Golden Rook Ch. 40-46

"He could have found me while I was out hunting lich. But..." She exhaled and brought her arms down, "He had other fledglings to worry about and the Rook can take care of herself."

"Vezar didn't look after you?" His amusement faded.

"He did and does his best. I'm not an easy person at the best of times and Uncle tried to keep me confined to a single chamber."

The dwarf winced. "Syr would have skinned me alive and eaten me as much as she loved me if I tried to keep her in the mine, much less a single room."

"Dragons have a thicker hide than dwarves and he's needed it, believe me." She gave him an impish grin, "He was free to roam around but as terrible as I could be he stayed with me. Not many could see me at my worst and still love me, much less want to spend every moment with me." Moving to the bench Syreilla finished drying herself and began to dress, tying the small pouch of tools he'd brought into place on her thigh before anything else, a whispered suggestion from Hammersworn to make the house dresses more bearable. "Other than keep me company there hasn't been much he could do."

"If being here had made Syr miserable, I'd have sent her away. I love her," his eyes dampened, "but I'd want her to be happy."

"To go with Vezar into Uncle's home, I had to promise to serve. He couldn't send me away and I kept hoping Uncle would relent. When I finally couldn't take it anymore and tried to leave, I wasn't permitted. It did make Uncle realize how miserable I was, though. That was when..." She took a deep breath. "Uncle isn't bad, you know, he's cautious. He tries to be fair but he's not fond of thieves and he's been poorly treated by the rest of the family. It took time for him to see I wasn't a threat to him."

"You went back on your word?" Kaduil looked shocked.

"Never. I told him I would still serve, I just couldn't go back inside. If I can complete my task I'll be allowed to come and go. I won't be confined." The clothes she'd put on, a loose house dress and undergarments, were all for a plumper woman. "How much did you feed her, Kaduil?"

He breathed a laugh. "As much as she'd eat. She filled out a bit when the children were born, when she was nursing them she was ravenous. I can have Kyri take a few things in if need be."

"I can try to do it myself, I don't want to pile work on her."

"If you sew as well as my Syr, it's best left to Kyrilla." He grinned and beckoned for her to follow. "She had nimble fingers, but as long as the cloth stuck together she wasn't concerned about the different kinds of stitches."

"What do you mean 'different kinds of stitches'? Needle drags the thread through, tie a knot and you're done."

The dwarf sighed as he preceded her up the stairs. The house had been expanded since she'd last been in it and he took her to a room with a peculiarly low table and a sunken, cushioned bench circling it. Sirruil was already seated looking unhappy about something and the blonde dwarf next to him, with a comparatively short but finely braided and beaded beard, looked angry. A plain-looking, brown-haired stranger sat across from them filling his plate.

"You're Syreilla the Rook? Have a seat. The end, I think, has the deeper bench."

Tilting her head, there was a faint tingle of strange magic she could feel with her bare feet as she rounded the table and she drew from it to cast a dispelling before moving the cushions to look at the bench and lowering herself in to sit with her legs crossed.

Sirruil was grinning as she looked over at him. "If you have any talent with magic, Sirruil, I'll teach you a few things that can keep your family safe and make anyone dropping wards where you don't want them to regret ever having met you."

"My mother taught me a few, Rook but I don't think she knew how to do what you just did."

"I learned that while working for Uncle." She gave him a grin. "I learned some really exciting-"

"Anything you teach him you'll show me first." The dwarf had stopped filling his plate and was giving her an annoyed look.

"Drop another unwanted ward in their home again and I'll show them to you one after another until your corpse disintegrates." She gave him her widest, maddest grin. "After we step outside of course. I'll cause neither trouble nor harm while I'm here. That's the reason I haven't done it already."

He studied her carefully. "You're not like your father."

"Are you the friend the old man told me I'd meet?" Syr inclined her head as the one next to Sirruil moved closer and pushed food her way. "Thank you. You're Kyrilla?"

"Yes..." the blonde dwarf woman smiled and shook her head, "You look so much like our mother."

"She and I were the same person once. I'm glad to be able to meet you."

The stranger cleared his throat. "I know him. 'Friends' isn't the term I'd choose. He's not quick to kill."

Syr redirected her attention and tilted her head, one way and then the other, looking at him carefully. "He and I aren't the same. For those I love, I don't hesitate to do my best or my worst. Hammersworn loved them and for her, I'll do all I can for them while I'm here.

"No dwarf has ever given me a reason to cast wards at their feet or to breathe dragon's fire in a mine. I've always found them to be good people, trustworthy. But no dwarf has ever come into the home of those I feel the need to protect and laid unwanted wards either. If you want to act like a human mage, I'll treat you like one. You'll find out fast why the Golden Rook is spoken of in fearful, hushed tones."

"It wasn't a harmful ward. I wanted to make you sit and speak truthfully." He poured a cup and pushed it toward her.

"I saw the ward, if it wasn't benign I would have warned you." Sirruil looked sheepish. "I should have despite that."

"That would be appreciated, but it's not entirely necessary. I could feel something odd, with bare feet sometimes you can feel a ward before you step on it, depending on the ward." Syr didn't make a move to take the cup and Kaduil came to sit between her and the stranger.

When he picked up the cup and went to take a sip she reached out and covered it with her hand. "Don't drink things poured by strangers so carelessly, Kaduil. Especially not sneaky ones."

Kyrilla laughed, a bright, silvery sound. "Our mother always hated the communal meals, people passed around the plates and cups and she never knew whose hands they'd gone through."

"They teased us because I would taste her food to make her feel better." Kaduil smiled faintly. "She trusted the people here but asking her to eat, not knowing who'd handled the plates was too much."

"'Learn fast or die fast.' The thief that took me on before the old man used to tell me that. One of the first things I learned was to trust no one and the lesson served me well." She removed her hand from the cup. "Batran changed that."

"If I have to worry about dwarves poisoning me, I'm better off dead, Rook." He took a drink and passed it to her. "And he's not a complete stranger. He's come to the house a few times to speak to Syr about her father."

Taking the cup from Kaduil, she inclined her head, sniffing at the liquid before taking a tentative sip. Mead. "He knows my name but he hasn't introduced himself."

"Syreilla Hammersworn called me Orefinder. Master Aledelver said you asked to be called by title?"

"Only by those who wish to be formal. If you ask for formality from me I expect it to go both ways."

Orefinder studied her for a moment and then smiled, "Orefinder will do, Rook. I won't call you by your most informal name if you don't call me by mine."

"I'll agree to that."

"What does Grimgrip call you?"

"I think he's called me by all of them at one point or another. I like Juddri, he can be a little stuffy but he's solid. He's a good dwarf."

Syr started putting some food on her plate, dwarf bread, sausage, spiced root vegetables, as everyone else did the same and there were a few moments of silence as they ate. Kaduil shared the cup of mead with her.

When her plate was nearly empty, Orefinder asked curiously, "You found Grimgrip stuffy?"

She gestured with her piece of bread chewing until her mouth was clear enough to speak, "'No wards, Rook.' As if I only know ones that will melt off your skin and turn your bones to stone. My cousin is just as bad. I don't like it when people try to kill me or my companions, it annoys me. It's best to let people know it's a horrible idea and they'll die a horrible death for doing it. But-" She took another bite and chewed for a moment, "If they ask me, I'll put down less deadly or painful wards. I keep mine safe but I try not to upset them too badly while I do."

"He's yours?" The brown-haired dwarf grinned, narrowing his eyes.

"While he travels with me. I like him."

"There are rules about claiming people, Rook." He glanced at Sirruil, "Or so I'm told."

"There probably are but no one has told them to me yet. And I didn't say I was keeping him."

"When you start Sirruil's lessons I'll start yours."

"No lessons until she rests," Kaduil spoke up firmly. "She fell asleep in the bath. Rook may not be my Syr, but they're so alike I can tell you she won't complain, she'll push through until she collapses."

"You don't rest until the work is done. The old man was a stickler for that. It took decades after he died, well, pretended to, for us to start relaxing on that one." Syreilla laughed and shook her head as Orefinder looked surprised, "We once finished a job that took us a full two days, once we started it, without sleeping and with broken and bruised ribs. Our way out was in a barrel on a cart. We were wishing for death by the time he let us out. We had to force ourselves to stay awake and not pass out from the pain."

All of the dwarves at the table looked stunned. She finished the last bite of sausage before she continued, "He said, 'At least you finished the job. Don't fall next time, little rook.' We took our pay and went to a healer. The healer said it was the first time he'd seen anyone sleep while sitting up and having their ribs wrapped."

"You fell?" Kaduil reached out and took hold of her arm.

"We didn't have much of a choice. It was that or get caught. We were hanging from a window ledge by our fingers. Couldn't go up, there was no time to climb down and no way to do it without being seen. So," she took a drink of mead, "we let go. The stable roof gave as we hit it, it was rotten but not all of the beams under it were. Rolled and ran. Oh, it hurt! But we had to take a second run at the place. Lucky for us, most of the people went to see what the commotion was and the way was clearer."

"Grandfather? You're talking about Grandfather? But he's always so..." Kyrilla shook her head.

"The warnings our mother gave me about him are making a little more sense." Sirruil rubbed his eyes and took off the circlet.

"There's a reason she offered to take him on a tour of flooded mine shafts with a length of stout chain if he dragged you out of the mine." Syr finished the last bite of her bread as Orefinder started to laugh.

"I liked that woman. She should have been born a dwarf."

Syreilla grinned at him. "A dwarf might have had the sense to find a different line of work."

He lifted his cup and smiled, "She was the best I've ever seen with a lock, though. The locks out of Delver's Deep are known to be the best you can buy."

Kaduil squeezed her arm. "You can all talk locks and lessons later. Rook is going to rest."

*Forty-three*

"We need to discuss the plans more thoroughly first, Syreilla, and you want me to take someone completely untrained in with me into the goddess of love's temple? I spent years learning before Master Odos let me-" Kwes stopped as she waved her hand imperiously, exactly as Odos always had.

"I don't have time to walk you through this and if he trained you, I expect you to be quick enough on your feet to use Cyran's skills to your advantage."

"What skills?! He's never done anything like this! He doesn't know locks, he can't even walk across a room quietly! And as prim and prudish as he is he'll attract-" Blinking, he realized what she was suggesting. "Of course you'd prefer to do things the way the old man does."

She started to laugh, "I do things any way that works. Distractions are useful. You don't have to bring him all the way in-"

"I'm confused-" Cyran interjected and found himself cut off as both siblings snorted.

"I'll explain it to you, Cyran. And I'll show you where to go to wait for us afterward." Kwes rubbed his hands together. "If you get taken to a cell just wait patiently and I'll come get you."

The priest didn't seem pleased with that, folding his arms with a disapproving look.

"If either of you gets caught, Magpie, you can either get yourselves free or wait for me. It may be a few days before I'll have time to come back for you and I'm making him your responsibility."

"We're both your responsibility, sister." Kwes gave her his best heartbroken look that always seemed to work on Amtalia, "Could you live with yourself if we met the headsman's axe before you came back?"

Her eye twitched. "The old man had his hands full with you."

"He likes it when you keep him busy." He grinned as she broke into laughter.

"Fine, if you get caught I'll come back for you before you meet the headsman." Reaching down her front where he'd seen her stick a purse once before, she pulled out a gold coin and tossed it to him. "Don't call for me while we're working, it would be like screaming out my name in a silent room."

Kwes looked the coin over with a growing smile. One side bore a crossed hammer and feather and the other a strange sigil he'd never seen, a creature with wings outstretched but instead of a head it had a peculiar, partly unfurled scroll. "What's this?"

"That's the old man's sigil. He rarely gives it to anyone."

"As far as fathers go, he isn't the worst we could have." He lifted his gaze from the coin to give her a grin and blinked at the bittersweet smile on her face.

"I suppose he isn't. If you get into too much trouble, call for the old man. He'll be able to get to you more quickly and probably talk you out of any trouble you're in."

"Understood. I'll bring Cyran in the front door of the temple and let him wander like a lost and horrified lamb." Kwes beckoned to the priest, "If you try to go where they don't want you but act as if you're ignorant they probably won't hold it against you and you'll certainly get their attention. Ask questions. Pull as many of theirs into conversation as you can because the more they look at you, the less they look at me. I'll be able to slip past them and join Syreilla deeper inside to do our thieving and then we'll meet you at... which tavern?" He glanced at the Rook.

"There's one called the Lady's Favor. It's more of an inn and it's for wealthy patrons. The old man warned me that Uncle has them keeping an eye on the places I'd usually favor. I'll leave you to help him get into nicer clothes so that the two of you can come and go. I'm going to have to dress like a whore to get in and out of the temple. I don't expect to have a problem joining you."

"I would pay to see that, sister." Kwes arched an eyebrow with a smirk.

She gave him a disgusted look, "Elvish! We have two fathers in common!"

The way she shuddered made him break into laughter. "The more you complain about elves and call us perverse the more I want to prove you right! And you're half elf!" Before he could comment about how he should have heard about Odos being his father from her before he heard it from a dwarf, Cyran started speaking.

"She is married to our cousin." He almost sounded teasing and Kwes looked at him incredulously. "She said she would have told me that she isn't elf enough to..."

"That I'm not elf enough to want to fuck you." Syreilla grinned and nodded.

"But she can't." The priests flushed slightly and the look he gave the Rook was doting and almost lustful.

"If you looked at me that way and the old man caught you," she arched an eyebrow and frowned, "that might be why he was giving you looks. I have Vezar and while I still have some tender feelings for Kaduil Hardjaw I'm not planning to stray. You can rely on a Rook, cousin."

"The two of you together just seemed... wrong." Cyran shook his head. "We can discuss it another time."

"We will." She gave him a dubious look. "Right now we need to focus on the work."

Kwes watched as she sketched out rough diagrams in the dirt. She dropped a rock into one box.

"Once you get into the temple, Magpie, we need to be quick. She keeps her stone out, for the most part, displayed on a pedestal so that the light hits it and makes pretty designs, or so the builder Uncle had on hand said. The room is past the altar and above the temple nave. Once we move it people will notice. With a little luck, she won't have moved it here." Syreilla pointed to a room that looked lower in the diagrams. "There's a sealed room below the temple that she can store it in if she's concerned. It's why we're hitting her now, she'd have it safely tucked away if we came to her last. It would make this job take longer and I need to be quick."

"If I fall behind or don't meet you, go ahead and do what you need to do. Looking at these rough sketches I have a feeling that something isn't going to go to plan. I should be able to get us out of any cell we find ourselves in. If you have to do it alone, we'll meet you at the Lady's Favor."

"The old man hates having to take a second run at things but I've taken two and sometimes three before. If things feel wrong or start to go sour immediately, turn and walk away. I'd rather you both be safe than brave."

Kwes nodded. "You should be safe, too, Syreilla."

"I always do my best."

*Forty-four*

The guest bed was large enough for Master Odos and Syr was sprawled out across it blissfully when she heard the argument outside the chamber.

"She's still resting! You shouldn't-" The voice sounded like Kyrilla.

"Rook has had a full night of sleep, it should be all she needs."

"Amad-" A voice like Kaduil's started in dwarvish only to be cut off.

"Rook isn't your mother."

Syr cracked her eyes open just enough to see and glowered as the door folded open. Orefinder stopped short in the doorway.

"She could be sour in the morning." The man's voice sounded dryly amused. "I haven't met her yet but I'm told that Rook is just like her."

"Your mother was sweeter." Syr stretched and yawned before sitting up. "You're lucky I didn't drop wards in the doorway like I usually do, Orefinder. It's rare for me to sleep without a few around."

The dwarf folded his arms. "You looked like you might go back on your word for a moment."

"I never go back on my word. You can rely on a Rook. I can make you wish you'd let me sleep without magic or dragon's fire."

She heard quiet laughter from the hall.

"Is that Oduil?"

A slim dwarf with dark hair, his beard in a braid almost exactly like his father's, and slightly pointed ears peered in with a smile. "It is. I wanted to wait and have breakfast with you before I went to the forges."

"I'll get up. I'd like to see you, and I'll follow you to the forges if you'll let me. I miss-"

"We have work to do, Rook. Lessons-"

"We can start them at the forges. It would be a good place for Sirruil to practice judging danger, holding a softer focus, and let him see something familiar through new eyes. I miss the sight and sound of the forges, Orefinder, the way the air feels there, but I don't shirk my tasks."

"You can rely on a Rook?" Orefinder smiled faintly. "We'll do it your way."

"Thank you." Climbing out of bed in Hammersworn's short night shift, she yawned and stretched again before looking around for her clothes. "The old man really should have sent my things in. Wandering around in Hammersworn's old house dresses isn't ideal."