Drowning at Dusk Ch. 05

"The same serpents I used to capture you will come in handy," Xelari said, tapping the little pouch upon her side which hid her runestone. "I'll drop them cold, leave them alive, and then we can deal with Patrigan."

"Who's the woman?" Dazyar asked. "She's certainly not dressed for this sort of event."

"She wasn't at my meeting with him," I said. "A daughter, perhaps? Or an aide?"

"Whoever she is, the serpents will deal with her, too."

We were already taking significant risks as it was, and now we had to worry about that woman and the guards, not to mention any other potential guests in the same box. Riskier still would be an attempt on Patrigan at his heavily-guarded home or the council tower, though.

We'd make do, one way or another.

"Remember," Dazyar said. "Wait until the sixth scene of the first act. That will be the loudest and most chaotic part. All eyes will be on the stage, and the noise should mask your efforts."

I nodded, and we headed over to the servants' entrance.

Working as a bouncer down in the lower-class bar proved to be dreadfully boring work. All of the theater's guests were on their best behavior, dutifully paying for their overpriced drinks without complaint, and giving me and the barkeeps no trouble at all. Before long, most of the guests took to their seats, and through the ancient stone walls came the muffled echoes of the orchestra, and great booming sounds unleashed by enchanters and illusionists to accentuate the drama occurring on stage.

I could practically hear Dazyar groaning and grumbling about the needless spectacle of it all. I tapped my foot, keeping an eye on the other patrons, and waiting for my cue. Dazyar had said that a particularly horn-heavy musical ensemble would be a sign that the sixth scene was about to start. Once the horns kicked in, Xelari would find her way to me, and together we'd move to the box.

"You all right there?" the barkeep asked. "Been a dull evening, no need to be so tense."

"Dull eveningfor now," I said, playing my part as a dutiful bouncer quite well. "I'm worried about the third act, when every guest rushes down here for their last chance at drinks."

The echoes of shrieking horns wafted down the halls.

Our cue.

Less than a minute later, Xelari strode down the hall, carrying a tray of empty drinks, an exasperated look on her face. No doubt she'd had a much more irritating evening thus far than I had.

"There's trouble at the second floor bar," she said to the barkeep. "Someone snuck in his own liquor, got drunk, and picked a fight. They need extra hands to deal with the mess."

"Go," the barkeep said with a nod at me. "Enjoy the excitement."

I nodded and rushed up to the second floor at Xelari's side, right up to the perfectly calm and orderly bar.

"I was almost late," Xelari muttered under her breath after collecting a few more drinks from the bar. "There was the most delicious-looking tempest elf woman making eyes at me, and I allowed myself to be distracted. You should have seen what she was wearing...practically nothing at all."

I snickered.

"Maybe we can track her down for a bit of fun once this is done. But for now...the mission."

We moved to the next floor, with Xelari's tray of drinks serving as a guarantee of passage through the cordon of guards and servants.

That floor held the private boxes, and thankfully the hallways were mostly deserted. An occasional servant passed, bearing drinks or snacks. Hired guards stood watch at the doorways at either end of the hall.

Two of the larger private boxes had their own guards, and I tensed as we walked past a scowling orc. Nobody paid us any mind, and as we rounded the corner to approach Patrigan's box, I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing no more guards out in the hall.

Of course, that meant Patrigan's guards were inside the box with him.

"Are you sure those serpents will be able to take down all four of them?" I asked.

"Two for certain. Three...likely. Four? No. Which means you'll need to handle Patrigan."

"Prioritize the two guards," I said. "Make sure they go down, and go down hard. Don't worry about that young woman. Once I grab Patrigan, I'll force her to be quiet."

We approached the box; I gripped the doorknob, and Xelari withdrew her runestone.

"Drink order," she called out sweetly.

Footsteps shuffled on the other sound of the door, which were soon drowned out by a tumult of horns, shouting, and draconic roars from the stage.

"We didn't order any drinks," the gruff voice said.

The door cracked open from the other side.

I slammed my shoulder into it, sending the door crashing into the hired guard's face. He staggered back, his growl of pain masked by another roar from the stage.

Chaos erupted within the private box. Patrigan, who was seated next to the young woman with scrolls and papers spread out in front of them, whirled to face us. The young woman squeaked with fright and dove to the floor, while the uninjured guard pushed himself from the wall and went for his sword.

On the stage, a dozen actors in glittering armor engaged in a ridiculous but well-choregraphed duel, while illusory dragons writhed and clashed in the air above.

The perfect distraction. With such a great spectacle unfolding, nobody would notice the bedlam within the shadowy private box.

Ghostly serpents writhed from Xelari's runestone, and darted forth to bite the guards. As they cursed and collapsed, I rushed into the room. Xelari shut the door behind us and I leapt for Patrigan. In one smooth movement I grabbed him by the back of his neck, shoved his face onto the scroll-covered table, and freed a hidden knife from my boot.

By the time Xelari had grabbed napkins to shove into the mouths of the paralyzed guards, I'd pressed my knife to the back of Patrigan's neck.

"Quiet," I hissed at the whimpering young woman, grateful for the tumult down on the stage below.

Xelari tore the belt from a guard's waist, and used it to bind the young woman's hands before shoving a napkin in her mouth as an improvised gag.

"What is the meaning of this?" Patrigan hissed, possessing enough sense to keep his voice low.

That meant he knew the stakes, and that I wouldn't hesitate to shove that steel into his spine.

"We need to talk."

"Wait...I know that voice. You're...you're the one we hired to kill that Wildwood bandit."

Given how long it had been and the lengths I'd gone to disguise myself during our meeting, I was impressed with his perception, especially with the knife to the back of his neck.

"One and the same. And that's why I'm here."

I had to raise my voice a bit to be heard over a boisterous noise coming from the stage, as an actor delivered an epic tirade against the tyranny of a dragon-king.

"Why'd you send me after the Wildwood bandit? Where'd you get the tip?"

"You're mad. You were offered a fortune to bring me-"

"I'm here for questions, not for your insults, steward." I tapped the knife against his ear. "I can make more threats to you, or I can threaten that pretty young thing over there, instead. Who is she, by the way? Your daughter?"

"My niece and my apprentice," he sputtered. "Studying to be my replacement. Please, do her no harm."

"Let's ensure she has a long career of dedicated service to the city, then." I scraped the knife through his bushy moustache, and his niece gave a muffled moan of fear against the gag. "Tell me: where'd you learn of Xelari, the Wildwood bandit?"

"A tip from a city watch captain who arrested some smugglers."

"Nonsense," Xelari hissed. "I dealt with no smugglers in this city."

He craned his head around, regarded her, and his eyes widened.

"Voids below. Is that her?" He turned his terrified gaze back to me. "You must be the absolute worst cutthroat I've ever hired, teaming up with your target like that."

"Don't concern yourself with my unusual alliances," I said, reminding him of the knife once again with a gentle tap beneath his eye. "The watch captain: who is he?"

"Captain Synrik Falkost."

I glanced at Xelari; judging by the confused frown on her face, it wasn't a name she recognized.

"How about another name? Reynard Devalin."

"I know nobody by that name."

The bound young woman squeaked and writhed.

"Something to say?" I asked, then gave a nod at Xelari to remove the gag. "Keep your voice low, though, lest true violence occur alongside all that theatrical warfare."

Once the gag was removed, the young woman took a deep breath, but thankfully kept her voice quiet enough to just barely be heard over the tumult on the stage.

"Uncle, I know that name. After the documents and seals were stolen from your estate, I checked with the applicable guilds to see if any deeds or transfers occurred using those documents. This morning, I confirmed with the banking guild that a property transfer document was affixed with your seal, to a man named Reynard Devalin. The transaction didn't go through, as the clerk noticed that it was unusual, and set it aside for further review."

I scowled, my mind sifting through the pieces.

Captain Synrik Falkost, giving a convenient tip about a bandit in the Wildwood. A burglary at Patrigan's estate, with legal documents among the lost items. Similar documents found in a necromancer's possessions, making it look as if Patrigan had hired Reynard. I glanced over at the paralyzed guards; I found it curious that he'd used private mercenaries instead of members of the city watch.

Did Patrigan himself already suspect something?

"Someone's trying to set you up," I said. "Those stolen documents were found with Reynard Devalin, the necromancer responsible for the rise in cryptwolf attacks in the countryside."

His eyes bulged.

"Gods above, I had nothing to do with that! Yes, yes, I dispatched an assassin after who I thought was a bandit, but-"

"Why use me instead of the city watch?" I asked.

"Corruption has always been a plague upon the watch. The past few smugglers and bandits I've ordered to be apprehended have escaped, so I was worried someone was passing along tips to such criminals. I thus had to act outside of official channels. The city is in the middle of negotiating a new trade agreement with Mrenhold, which would mean increased trade near the Wildwood. I didn't want bandit raids disrupting the newly-negotiated routes. I was desperate to end any potential bandit threat to the negotiations. I acted quickly, rashly."

"You made the right decision based on the information available to you at the time," Xelari said coldly. "But I think we need a word with Captain Synrik."

Patrigan gulped, then glanced over at his paralyzed guards.

"They're alive, aren't they?"

The men demonstrated with rapid blinks, and Patrigan sighed with relief.

"Thank the gods. I...I think we can help each other."

"I was just about to say the same," said Xelari, her voice still ice-cold despite the potential alliance between us and the steward.

As a show of good faith, I sat down in an empty chair, and the steward slowly righted himself.

"And Rowela?" he asked, glancing to the terrified young woman.

"Not quite," Xelari said, tapping her runestone to the young woman's neck. "We're not friends yet."

"All right, all right," he said, raising his hands. "Just don't hurt her. It's abundantly clear that Synrik-or someone pulling his strings-wanted to frame me for this. Although I can think of a hundred simpler ways for him to attempt it."

I'd had the same though. Though if Synrik was affiliated with necromancers, he might have undertaken that whole scheme to kill a member of the Deathless, and destabilize the city as well. Even if I'd succeeded in killing Xelari, the trail could have led back to Patrigan, resulting in the shadowy order declaring bloody vengeance against Patrigan or even Heroth. Such a fight, coupled with the cryptwolf attacks and the strangling of trade, could have plunged the city into chaos.

But to what end?

Only Synrik held the answers.

"Where's the captain?"

"Last I heard, he was undertaking an investigation on Pyrewatch. Apparently some smugglers were using it as a base for their contraband. If I could help more, I would," said Patrigan. "But if the city watch is compromised enough by the likes of Syrnik, I really don't know who else I can trust."

I hadn't exactly expected him to offer us an army, anyway. We were still on our own.

"What's Pyrewatch?" Xelari asked.

"An island off the coast," I said, my blood running cold as I realized why Synrik might have had an interest in the place. "A cemetery island. Where the city used to bury its nobles and elites, during the ages of kings."

Xelari growled out a foul curse.

"We need to go. Now."

"My men?" Patrigan asked, looking to the blinking, limp mercenaries.

"The spell will wear off in a few minutes," Xelari said, stepping over them. She paused at the doorway, and affixed the steward with a steely glare. "If word of our meeting gets out, we will return for a second 'conversation.' One that will end far less pleasantly than this one. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Rowela squeaked. "We understand."

"All that I ask is that you send me proof of his corruption," said Patrigan. "Especially if other officers are involved."

Xelari wrinkled her nose at that, and stormed out into the hall. I followed, quietly shutting the door behind us. As we walked, I continually glanced over my shoulder to ensure Patrigan didn't send his vengeful guards after us.

Our pace quickened as we reached the staircase, and we ignored the shout of a barkeep calling for Xelari to pick up another order. The music reached a rousing crescendo, and as thunderous applause rippled through the theater at the spectacular climax of the first act, we slipped back out the servants' entrance and into the night.

"To the docks," Xelari said, marching onto the street without a spare glance back at me.

"What?" I scoffed. "We need Dazyar and-"

"I am certain we can find a boat to convey us to this Pyrewatch island tonight."

"The two of us. Alone. Against gods know how many corrupt watch officers, not to mention all the undead that could be conjured from those cemeteries."

She stopped in her tracks and affixed me with a stare that chilled me to the bone. In that moment, she looked at me with the same iciness she'd given Patrigan.

"Synrik tried to have me killed. He could have compromised a critical search for relics necessary for the crusade of the Deathless. He very nearly caused the Deathless to wage war on Heroth himself. He cannot be allowed to draw breath for a moment longer."

"We still don't know all the facts. Synrik could be just another pawn. And if he is in fact some nefarious necromancer, we'll need more than just the two of us. We'd at least need Dazyar. And we'd need a ship with a decent, capable crew, not some drunken fisherman with a rickety canoe. Probably some mercenaries, too."

Her lips curled into a sneer, though it didn't seem directed at me, and more at this mysterious watch captain. I stepped closer, my hands spread to the side.

"Do you know why I failed in my mission, Xelari?"

"I do not see the relevance."

I ignored the rebuke and took yet another step.

"Because I rushed it. I could have been smart, slow, patient. Could have lingered outside of your camp for a few hours more, until you'd gone to sleep, and then made my move. You wouldn't have sensed the deployment of my shadow-rune, wouldn't have set your little trap. I'd have done my job, collected your blood on my knife, and slinked back into the darkness and secured my fortune from Patrigan. Recklessness led to my defeat and capture."

"You almost sound as if you regret the failure."

I blinked. That hadn't been my point at all. Her cold words did make me question if I 'regretted' it, though. Was I glad to have failed, to have nearly died in an escape attempt, and to have been tortured and tormented?

Not precisely. But the path it had led me to...

"I...I like this path that I'm on, Xelari. And that's exactly why I don't want to rush into Pyrewatch and get ourselves killed."

Her gaze softened.

"We wait, then. We'll link up with Dazyar once the show is done, share what we know, and see about hiring mercenaries and a ship come morning. I would still like a look at this Pyrewatch, though. I want to lay eyes on Synrik's eventual grave."

With that settled, we wandered down towards the docks, the salty breeze wafting over the cobblestone streets. It was mostly quiet by the time we arrived, save for a single ship being unloaded. Only a few taverns were still open; muffled, drunken singing spilled from rickety doors and broken windows.

In silence we wandered along the boardwalk, and for a moment I gazed at the pier where I'd first arrived in Arkostead years ago, fleeing another life half a world away. That had been another shift in my path, another pivotal moment that had altered the course of my life.

"I'm glad it's not Heroth," Xelari said after a time. "That would have been far more difficult. And far more complicating for the Deathless. A Lord-Protector in league with necromancers would be one of the greatest threats I've ever faced."

She shuddered.

"I'm glad, too. You'd have spent more time looking over your shoulder than actually hunting relics, even if we'd somehow managed to kill him."

I leaned against the wooden railing that overlooked the rocky beach, and gazed down at the glowing blue crabs that skittered between the rocks.

In the distance, barely visible against the moonlit sea, was a cluster of rocky islands. Among them was Pyrewatch, upon which waited the mysterious watch captain who had set this whole debacle in motion.

Synrik, in the end, was responsible for sending me to Xelari. A decision that had caused me to stumble into a hidden crusade, into the arms of the most enjoyable and baffling lover I'd ever had.

I'd have to kill him, of course, but I might just thank him if I got the chance.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm thinking of thanking Synrik as he bleeds out at my feet. A nasty mess he's got me in but..." I shrugged. "I've made the most of it."

The comfortable silence embraced us both. We lingered there for minutes and minutes, staring out at the glowing crabs, the churning sea, the glittering moons, the sparkling stars. Clouds churned against the distant horizon: not far enough away to be of concern for the moment, but close enough for me to see the occasional flash of lightning.

My smile returned, and my mind drifted to the metaphor of Xelari and I as a storm. Of the churning irritation, the desire, the feverish lust, the tender moments of connection...

"Another mysterious smile," she said, then her gaze followed mine. "Ah. I see."

She let out a sigh, like that of a weary beast laying down for a much-needed rest.

"I think it's time."

"For?"

Xelari withdrew her runestone, and pressed it over my thigh, in the exact spot where she'd marked with that chain-rune. I tensed, gritted my teeth.

Warmth rushed into my thigh, a stark contrast to the horrific pain that had occurred when she'd first marked me. It was the tender warmth of a good drink, the gentle heat of a cookfire on a winter's night. Sweat beaded on my brow as the heat intensified, flooding through my entire body.

After a minute the heat fled back through the rune, and I slumped against the railing, breathing heavily. I felt no different once the heat had faded: no great weight disappeared from my shoulders, no great hidden pain fled my body. I realized that I'd very nearly forgotten about the chain-rune until she'd removed it.

"I probably should have done that some time ago," Xelari said.

"Maybe should have kept it for a bit longer. Could have been useful, if something went wrong and you needed to find me."