Golden Rook Ch. 01-07

That drew a laugh from him and Vezar looked baffled.

"No, she was with the runners you so enviously watched. It's customary to pay something when commissioning the job, is it not?" Hevtos' eyes widened as she dove around the table and knelt next to his seat with her hands on his arm.

"Uncle, when you turn me loose to get your jewels there's going to be lying, sneaking, and all manner of behavior that you frown on. But for what you're paying, you need to know my loyalty is above question."

"Vezar, is that true?" Hevtos looked at the half-dragon, a creature he knew could be trusted. Reuniting her with her other half would make her partly mortal again and death would send her back to him whether she wished it or not.

"More loyal than any of Imos' priests is how she was described by Odos, Divinity. For that I can vouch, even if I had not spent the last hours with my hands in her threads."

"Are you tightly woven into her threads?"

"More tightly than I have ever been, Divinity. I have been given her permission to bind her with them." Vezar bowed low.

"Why haven't you eased her desperation to escape?" He studied the bowing half-dragon. "It would make you both happier."

"My Syreilla is perfect as she is. I would not change the one creature who loves me as I am. Not unless she asked me to."

"I've never been the stay in the mine type, Uncle. But I always come back." Her face was earnest.

"I will hold you to that, my Golden Rook." He allowed himself a faint smile at the taste of the words. "Syreilla Hammersworn, come and kneel." The half-elf shade seemed hesitant. "The living half wishes to be whole and the dead wishes to be returned to her punishment?"

"I would imagine the dead half of me is still loyal to her husband and doesn't relish the thought of the, um, more elvish arrangement I have with Vezar." The blush on the Rook's face made him curious.

"Elvish?"

"She referred to them as kin-fuckers, Divinity."

"Beardless kin-fuckers," the shade offered. "I don't-I don't remember much, but he isn't the one I'm waiting for."

"Your life ended, your path was walked. The dwarf will go to his gods, you are mine." Hevtos lifted his hand and she came to stand silently behind the kneeling Rook. Moving Syreilla's hands to his thigh, he pulled the shade to kneeling inside of her connecting them both at the chest. The shade would cease her struggling and they would merge more fully with time. The Rook shuddered and dropped her head onto his thigh as they were joined together.

"Now, my Golden Rook, if anything you require is not here it can be fetched for you and I will grant you the right to use the door as Vezar does as an aid to you. Bring me the jewels I require."

"Yes, Uncle." She remained with her eyes pressed to his leg for a moment before lifting her head enough to kiss the back of his hand. "I won't disappoint you."

*Three*

Roughing out plans with Vezar, Syr spoke with the priests and builders took a few years. Some of the temples seemed straightforward enough. Vezar knew a great deal about the elvish gods and since she was a half-elf she probably wouldn't need an invitation, but the warning was appreciated. However, he had nothing to say about the dwarves. She had nothing on the dwarvish temples and little on their gods from her own time in the mines, her other half knew their names but not much more. Even Hevtos had little to say about them, except the only place to learn was in a dwarf mine. Her disinterest in religion wasn't serving her well.

The thieves gave her the names of people to meet and the places to meet them. There was at least one other half-elf thief that had started to make a name for himself since she followed Vezar down to the Underworld. A man named Riellion Fethurin, who went by the name of Kwes. He couldn't be approached at the usual places, only hired through a particular brothel in Withia. Alvesh Conon suggested she use his name when trying to ask for the right room.

A round of lost soul gathering gave her the opening she needed to take her leave. She left Vezar before he reached the mouth, slipping away wordlessly. It was easier that way. Her goodbyes had been said thoroughly the night before.

First things first. Money. Borrowing a shovel from a farm in walking distance from Withia, she dug up a small chest of her own in Vreya. It would be enough to get her into the brothel and to interest Kwes as well as get her supplies. She'd been told where to go to find toolmakers, but she had to hunt for a clothier that wasn't picky about what their clientele came in looking like. The one she'd been directed to had since closed, one of the hazards of taking a few years to plan with those who'd died some years before.

"What is it you're looking for?" A voice asked curiously as she observed a dress shop.

Turning to glance at the source she found herself face to face with a half-elf of means. "I'm looking for something I haven't had to look for in a long while." Syr shrugged her shoulders.

"I see. You might consider asking directions at The Proud Pearl." As he mentioned the name he studied her face for a reaction and she nodded. If he wasn't a thief he recognized her as one, a dangerous thing.

"I'm planning to go there eventually, but Master Odos always said to be prepared before you walk into a den of iniquity."

Recognition lit his eyes before he got control of his face, inclining his head, "You never know what kind of welcome you'll receive. I've heard the same. He must have been a wise man."

"He knew how to turn a phrase when he was so inclined." She grinned as the man glanced back at her to see if she was teasing. "Is he still drinking mead?"

"I've never known him to drink anything else." The man looked almost mesmerized. "May I ask your name?"

"If I may ask yours, of course." Syr laughed as he winced. "He always called me his little rook, Rook is a good enough name for now."

"He called me a magpie." His eyes sparkled as he straightened his fine coat.

"They do like things that shine." She nodded trying to suppress her smile.

"What brings you here, Rook?" The Magpie gestured for her to walk with him.

Sucking air through her teeth she hedged her answer, "Family trouble. I spent some time working for my uncle. He's... a difficult man and I decided to try my luck elsewhere. That means-"

"Falling back into old habits." Magpie glanced at her with a smile. "You're not worried you're a little rusty?"

"I'm planning to see what mischief I can get into, and out of, on my own before I try to find paying work." She shrugged again. "I thought I'd go back to basics and start with a temple."

The Magpie began to cough before clearing his throat, "Ambitious." He looked at her speculatively, "You might consider a house first."

"You have someone in mind?" Rook tilted her head.

"Tirnel Acharnion. He-"

She burst into laughter and tried to turn it into coughing as Magpie frowned at her. "Sorry, has he rebuilt the house? I thought at least part of it burned the last time I," she corrected herself, "heard about someone robbing it." Hammersworn's memories bubbled up, a little hazy but still there.

He studied her face. "Did you hear about the infant that was there at the time?"

"No. I was occupied with other things when I was hearing about it."

"I was the infant. The robber was my sister, half-sister. Tirnel had taken something from the dwarf clan she had married into and she came to fetch it back."

"How did you end up with Master Odos? I would have expected Tirnel to-"

"I ran away at the age of fifty-three after hearing Tirnel rant about Syreilla Acharnion for most of my life. Becoming what she became was my greatest desire." He looked so serious she couldn't help herself.

"Fond of dwarvish women are you?" Syr lifted her eyebrows suggestively and Magpie nearly choked trying to stifle his laughter.

After he composed himself he shook his head, "He has something I need. I'll help you shake the dust off of your feathers if you'll help me get it."

"That sounds like a fair trade."

"Come with me, I'll see you properly dressed and we can go pay our respects... to which god?" Magpie escorted her toward an inn that looked like it catered to nobility in the city.

"This is the city of Mabor, wine, women, and song."

"What did he do to upset you?" Magpie snorted.

"Nothing at all, my dear Magpie. This isn't punishment. This is mischief." She gave him the broadest, maddest grin she could and watched his eyes widen.

*Four*

Several hours and sums of money later, Syreilla had clothes to let her wander freely through most places in the city, as well as new work clothes and some tools of a newer design. The Magpie had teased her about her old-fashioned kit.

For dinner, they went to The Proud Pearl. A corner booth with a view of the room was occupied by a loud man throwing money around, they chose a table in the opposite corner.

The bar wench approached looking at Magpie expectantly.

"Mead, your finest."

The wench glanced at Syr and she spoke up with a smile, "I'll have the same. And if you have any dwarf bread and sausage I'll take that as well."

The woman looked back at Magpie incredulously, "I won't have the same, I'll have my usual."

She nodded and moved away quickly.

"There's only one half-elf that eats dwarvish food, Rook. You might as well make an announcement." He looked at her with a stern frown.

"This will be the first meal I've had in a very long time. I'm not going to eat some elvish swill to-"

The space next to her was suddenly filled with a chair and an older man with hazy grey eyes. "What are you doing out of your hole, little rook?"

"Master Odos," Syr beamed at him, "Uncle and I had some... differences of opinion and I decided to come back to the land of the living." The two cups of mead were brought and she handed hers to Odos, "I'll have another, please."

He inclined his head appreciatively and sipped it. "I know you, little rook, and I know Uncle. You didn't slip out, you were set free."

She gave him an impish grin, "Imagine that."

"What have you been sent to do?" He was smiling faintly.

"I'm a born troublemaker, Master Odos. I've been sent to do what I do best."

"What use would Hevtos have for an out-of-practice thief whose greatest skill is wriggling out of death's grip?" He took a long pull from his cup.

"That is hurtful, Master Odos! I like to think my greatest skill is getting out of trouble in a more general sense."

"And helping others out of it when they mean something to you." He set his cup down and eyed hers as the bar wench brought it with her bread and sausage.

Pouring half into his cup, she sipped hers. "Mm, that's good. It's been a long time." She took a large bite of the bread and wiggled in her chair. "Ff gut." She offered him a chunk and he shook his head with a smile and a sigh.

"I can guess his reasons for letting you out, little rook. And I don't have any inclination to thwart your plans..."

She washed the bread down with mead, "But."

"But I won't allow my mother to be taken from one confinement to another, into his realms."

"I liked her, I wouldn't wish that on her." Syr looked at his grim expression. "Even his idea of reward is something I wouldn't wish on anyone I care for. I'm going to try to fix that. And I'm not going to send her there to do it. I'll try to convince him to change a few things in the run-up."

He blinked. "You're going to..."

"You're the one who taught me how to con people, old man. But there's a possibility I might be able to deliver."

Master Odos' shoulders shook as he laughed silently, covering his face. "My little rook."

"Master Odos?" Magpie was carefully eating a flaky-looking pie with a look of amazement on his face.

"You don't mind if I borrow your Magpie do you?" Syr asked cheekily before he could respond.

Odos began to laugh in earnest. "I do mind, but I think he already agreed."

"I'll let him out of it if it's a problem." She smiled and shrugged with one shoulder. "I like him," lifting her cup she let them know two more were needed, "and I want to stay on your good side."

"Take him. He's idolized you all his life, letting him see you up close might be the best cure for it." Odos took his cup from the bar wench and looked at Magpie with a mischievous smile. "You're going to get an education, little magpie."

"I have to help her shake the dust off of her feathers first." He was trying to hide his excitement with nonchalance but his eyes were sparkling and there was a slight flush on his cheeks.

"When did you get dust on your feathers?" Odos snorted looking at her with amusement. "The rumors of Hevtos' Golden Rook say you still breathe dragon's fire and walk through wards like a wraith."

"I haven't gotten to play with many locks or use these new tools your Magpie's been showing me. A little bit of feather shaking is very much called for."

The grin on Odos' face brought out one on her own. "Make sure my magpie stays safe and away from Uncle and you'll stay on my good side, little rook."

"Understood, Master Odos. You wouldn't want to come make some mischief with us would you?" She leaned close, dropping her voice conspiratorially, her arm brushing his cloak, and her hopeful question was rewarded with the theft of her cup and a chunk of sausage.

"That depends on how well you do."

"Please," Sitting back up, she pushed her plate slightly toward him, "It's the least I can do since you're buying dinner." Syr dropped his old leather purse on the table in front of them.

"Don't forget you have to visit Imos." His hazy eyes sparkled.

"I haven't forgotten. I somehow think he's going to have the door locked by the time I get there though." She composed her face into a look of innocence.

"Keep the purse, little rook." He drained the cup and rose, placing a kiss on her head before popping the chunk of sausage into his mouth and moving away from the table.

"He left years ago, I thought he'd died." Magpie looked bemused. "I've never seen him quite like that, and how did you get his purse?"

"Divine luck," Syr pulled the purse back, tucking it down her front into the place she kept her own money and noticed the peculiar tingle of magic as she did. Something in the bag had power. "And a hefty measure of divine indulgence."

"I-" He looked behind her and frowned. "We're about to have company."

Taking a bite of sausage she placed her elbows on the table and her arms protectively over her plate, leaning forward slightly, "Good company or bad company?"

"Why is it I have a little bird singing in my ear that Syreilla Hammersworn has come out of hiding and turned up in my city?" The booming voice was the same she'd heard when they'd entered.

"I can't imagine." Syr took another bite of sausage and held up her cup for more mead.

"Tark, I don't think-" Magpie started to interject.

"Shut up, Kwes. You should have stayed in your brothel."

"I can teach him some manners if you'd like, Magpie." Syr gave him an impish grin.

"I doubt it, but if anyone could it would probably be a Rook." He returned it like a mirror.

A heavy hand grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to yank her out of her seat and she immediately began mouthing her siphoning spell.

"This is my-"

She followed it with one of a few contact spells she'd learned, having drawn just enough from whatever was in the bag and the man released her with a scream of pain. At the sound of drawing weapons, she turned slowly letting them get a good look at the cold smile on her face. "It's been some time since I was a Hammersworn. As far as I know, Syreilla Hammersworn went back to the mine and lived a happy life with her husband. I am the Rook. Ask a mage about me before you decide if you really want to attack me."

"That's a myth." An elderly tattooed man pulled back his hood and looked at her curiously. "Hevtos' Golden Rook that rides a dragon and goes through wards like a wraith..."

"To take lich and the lingering dead home to my dear uncle. Unfortunately, he doesn't appreciate my personality. I've been turned loose on the world of the living." Syr smiled brightly and watched several men flinch back. "If you'd like to know what's in store after death I'll be happy to let you know. For a price, I'll even give you a few tips on how to stay out of the worst of his punishments."

"That's why he said to keep me away from your uncle," Magpie breathed into the quiet.

"You'll end up there eventually, all humans do, half-humans too if they don't embrace the gods of the other side." She shrugged without turning back to him. "But I'll show you a trick to make death easier," glancing over her shoulder at his ashen face she gave him an encouraging smile, "I'll show you for free."

"What trick?" The tattooed man eyed her dubiously, "Did he set you free or expel you."

"He's not overly fond of thieves, and apparently my personality is... unpleasant." Syreilla put on her best imitation of saintly innocence. "But being locked in that hole and only let out to drag back lich was almost unbearable. A girl has to do something to keep herself occupied."

"You stole from the god of death?" Magpie leaned forward, fascinated and horrified.

"It's hardly stealing if it's family." She raised her hands and turned her innocent look on him.

"How is someone he threw out going to get us out of his punishments?" One man sheathed his weapon and pulled a chair to where he could see her better.

"You should never throw out someone who knows your back doors. But we're going to talk price first."

The room erupted into conversations as they began to argue about what she was offering and what she could deliver. Syr held up her cup to the bar wench and the woman almost seemed afraid as she came to fill it. Tucking back into her meal until the noise died down seemed the best way to deal with it.

"Alright! Enough!" The tattooed man shouted and beat his hand on the counter. "What kind of guarantees can you give?"

"You're asking to come back from the dead and let people know whether I'm telling the truth? I can't give you that." The voices started to rise again and she got a little louder, "But what I can give you," she waited until it was silent, "is something to think about. You know how things stand now. You can all either go change your ways and be pious beggars or you can keep living this life until it ends. If you do what I suggest, you'll get the same reward as those pious beggars and you won't have to give up a thing."

There was muttering about it being too good to be true. "And what is it you suggest?" The tattooed man had a hard glint in his eyes.

"Any thief who jobs for me, and helps me on jobs, I'll show them the back door."

"That's the price, what's the door? And does it need a key?" The man sitting in the chair staring at her asked pointedly.

"The door is a statue, the key, well, I suppose if you cross me you'll get a chance to try it sooner than you wanted to." She took a bite of dwarf bread making them wait. "You have your ashes or an image of yourself brought to the statue, your friend offers a prayer for your soul not mentioning any bad deeds, have them talk you up a little. They should leave a small offering that has sentimental value." Syr took a long drink of her mead. "This statue used to be guarded by priests, only the purest and holiest could use it the way I'm telling you. It'll get you out of punishment and into paradise. Eternal sunshine and fields of green."

"Impossible," the tattooed man breathed. "You're talking about the statue of Hevtos in the Garden of Night. It was destroyed. A thousand years ago, it was destroyed!"

"That's what people were told. The statue was walled up, the garden ruined, scorched, and salted. People forgot all about it. Hevtos without his priests can't protect it, he can't keep people from slipping in the back door."