Elmerah crossed her arms and gave him that suspicious look again. Perhaps he’d have to be more wary of her than he’d originally thought. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found her snooping around the next day.
With a heavy sigh, he led the two women to another set of stairs up into the house. They passed a few more faces vaguely familiar to him, though none stopped to question them. Soon enough, they were back out in the cold night. It was early enough in the evening that people would still be milling about on the main street, but the narrow alley in which they stood appeared deserted.
Elmerah crossed her arms again, though this time he suspected it was from the cold. The cloak she wore was thin, but with the coin at her belt she’d have no trouble acquiring something heavier. “Well,” she began, “I suppose we owe you our thanks.”
He wondered if he should simply let them go, or offer to escort them further. He needed to keep an eye on Saida, but he might be better off simply tracking her for a while to learn her true intentions. “You could also offer me an apology. You’ve thoroughly questioned my character today.”
She snorted, then shoved a lock of black hair back into her hood. “And it is still in question, so you have my thanks, but not my apology.” She turned to Saida. “Shall we? I don’t want to waste my efforts by letting you get murdered on your first night in the city.”
Alluin couldn’t help a small smile. The Arthali woman might have been crude, but at least she was honest.
Saida nodded. “I suppose one more night together won’t kill me . . . hopefully.”
With that, both women gave him a polite nod, then walked away. He waited for several heartbeats, then took to the shadows and followed.
Elmerah
After another restful night at a far nicer inn, Elmerah felt some of her magic returning. She’d fallen out of practice during the years hiding in her swamp. She hoped next time it would come back to her more quickly, that she’d start absorbing magic from the earth like a sea sponge, but she wasn’t sure.
She took a deep breath of thin morning air, then looked at Saida standing next to her in front of the inn. She could admit, if only to herself, that the elf girl had grown on her a bit, but it was time to part ways. She didn’t need the girl becoming any more involved with Rissine than she already was.
“I suppose you can find your way to the castle?” she asked cooly. “Be sure to keep your hood up.”
Saida nodded, glancing around the street in front of the inn, quickly filling with people. Mostly humans, but also a few Forestfolk like Alluin. There were occasional hints of more olive skin like Elmerah’s, though none looked as purely Arthali as she.
“Well then,” she muttered. “Good luck.” She turned to leave.
“Where will you go?” Saida’s voice cut through the din of early morning greetings and conversation.
Elmerah turned back to her. “I have a bit of information I’d like to gather, then I’ll head back to the swamps of Outer Crag.”
Saida nodded at her explanation. “Well, if you ever come to—” she cut herself off, then mouthed Faerune.
Elmerah nodded. “It’s unlikely I’ll find myself there, but if I do, perhaps I’ll seek you out.”
Saida nodded again, then turned and walked away, quickly disappearing amongst the bustling crowd.
Elmerah felt a little pang of loneliness, which she quickly pushed away. She needed to find Rissine. She turned and made her way down the street, keeping her head down and her hood up. No one was likely to bother her in such a bustling area, but once she reached the slums things would change. She’d have to travel through dark alleys filled with vagrants and criminals all too willing to look the other way while she was robbed or beaten, because information about Rissine would surely be found at the end of one such alley.
Saida
Saida had the distinct feeling she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder repeatedly, but was overcome by the chaos of the crowd. She needed to reach a more quiet area. Then she’d be able to see if someone was indeed watching her, or if it was just her nerves overcoming her senses.
She glanced again, then had her shoulder slammed painfully.
“Move!” a man growled, barely even looking at her.
Rubbing her sore shoulder, she ducked her head and cut across the crowd toward the nearest intersection, then plastered her back against the stone foundation of a shop. Now that she was out of the crowd, she took a moment to scan the people heading this way and that. Most were dressed modestly in muted wool and linen, though she spotted a few flashes of fine silks and glittering gowns. The silks were usually accompanied by at least one armed man, ready to protect his mistress should her day of shopping be interrupted.
She let out a heavy sigh, wondering if she could stop anyone long enough to gain directions to the castle. So far, her impression of the Capital stood in stark contrast to the serene streets of Faerune. If someone bumped into her there, they would bow and beg forgiveness.
She watched the crowd for a moment more, then gave up on the idea of asking for directions. The castle was stationed near the center of the city, that much she knew, so perhaps if she continued heading in the opposite direction of the gates, she’d catch a glimpse of it.
She’d turned to walk further down the intersection, away from the main crowd, when the spot between her shoulder blades began to itch. She was definitely being watched. She might not have the innate magic of the high priests and priestesses, but her instincts were strong enough to at least tell her that.
She halted for a moment, debating rejoining the main crowd . . . but that was surely where the watcher lurked. With a shaky breath, she tensed her legs, steeled her gaze, and ran. A few people glanced at her as she sped by, her boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones. She thought she heard the gentle tap of footsteps aways behind her, matching her pace. Someone capable of following her a great distance if the grace of their footfalls was any indicator.
A woman walked out from a shop with a two-handled basket of apples. Saida saw her too late. She tried to dart around her, but clipped the basket with her hip, sending green apples flying everywhere.
“My apologies!” she shouted as she spun to right herself. She resumed her run before the final apple hit the cobblestones.
“Come back here!” the woman shouted, followed by a loud screech.
Saida glanced back long enough to note a cloaked man skidding to a halt right before he would have trampled the apples. She turned forward and continued running, darting down every new turn she could find, silently thanking her apple-carrying savior.
Eventually she reached a dark backstreet where she stopped to rest against a stack of large wooden storage crates. The crates shielded her from sight in the direction she’d come, though she was quite sure she’d lost her watcher at the site of the apple incident.
“Are you lost?” a melodious voice inquired.
She whipped around, then her jaw dropped. A woman with alabaster skin and gray eyes approached. Her white-blonde hair fell in a shimmery curtain to her waist, not fully hiding the pointed tips of her ears. She’d expected a lot of things in the city, but one of her people wasn’t one of them.
“What are you doing here?” Saida gasped. She didn’t recognize the woman from Faerune, and she wore the muted linens that seemed common in the city, but she was most definitely a pure-blood Faerune elf.
“I own this shop.” The elf gestured to the back door from which she’d emerged. “I was coming to move my shipment inside.” She patted the crates.
“You own a shop here?” She knew she sounded like an idiot, but she was utterly baffled. Why would this woman live in the Capital, unless . . . “You’re an exile?” she gasped.
The woman raised a blonde brow. “And you, apparently, are not. Still, it’s been a long while since I met one of my kind. Why don’t you help me with these crates, then we can have a meal together.”
Saida shook her head, stepping back. It took a great off
ense to merit exile from Faerune. This woman was likely a murderer, or worse.
The woman sighed. “I live in exile because of my mother. She was the criminal. I was born here in Galterra.”
Saida lifted a hand to her thundering heart. “My apologies. I’m a bit on edge. I’m trying to reach the castle.” She looked at the elf more closely. She was clearly making no attempt to hide what she was, so . . . “Forgive me, but aren’t you afraid to so openly show what you are? A friend of mine claimed such actions are risky.”
“There are ways to protect oneself,” she replied with a small smile. “Life for a lone elf is perhaps risky, but I have good . . . friends. I can introduce you to them if you like. I’m sure they’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”
Saida clutched her cloak where it fastened near her throat. She didn’t quite like the way the woman said friends, but if they could help get her home . . .
The woman took a step toward her. “What is your name?”
She resisted the urge to step back. “Elmerah,” she lied, giving the first name that popped into her head. She couldn’t risk this elf recognizing her name and holding her for ransom. Any who knew the elves of Faerune well knew Saida Fenmyar would fetch a pretty penny.
The elf seemed surprised by her answer, but quickly recovered. “I’m Thera. Now come inside.” she gestured to the still open door. “We’ll have a nice meal, and talk about how to get you home.”
She licked her dry lips. “Why would you assume I want to go home?”
Thera chuckled. “You’re not an exile. Any Faerune elf not living in exile will always return to Faerune.”
She supposed she was right. With a hesitant nod, she allowed Thera to guide her into the shop. She wasn’t sure she trusted her new friend, but she could always run away later.
Elmerah
After several long hours of questioning anyone who would listen, Elmerah returned to the inn where she and Saida had stayed the previous night. Her feet were tired and her belly was empty. She’d have a nice meal, a tankard of Galterran ale, and would resume her search after nightfall.
The door to the establishment was propped open, letting in the balmy air enjoyed at the start of the growing season. She walked inside, barely glancing at the mostly empty tables as she headed toward the tired, slouched barkeep. She almost debated pulling back her hood in the quiet establishment, but decided against it. If Rissine was in the city, she didn’t want to risk being found before she could figure out just what her sister was up to.
Reaching the barkeep, she placed two silver gulls on the rough wood in front of him. “A tankard of ale and whatever food you’re serving.”
He lifted his gaze, then stared at her face as if memorizing every detail.
“Is there an issue?”
He swiped the two coins from the bar into his waiting palm, then turned away.
“Dusty old sea crab,” she muttered once he’d gone into the kitchen. She turned around to take a seat at the nearest table, then paused. She recognized that cowl. “Has Arcale cursed me? Why are you here?”
Alluin lifted his head from his palm at her words. He’d been slouched in the corner adjacent the door, escaping her initial notice.
He tapped the boiled leather tankard in front of him. “I’ve as much right to sit here as you.”
With hands on hips, she looked him up and down. “Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking ale?”
The barkeep chose just that moment to walk up behind her with a tankard of ale and plate of roasted fish and leeks, both of which he set on the bar beside her without a word before walking away.
“Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking ale?” Alluin echoed.
With a sigh she retrieved her plate and tankard, then approached his table, slumping into the wooden chair across from him. “So are you following me? Change your mind about selling me out to the militia?”
He drained the remnants of his tankard, then met her gaze. “You weren’t the only one who left those men battered and bruised.”
She glanced down at her unappealing fish, then reached for her tankard. “So what is it then? Why are you here?”
“Can a man not simply have a drink?”
“No,” she snapped. “Not when the man was left an hour’s walk from here, with plenty of other taverns in between. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
He traced his finger across the woodgrain on the table. “Perhaps my curiosity got the better of me, and now I’m wondering just what you’re planning here in Galterra. Since I’m the one who let you in, that would make me responsible for any nefarious deeds you might commit.”
She sucked her teeth. Of course he thought she was the one who was up to no good. Never mind that she was actually the victim, kidnapped from her cozy hut to be hauled across the ocean. “I didn’t realize smugglers felt so much responsibility for a city’s wellbeing.”
“I’m not a smuggler.”
“And I’m not here to commit nefarious deeds.”
“Where’s Saida?” he asked abruptly.
Did he really want her to punch him? “Why do you care?”
He placed his hands on the table and leaned back. “Are you always this suspicious?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Fine, I was worried about her. A Faerune elf left on her own in Galterra is sure to find trouble. Saida doesn’t seem the type to join a guild.”
“A guild?” she pressed, wondering what he meant.
“You really haven’t been to Galterra in a while, have you?”
She shook her head. “It’s been more than a few years.”
“The slums are run by guilds,” he explained. “Sort of a counterbalance to the militia. The larger guilds govern the streets, and offer certain protections to their own. Almost any elf, halfling, or Arthali in the city is a member of a guild. They wouldn’t survive otherwise.”
She sipped her ale, deep in thought. “So,” she began, setting down her cup. “What guild are you part of? I imagine the boss I heard mentioned runs it?”
He hesitated at her question. Clearly she was making him uncomfortable. Good.
“That’s none of your concern,” he grumbled.
“And Saida is none of yours, though given that you must have followed us here last night, I’m surprised you’re not off questioning her.”
He didn’t reply.
Realization dawned on her. “You lost her?” She grinned. “Some Valeroot elf you are. Aren’t your people supposed to be excellent trackers?”
He grimaced. “Yes, and apparently Faerune elves are excellent . . . escapers.”
She chuckled as she pulled her plate in front of her to start picking at her fish. “So tell me more of these guilds. Do their leaders have names?” Guildmaster seemed exactly like the type of occupation Rissine would enjoy.
He narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. “Some. Why does it matter? Are you hoping to join?”
She took a bite of her fish. It was too salty, but at least it was food. “Hardly,” she answered as she chewed. “I’m actually looking for someone. I wouldn’t put it past her to be involved with one of these . . . guilds.”
He gestured to the barkeep for another ale, then turned back to her. “What’s her name?”
She began absentmindedly mutilating her fish with her two-pronged fork while she debated her answer. He seemed harmless enough, and seemed to know a decent amount about the goings on in the slums, but he was most certainly trying to pluck information from her, for purposes unknown.
“Let’s play a little game,” she decided. “A question for a question.”
He raised a brow at her from within the shadows of his cowl. “What makes you think I want information from you?”
“Well, you’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”
The barkeep arrived with a fresh tankard of ale. He took Alluin’s offered coin, then stomped away.
Alluin took a sip, then set down his tankard. “Deal.”
Saida
>
Saida sat in the back of the building nestled in a cushy chair with a cup of hot tea. Thera had left her to tend a customer up front in her textile shop. She could hear the murmur of voices in the next room, but she was unable to distinguish the words. Saida couldn’t help but wonder how many textiles it would take to fill the large crates she’d helped carry inside, and how they could possibly be so heavy.
She had almost gained the courage to go back into the storage room and take a look inside one of the crates, when Thera returned, shutting the interior door behind her.
“My apologies,” she said as she sat across from her. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone back here for so long.”
Saida sipped her tea to hide her irritation. “Please don’t apologize. I appreciate your kindness, but I really must head toward the castle if I hope to make it before dark.”
Thera picked up her own cup from the nearby tray. “I fear I cannot in good conscience allow you to venture off alone. If you’ll wait until tomorrow, I’ll escort you to the castle myself. I have a few friends who will offer us protection.”
Saida was growing increasingly sure she didn’t want to meet these friends. Something wasn’t quite right about Thera. She stood, then set down her empty cup. “Truly, I appreciate the offer, but I must go today. I’ve made it this far, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She lifted a finger to her painfully throbbing brow. Was the room suddenly hotter than before?
She looked down at Thera. “I think I need some fresh air.” She took a staggering step away, swaying on her feet. The room seemed to be moving.
“Now, now,” Thera soothed, guiding her back to her seat. “You’re clearly not well. You must rest.”
Panic shot through her, exploding into tiny stars dancing across her vision. She forced her eyes to focus on Thera. “What was in that tea?” she rasped.
The Witch of Shadowmarsh (The Moonstone Chronicles Book 1) Page 5