I have your new orders.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands. “And those involved sending War to drag me into this tavern?”
“No. That was his idea. He was impatient to see you.”
“And you couldn’t have come with him, or gotten me a warning message?”
Asphodel hesitated, her face showing lines of worry. “Perhaps. I still cannot see you properly. It is...uncomfortable at times.”
“Fine.” Taelien put his good hand over the bandage, trying to will the aching to stop, but the movement only made it worse. “What’s this new assignment?”
“Ah, it would appear I have excellent timing.”
Jonan’s voice came from behind Taelien, unmistakable.
The swordsman sighed, turning around. “If this was your idea, you owe me a new arm.”
Jonan was wearing a heavy robe and leaning on a walking stick. It was definitely not the Heartlance disguised as a walking stick this time, at least. Taelien couldn’t sense any metal within. He looked haggard, his face showing several days of unshaved growth and an angry scab on his forehead. “You have my sympathies, but it is beyond my capabilities to stop our tall friend when he wants something.”
Taelien gave a groan of acknowledgement. Jonan had a point.
“Now, then, if you’re as excited as I am about our reunion, you’ll want to get this over with as quickly as possible. To business, then?”
Taelien waved a hand. “Business.”
Jonan smirked. “Excellent. No doubt you recall that while I am not a member of the Thornguard, I am employed by one of their... benefactors?”
Jonan gave a meaningful glance toward the Thornguard table, then back to Taelien.
Taelien quirked a brow. “I don’t think you ever said explicitly who you work for, but I’m aware of your ties to the organization. Are you bringing me in for some sort of joint operation?”
Jonan twisted his lips until he ended on a thoughtful expression. “Not...exactly? More like a proposition from one of our higher-ups for a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Taelien narrowed his eyes. “Could you say that in a way that sounds any more suspicious?”
“Hey, don’t eviscerate the messenger. Or mutilate him in any fashion, really. Leave the messenger intact.” Jonan raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m here as your escort. Your superiors have already accepted. Your friend,” he pointed at Asphodel, “can confirm that.”
“Yes.” That was all Asphodel said.
Such a helpful contribution.
He turned his head toward Asphodel. “And what of my previous assignment, then?”
“Postponed. You may hold the items for now, or use them for this assignment as needed.”
Taelien made an effort not to glance at his backpack. Knowing Jonan, he probably had some way of knowing about the dominion bonded objects that Taelien had spent the last several months collecting, but he didn’t want to make it any more obvious that he was carrying something valuable.
He felt fortunate that War had given him the chance to retrieve everything he could from the ten
t before they’d left. Otherwise, some hunter would have probably eventually stumbled on a bag full of priceless relics.
That was an amusing image, but not exactly a good scenario as far as his career as a paladin was concerned.
“Very well. What’s this hilariously suspicious arrangement we’re being offered, Jonan?”
Taelien tossed a glance back toward Wrynn, but she was currently serving other customers. Still, he doubted the presence of an information broker at his meeting place with Jonan was any kind of coincidence.
The fact that she seemed to own this tavern was even stranger. He knew she owned a shop in Selyr, but that was a half-day’s walk away.
That’s not important right now. He looked back to Jonan.
Jonan took off his glasses, wiping them against his shirt to remove some of the moisture. “Well, I’ve been telling my superiors a great deal about you. And, as it happens, one of them has a job that you’re uniquely suited for.”
Taelien quirked his eyebrow again. He was trying to break the habit of doing that so often, but it was hard. “Oh? And who is this superior you’re referring to?”
Jonan opened his hands and stretched out his arms in a magnanimous gesture. “Why, who else, but Aayara, the Lady of Thieves?”
Chapter IV – Jonan II – A Nested Series of Traps
Jonan Kestrian checked his mirrors in the relative discomfort of The Perfect Stranger tavern.
One message was of particular interest, mostly because it was the worst news out of the bunch.
Scribe,
En route to meet with Scryer. I’m bringing Shiver, because of course I am.
Please advise if you have further intelligence on the Selyr situation.
-Silk
There was something disturbing about one of Aayara’s agents referring to Lydia by an “ess” name. Velas had probably just found it amusing — there was no chance Lydia was actually an agent of a vae’kes — but it felt like a continuation of a disturbing trend.
Aayara’s agents were everywhere. He was no exception, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with seeing how far her influence was spreading.
And he knew enough to know that he only had seen a fraction of her true level of influence.
Sterling operating in Selyr was a serious problem if it was true. That was one of the centers of Aayara’s power, and Sterling certainly knew that. He’d worked for Aayara at one point — that was clear enough just from the “ess” in his name.
Maybe he still worked for her. Aayara had insisted that Sterling was acting on his own when he’d assassinated Kalsiris Theas, but that didn’t mean a thing. She fed him lies like mother’s milk.
It was also possible that Sterling had found some sort of power or influence that was sufficient that he thought he could compete with Aayara directly. That was a somewhat terrifying prospect, since any war between Sterling and Aayara would put him on the front lines.
It also begged the question of what sort of resource or benefactor could give Sterling the confidence to operate in her territory. The Blackstone Assassin was the obvious choice — he’d been Aayara’s rival for centuries — but individual vae’kes rarely picked one side and then switched. It wasn’t strictly impossible, but the explanation didn’t feel right to him.
Should I ask Aayara about this when I see her?
There were risks involved with that. If Sterling and Aayara were cooperating, asking Aayara would lead to tipping Sterling off to the fact that Velas knew where he was. That could put Velas, Lydia, and Rialla into more danger.
Should I warn Lydia that Sterling may have Aayara’s support?
That was a better question.
No, he concluded. There’s no hard evidence of that yet. And if she starts trying to pry into Aayara’s business for connections to Sterling, that could lead to undermining my other plans.
Jonan rubbed his temples, then sat down to write a reply.
The problem was that he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say.
He hesitated, tensed his jaw, and then lifted the quill to write.
Silk,
My business near Selyr is unrelated to Sterling. No details on his present location or disposition. Would advise extreme caution, however, given the possibility that he may have family members in the area.
-Scribe
Jonan knew she’d catch the implications of “family members”. He didn’t know how likely it was that other vae’kes would be working with him, but they had to be prepared for that possibility.
He set the quill down, sending the message to Velas through the same mirror she had used to contact him.
Now, how much should I tell Lydia?
He glanced at the mirror that matched Lydia’s, considering.
Not much. I can’t jeopardize my position in Aayara’s inner circle, and even if I did, I don’t have much reliable information.
He picked up the mirror, wishing for a moment that he could just look at her, rather than the letter she’d written to confirm acceptance of his meeting.
Can’t tell her much, he concluded.
But I can’t leave her with nothing.
The note he sent her was brief. Just enough to make him feel like he’d said something, even if it wasn’t much.
Lydia,
Recently met with Taelien and arranged for a meeting between him and Aayara. He will be in our general area, but working on a different assignment. Your paladin leadership should already be aware of this.
You should plan for him to be too busy for us to utilize as a resource in dealing with other matters.
-Jonan
She’d probably be getting that information from another source soon, maybe even from Taelien himself.
But if something happened, at least he could lie to himself and say he’d given Lydia some sort of useful information.
Lying to himself was just as easy as lying to others.
Maybe easier.
Will Lydia and Velas be enough handle a vae’kes?
That question weighed on Jonan’s mind as he extinguished his candle and crept into his borrowed bed.
***
The sound of a knock on his door woke Jonan from his nightmare, but it didn’t quite manage to send the last images out of his mind.
Lavender again.
Will she ever stop haunting me?
Probably not.
He wiped his eyes, then searched for a pair of his glasses. “Just a minute.”
Is it morning already?
I suppose so.
Time to manipulate my friends, then.
After knocking the glasses case off the nearest table, he managed to find it on the floor and remove his standard pair. His vision was still blurry, even with them. His vision had been declining further from years of overusing his sight sorcery, but he compensated by getting stronger and stronger spectacles.
Blindness would come eventually if he kept abusing his sorcery, but that was a problem for the future.
He was still dressed from the night before, so he didn’t bother with anything else before he opened the door.
It wasn’t who he was expecting.
The delaren girl had a cheerful expression. “Good morning.”
“Mmm.” He managed. “Can I help you?”
He didn’t know what to make of Asphodel. He’d met her briefly after the paladin exams had concluded, and he’d heard a considerable amount about her, but hadn’t interacted with her on a personal level until recently.
When he’d delivered his message to the Paladins of Tae’os, they’d insisted that he take paladins as an escort when he went to relay the orders to Taelien. The lack of trust had been obvious. That was smart.
They seemed to expect the combination of Asphodel and The Wandering War to keep Taelien out of trouble somehow. That was a perplexing decision. Were Asphodel’s oracular abilities that potent?
Potent enough to spot a trap? If so, how far in advance, and with what level of detail?
Jonan did
n’t know, and that bothered him.
She continued to smile, though. If she had any indication of Jonan’s anxieties, she gave no hint. “The rain stopped. We should eat and leave before it starts again.”
“Thank you.”
Predicting the weather, or just acting based on a basic observation? Hm.
“I’ll head downstairs after I pack my things.”
“Good.” She turned and started to walk away.
She seems nice. I hope she survives all this.
After a few more steps, she paused and turned back. “Jonan?”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“When the time comes, open the other door.”
There was a brief pause. “Okay, you’re going to have to translate that from vague oracle speak into Velthryn.”
Asphodel smiled. “I can’t.”
“Why? Some of that infamous difficulty with interfering with fate?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know. I only learned to call the dreams for myself recently. They’re very vague.” Asphodel shook her head. “But I’m sure you’ll know what it means when the time comes.” With that, she bowed, turned again, and walked away.
Jonan stared after her.
Let me revise my earlier statement. She seems nice, but also utterly infuriating.
For the moment, he decided he had bigger things to worry about than vague and useless prophecies.
Jonan was true to his word, packing his belongings while he considered his next moves. He didn’t know what Aayara was planning to do with Taelien, but he needed to be ready for as many scenarios as possible.
After packing, he headed downstairs. The others seemed prepared to leave, so he ate a simple breakfast and said his goodbyes to Wrynn. She assured him that she’d see him again soon, which he wasn’t sure about, but he agreed so that he sounded friendly.
He said goodbye to the Thornguard group staying at the inn, too. They had other business, so they were staying a bit longer.
Jonan’s sole company for the next few days would be the strangest paladins he’d ever seen.
Asphodel’s cheerful demeanor had subsided, and now she was back to wearing a more typical introspective look. He found her crystalline hair fascinating, but he suspected that asking to study it might be a social blunder.