"Then why didn't you say something?" asked Loras.
"I did – just not to you," replied Declin.
"The bartender..." said Loras. "You sent him for help."
"Ay, but lucky for you, help was already on da way." He grinned across the table at Regan and Tinko. "You two needs to do a better job of lookin' after 'dis one. Ol' Declin ain't always gonna be here to pull his ass out of da fire."
"No," said Loras. "It's not their job to look after me. Gracien is right. I need to be more careful." He looked at his sister and Tinko. "I'm sorry. Honestly, I am. Things have just been happening so fast and I haven't been thinking straight."
Regan and Tinko were dumbstruck. Loras had never apologized for anything in his entire life and he could see that his sudden display of maturity had staggered his companions. Eventually, their astonishment subsided and Regan moved to sit beside her brother.
"It's ok. Just promise me that from here on out we stay together."
"I promise," answered Loras.
"And promise to be more careful!" added Tinko. "I thought we were gonna die!"
"I promise, Tink" said Loras, smiling at his friend. Suddenly Miles the bartender appeared from behind the bar.
"'Dat’s good, because 'tings are just startin' to get interestin'. Word has spread tru da city. Everyone knows a bunch of diggers and floaters just had it out in my bar."
"Then we need to get moving," said Gracien.
"Dat may be a bit tricky," said Miles. "She's here."
Declin moaned and rubbed his temple with both of his hands. Loras was confused.
"Who is here?" he whispered to Declin.
"Da sister," he replied.
"Whose sister?" asked Loras.
Declin pointed a finger at Xander.
Chapter Eighteen: Snare
Septa disliked Woodhaven only slightly less than Spirea. It had the same smell; the same texture. There was the same overarching theme of avarice mixed with poverty. Yet, the waifs in Woodhaven were different. Or, at least they acted differently when they saw her. Whereas the citizens of Spirea hadn't given her a second look when she entered their city, the waifs in Woodhaven were actively avoiding her. More than a dozen had crossed to the other side of the street or ducked in a nearby building when they saw her. Several doors and windows had shut as she approached. Taverns fell silent when she entered.
It appears that word travels fast in these woods, thought Septa. Perhaps these waifs will not require any lessons in obedience. That should make finding this Declin all the easier.
Septa entered several taverns before she came to the one run by Miles. She had interrogated each bartender she had met, and each one had regurgitated the same story without needing coercion. There was a fight somewhere at the end of town. They didn't know who was involved, but they heard they may have been Tormada. That was the extent of the townfolk’s knowledge. When she had asked about Declin, everyone knew the man but wasn’t sure of his current whereabouts. Septa had accepted their stories. The unmistakable fear in their voices was all the verification that she needed.
Methodically, Septa inspected each bar, brothel and tavern as she moved towards the edge of town. The hostess at the previous establishment was all too eager to inform her that Declin often frequented the place next door, and that Septa should go there immediately.
When Septa entered Miles' tavern, it was empty except for the ugly waif behind the bar. She walked directly to the bartender. Miles was quietly and deliberately wiping down some empty beer glasses. He did not look up at the Gartune standing in front of him. Something about his behavior reminded Septa of another waif she had recently met.
"Do you know why I'm here?" asked Septa.
"Aye," said Miles without looking up.
"And do you know what I do to those who lie to me?"
Miles gritted his teeth together. "I've heard."
"Good. Then I'm only going to ask this once. Where is Declin?"
"Don't know who dat is," answered Miles.
Septa smiled. Finally, she thought.
"How long have you lived in Woodhaven?" she asked as she slowly walked around to the other side of the bar.
"Long as I can 'member," answered Miles as he continued to clean the glass in front of him. It was the same one he had been working on since Septa entered the room.
"Interesting," said Septa. She now stood directly next to the waif. "You've lived here that long and you don't know who Declin is? Every other waif that I've talked to in this town seems to know him – they just don't know where he is."
Septa placed the tip of her eüroc under Miles' chin and slowly lifted the bartender's head. "Do you know what that means?" she asked coolly. Miles did not answer. "It means that you're lying to me, waif. And there's only one reason that you would lie to me. You know where he is."
Again, Miles said nothing.
"And, you know what I do to waifs that lie to me." Septa pressed the button on her eüroc and a blood-stained blade sprung from the tip of her staff. She pressed the blade up against Miles' neck. The bartender closed his eyes and held his breath. Septa waited. Miles began to shake. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Wait!" cried Miles. "I'll tell ya where he is. Just put dat 'ting down."
"You're not as brave as you look, bartender. But maybe you're smarter. You're not going to tell me where he is. You're going to take me. Then I will decide how much punishment you require."
"Aye," replied Miles as he let out a deep breath. Septa removed the blade from underneath the bartender's neck and the two of them walked out of the tavern. Miles led them through the city to the break in the fence that led to the forest. They did not see a single waif on their way out.
The forest was pitch black except for a few places where the moonlight penetrated the canopy above. But even in the darkness, Miles navigated the woods with ease. He and Septa walked in silence for nearly twenty minutes. Every once in a while, she would poke the waif with her eüroc just to let him know that she was still behind him. That, and she enjoyed making him squirm.
"I'm going to give you a chance to lessen your punishment," said Septa. "On my way to your tavern I heard someone talking about a fight between some Tormada. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you? Remember – I know when you're lying."
"Aye," replied Miles.
"’Aye, what?" said Septa.
"Aye, der was a fight," said Miles.
"Was it between Tormada?" asked Septa.
"Aye, it was" replied Miles.
Septa reached out with her eüroc and stopped the bartender in his tracks. "Which color were they?" she asked.
"Both," said Miles.
"There were Reytana in the city?!"
"Aye," said Miles.
"You're positive," said Septa.
"Aye, I am." said Miles.
"How can you be sure?" asked Septa.
"'Cause dey were in my bar."
Septa picked the waif up by the neck and shoved him against a tree. "You fool! You thought you could keep that information from me and I wouldn't find out?!"
"No," coughed Miles as he struggled for air. "Was just 'waitin."
"Waiting for what?!" yelled Septa.
"Fer 'dis,"
Septa's legs suddenly swung out from underneath her and were pulled over her head. A rope tightened around her feet as it pulled her up into the air. Septa's eüroc fell to the ground as she hung upside-down, suspended from a tree branch. She flailed her arms wildly as she grasped for the waif, but he was a good three feet below her reach.
"Dat should just about do it," said a voice from behind the tree. "Just let me tie dis off real good, 'den we can have a bit of palaver." Two arms reached around the tree and tied off the end of the rope to secure the swinging Gartune. Once that was done, Declin stepped out in front.
"You 'ave any trouble bringin' 'er 'ere?" asked Declin.
"Nah," said Miles. "Went about as we tought it would. Da funny 'ting was 'dat she was ac
tually lookin' for you."
"Fer me?" Declin looked incredulously up at the Gartune swinging above him. "Yous got a bunch of floaters an' diggers tearin' up da city and yous came lookin' fer me? Who da 'ell woulda told her about me? Wait..." he turned to Miles.
"Ya better watch what ya say next," said Miles as he bent over to pick up Septa's eüroc, "before you goes accusin' a dead man of what you knows he didn't do."
"Ay," said Declin. "I knows your brotha better 'dan dat, rest his soul." Declin gave Septa an accusatory look. "He wouldn't 'ave sold me out. But I'll bet ya somebody else in dat damn city bent their tongue." Declin yelled up at Septa. "So, what'd it take? A few coins? A lady for da night? How much to sell out old Declin?"
"Oh, it was cheaper than that," said Septa as she slowly swung above the two waifs. "It only cost him his hand... then his head."
"Ha," grunted Declin. "Don't seem like a very fair deal."
"I don't hear him complaining," said Septa.
"Ya, he wouldn't would he," grumbled Declin. "And on 'dat subject, I believe da two of yous have some business to discuss. So I will leave ya to it. Yous can take it from 'ere?"
"Aye," said Miles as he patted the eüroc in his hand. "I'm good. You goin' to meet up with da rest of dem floaters?"
"Yar. Looks like I 'ave to now dat DA WHOLE WORLD KNOWS ABOUT ME!" he yelled above him.
"Well, have fun wit dat," said Miles.
"You too," said Declin with a wry grin. "'Member she's a lady now and should be treated as such."
"Oh I'll treat her as she deserves," replied Miles. Declin winked at his friend and disappeared into the forest, leaving Miles alone with Septa. Miles circled his suspended prey a few times, patting the eüroc curiously as he did so. The tree branch creaked slightly under the weight of the Gartune swinging slowly beneath it.
"You will be punished severely for this, waif," said Septa. "I was going to kill you quickly, but now I am going to take my time."
"Seems to me like you ain't in no position to be offerin' threats at da moment," said Miles. He was searching the eüroc for the special button that sprung the blade. Eventually, he found it. "Ah, der it is!" exclaimed Miles with delight. "Quite da contraptions, 'dese sticks of yours. I'm not sure if I'd rather 'ave one of 'dese or light shootin' out my ass like da floaters." He twirled the staff between his two hands in a figure eight motion. "I 'tink I like 'dese better."
He stomped the staff into the ground. Nothing happened. Septa laughed mockingly from above. "Stupid waif," she said. "You think a torman can make the ground shake like a Gartune? That staff is useless in your hands."
"Not entirely useless," said Miles. He waived the eüroc in front of Septa's face. The blade came inches from cutting her. Septa's violet eyes glared down at the waif.
"Do that again and it will be the last thing you do."
"Again wit' 'da threats from someone hangin' upside-down," chuckled Miles. Then his face turned serious.
"'Ave ya figured out who I am, yet?" he asked.
"You're a dirty little waif that runs a dirty little bar in a dirty little town."
"Aye," replied Miles. "It just so happens dat I 'ave a brotha who is a dirty little waif dat runs a dirty little bar in a dirty little town not far from 'ere."
"Why am I not surprised," said Septa. "I'm guessing your whole family runs a string of dirty little bars all over these woods."
"Nah, just da one," replied Miles. "'An' he don't run dat one no more."
"On account of him drinking all of his profits?" said Septa.
"On 'count of you choppin' his 'ead off!" screamed Miles. As he said this, he swung the eüroc violently at Septa. But he was not toying with her this time. This swing had but one purpose – to avenge his brother's death.
Septa was ready for the attack. She quickly raised her head to avoid the blade, then spun around in the air and grabbed the eüroc as it sliced through her hanging hair. Jet-black hair fell onto Miles' upturned face. Septa let out a yell as she hacked through the rope that was suspending her, flipping through the air and landing on her feet in one fell swoop. Miles stumbled backwards in shock. The turn of events had taken only seconds.
"I told you if you tried that again, it would be the last thing you did," said Septa as she strode menacingly toward the waif. "Do you know what the difference is between me and you, waif?"
Miles did not answer, so Septa did for him.
"I do not lie."
Moonlight reflected off of metal for an instant as Septa's eüroc sliced through the night air. A second later, Miles' lifeless eyes were staring up at her from the ground. His body was three feet away.
"Ah, now I see the family resemblance," said Septa as she used one of Miles' pant legs to wipe the blood off her eüroc.
Chapter Nineteen: Revenge
It is not easy to traverse a forest with a bag over your head, as Damnar and Damina were quickly finding out. Without any direction or word of guidance, the twins stumbled ahead of their captors through the dense maze of trees. If they stopped, they received a stern “keep moving!” and a prod in the back with a stick. They mumbled to themselves under their hoods, but not loud enough to elicit any further reprimands from their Reytana guards. And so, the bound twins trudged through the forest, hitting tree after tree and tripping over root after root; not knowing where they were going or when they would get there.
Belkore fared slightly better. He, too, struck many a tree and bush, but he insisted on plowing through them in a forceful straight line rather than tentatively trying to avoid them like the twins. He scraped off tree bark with a loud grunt; stubbed his toes over and over again, but he did not let that hinder his pace. It was as if the forest was his enemy now and he was battling every combatant that got in his way. The only time Belkore had to stop was when he finally hit a tree squarely in the face and was unable to scrape off of its side. Instead, he took two wobbly steps backward, lowered his head and then kicked the base of the massive tree as hard as he could, emitting a yowl that sounded more animal than man. A swift prod in the back and a “keep moving!” set Belkore walking forward again.
"You'll have to excuse him," said Xander as he plodded forward in the middle of the group. "You know how they say when some people lose one sense, their others are enhanced to compensate? Well I'm afraid it's the opposite with Belkore." Belkore grunted then hit another tree.
"Always with the jokes," replied Loras. "Doesn't your mouth ever take a break?"
"Is that you, Loras?" asked Xander. "I'm sorry but I can't hear too well with this bag over my head. Perhaps you can come over and remove it so we can have a proper conversation."
"How stupid do you think I am?" said Loras.
"I'm assuming that was rhetorical?" replied Xander.
Loras started to turn towards Xander's direction but Tinko held him back. "He's just trying to get under your skin," said Tinko. "And you're letting him."
Loras scowled at Xander, who, of course, could not see him. Then he fell back in line with his companions. They all had to wait a second for Damnar and Damina to gather themselves after a particularly knobby tree root claimed both of their ankles.
"Cheer up, Loras," Xander continued. "You should be happy. Things could have gone much worse for you back there. Learn to enjoy the upper hand. You will soon find that it doesn't last for very long."
"If yer referrin' to yer sista, I'm 'fraid I 'ave some bad news for ya," said a winded Declin as he emerged from the trees behind the group.
"How did it go?" asked Gracien.
"'Bout as ya thought it would," replied Declin. "She showed up not long after yous all left. Went straight fer Miles, and yous shoulda seen da face dat he put on. Oooh boy! He had 'er sold from da moment she entered da bar. Led 'er straight out to our little trap, he did."
"So it's done," said Gracien.
"Ya, by now it oughta be."
"What do you mean it oughta be?" said Gracien.
"Well I left Miles to 'ave a bit o' fun wit 'er. After all
, he had some compersation to collect for 'is brotha."
"You left him alone with her?" Gracien stopped walking and looked directly at the waif. Xander began to laugh underneath his hood.
"I have bad news for you my little gimpy friend," said Xander. "That bartender is dead. And soon, you will be too, seeing as how you've led her straight to us."
"You were supposed to take care of her before you returned!" said Gracien who was whispering now but in an angry tone.
"Relax, you giant pipkin," said Declin. "When I left 'er she was swingin' from a tree and Miles 'ad 'er weapon in 'is 'ands."
"Then those hands are probably no longer attached to his body," quipped Xander.
"Quiet!" whispered Gracien. "Everyone, get down and be still!" He motioned with his arms for everyone to get low. Damnar, Damina and Belkore were abruptly pulled to the ground. Nobody made a sound. Gracien listened intently as he scanned the forest but all he could hear were the nimbers and pipkins chatting away in the trees.
"If she doesn't want you to hear her, you won't hear her," said Xander. Nobody moved. Everyone looked at Gracien to see what their next move should be.
"We're almost to The Hole," whispered one of the Reytana to Gracien. "Why don't we just make a run for it? It's not like she's going to attack the entire base by herself."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Xander.
"No," replied Gracien. "We cannot reveal the location of the base. If she's out there, she's probably following us right now, hoping that we lead her to our hideout. No... we have to find her. And we have to find her now."
"But I told ya—" started Declin but he was cut off.
"If she's dead then we have nothing to worry about," said Gracien. "But we have to assume she's still alive. I want you to go back to where you left Miles and find out for sure."
Declin frowned but acquiesced. "If dats what its gonna take to quiet your little pipkin 'eart, den so be it." He turned and set back out toward the direction he had come from. Gracien shouted after him.
"Be careful, Declin. She's not like these ones."
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