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Myst and Tair kept close to the shadows, away from the gas lamps that seemed to burn the night away from the muddy streets of Valdine. Tair’Lianne took the lead, while Myst walked steadily behind, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. Tair had chastised her at one point for looking too much and giving them away as a wanted pair, but as they walked on, they both realized no one cared what they looked like or what they were doing. Everyone on the street seemed to be more interested in the revelry going on around them: Dancers and musicians performed for those who paused to watch, while hawkers and whores paraded their goods to men and women alike.
Myst scanned the crowd for any type of city guard or clansman. She had seen a few with the blue tabard of the Sebek Clan, but nothing yet of Celvette. Each clan controlled a level of Valdine, the city being built on a steep hill that rose from the Greywater Sea and the Tebis’non River; the higher the level, the more prominent the clan. This hierarchy also defined the class of living for each tier - the lower the level, the poorer its people. Myst and Tair, having little money when they arrived in Valdine, had purchased lodging at a rat’s nest of an inn that was on the lowest level. They would have to walk down four tiers of Valdine to reach their belongings and leave the city before they were caught and hanged.
Luckily, there was a single, wide avenue made of river stone that connected all the tiers of Valdine. Called the ‘River’s Way’, the street dropped quickly towards the sloshing waters of the Greywater Sea. Myst followed Tair as she maneuvered through the crowd down the street.
“How much did we lose?” Tair said, keeping her eyes forward.
“Let’s just say that it is a good thing we are leaving Valdine tonight,” Myst grumbled. “We can no longer afford the luxuries of the Rivermud Inn.”
Tair stopped, whirling to face Myst. “Do you mean to say we have nothing left?”
“We have four silvers sitting at the inn,” Myst replied. “I had nearly twelve gold crowns at that game - don’t give me that look, Tair’Lianne. You were the one who jumped on the table and scattered all of our money across the hall.”
“Four silvers won’t get us very far,” said Tair with an apologetic tone.
“We can find a place in Tabaan. Perhaps we can work for enough silver to get us home.”
Tair whirled around to face Myst with a grim countenance. “I am not going home,” she said with a deliberate slowness. “I don’t care if I sleep under bushes during the winter. I am not going back there.”
Myst set her jaw, knowing the tirade that was to follow. She had not meant to mention home to Tair. Joram’s Bend was a moderate-sized village named after the sharp bend the Tebis’non River curved from the west to the north. The village was built on the high ridge overlooking the flood plains that surrounded it, keeping the population safe from the heavy spring rains, but allowing full use of the fertile lands for farming. The village made quite a profit with their crops, sending them to the capital city of Kaalé via the river. Myst’s own family was one of the wealthier farms in Joram’s Bend.
And Tair hated her for it.
Tair had been raised by a distant cousin ever since she was in swaddling clothes. She had never known her parents or where she hailed from - and the witch she lived with had no desire to share said information with her. Cousin Tildy (or Cousin Toady as Tair liked to call her) was a bitter old woman who lived alone and did not like the idea of raising a child, but by the laws of her own village, she was forced into caring for the girl. For as long as Myst could remember, Tildy was always berating, punishing, or condemning Tair for anything and everything. The old woman had set it in her mind long ago that Tair’Lianne would amount to nothing but trouble.
Myst was always amazed at how Tair took all of the abuse in stride. As children, she and Tair would run through the market square with nothing but mischief on their minds or they would explore the dark forests that surrounded the village, searching for adventure. As they grew older, Tair tended to stay closer to the square, moving inexorably toward the future that Cousin Toady had predicted. Tair did not like to work and the living that Tildy made as a farm maiden was scant at best, so Tair found an easier way to make money – she stole it.
At first, Tair was able to pick the pockets of the villagers with impunity. She started small, taking copper crowns from those who drank at Baem’s Tavern or from those she “bumped” into at the square. Myst had no idea that Tair was stealing, but she often wondered how the girl paid for the sweets she bought for them to share. It was when she was caught at the age of fourteen – that was when everything began to change. Tildy had thrown her out and Myst’s own parents had announced their issues with the friendship she had with the girl. It was a bad time for Tair – and it was one of the many reasons why she had no love for Joram’s Bend.
“And if you think for one minute that I will step foot in Toady’s house to ask for help, you are crazier than a Magi who’s lost her gemstone.”
“I understand how you feel,” Myst placated her. “But we have two choices: We both go back to the Bend and get money from my Pap, or we work in some backwater village through the winter.”
Tair wrinkled her nose in disgust, obviously not happy with either choice. “I could always get us the money.” Her eyes darted left and right, looking for targets with fat purses.
At that moment a group of four Sebek clansmen marched by, their spear tips gleaming in the gas light lamps. One of them gave the pair a look that was longer than necessary. Myst was sure it was a look of longing rather than searching, but they still had a clansman who wanted them punished. She turned back to Tair, who was studying a wealthy looking couple that walked by in the opposite direction the clansmen were taking.
“No!” Myst whispered harshly. “We are in enough trouble as it is. We don’t need you attracting any more attention from the clans around here – including those run by thieves.” She prodded Tair in the shoulder, moving her forward. “Let us return to our room and collect our things before the red tabards of Celvette find us.”
“Mud sucking sore losers,” Tair muttered as she continued downhill, “calling us cheaters just because they were losing money.”
Tair cursed the Celvette Clan as they walked the length of River’s Way until they reached the muck-strewn streets of tier one. Here the air reeked of garbage, fish, and sour liquor. The very essence of the streets here became seedier than those above it. Gone were the dancers and single merchants with display stands. The whores had doubled and anyone who sold anything did so from the shadows of the alleyways that lined the main road. A number of gas lamps remained unlit, giving the tier an even more menacing appearance. Pools of yellow torchlight gathered in the muck outside of the old buildings, their upper levels leaning against each other like the drunken patrons that dwelled within. The Rivermud Inn was a three-story wood and stone structure that stood over a wide stairway that led down to the docks and the warehouse district. It was in slightly better condition than the other buildings nearby – meaning that its windows were not broken, its stairs were not collapsing, and its roof remained dry – only because it was the first establishment seen by those who disembarked at the harbor, giving the inn a steady flow of business. Tair and Myst chose the inn because it was the cheapest place to stay that offered beds instead of a floor covered in rat droppings.
Myst scanned the muddy street behind them one last time before following Tair into the building. The entry hall of the Rivermud held nothing but a tall wooden desk, its surface chipped and unpolished. A couple of glass lanterns flickered lazily, allowing little light to shine upon the dingy white of the plaster that lined the walls. Two arched doorways, covered with thick black curtains, stood on either side of the women. The muffled sounds of laughter, voices, and music came from their right. The smell of burned venison and ale wafted from the curtains, causing Tair’s stomach to rumble.
“And how does the night fare for thee?”
Myst looked t
o the small, bald man holding a mud-stained mop. The old man was bent, but he held the mop handle like a weapon. He gave the two women a gap-toothed grin, his thick, bushy gray eyebrows flitting up and down in a comical way.
“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, Fettis,” Myst answered. “We’ll be leaving tonight.”
The old man nodded sagely, “Always a good thing to know when to leave Valdine, milady. Old Fettis will be sad to see ye go.”
Tair had already pushed past the left curtain as Myst smiled at the old innkeeper. For the two weeks they had been in Valdine, Fettis had always been there to greet them every morning and every night. The old man sniffed once and then began mopping the stone floor in earnest as Myst stepped through the curtain toward the stairs.
By the time Myst reached their tiny room on the third floor, Tair had her leather knapsack packed and slung over her shoulder. She was wearing her black leather, knee-high boots, black pants, and a blood-red, long-sleeved tunic with a man’s black vest over that. The vest nearly touched the girl’s knees and conveniently covered the various pouches and pockets hidden within.
Myst took two steps to the bed she used and dismissed the roll of lumps underneath the thin quilt that covered it. Sleeping on the ground would be more comfortable than that bed, she thought as she snatched the dark blue cape that lay draped over the wooden footboard. She quickly gathered her other clothes and packed them in a small burlap sack along with a plainly sheathed dagger, and a small wooden box with her gaming dice and playing disks.
“Are we taking the main road south or should we stick to the river?” Tair asked as she watched Myst grab a pair of elbow-length gloves.
“Walking the river will take longer, but it will be less risky than having to walk back through the Celvette tier,” she answered, upending the gloves until the clink of four silver crowns fell into her hands. Myst tugged the brown leather gloves on and then pulled the cloak across her shoulders, being careful to adjust the hilt of her sword through a carefully sewn slit in the fabric. Shouldering her pack, Myst surveyed the room one last time before nodding to Tair.
It was time to leave Valdine.
Making their way down the rickety stairs, Tair took the lead and stepped through the black curtain, intent on just marching through the front door without having to stop and chat with the old innkeeper. The little man, however, was standing before the door, his hands outstretched towards the young women.
“Mustn’t go out that way, me ladies,” he whispered fiercely. “Celvette be out there waitin’ on ye’. Go out back through the kitchen.”
Tair eyed the man suspiciously, but Myst only thanked him, walking through the door beyond the inn desk. A narrow, shadowy hall led to an archway that marked the entrance to the kitchen. Traipsing quickly through the steam and smoke filled room, Tair and Myst found the small wooden door leading out into the night. They moved quickly and quietly, shutting the door behind them.
The back of the Rivermud was extremely dark, the only light coming from the windows above and the kitchen. Another building leaned close to the inn, its lightless windows peering at them like the empty sockets of a skull.
Myst and Tair had barely taken three steps into the alley leading to the main street when they heard steel grind upon steel. Myst’s pack fell to the mud as she retrieved her sword. Tair was at her back, both daggers in her hands.
“Leaving so soon, are we?” spoke a familiar voice. “Sneaking away in the night as a cheater would.”
Five figures emerged from the alley, dark shapes flowing from the inky blackness, each one holding a sword, each one wearing a maroon tabard bearing the mark of the Celvette Clan. The lead figure stepped into the yellow light that spewed from the kitchen window, revealing the thin, grinning face of the clansman from the River’s Luck. “I guessed you would try running out the back. Now lay your weapons down and come with us.”
Myst felt Tair’s body tighten, a sign that Tair was not going without a fight. “We die here or we die in a noose,” Myst said firmly. “At least this way, we get to take some of you with us.”
The clansman’s smile disappeared as he seemed to recall the fighting prowess the women showed at the gambling hall. He sidestepped to the right and motioned for the four guardsmen to step forward. “Take them,” he ordered.
The four guardsmen, however, also seemed to remember the damage inflicted by the women and made no move to step forward. Each one waited to see what the other would do.
Myst could feel the sweat from her hands saturating her gloves. She had been in enough sword fights to stem the shaking that usually comes with the adrenaline rush, but she could never stop the sweating. She felt Tair at her side, could almost see the confidence in the girl’s stance.
“Come on now,” she said with a mocking lilt in her innocent voice. “Do you mean to say you big, strong men are afraid of two girls?”
Myst wanted to slap Tair at that moment. The men were hesitant, perhaps borderline on disobeying orders to attack women. However, if Tair insulted their manhood just enough, it could push them to attack anyway.
“Do as you are ordered!” the clansman yelled. “These women have insulted the clan of Celvette, humiliated an officer of that clan, and tried to cheat the clan out of its money! If they do not come with us, then kill the-aaah!”
The clan officer’s speech came to a gurgling halt as Tair’s dagger buried itself deep into his throat. He let out one last gasp of surprise and pain and collapsed lifelessly into the muddy street, his body making a squishing noise in the muck. The four guardsmen stepped back, eyeing their captain and then the two women. Myst grit her teeth and turned to Tair, giving her a hateful glare. “You just killed a clansman captain,” she growled. “We will surely hang for this now.”
One of guardsmen raised his sword high in a preemptive manner, but halted any movement when a scream came from behind them. Myst looked down the alley, just as everyone else did, expecting to find a citizen staring at Tair’s murderous action. Myst could spot a number of silhouettes running past what little gas light there was on the street. More screams shattered the night as an orange light, nearly as bright as the sun, burned away the darkness of the alley.
The guardsmen lowered their weapons and edged away from Tair and Myst. The farther they moved away from the pair, the faster they went. Soon they were gone, their figures merging with the silhouettes running past the alley mouth.
“That was lucky,” Tair said cheerily as she yanked her dagger from the unmoving body before her.
Myst gave her a reproachful glance as more screams echoed along the stone and wood alley. The screams were not all women and another sudden flare of yellow-orange light caused Myst to take a step back. “This does not bode well for us,” she said fearfully. As if to amplify her words, a thudding boom shook the inn and the building behind it.
“From the sound of it, it doesn’t bode well for anyone,” said Tair with a cautious look. The dark-haired pick-pocket slunk low, crouching to avoid being seen as she crept toward the mouth of the alley. Myst retrieved her pack and followed a few steps behind, not feeling as anxious as Tair to see what was causing such chaos.
The alley opened onto the main thoroughfare that led up to each tier. The Tebis’non flowed beyond a low stone wall and a twenty foot drop. The people of the first tier of Valdine were running away from the warehouse and harbor district. They were mad with fright – pushing, pulling, scratching, and stepping over anyone in their way. The night sky was now aglow with the red, orange, and yellow of a city on fire.
Tair stepped away from the false security of the alley to see what was happening around them. Looking down the River’s Way to the north, she saw fire dancing above the dozens of warehouses that lined the waters of the harbor. Every ship that had been sitting at port or lazily anchored in the small bay was now in flames. Myst walked behind Tair just in time to see a huge ball of red fire arc over the stone wall separating the harbor from the main town. It smashed into the second fl
oor of the Rivermud, wreathing the top portion of the building. More screams came from the stairs leading down to the harbor.
A group of riverboat swabs was running full tilt up the stairs. With a quick yank, Myst grabbed one of the passing shipmen and slammed him hard against the stone wall of the alley. The man was small and wiry, yet he struggled against Myst as if she were a night shadow that had come to claim his soul.
“What is happening at the harbor?” Myst shouted to him.
Her voice penetrated the panic that filled the river swab’s eyes. His struggles ceased and he cast furtive glances past her shoulder. “Wolves,” he said with a moaning cry. “Werewolves…throwing fire…setting our boats aflame,” his voice rose in pitch as the man recalled the terror at the harbor. “By the Seven Houses, they set the very water on fire!”
The man’s fear gave him strength enough to push Myst away from him. He ran from the alley, running up the main street, merging with the mass exodus of Valdine citizens up and away from the harbor.
“Werewolves…?” wondered Tair aloud as she crept three steps away from the alley. “Werewolves belong in children’s tales.”
Myst could hear Tair’s desire to investigate, her curiosity once again replacing her sense of sound judgment and caution. “Werewolves do not use magic,” she said to Tair.
“What magic? Since when did you become an expert on Magic?”
A sudden burst of fire tore past Tair, bathing her in a crimson glow. The ball of fire seared the moisture from the ground, burned the air from their lungs. Both women flung themselves upon the ground as the fire soared upward, easily reaching the line of buildings on the second tier.
“Red fire,” breathed Tair as she stood slowly. “Yeah, magic, I see what you mean.” She regained her footing, watching in awe as the flame storm began purging the second and third levels of Valdine.
Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1) Page 3