Confluence (Aki & Dantie)

[Angmor]

With its many twists and turns, unexpected developments, and sudden shifts of fate, life was a very difficult thing of which to make sense. It was an intersecting and interconnecting lattice of decisions and outcomes, in which a being was but a single thread. Small decisions often snowballed into avenging avalanches of change that could sweep a person in a new direction, altering the course of that life. Perhaps for a short time, perhaps forever.
The choice to confront a thief, to provide a theoretical example.
One rash choice of choosing to accost a potentially dangerous thief stealing something from ones home could perhaps lead to nearly losing ones life. This could lead to having ones life saved by a mysterious, solitary woman, who may or may not be hiding some dark secret in her enigmatic past. This could, theoretically, lead to a meeting with a senior Rider and Dragon who might, equally theoretically, know something important about the object that was stolen. This perhaps could lead to said Rider and Dragon charging one with a difficult and dangerous quest, for which one would most likely be entirely useless. Even these events, however, were not yet the avalanche. There could still be turning back from this. No, the true linchpin for such a situation lay in one thing: Whether or not the person in question was foolish enough to actually accept such a quest.
In short, Vaoris thought dismally to himself as he bounced up and down in the saddle, life was strange, and he was a fool.

A week ago, he had thought none of these things. A week ago, his life made sense. He was an apprentice scholar in the Grand Library, pursuing his chosen profession. Filing and maintaining parchments, wondering, researching, learning. Facing nothing more dangerous than the occasional infected papercut. A life that he loved. But then, the theoretical events described had come to pass, in a terrifyingly untheoretical way. From that moment forward, he had been swept along by fate at a frantic pace, driven by Hendalacon's urgings and Rohiriel's sense of urgency. The latter, especially, was impossible to deny, and he found himself totally unable to stop himself from a headlong rush into the unknown.
You could have said no. He accused himself. Even after all that talk of 'destiny' and 'first step of the journey,' you still could have said no. You have no one to blame for this but yourself.
Absorbed with his musings, he suddenly realized that his horse had decided to set a more leisurely pace, slowly falling behind his two traveling companions as their mounted shapes were slowly being lost to the mist.
To make matters worse, the horse he had been given for the journey was both stubborn and lazy, a very irritating combination, especially for a novice rider. With a soft curse, he dug his heels into the beast's side, spurring it up the mossy track to catch up with Dantie and Rohiriel.

They made for... interesting companionship, those two. Six days of travel from Ilirea really was not enough time to get to know them as friends, but was enough to get a long look at their exterior idiosyncrasies and habits, all of which his trained scholar's mind dutifully observed and recorded. Upon first meeting Dantie, he had taken an immediate dislike to the elf. He was loud, arrogant, boastful and egotistical, always seeming too self-absorbed to notice a mere apprentice scholar. Vaoris had done little to mask his dislike, and the slightly older elf seemed to have picked up on that emotion enough to reciprocate in kind. Since that day, however, they had managed to hash out some kind of a relationship, if not in friendship than at least a mutual tolerance. Dantie was not a bad conversationalist, and they had shared some enjoyable discourse around the campfire at night. The annoyance remained, however. The top student's favorite subject for talk was always himself, and he was very sure of his opinions, quick to anger at any kind of serious challenge to his beliefs. This made any polite philosophic debate impossible, quickly making Vaoris homesick for the earnest exchanges of thoughts and reasonings in his favorite taverns back in Ilirea. The person he truly wanted to sit down and talk with was Rohiriel. She, after all, was a mystery. No one knew who she was or where she came from, what she did with the time she did not spend in the Grand Library, or anything else about her past. As far as anyone knew, she had no friends in whom she confided, nor much in the way of acquaintances. She was a puzzle, and Vaoris had always been fond of puzzles. His well-honed intellectual curiosity stirred within him whenever he thought of her, hungry for knowledge on a subject in which literature was so sparse. Without being obvious about it, Vaoris had turned his full scholarly attention toward her, attempting to be the first to get a glimpse in.
And been frustrated at every turn.
If Rohiriel was a puzzle, she seemed bound and determined to stay that way. All attempts to engage her in a running conversation had so far been politely but firmly rebuffed, most often in mono-syllables. Around the campfire at night, she would always distance herself, usually staring contemplatively into the flames to studiously avoid all eye-contact with her traveling companions. At these times, Vaoris took the opportunity to study her as much as he could. He had come to realize that she was almost... jumpy. She was always reacting to sudden noises or flashes of movement, her hands often twitching for the dagger that he had never seen leave her person. He had begun to notice the aura of tension that surrounded her, like being in the presence of a coiled spring. She seemed perpetually ready for something, but he could not for the life of him imagine what it was. Whenever he was in conversation with Dantie, Vaoris would always spare an eye to her, trying to orient himself in such a way as to make the conversation an open invitation. Occasionally, he would see her look up, listening intently, her expression suggesting that she wanted to join in. But she never had. It was almost as if she was afraid of what that contact might do. In fact, the only real contact she had with them was when she was drilling their cover story...
Ah yes... Cover story. He thought, remembering just how ridiculous he felt.
After charging them with the task, Hendalacon had used his magic to scry the location of the book that was the object of their quest. His vision had revealed the gates of Teirm, a famous human port city, believed by many to mark the first landing of elves in Alagaesia. More importantly, Vaoris knew from his research, the heavy commerce through the city meant it was rife with criminals, and a perfect place for a thief to hide and exchange goods. In his messenger's satchel that currently bumped at his side, he'd packed as much useful lore about the city as he could find, hoping that it would eventually come in handy. Immediately after setting out, however, Rohiriel had informed them that they would be conducting their mission in Teirm under the guise of humans. Her reasoning was, since they had really no idea where to start looking for the thief and her book, that traveling as humans would draw far less notice and stave off hostility from the city's residents. Despite both his and Dantie's protests, she had brooked no arguments on this point, and immediately began drilling them on the story they would use, repeating it so many times that Vaoris was sure he would soon be able to speak it backwards, letter by letter. Rohiriel would masquerade as a human noblewoman, the heir of a household in the Tears known for its collection of books and rare antiquities. Dantie would be convincing as her hulking bodyguard, and Vaoris would play the part of her loyal herald and personal aide. In theory, Vaoris saw no fault with this. The human societal system of nobility was so twisted and confusing, it would be easy to act the part without anyone turning a hair. The problem was that he would actually have to do it.

To this end, Rohiriel had purchased clothing from a passing textile merchant, using a goodly amount of persuasion to get a decent price. At her urging, Vaoris was now dressed almost entirely in black. Tunic and breeches of expensive black silk, leading down to his polished black traveling boots. Over this, instead of his usual grey robe, she had given him a high collared, knee-length traveling coat of black, accented tastefully with fields of deep red. After looking at his reflection in a nearby stream, he had to admit that he looked almost handsome, the dark colors matching well the black of his hair and setting off the paleness of his eyes. All in all, he looked well the part he was supposed to play, and that was the problem. Inside, he did not at all feel like a servant to nobility. He felt silly, a child in borrowed finery. He did not have the attitude for being handsome, nor did he harbor an ambitions to be. Worse, Rohiriel had been very thorough with his disguise, Through a spot of creative spellwork, she had used the Ancient Language to rid him of the point of his ears, making them as round as a human's. It felt thoroughly unnatural to him, like there was always something clamped to his earlobes. Ever since she applied the spell, he had to resist the urge to reach up and touch them, like ones tongue probing the gap of a lost tooth. How he was supposed to act with confidence and poise in such a way, he had no idea.
Rohiriel was somewhat similarly attired, although notably more richly than himself. He had to admit, she looked every inch nobility. Dantie had cleverly managed to evade the full treatment, instead donning the suit of full plate armor that he had inexplicably thought might be useful to haul all the way from Ilirea. Vaoris now regretted teasing him about the constant clanking.

That was one of the very few sounds around them at that particular moment. Several hours before, they passed through the foothills of the Spine mountains, making their way into one of the few gaps in the huge coastal range. Here the ubiquitous snow and ice seemed to stop, as if actively repelled by an opposing force. As the road wound on through the cleft beside the Toark river, the atmosphere gave way to a world of dampness and mold, shrouded by a thick fog that obscured all visibility to a distance of barely ten feet. Intermittent droplets of moisture dropped down on them from unseen trees clinging to the sides of the dark and menacing mountains on either side. The effect was rather like swimming through a tunnel, submerged in clammy, rancid water, smelling of death and decay. Just then, a drip of water landed squarely on the back of his neck.
He shivered.
He remembered reading of this phenomenon before. Throughout the winter, warm winds off the cooling western sea condensed the frigid air, shrouding the shore in a warm mist. Snow seldom fell in this area, and even a few deciduous plants managed to live through the depth of winter. Vaoris knew that the fog was not likely to lift throughout their visit in Teirm... Or would it? For the first time, he wondered just how long this errand might take. After all, they hadn't the slightest idea where to start looking for the lost book, and Hendalacon could not fend of Master Vanir forever. Eventually, he would need to either return to his duties, or find other employment.
Woah, don't think too far ahead. Just concentrate on the moment.
But of course, the moment was not particularly pleasant. Silence clung heavily to him like a wet cloak, broken only by the muffled footfalls of the three horses. He squirmed uncomfortably, looking to the impassive backs of his companions for conversation. Dantie seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, his features hidden by the full visor of his helmet. Rohiriel might as well have been the same, her face set in her typical stony expression of supreme focus.
Finally, he could take it no longer.
"So..." He spoke out, more to break into the oppressive silence than anything. "According to my map, the city should be just a few miles up ahead. Is there..." He scrambled for something useful to say. "...Anything we need to get ready?"

[/blockquote]

Woo! I pulled it off! One of my better posts, fifteen minutes to spare. Who da' man?

...Ok, I'm never saying that again.

[dantieduurden]

It had been a week since master's Hendalacon, and master Aldanion had sent the trio on a quest to recover the book Treasures of Alageasia. Since that time he had began feeling more and more like the outcast of the group. His abilities ranged in combat, and strategy in combat, not in scouting missions, and hiding. Especially not hiding, after all a warrior and thus a Riders place was on the front lines protecting the people, not in the corners hiding and planning while others died for there cause. And thus he had stopped arguing after the fifth day of listening to the scholar who had probably never once been in a situation where he would have to know how to protect himself besides the time he had tried to stop the thief and epically failed. Though Dantie thought, Rohiriel is not much better, she hides to much from us. The two minds had both agreed as they once again watched the elf maiden who was pretending to be a human noble women, play with her dagger. The same one she had almost stabbed his masters with, and the same one that was never more then an arms length away. No he much rather deal with Vaoris for at least with the scholar you knew where he stood.
On the first few days of there journey Dantie had tried to persuade Vaoris to show him all the key military locations in Teirm, and blueprints of the city's setup so that he could figure out all possible escape routes, and every which direction to go to get away from the towns defenses, but each time he brought up military strategy Vaoris had called him self centered and had to big of an ego. And thus had led to his silence, justifying it by stating that for Rohiriel plan to work they not only need to look the part, but play the part as well. And a guards duty after all was to be silent and menacing after all.
And now he was here, it was the seventh day of there travels, all had horses that they had ridden from Ilirea. Dantie himself was upon a mighty black stallion, suited in a set of shadesteel armor just as he was for he refused not to use his own armor, plus as long as he wore it he would not have to use magic to alter his features to that of a human, Dantie had stated to Rohiriel as she had once again the day before gone over there cover story vigorously, beating it into there heads. Though The company had not come across any travelers to Teirm yet they knew that the closer they came to the city, the more likely that they would meet up with someone, thus they had to always be on constant alert, and always in disguise.
Underneath the external suit of armor deep behind barriers erected over 50 years ago two entities spoke inside Dantie's head. " The fools do not understand that they are walking into the central power of the human empire, there is only one place more heavily fortified and that is there capital." A. Dantie said to his jailer who had stayed very close these past few days. " They shall listen when they see that the humans are not as weak as they think." N. Dantie responded to the chained up A. Dantie. It was not often that he agreed with the old ruler of this mind, but when there was truth to what he said he often did, for the truth is what held him in chains, and they would also be what set him free from his dark prison.
While N. Dantie listened and struggled to keep A. Dantie at bay he looked out into the fog from the body. He knew that they had to be almost upon the city and was not surprised when the scholar stated it only moments after he got his lazy horse to catch up to himself and Rohiriel's horses who never once needed direction or to be curved to keep going on the directed path. Though he wished to speak he refused to as he held his persona to its fullest and let his aura be unleashed as he sat straight up in his saddle, all seven feet of him seemed to grow as if it were more then a man, but a Kull that sat upon the mighty stallion he had named Eclipse in the ancient language, though he did look to there undisputed leader for her next course of action.

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel

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The winter chill penetrated Rohiriel’s heavy winter cloak as if it were no more than a ragged, threadbare length of cloth that she had seen fit to throw over her shoulder at the last minute. A shiver worked its way through her body, and she pulled her cloak tighter to herself. Prior to that day, snow had blanketed the road in a frozen sheath that cast an uncomfortable blinding white glare upon her pale eyes. However, to her relief, as they approached the coastal city of Teirm the temperate climate prevented the frozen crystals from falling to the earth, leaving the browned grounds barren of snow. The absence of vegetation gave the land a melancholy feel, but the frost that glittered on the dying brown grass and on bare branches afforded the scenery a glacial beauty. The day was still young, and the early morning sunlight made the ice-coated terrain glitter and sparkle. In spite of herself, she could not help but search among the naked branches of the trees that lined the side of the road for the hint of green that would herald the approach of spring. She knew it was a vain search. The presence of the frost would wilt anything that dared sprout, and the feel of winter was still firmly in the air despite the conspicuous absence of snow.

The wide road they travelled upon consisted of dirt that had been packed down into an unyielding plain of earth by thousands of vagabond feet. It wound across the country of Alagaesia like a snake, slithering in between hills and around mountains and lakes. The stretch of road that she and her three companions traversed at that moment was distressingly exposed. The constantly changing weather rolled uninhibited off the ocean to buffet the worn road and its weary travelers. However, it was not the constant breeze or the intermittent fog that bothered Rohiriel. It was the openness of the road itself. It stretched unnaturally straight in either direction. There were no hills or turns or foliage to protect them from the scrutiny of others on the road, and long after they had crossed paths Rohiriel could feel their burning gazes in between her shoulder blades. She felt like a butterfly who had had an unfortunate encounter with a bug collector. Her wings were pinned and she was helpless to fend off the collector’s curious stares as she was compared to the rest of his collection. It felt as if each person to pass them on the road could see her soul. See her sins, and her regrets, and her damnation.

She was immensely relieved to don her disguise. Rohiriel had always preferred the anonymity of the shadows. It was one of the reasons the life of an assassin had been so well suited to her. Shadows were forgiving. They masked imperfections and smoothed them away with soft hands, content to match the shade of black that colored her soul so that her sins were invisible to those in the sun. The sun cast everything in a harsh, bright, unyielding light. It darkened flaws until they stood out in stark contrast, but it also threw shadows for sinners to take refuge in. People accustomed to living in the sun rarely stopped to let their eyes adjust to the darkness in a shadow. All they saw was the basic outline of it; the silhouette. Their eyes failed to capture details. Such was the face of ignorance and the price of living in bliss. Once a person crossed into the shadows they were forever blinded by the light of the sun. Rohiriel was accustomed to the obscurity of the shadows and found the sunlight to be disconcerting. She could see her sins crawling over her skin like spiders and ants as they tried in vain to avoid the bright glare of the sun. Each murder she’d committed brought to attention, each lie, all stood out in stark contrast against the remaining white of her soul. Originally, it had thrilled her to discover that parts of her soul remained pure, but after a week in the sun with no shadows to seek refuge in, the constant sight of her sins began to wear on her.

Left bereft of shadows, she made her own. She assumed a false identity; the one she’d masquerade as for the duration of their stay in Teirm. To Vaoris and Dantie, the two others Hendalacon and Aldanion chose to retrieve the book, the elaborate disguises might seem unwarranted, but it was her parasol. Her counterfeit shadow. Pretending to be someone she was not allowed her to assume another’s sins. It was temporary at best, but the absence of the constant reminder of her sins was a relief. Additionally, it was familiar to her. During her time as an assassin in Ellesmera she'd often had to integrate herself into her target’s life in order to get close enough to kill him. She was a weed. The false flowers she sprouted from her stem gave her the appearance of harmlessness, but soon it became apparent that she was slowly stealing sunlight from the other plants and strangling them with her roots. However, by the time most realized her true purpose she was too deeply embedded to be easily removed. Others died having only smelled the sweet scent of her perfume and with the sight of her beautiful petals in their minds. They all died. No matter how many times one pulled a weed it came back, and if left unattended it grew until it stole the life from one’s entire garden.

For the current mission, Rohiriel chose a flamboyant flower to imitate. She would be the Lady Lantana rather than Rohiriel. It seemed to her that a name was indicative of the nature of the being. Of course there were true names, but could one’s given name not be representative of one’s true self in a way? Rohiriel referenced her childhood as a horseman’s daughter. She was born with that name, and had foolishly relinquished it without thought to the significance of the action. The name that had replaced it was Lomiel. Dusk, gloom. She grew to fit her name. She killed and watered the setting sun with the blood of her victims, painting the sky a brilliant ruby. Had her noble friend in Ellesmera –her mentor, her master –understood the importance of a name when he gave her another? Surely it had saved her mortal life from the revenge of her victims and their surviving relatives, but did he know it would change her? Did he know that she would grow to become it? It irritated her to give the man such credit, but she had been the fool, not he. In any case, she did not discover the value of names until she had accidentally given Vaoris her childhood name. She had named herself a horse merchant’s daughter once more, and her sins had receded like the tide when the moon disappears beyond the horizon. Now in Teirm, she would become Lantana, a beautiful weed, so that she might grow unknown among her enemies.

However, it took more than a mental conviction to play the role of a noblewoman. Her wardrobe had been sadly inadequate for the part, but she’d remedied the issue shortly after their departure from Ilirea. Only a few days out from the Rider’s city they encountered a fabric merchant travelling to Ilirea to sell his wares. She’d taken the opportunity to purchase a few outfits to augment her own disguise as well as Vaoris’. The young scholar’s simple travel clothes would not have passed for the attire of a noblewoman’s herald and aide. Dantie insisted that his armor would suffice, as he was to play the part of her bodyguard. She did not need the protection of an inexperienced elf still under tutelage in the Citadel, but she accepted the necessity for maintaining appearances. A young noble woman could not travel the road solely in the company of her herald, especially one as slim as Vaoris, without drawing attention. Dantie had insisted that they had no reason to conceal their identities, but her assassin’s instincts would not be quieted, and she erred on the side of caution in spite of his objections. Her precautions would allow them to travel more conspicuously through the trading hub that Teirm was becoming. Nobles in search of rare artifacts were not uncommon in the mixed crowds of the port city. Elves, however, were. Rohiriel firmly believed that an indirect approach would always accomplish more than an outright demand, especially since the object of their quest was stolen and held information on countless priceless treasures. Any broker who knew his business would realize the potential of the book and would keep his possession of it a secret. A subtle approach was necessary to reveal such information, and for that a person accustomed to skulking in the shadows was required.

Rohiriel tugged the rich royal blue cloak around her shoulders more as another gust of wind buffeted her. The ermine-lined fabric went far towards creating the illusion of her nobility, but it was not as warm as the textile merchant led her to believe. She pulled her leather gloves farther onto her numbed hands and tightened her grip on Datia’s reins, stroking the mare’s dappled neck to reassure her when her ears flicked back at the increase in pressure on her mouth. Her rich doe-skin breeches and black silk tunic were even less helpful in repelling the cold. Nobility were such impractical creatures. They suffered discomfort of all sorts simply to flaunt their familial assets. Cold in the winter, hot in the summer. Rohiriel was suddenly delighted with her humble origins. She was forced to admit that the garnet pendant, and various other adornments did make the senselessness of her attire slightly more bearable. She was particularly fond of a gold hair comb set with garnets that doubled as a dagger when not holding her hair in place. She had stumbled upon shortly before their departure from the city. She’d been planning their disguises since the moment she learned the specifics of their mission from Hendalacon. Additional props never hurt when one was masquerading as a one of the nobility.

To distract herself from her discomfort, Rohiriel glanced sidelong at her two companions. They were slightly obscured by the heavy shroud of fog that had rolled in while she was lost in thought, but she had seen them often enough over the past week to know their appearances without looking. Vaoris wore the clothes she had picked out for him. He was resplendent in a tunic and breeches of the same black silk as her shirt. His cloak was as impractical as her’s. It was high collared and black with red trim, and it was just long enough to cover the hindquarters of his mount when he rode. The dark hues set off his pale skin and accented the silver of his eyes. She found herself admiring her handiwork. He was much more imperious in his new attire than he had been in his unassuming gray scholar robes. He carried no weapons, but a bulging satchel hung conspicuously over his shoulder. She knew from a prior perusal of its contents that it held various reference materials he’d spirited from the Grand Library before their departure. Typical scholar. They always needed the reassurance of their books.

Dantie had not required her assistance, falling into his role of bodyguard effortlessly. Rohiriel was not fond of armor. She found it burdensome and uncomfortable, and she did not like the way it restricted her movements. However, after seeing the armor he planned to wear for the entirety of their time in the public eye, she was forced to admire its quality. She did not recognize the metal it was made of, but the blue-tint to its sheen revealed it to be the work of a master. Her fingers itched to test it against one of her blades, but she refrained with difficulty. Her bodyguard would not wear scratched armor even if it might add to the illusion of his unexplored claims of prowess. Besides, she had given an oath not to raise her blade against another unless it was in self defense. She had spilt enough blood to taint the remainder of her immortal life, and would not spill more even if only in play.

Datia moved underneath her like another part of her body. The mare’s smooth gait covered the ground more swiftly than the horses of her two companions and she found herself drawing ahead of Vaoris and Dantie. She reveled in the powerful feel of her horse’s lean muscles as they condensed and then lengthened to greedily swallow the earth. Her hips swayed side to side to match the motion of the lilting stride. She could feel Datia’s vast ribcage expand underneath her legs, and then return to its original size as she exhaled. The filly was in impeccable shape, and was not exhibiting any signs of weariness even after a week on the road. Her ears were perked eagerly forward and she spooked and snorted for the entertainment of it every so often, prancing sideways across the road. The young mare’s antics amused Rohiriel, and she swore that her animal friend had more personality than Vaoris and Dantie combined. Then again, she had not really made much of an effort to acquaint herself with either of them. After spending the majority of her life in solitude, both forced and self-inflicted, it was difficult for her to extend an offer of friendship to either of them. Even the simple companionship of a camp fire was difficult. Silence was a habit after so many years alone.

As if he’d heard and intended to challenge her convictions, Vaoris urged his mount to catch up with her. The beast was a contrary creature, and sensing that its rider was a novice, spent its time ignoring the scholar’s attempts to direct it. Rohiriel knew the creature was not as lazy as it pretended. It simply sensed its rider’s urgency and chose to irritate Vaoris with a slow plod that constantly made him fall behind Datia’s swift walk and the prance of Dantie’s large black stallion. She suspected that if she were to get on the scholar’s horse she could change its decision to assume a lazy temperament. Then again, Vaoris was not an experienced rider and had not grown up on the back of a horse as she had. It was quite possible that he would be unable to control his mount if it were to increase its pace. Maybe the situation was better off as it was.

When Vaoris finally convinced his horse to match her filly’s swift pace, he rode in silence for a moment. Rohiriel could see the silence of the road wearing on him. She found it surprising that a library scholar should find silence intolerable, but maybe he was used to conversation in the company of others. In any case, in that moment he could not stand the absence of conversation, and the comforting sound of the horse’s footfalls and quiet breathing did not appear to satisfy him. “So…” He began after a moment. “According to my map, the city should be just a few miles up ahead. Is there..." He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, verifying her theory that it was the silence more than the need to voice a specific question that resulted in his speech. "...Anything we need to get ready?"

She let the question hang in the air for a moment. What had she shared with them? No, the question was: what had she not shared with them that they needed to know? After a moment, she remembered something vital she’d forgotten to include while forming their disguises. “Names.” She told them. Her voice felt hoarse from the cold and cracked slightly as she spoke. She coughed to warm her throat before she attempted to speak again. “I will be Lantana. Vaoris, you will be Noendîr. Dantie, you will be Delyson.” The names rolled easily from her tongue and she imagined the three of them changing to fit their new names even as she spoke them. “I feel that this goes unsaid, but I shall say it anyways. I know it is not necessary for us to maintain anonymity or for us to have these disguises, but our retrieval of the book will be infinitely easier if we do. You two may not understand as of yet. You will just have to take my word for it.” She met Vaoris’ pale gaze with her own and then turned to stare at Dantie through the visor of his helmet. After a moment she turned to face the road. She could see Teirm on the horizon, and beyond it the ocean glittered in the setting sun. They would arrive shortly before nightfall. Just before the guards closed the gates for the night. “Have either of you travelled to Teirm before?” She asked, realizing they would required somewhere to stay, and that it would be beneficial for them to know their way around the strange town.

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OOC: Hope it's okay I chose names for them. I love naming things and I couldn't resist. xD

[Angmor]

The oppressive silence seemed amused at his feeble attempt to assail it, simply absorbing the vibrations of his lame words unto itself until they died in the air. The world remained indifferent to his presence. The impassive backs of his companions did not even stir to acknowledge him, wrapped in their own aura of contemplation. He sighed to himself, watching the breath condense in the air before him, stretching into a long trail of short-lived cloud by his passage. At any other time, silence would be welcome. But at this particular moment, surrounded by a dead world with nothing remotely interesting to which he could devote his attentions, it was different. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. It merely continued to remind him just how alone he truly was.
What am I doing here? He asked himself for the thousandth time, misery clogging his throat. Why had Hendalacon all but insisted he should come? He had never truly wanted any life beyond that of a simple, boring scholar, and so had never prepared himself to do anything else.
Without the Grand Library, he was nothing.
It was a sobering thought, one that had never really occurred to him before. But however he thought about it, he was merely excess baggage on this trip, and he knew it.
He was sure that Dantie and Rohiriel knew it too.

"Names." Rohiriel pronounced suddenly, snapping him from the downward spiral of his brooding thoughts. It always seemed to him like something of a grand occasion whenever she broke her enforced silence, and he was not the slightest bit surprised when her voice sounded rusty from disuse and neglect. Still, even the single word was enough to set his mind running. It occurred to him that over the entire course of hammering out their deception, Rohiriel had not furnished them with names, something that would be essential to completing the illusion. After all, their real names were all conspicuously elven, all flowing vowels that a human's sluggish tongue would find difficult to bandy around. Vaoris felt his spirits sink a little lower at the prospect of severing another of his dwindling ties with his normal life.
“I will be Lantana.” She went on. “Vaoris, you will be Noendîr. Dantie, you will be Delyson.” Vaoris nodded mechanically, rolling the alien sounds around in his mind. At least, he thought, despite the seeming casualty of the action, she had apparently given a scholar's thought to the aliases. He knew from his studies Lantana was named for a beautiful but common wildflower that was ubiquitous in the south. The other two names were disinctly human, having all the roots of the unrefined and rustic language spoken by humans upon their arrival in Alagaesia, the descendant of which was spoken by the race to this day.
Noendir... To his own surprise, he felt a slight thrill at the sound of his new name. As any user of magic could tell, he knew the power of a name. His name was a statement of identity, the heading of an archival entry that contained his thoughts and feelings. A pronoun for everything that made him who he was. For all those days, she had been drilling into him a new such identity, one that had the makings of being just as detailed as his true life, but it never quite took on independence in his mind. But with a name... a name made it all real. By renouncing his name, he could become someone else. And that, he admitted to himself, was not a concept that was without its advantages...
He resisted the feeling, scowling inwardly. He didn't want to renounce his name. He didn't want to become someone else. He was Vaoris, apprentice scholar, and that was all he ever wanted to be.

“I feel that this goes unsaid, but I shall say it anyways.” She continued, breaking in on his objections. “I know it is not necessary for us to maintain anonymity or for us to have these disguises, but our retrieval of the book will be infinitely easier if we do. You two may not understand as of yet. You will just have to take my word for it.” For the first time Vaoris could remember since they had left Ilirea, she swiveled in the saddle to regard him squarely in the eyes. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck, and it had nothing to do with the cold. As a part of her disguise, she had changed the pigment of her eyes to something a bit more subtle that their usual milky blue. He had wondered if she was blind the first time he had seen them, shortly after she had saved his life. But he was convinced then, as he was now, that those eyes saw more of his thoughts than anyone he knew.
She held the contact just long enough to make him fidget before moving on, staring into Dantie's full visor as if she could see right through it. Vaoris looked down, finding something that demanded his constant scrutiny within the brown mane bobbing in front of him. Emotions warred through him, battling for dominance within his soul. No, he did not understand. No, he did not see the necessity in this whole deception. And no, he did not want to assume a new identity. Throughout his life, the concept of truth was held up as the highest of ideals. A scholar's entire existence was devoted to it, seeking truths from the past to shine a light on the truth of the present. If he was to do what Rohiriel asked, how could be able to discern what was true, and what was a lie?
And yet, Rohiriel was older than he, and infinitely more experienced. If she said that this charade would ease their mission, who was he to argue? Even more, she had saved his life. Much as she waved it off as inconsequential, there was a debt there to be paid. And besides, he had played games of pretend in his childhood, just as all children did. His youth wasn't even really that far behind him, he admitted, and had his imagination harmed him? Perhaps he was just reading too far into this. It would not be the first time. He blew out a breath through his nose in frustration. As was seeming to happen to him with an ever increasing frequency, there was no easy answer. Just then, a gentle breeze stirred his hair, exploring the folds of his coat and rippling gently under the trailing edge of his cloak. Frowning, he looked up.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he had barely noticed as they crested a small rise in the road, and the mountains on either side disappeared into the mist as if they had passed through a gateway in the stone. Here he found the road fell sharply away, vanishing into the endless plain of fog. Suddenly robbed of a visual horizon, Vaoris felt his stomach lurch with vertigo. He shook his head to clear it, steadying himself against the saddlebow. Luckily, Rohiriel had reined her beautiful mare to a stop at the brink, and his own horse seemed perfectly content to follow her lead, or Voaris was reasonably sure the beast would have meandered off the edge just to spite him. As his dizziness subsided, the wind in his face grew stronger. The field of mist before them started to lift before his eyes, whipped into ghostly patches of whiteness that swirled and darted. In the spaces between, a vision of the terrain ahead began to be resolved. Vaoris blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. After a moment, the separate pieces settled into comprehension with a mental click, and the image took his breath away. From their high vantage in the cleft of the mountains, a great half-bowl shaped country sprawled below them. Vaoris felt dwarfed by the scale of the grey-green terrain, stretching for miles of respectable-sized barren forests, interspersed with empty spaces dotted with rocky outcroppings typical for the base of the mountains. Further toward the horizon, this uneven ground came to a sudden end, giving way to a thick band of grey, made up of a carpet of loose stones and pebbles. Just beyond this shingled shoreline, stretching until even his sharp elven eyes could no longer pierce the horizon, was a unimaginably immense body of slate-blue water. Under a thin covering of clouds, the setting sun shone wanly, its bleached rays glinting on the whitecapped breakers lapping without end on the pebbled shoreline. Throughout the entire vision, thick patches of mist large enough to swallow a caravan seemed to prowl the ground below, roaming randomly on the wind. Vaoris knew instantly what they were looking at. He had heard it described by roving scholars several times, but a secondhand description did poor justice to such a grand spectacle of nature, barely one step better than the white space on the map that represented its location. Either way, he had no doubt that they were now beholding the great western shore of Alagaesia.

Vaoris took a deep breath of the damp, lukewarm air, the salty musk of the sea reaching his senses even at this height. Despite his uncertainty, he felt his spirits rise within him. Whenever he read any description of it, the writer always went out of the way to describe how there was something about the sight of the sea, some kind of thrill or romance that invariably went with it. Now he knew the truth of these descriptions. There was something stirring about watching the undulations of the pounding waves, stretching away into infinity. He now bitterly regretted leaving behind his fairth tablets. He could think of few other vistas more worthy of being captured on the magical stones, whether to enter into the archive or to adorn the walls of his modest living quarters. As he greedily took in the beautiful view, a particularly large bank of fog on the plain below billowed away, revealing at long last their destination; Teirm, the city of the coast, rising without preamble from the landscape like it had been dropped there from the claws of an immense dragon.

Although details were impossible to discern over such a distance, Vaoris could tell instantly that it was unlike any city he had ever seen. It didn't sprawl or meander like any other settlement, subject to the whims of expansion and growth. It confined itself entirely within a single wall, a perfectly geometric square of stone. He knew from the materials he had packed in his satchel that there was a simple and rather fascinating reason for this. Some hundred and fifty years before, the original city of Teirm had just as any other city, an enormous center of commerce growing immensely fat and wealthy off intercontinental trade. This wealth eventually inflamed the greed of a large band of pirates, who hatched a plan for taking the wealth for their own. They descended upon the city like a sudden hurricane, totally pillaging the city before burning it to the ground. The town was essentially obliterated over the course of a few days. To prevent this ever happening again, they people of Teirm reorganized their center of trade as a planned city, designing a nearly impregnable fortress to rise from the ashes of the pirate raid. Looking down on it now, Vaoris had to admit that it was a smart move on the part of the Broddring kingdom. The city was now as wealthy as it had ever been, but now the very sight of the walls was enough to give even the bravest and stupidest pirate something very serious to think about.

Just then, Rohiriel cleared her throat, bringing Vaoris back to the here and now. Typically, she seemed unaffected by the sight of the world at her feet, her eyes giving the scenery only a cursory sweep as if she was only concerned with signs of bandits behind the rocks. "Have either of you ever travelled to Teirm before?" She enquired, not looking at them. Vaoris' memory clicked, recalling something he had been meaning to do since he had woken that morning. "Oh... No, I at least have not." He spoke in, spurring his horse closer to his companions. "But, I have been studying the city as much as I could on the way here. Did you know Grand Library even possesses the original plans for the city's construction? Though I wasn't allowed to take those with me, obviously..." As he was talking, both Dantie and Rohiriel had swiveled in the saddle to look at him. While the visor covering the face of the former was expressionless as ever, the frigid eyes of the latter more than made up for it. The attitudes of both clearly said get to the point. He licked his lips nervously. "Anyway," He continued, mentally shortening his explanation by several dozen words. "I've composed a miniature map of the city, detailing the locations of all the main thoroughfares. The alleys and backstreets are far too numerous to put down, but it should give the general idea. Also, I made two copies." As he spoke, he undid the flap of his satchel, leafing through the weighty contents before withdrawing two sheets of folded parchment inked with his neat, restrained handwriting beside the straight cartographer's lines. He had created the copies with magic, ensuring that they would be the same in every detail. "In my studies, I've managed to isolate several points of interest, mostly taverns reputed to be centers for business deals of... questionable legality. I... It seemed like as good a place to start as any." He shut his mouth with a click before his tongue could run on further. He sighed inwardly. Why was it so hard for him to speak with Rohiriel's eyes on him? He was reminded why he tried to stay out of the spotlight in his interactions with other people. Without another word, he offered the product of his hours of study, feeling more like he was giving a peace offering. While he had hoped for some kind of praise while he was composing it, he decided now that he would settle for ambivalence.

[/blockquote]

...Wow. I had a direction in mind for this post, but my muse took me in a totally different one. I'm not sure if that's good or not, so I'll leave it up to you.

[dantieduurden]

As Rohiriel told Dantie his name he acknowledge her with a nod of his head before saying, " Yes milady." Then waiting for Vaoris to finish his speech Dantie sat patiently as they all crested the hill into the human city's domain. These woods would be litter with thief's no doubt, and sentries from the city at the least. Never mind the urgals from the spine. All would be converging in this area between the city and the open road. And so Dantie kept his hand close to his blade, while the other held Eclipse's reins. " Aye, I have been here once before, along time ago. But I remember a few safe places where one can go unnoticed, all near the docks, all in the most rowdy place, but in its own right it is also the most safest." Dantie said as he looked from Rohiriel to Vaoris. " Fights break out regularly, but why would a thief expect someone looking for them to go into there den?" Dantie said as he looked at the scholar, hoping that he would show him the map. " The problem is is that I was very young last time I was here and thus do not know the humans strengths and weakness's inside this town. " And with that he went back to his silence.

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel

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Finally, the monotonous expanse of the road changed. It crested unexpectedly beneath the metal-shod hooves of their horses to wind sinuously down the length of a steep hill to the coast. As the mist was ferried away by the damp sea breeze she could see the vastness of the coast spanning endlessly before her. The scent of the briny sea air assailed her nostrils, and she inhaled the strange smell with interest. It was immensely different from the dusty, slightly moldy scent of the Grand Library and its books. The smell stung her nose and filled her lungs with its dampness, but it was refreshing as the stale, unchanging smell of the library was not. The sea air was carried on the wings of freedom, of something alien that begged to be explored. The ocean spawned many adventures; tales of great conquests, lost loves, and heartbreak. She admired the crystalline expanse of the ocean. From what she had read, the ocean mirrored the fickle nature of the human heart. Some days it was calm and serene like a glass lake on a sunny day. Other days it raged and cried out in sorrow, drowning those who floated precariously on its surface with unpredictable and violent maelstroms. It was a terribly beautiful thing, capable of loving one moment and hating the next, and unaware or uncaring of those it harmed with its capricious emotions. Yet it was indeed beautiful.

It stretched from horizon to horizon as far as Rohiriel’s eyes could see in a never ending silk ribbon of the richest cerulean, darker than the light azure of the sky, but no less magnificent. Brief flashes of white were visible to her sharp gaze as waves crested momentarily in the sunshine only to be swallowed the next instant as the oceans depths surged to the surface to breath the fresh air and hear the cries of the seagulls as they wheeled endlessly overhead. Rohiriel could hear their plaintive cries even from the crest of the hill where she stood. They added to the atmosphere of the sea, always searching for the illusive silvery flash of a fish beneath the roiling surface of the water. She watched as one dropped into a spectacular dive, allowing gravity to carry it as it plummeted swiftly towards the glittering ocean with its wings tucked tightly to its sides. At the very last moment it spread its wings, and they stretched taught, buoying the small white bird on the ocean’s tides of air as its talons dipped into the water to rise victoriously with a small, wriggling fish clenched tightly in its grasp.

She shifted her gaze to the port where large white sails attached securely to the towering masts of many ships billowed in the wind. Boats of many sizes were moored in Teirm’s waters. She could see several large merchant ships docked further down the shore with the small, moving shapes of bustling crewman climbing across the decks and up and down the wooden planks that stretched from their decks to the docks. In the shallower waters where large ships would be beached on the underwater dunes of sand and coral reefs that lined the edges of the harbors, smaller boats were tied to the docks. Many of them seemed to be personal vessels. She could only make out the shapes of a few people aboard each. Some sprawled lazily in the bright sunshine like cats in a warm pool of sunlight, soaking up the rays that gilded the shallow ocean waters with heat. Others moved actively around the decks of their ships like small scurrying insects, tinkering with this or that, and fiddling with various parts of their crafts. Rohiriel was no expert on the workings of a port city’s docks, however, and was unable to determine the specifics of their actions.

She was spared the efforts of deciphering the unusual trials of the docks by Vaoris’ voice. “Oh… No, I at least have not.” He said, breaking the silence that had descended over their small party after Rohiriel’s inquiry. “But, I have been studying the city as much as I could on the way here. Did you know the Grand Library even possesses the original plans for the city’s construction? Though I wasn’t allowed to take those with me, obviously…” His voice trailed off, and she realized she was staring at him. How typical of a scholar to know volumes about a city he’s never been to. She thought, amused and chagrined all at once. It would have been a more productive use of her own time to have been studying the city they would soon be visiting than brooding over the events that had led her to abandon her self imposed exile in Ilirea. She could have been troubled to learn more about her two travelling companions as well. Vaoris and Dantie had spoken a bit over their nightly campfires in the past week since their departure, but she hadn’t paid them any mind. Suddenly, she regretted her inattention. She was the most experienced in the sort of mission they were undertaking. Out of the three, she was certainly the most accustomed to sneaking around in the dark, disguising herself and playing the role of another. Stealing as well, even if it had not been her main purpose in Ellesmera, Rohiriel had practice at that as well. Vaoris and Dantie were new to the world, or at least the violent workings of the one outside of Ilirea. She was their guide, and she needed to start playing that role just as she played the role of Lady Lantana. She would have to put the horse merchant’s daughter Rohiriel, and the assassin Lomiel off to the side for the duration of their stay in Teirm. Well, maybe not entirely. Surely she could find a use for parts of both of them while the three of them were on their quest.

“Anyway.” Vaoris continued, drawing Rohiriel’s attention back to him. “I’ve composed a miniature map of the city, detailing the locations of the main thoroughfares. The alleys and the backstreets are far too numerous to put down, but it should give the general idea. Also, I made two copies.” He paused to rifle through the satchel that had been his constant companion throughout the trip. He finally found what he searched for a removed two pieces of folded parchment from its depths. They were covered in letters carefully rendered in the scholar’s neat hand in black ink. He held them in his hands for a moment, as if unsure of himself before he looked up at Rohiriel and Dantie. “In my studies, I’ve managed to isolate several points of interest, mostly taverns reputed to be centers for business deals of… questionable legality. I… It seemed like as good a place to start as any.” He closed his mouth abruptly, offering the pieces of parchment to her and Dantie. She urged Datia close to the scholar’s stubborn steed to fetch her copy, realizing the animal would not consent to move closer to her. The parchment ruffled comfortingly in her hand as her fingers closed over the crisp document. She could feel the impressions the pen left on the page, and ran her fingers lightly over them, tracing the lines with the sensitive pads of her fingers. She studied the scholar’s neat work for a moment, but before she could express her gratitude for his effort, Dantie spoke.

Before his words even registered, her eyes were drawn to the way his gauntleted hand hovered tensely over the hilt of his sword. Did he plan to strike? The alien thought forced itself into her mind, a remnant from a time long past. Rohiriel fingered the hilt of the dagger she had strapped to her wrist, examining the man’s thick plate armor for weaknesses even as she admonished herself for her swift judgment. He would not strike her. They were allied in their quest to retrieve the stolen book and to prevent the treasure whose location it detailed from falling into the wrong hands. A burst of dry amusement rose within her, and she released the smooth leather hilt of her dagger. It sounded like one of the quests of the heroes of old. Of course, she was no hero. Dantie could fit the part of the knight in shining armor, Vaoris the wise wizard who guided their quest. She was on the wrong side of the tale. She should be the villain, not a member of the hero’s party. Yet here I am. Trying to fool myself into believing I can repent for my sins. The thought sobered her, and she focused on what Dantie was saying.

“Aye, I have been here once before, a long time ago. But I remember a few safe places where one can go unnoticed, all near the docks, all in the most rowdy place, but in its own right it is also the most safest.” He told her and Vaoris, turning his helmeted head to look at them both. “Fights break out regularly, but why would a thief expect someone looking for them to go into their den?” Dantie’s head titled to face Vaoris, but he continued without addressing the scholar directly. “The problem is that I was very young last time I was here and thus do not know the humans strengths and weaknesses inside this town.” She waited for a moment, but he did not speak more. Silence filled the space between them for a moment, broken only by the piercing cries of the seagulls as they searched for food, and the distant shouts of sailors on the docks. Both Vaoris and Dantie offered different ways to pursue the trail of the thief. Certainly both had their merits, but it seemed as if they expected her to decided which path they would take.

“We’ll ask the guards at the gate for the best inn in the city.” She said after a moment of staring blankly at Vaoris’ list to provide an excuse for her silence. “We’re travelling nobility. It would be odd to stay any place else.” She refolded the parchment resolutely and put it carefully in her saddle bag. “We can visit the places you both mentioned under the pretense of searching for a rare artifact. Nobles are notorious for visiting places they have no business being, because they frequently fail to imagine that any harm can come to them. It will not be too unusual for us to be seen in odd places, especially with Dantie posing as a bodyguard. Lantana will feel most bold with Delyson by her side.” She urged Datia down the road once more, leaving her two companions behind for a moment, and focused on the steady beat of her beautiful filly's hooves as they descended towards Teirm. “And nobles are all manipulative creatures who will stop at no end to get what they want.” She said it quietly, but it was coated with more malice that she expected. She pulled her dagger from his sheath on her wrist to stare at the engraving on its base. Lomiel.

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OOC: Bah! Short, and I apologize for the lateness. School has been crazy, but I survived finals and things are starting to wind down for Midwinter break. It should be getting better now. :)

[Angmor]

And ambivalence was, more or less, what he got. After he had handed her the parchment, even though she seemed very interested in the knowledge he offered, Rohiriel had more or less ignored him. Dantie, typically, had merely carried on gamely, expounding on some childhood experiences he had endured in the city. That, he supposed, was highly unusual. What kind of childhood that this person have, if he had been within the city of Teirm in what would have been the height of the Blue Divide? Still, Vaoris was struck by how Dantie was still thinking like a soldier.
It's not a military operation. He wanted to say. They weren't trying to take the city, they were trying to find a book. The possible presence of one thief hardly constituted an opposing force, as far as he could tell, so why would they need to know the strengths and weaknesses of the humans? Still, he figured saying as much would have little effect beyond alienating Dantie. After all, he was the top student in combat back in Ilirea, and he figured such habits died hard. It wasn't as if he could just up and stop thinking like a scholar, after all. With a slight shake of his head, Vaoris looked to Rohiriel, who was still studying his offering intently, the pale light of the sun making her hair look to be spun of pearl. He could tell without looking that they were both waiting for her to make a decision. After she was the one to spur them along on this quest, it would be up to her how they continued it. Vaoris wasn't sure why, but he felt within him a deep desire to please her, to add value to this quest. It was silly, he supposed. Rohiriel had done nothing to extend friendship, or even acknowledge his existence since the moment she had saved his life. She had no eyes for any act of service he put her way, or truly, any thoughts beyond herself. Still, the feeling remained.
"We shall ask the guards at the gate for the best inn in the city." She said at last, raising her impassive eyes from his map, without a reaction to it that Vaoris could determine. "We're travelling nobility. It would be odd to stay any place else." He watched the precise movements of her slim hands as she refolded his precious parchment, following the movement as it disappeared into a fold of her saddlebags. His heart sank a little. Well, she didn't exactly cast it aside. He offered to himself as a consolation prize. Give it time.
"We can visit the places you both mentioned under the pretense of searching for a rare artifact. Nobles are notorious for visiting places they have no business being, because they frequently fail to imagine that any harm can com eo them. It will not be too unusual for us to be seen in odd places, especially with Dantie posing as a bodyguard. Lantana will feel most bold with Delyson her side." As she spoke, she turned away, setting her eyes back on the city, almost as if she was talking to herself. Vaoris wasn't sure, but did he hear the voice of experience behind her words? Without warning, she spurred her mount forward, leaving him blinking in her wake. She said nothing more, as far as he could tell. That, apparently, was that.

Vaoris sighed deeply, watching her draw away. So, that was it. His very best offering. Hours upon hours of study, on the road no less, using flat rocks for a desk to create the painstakingly precise lines of his map, squinting in the light of a campfire until his eyes burned, sacrificing precious sleep, and the fruits of his labors had met with no greater fate than to be shoved in a saddlebag without comment. Without So much as a 'thank you,' or even an acknowledgement. Vaoris hadn't thought his spirits could sink any lower, but he discovered that he was wrong. He couldn't think of another moment in his life where he had felt more miserable. He had done his very best, doing the only thing that he knew how to do, and it wasn't good enough. Yet more proof that he was totally useless on this journey. After a moment, Dantie also spurred his horse after Rohiriel, offering no comment, probably not even noticing the pain on his face. The hoofbeats faded quickly, leaving him suddenly alone.
The silence mocked him.
What are you doing here? He asked himself yet again. I could turn around right now. I could turn around and go straight back to Ilirea, and neither of them would even notice. He thought about it. He could imagine exactly what it would feel like to rein his horse around and start back through the long, silent cleft in the mountains, to travel back along the roads and paths that he knew, to return the only place he ever wanted to be. He was sure, somehow, that if he was to return to the Grand Library, he would find himself waking up in his bed, finding that this whole unpleasent venture was some vivid, strange nightmare. He was actually adjusting the reins in his hands to act on his thoughts when he remembered that he did not have the supplies to get all the way back to Ilirea. Hendalacon had entrusted Rohiriel with the coin he had managed to allocate to cover their journey. No matter how much he thought about it, he had passed the point of no return somewhere a few miles beyond Ilirea. The only way out was forward, and trials, hardships, and thankless work would not change that.
With another sigh, he coerced his mount into moving, glad of the crisp air cooling hhe welling of tears. After all, he decided, it wasn't as bad as all that. His information hadn't had a chance to prove itself yet. Rohiriel was hardly going to see the merit of it standing on the road before they had even entered the city. In time, he would prove his worth. There in the bright daylight, with the sweeping Vista below him, he could almost make himself believe it.

. . .

With only the surrounding mountains to provide scale, Vaoris found that the distances down the sides of the bowl toward the city were much longer than he had first thought. It was several more hours of riding in relative silence before they finally drew within a league of the city gates. It was at that point where a new difficulty presented itself. Looming out of the mist was a mass of people and wagons, clogging the road ahead with milling humans. At first, Vaoris thought some terrible accident had occurred to block the road, but all the evidence indicated this was not so. The attitude of the people was jovial, and almost merry, many of them passing the time playing simple games in the back of the wagons, and here and there the sound of music and singing could be heard. A few casual enquiries soon revealed that all of this was indeed perfectly normal. There were merely two or three large caravans entering the city that day, which always took several hours to filter through the narrow funnel of the city gate.
"Better get comfortable, masters." One helpful trader had said, smiling as his children engaged in mock combat with sticks on either side of his cart. "Methinks they're getting through fast enough that we won't have to camp outside again tonight, but it should still be many hours yet. Best to find a way to pass the time."With traffic slowed to intermittent bursts, Vaoris was perfectly inclined to follow the man's advice. His scholar's instinct was drawn to wander among the people, listening to their songs and tales, and gather new knowledge. It struck him that he had never seen this many humans in one place before, and the lure of what he could learn from such a diverse group of colorful individuals was almost intoxicating. The notion was quickly cut off by Rohiriel impressing on him the importance of staying close. After all, it would not do for a Lady's personal servant to be mingling with the commoners. Disappointed, but seeing the logic behind the plan, Vaoris put his plans aside, instead turning to his books to pass the time.
Over the next hours as the line crept closer to the city, he managed to take in a sizable portion of his favored reading for that time; a written discourse on the Dichotomy of Destiny and Free Will written by a very well-known philosopher. Vaoris had glimpsed it peeking from a shelf on his way out of Ilirea, and decided to pick it up. The concept of destiny, after all, had just made a hard landing in his life, and so he thought it prudent to learn as much about it as he could. So far, it hadn't helped much. He was continually reminded why philosophy wasn't his favorite subject. It was so ethereal. It dealt entirely with subject matter that was impossible to truly pin down, more often than not falling into presenting all of the different theories on the workings of destiny, many of which were purely conjectural. The consensus seemed to be that there was no consensus.

As another meandering chapter came to a close, Vaoris felt a frown of consternation growing on his face.
Well, that was no help at all. How did this man ever get to be so well-known? He shut the book with a huff, raising his head again for the first time in hours. All around him, the scene had not changed much. The sun was lower in the sky, and the towering walls of the city had loomed close enough that he could actually see the guards of the city gates ushering in the members of the caravan, stopping a few here and there to ask questions of business and cargo. He estimated that the line would carry him and his companions to that point in another hour or two. Just then, as his eyes scanned the scene around him, he noticed that there was a man on horseback about five yards in front of him. Amid the sea of people, there would be nothing unusual about this; there were many men on horseback. But this particular man had pivoted in the saddle and was watching him closely, and Vaoris got the impression that he had been for some time. The man comprehended instantly that he had been spotted. He quickly checked his mount, slowing so that he and Vaoris sat alongside one another. As he did, Vaoris took the opportunity to study the man who had taken such an interest. As far as he could tell, there was nothing particular about the man; Simple green traveling leathers, average, lean build, short, close-cropped black hair that went well with an elegantly trimmed beard. Vaoris found that age was so very difficult to judge on humans, short-lived race as they were, but this man's face was unlined by toil, and his build suggest a lifestyle of relative ease. In fact, the only thing at all notable about the man was distinct impression of veiled inteligence glinting in his dark blue eyes.
"Sometimes the pursuit of knowledge brings the peace of a gentle breeze," The man said pleasantly without preamble. "But sometimes it brings with it the tempest of the storm."
Vaoris knew the quote. It had first been spoken over a thousand years ago, and was still used often by those in the profession of the scholar.
"Tirethir." He said, naming the quote. The man nodded.
"Quite so. I'm sorry for my intrusion, but I was up ahead, and I couldn't help but notice what you were reading. You see, I myself possess an interest in such lore, and I find it amazing that another traveler on the road would be so inclined." Vaoris was taken aback. While the man looked nothing special, his voice was clipped and educated, carrying with it an undertone of effortless authority. Vaoris felt inclined to agree that finding a human on the road who shared an interest in knowledge was an odd, serendipitous coincidence.
"Remarkable." He said. "You have an interest in philosophy?"
"Oh, I dabble." The man answered. "Slippery subject. But I have a great interest in literature in general. I'm an incurable bibliophile." He turned, offering a smooth, uncalloused hand for the shaking. "Gaius Nareth, at your service."

At that instant, Vaoris felt as if he had been struck squarely with a large sandbag. His stomach sank like a stone, and for an instant the only sound he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears. This was a very simple moment in a conversation, the exchanging of introductions, but now for the first time in his life, he had two names to give. The only question was, which one? At first, the choice seemed simple. His front teeth had already made contact to produce the V sound of his usual title. And yet, he could sense Rohiriel's cold eyes on him from somewhere up ahead, glaring the promise of unknown horrors if he didn't stick to the plan. All of his earlier arguments and rationalizations he had made flashed through his mind in an instant, providing no new information for him to make his choice. Each one had equal merit in his mind, but he had reached the moment where he could no longer sit on the fence. He just needed to decide.

“Noendir.” He said, surprising even himself. It simply popped out. He blinked once at his own audacity, even as he found himself picking up again smoothly, warmly shaking Nareth’s hand. “Noendir Almis. Personal servant to Lady Lantana of House Egladhrim.” As he said it, it all slid into place. He could feel his face take on an unfamiliar set, his mind filled with unfamiliar emotions.
Becoming someone else.
The man raised an eyebrow, surprised. “A servant to nobility? I’m sorry… I wouldn’t have taken you for that. I deal with nobility quite a bit, and most of them are… Well…”
“…Stuck up bureaucrats whose only book is a financial ledger?” The response was simple, rolling off his tongue. What was happening to him? For his part, Nareth smiled.
“Yes, exactly. I certainly wouldn’t expect to find someone like you here, with a book in his hand.”
“Well, truth be told, I haven’t been a servant long. I am here because my older brother was killed in the Blue Divide. It’s our family’s ancestral duty to serve House Egladhrim, and I was the next in line. I was aspiring to be a scholar, before that.” Vaoris felt like an observer in his own body, wondering what he would think of next. The strange part was, it was him coming up with this. He knew all of this from his studies into the human system of nobility. But he would never have thought himself capable of taking all of that knowledge and literally building a false life around it, a story that he could pull out of his hat at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t sure what disturbed him more; the fact that he could do it, or the fact that it was fun. “What of you?” He said, wanting to turn the conversation back before he discovered anything more about himself that he didn’t want to know.
“Me? Oh, nothing so interesting. I am merely a simple businessman. However, I learned early on the value of educating myself, and I credit that with much of my success. So tell me,” The man asked, abruptly switching gears. “We have some time before the gates. What brings you to read that book? If you seek knowledge on that subject, I can recommend several that are better…”

For the next hour, he and Nareth talked books, discussing their favorite subjects and authors, and their personal libraries. Vaoris needed to be careful with that one, making sure he did not let on that he had the Library as his personal library. Still, he found himself slipping more and more into his role, barely having to worry about slipping up. Even more, he found himself liking Nareth even more as time went on. After what felt like an eternity on the road with relative strangers who came from very different walks of life, it felt good to converse with someone who understood what he was talking about when he used scholar’s terms. Even more than that, he and Nareth seemed to have even more in common: A hungry intellect. It became plain to see that Nareth was deeply intelligent, and so well-educated on a variety of subjects that Vaoris almost found himself disturbed that a single human could know so much. Even so, he enjoyed the conversation immensely, and it was almost a surprised when they were through the gates, having passed in past the guards without even a suspicious look. Vaoris blinked, suddenly finding himself in a wide, cobbled plaza inside the city gates, still crammed with people, obscured by the long shadows of the late evening. Rohiriel and Dantie sat mounted on his left, the former carrying a guarded expression that clearly indicated that he should stop chatting and regroup. On his right, Nareth seemed to pick up on it right away.
“Well my friend,” He said, said pleasantly. “It looks like now we must part ways. Where are you staying?”
Vaoris didn’t know, actually. That had been a concern of Rohiriel’s, if he remembered correctly. “We’re not really sure.” He answered honestly. “I was to ask the guards for the best inn in the city, but I’m afraid I totally forgot.”
“What, those military men? They would direct you straight to the favorite garrison watering hole, and that wouldn’t do at all. Tell your mistress that the Golden Perch is the only place to stay. It’s not quite the most expensive inn, but it is certainly the best.” Vaoris nodded, feeling his time running short.
“The Golden Perch. I will remember that. Well, I thank you for your time. I imminently enjoyed talking with one as knowledgeable as you. I’ve been surrounded by nobles and bureaucrats for too long.” Nareth threw back his head, laughing heartily.
“Don’t worry, Noendir. After speaking with you, I know they will never break you. Well, goodbye my new friend. I will remember our conversation, and I hope that I may run into you again before my visit is done. Good hunting!”
“Good hunting.”
They shook hands warmly, and Nareth spurred his mount in the opposite direction, disappearing into the crowd. Vaoris sighed, feeling the return to reality settling heavily on his shoulders. The conversation had been a pleasant diversion, but now it was time to get back to work. With some difficulty amid the crowd, he reined his horse around toward his waiting companions.
Well, at least now I know I can settle into our deception without much trouble… He thought, remembering how effortlessly he had slipped beneath the skin of another man. He knew on some instinctive level that he could and would have to do it again, probably sooner than he wanted. As he rejoined Rohiriel and Dantie, something about his previous conversation nagged at him.
Throughout the entire course of the talk, he had never discovered just kind of businessman Nareth actually was.

. . .

[/b]

Gaius Nareth was in fact a businessman, and one of the highest order. He had once been the head of a very successful arms and armor company in Cuenon, but since then, he had moved on to other things. More unconventional things. In fact, many might even say criminal things. In truth, Nareth had spent the past several years of his life making himself into the best-kept secret of Alagaesia's criminal underworld. Over that time, he had partaken in just about every criminal activity that Broddring had a law for, from robbery and extortion and kidnapping to corporate sabotage and the Big Con. Moreover, he was highly effective at what he did, executing operations of precision befitting a skilled general. And yet, very few in the underworld had even heard of him. His operation was still quite small, as such things went, and turned only a respectable profit. That was precisely the way he liked it. He paid his dues to the Hive, didn't grow too large, and as a result, he and his men were left more or less alone by the authorities and other more militantly-minded criminals who might aspire to his position. It left him free to pursue his activities in relative peace, taking on only the jobs he wanted to.
The current job, the lure that had brought him to Teirm was an excellent example. It was very likely a wild-goose chase, more to put to rest a youthful fantasy than anything else. Moving all of the assets into place was costing him a small fortune. And yet, it was all worth it. Even if he lost it all, his standing would not be effected. And the job was just far too interesting to pass up.

For the next several minutes, he deftly directed his dappled mare through the bustling, congested streets of the city. For most places, sundown was the time where activity wound down, with businesses closing down for the night and men ceasing their work. In Teirm though, sunset was a time where one could still find crowded taverns blazing with light, filled to the rafters with the sound of music and laughter. The streets remained filled with people shuffling from one late store to another, or taking in the many street entertainments, anything from jugglers and acrobats to public contests of strength and skill. On the darkened harbor, one might find the pleasure yachts of the rich, the decks lit with many lamps to illuminate the whirling dances of the partying nobility and merchantmen. Nareth had often reflected that Teirm was perhaps the only city in Alagaesia that truly never slept.

By the time he reached the prearranged spot, the sun had sank beneath the level of the western wall, plunging the city into inky shadows made heavy by the mist. The meeting place was a small plaza at the head of the city's warehouse district, its center dominated by a large fountain that probably hadn't worked for a hundred years. The crisp breeze whistled past his ears, carrying the raucous sounds of the public boxing match he had just passed and providing the only break in the deep silence. As he entered the square, the clop of the mare’s hooves echoing dully across the stone facades of the warehouses on either side, the shadow of the fountain underwent a quick mitosis, giving birth to the hunched figure of a man, hooded and cloaked in grey. Nareth smiled, having expecting this, and indeed seen the transition a thousand times.
“Greetings, Riggs.” He called. “I trust your insertion went well?”
The man, Riggs, stepped forward with a slight bow of his hooded forehead.
“Without a hitch, boss.” He answered in his usual bland voice. Nareth always thought that Riggs’ normal voice was more like a blank slate, just waiting to be written over with some false accent or mannerisms. “I trust yours was the same?”
“Of course. Actually, it was quite pleasant. I managed to strike up a conversation with a young man on the way in who aspired to be a scholar. We had a lovely chat.”
Riggs chuckled quietly. “Aye, that’s you all over. Always cool, even right before a job.”
“And that’s you all over,” Nareth answered, sliding gracefully from the saddle, his boots landing firmly on the cobblestones. “Always keeping me on task. I assume you have a place picked out?”
“Aye. The usual, a warehouse about three blocks from here. Hive uses it most often, the owner just takes the rent and doesn’t ask questions. It has everything we need.”
Nareth nodded. “Good. Lead the way.”

With a nod, Riggs turned, walking casually down the street with Nareth following closely, leading the mare by her reins.
“The others are arriving shortly, I take it?” He asked his second.
“Aye. Jora, Henson and Rion are on their way. Our mage friend Lenthir, grumpy as ever, is waiting at the warehouse. The Spook might also be there too, but… Well, you know. It’s hard to tell.”
“And our tumblers? Do we have the Jollan brothers for this one? I think we might need them.”
“They inserted less than an hour ago, covering as acrobats in a travelling troupe. They can drop it, if you like.”
“No, have them stay there. It could be useful later on.”
“Very well. So, that’s our manpower for this one. There’s also plenty of local talent we can hire if we need it, especially dumb muscle. It should be more than enough.”
“Excellent. Well done Riggs, as usual.”
Yes, he decided, Riggs was a good man. It had been several years since he had made the former spy his second in his organization, and he had never once regretted it. In his younger days, Riggs had once been a personal spy of the king, sent on very dangerous missions time and time again to enforce the secret will of Palancar. However, upon the king’s descent into madness that would eventually lead to the devastation of war, Riggs had seen exactly what his life would be worth, and opted for a life of crime rather than servitude to a mad ruler. Since then, Nareth had made use of the man’s formidable instincts and experience. In Riggs, he had discovered the rare balance of a lieutenant who knew when to question the decisions of his superior, and knew when to follow orders.
After a moment of walking in silence, Nareth opened his mouth to speak. “Riggs, I know you well enough to know that something is bothering you. What is it?”
It was true. When he wasn’t using some disguise, Riggs glided rather than walked. His time with the special forces of the king had led him to become an officially recognized master of the sword, and that deadly grace and precision had become a hallmark of the man’s personality. At this moment however, his gait carried a stiffness that was unusual, which was most often a sign that he was pondering something.
“Yes sir, I suppose there is.” He said after a moment, bland as ever. “I’m just wondering about this job. I mean, the ‘Karzin Bandits?’ It all sounds like something out of a fairytale.”
Nareth laughed. He had been expecting this incredulity. After all, it wasn’t totally unfounded. “Well, the story did come for a book. But still, you worry too much.”
Riggs sighed, the sound escaping from under the hood in a small puff of condensed air. “I suppose. Still, you’re mobilizing an awful lot of coin and manpower just to go after a single book. Return on this investment doesn’t seem likely, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I know what you’re saying, and I appreciate your concern. But you know me well enough. It’s not about the money, not for me. If I lose my investment, I lose it. You’ll get paid either way. And I will get what I do this for.”
For a minute, Riggs remained silent, considering. Finally, the hood nodded. “I suppose your right. You’ve never led us astray so far. I trust you.”
“Thank you. I knew I could depend on you, Riggs.”
Yes, Nareth thought, smiling as he walked, this would be an interesting job. On the face of it, it sounded farfetched, ludicrous even. But ever since the story, something inside him had known that it was true. The quest for the armor of the Karzin Bandits would be his greatest challenge yet, but he would succeed. He would find the book, no matter what stood in his way.
Yes, Gaius Nareth was a businessman of the highest order.[/size][/blockquote]

[Akilinia]

Rohiriel

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Thoughts of her past circled through her mind like ravens that had discovered a rotting carcass. They refused to leave her mind, and time and time again the vengeful memories returned to plague her just as ravens did a corpse on the side of the road when they were disturbed by a passing caravan. She pricked her finger with the sharp edge of the dagger and watched, enthralled, as the drop of ruby colored blood travelled down the polished silver edge of the weapon like a tear. She studied the crimson trail the drop left in its wake and wondered at the fact that the blade was not permanently stained such a hue. It seemed to Rohiriel that a blade responsible for the spilling of so much blood should be physically evident. She examined the length of the dagger as if such evidence would appear miraculously if she stared long enough, tried hard enough. However, the blade continued to shine mirror bright in the cool winter sunlight. Glares from the sun reflected off its surface on occasion if she tilted it just right, and purple pricks of light danced across her eyes for a few moments before they dissipated much like the blood of her victims did when she wiped the blade after using it to kill. She wiped the drying blood off with her thumb and returned the blade to its sheath, carefully strapped to her forearm and covered by the billowy sleeves of her shirt.

She glanced up and was surprised to see that the sun was hovering just above the western horizon. Long shadows stretched across the road in front of them. Rohiriel turned her gaze towards Teirm, which was much closer than it had been last time she looked. The stone wall that surrounded Teirm appeared much larger than it had earlier in the day, and seemed to grow in height and magnificence as they approached. She had never seen its like. It was constructed of smooth white stone that afforded minimal hand holds for any thieves hoping to scale it and towered several horses high. She could see the small dark dots of soldiers spaced evenly along it as it stretched to encircle the whole of Teirm. From the road, she could only see one gate breeching the imposing wall. However, Rohiriel assumed that there was at least one more, if not two. One gate would certainly make defending the port city much easier, but it would also make it much more difficult to evacuate the city’s inhabitants in a time of war or if the wall happened to be overrun by invading forces. Regardless, she decided she would need to make sure once they were in the city. If things went wrong it would be to their advantage to know where all the exits from the city were.

As they drew closer it became apparent that the main gate was blocked with people. She could see them, stretching up the road in an unorganized mass of horses, carts, and people on foot who all jostled for position as the line moved slowly forward. Puzzled, she peered at the gate. The sun was still out, so it was too early for the gates to be closed for the night, but she could not see anything that would cause such a back up. After a few moments they reached the end of the line of people, and Vaoris, who seemed to have been following her line of thoughts, asked a few people near them what was going on. “Better get comfortable, masters.” One man told them. He revealed several missing teeth as he smiled indulgently at a few children fought with sticks gathered from the side of the road to pass the time. The children, a young boy and girl with matching dark hair, were dressed in torn garments stained with mud, but they both seemed healthy with enough meet on their bones to attest to the care their parents gave them. The path she’d chosen for her life never allowed her to interact with many children. They were revered among her people, because of their rarity and their vast magical abilities. As she watched the two children race around the cart she wondered if humans cared for them in the same way elves did.

“Methinks they’re getting through fast enough that we won’t have to camp outside again tonight, but it should still be many hours yet. Best find a way to pass the time.” A couple of hours were not long for someone who’d lived as long as she had. She glanced back down at the two children who had abandoned their game to ask their father how much longer it would be until they could see the city. However, what would pass in the blink of an eye for her would seem a lifetime to the two young children. Time was odd in that way. The longer one had to become acquainted with it, the faster it seemed to go. Rohiriel shifted her gaze to her two companions. How would time pass for them? Dantie sat unmoving on his horse, staring straight ahead as if lost in thought. His black stallion pranced and snorted a little at the press of people around his legs, but calmed as he realized his rider was unconcerned by it. He did not seem bothered by the prospect of waiting. Vaoris worried her more. She could see a scholar’s curiosity shining in his gray gaze as his head turned to take in the crowd around him. She imagined he viewed the hours they would spend waiting to reach the gate as an opportunity to study human culture rather than an unfortunate set back.

Rohiriel nudged Datia closer to him and pitched her voice low so that if any of the humans clustered around them happened to be listening, they would not be able to discern her words over the noise of the crowd. “Stay close.” She told him, letting a frown crease her face. “We must keep up appearances even though we are not yet in Teirm. A Lady’s servant does not wander from her side.” True, but she also worried that he would reveal their identities with his words if her presence was not there as a constant reminder of the role he was to be playing. Vaoris had voiced his displeasure at having to lie to those he conversed with. He did not see why it was necessary for them to play roles that were not their own, but she assumed that he would concede to her as a result of her age and would play his part when the time came. She was not overly concerned with the fact that he would choose to ignore the role she’d fabricated for him. She was more worried that he would not be able to play it adequately. Assuming the life and persona of another was not simply a matter of will. It required the right mind set.

One had to be able to give life to the face they chose to act. It was not enough to know that your person was born in the forest; one had to be able to imagine the scent of the trees after rain and the damp shade that permeated the undergrowth. One had to be able to create events in the person’s history that would cause them to be the way they were. Perhaps they were forced to sail through a mighty hurricane while delivering goods, and were afraid of thunder or storms as a result. Playing the role of another convincingly required the ability to remember details one fabricated during a conversation so that one could provide consistency when talking to different people and so that if one happened to speak with the same person twice, that person was not made suspicious by changing details. Disguises were a tricky business. One that Rohiriel had often been forced to employ when she could not just kill a person outright. Sometimes a certain amount of discretion was required. Occasionally it was more pertinent to make it appear as if a person died naturally from an illness rather than at the hands of a murderer. Such instances required Rohiriel to integrate herself into the target’s life so that she could kill them without alerting their family members of the fact that it was foul play.

No. She told herself firmly, turning her attention from her past. Disguising herself so she could get close enough to kill a person and playing the role of a noble woman simply as a precaution while searching for a book about treasure for the Riders were completely different situations. The stakes were not as high for elves of Ilirea searching for a book of treasures as they were for someone looking to commit murder. If her deception was discovered prior to completing the kill her life would have been forfeit. She doubted their discovery in Teirm would result in death. Perhaps a thoroughly invigorating chase from the city by angered citizens or maybe even a brawl, but not death.

For a moment she wondered what would happen if they ended up in a situation that could result in their deaths. She had taken a vow never to kill again, but would she keep it if breaking it meant their survival? She knew she was capable of ending the life of another. She felt remorse at the thought of what the lives of those she killed might have been like, and a great sorrow when she considered the pain she caused their loved ones, but that was only afterwards. She felt nothing when she killed them. It was as if her heart developed a coating of ice that only melted after her victim lay cold at her feet. What would she do if she drew a blade with the intention of defending herself and her companions? Would she kill those who threatened her, or would she be able to stop after incapacitating them? She hoped she never had to find out. All she needed to do was find the book so they could return to Ilirea. Not too difficult.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

After a few hours, she was drawn from her reverie as someone approached Vaoris. The young scholar had been reading contentedly since they’d joined the line and had fallen behind her and Dantie. As she replaced his book in his satchel a young human man slowed his horse to match paces with the rambling gait of Vaoris’ stubborn animal. The human did not possess and traits that would single him out as extraordinary, and seemed to adhere to the normal human customs as far as appearance went. His hair was the same shade of black as his beard and mustache, all closely cropped and neatly groomed. He wore simple green leathers worn from travelling, and seemed young by human standards, as far as Rohiriel could tell, because his face was relatively unlined. His build was lean, someone not accustomed to hard labor, and his height was average compared to the other human men that clustered around them. He was not someone who would warrant much attention in a crowd, but that was no way to judge the apparent harmlessness of a person. More often than not, the ones who could walk anonymously through town without attracting the gaze of others were the dangerous ones.

It was a common misconception that she’d noticed in the book she’d read while in Ilirea’s Grand Library. The villains were often portrayed as extremely hideous or as having a sinister desirability about them that caught the attention of the helpless maidens and captivated them. In reality, excessive scarring or beauty would make it difficult to accomplish any unlawful deeds without drawing attention as one did them. The best thieves were unremarkable people who blended with a crowd. Perhaps the misconception that villains are always ugly or beautiful resulted from the fact that most lawbreakers captured drew attention because of their exceptional appearances, and so the general assumption was that all criminals fit such descriptions. Rohiriel snorted aloud and turned her attention to the two young men who had struck up a conversation about philosophy and scholarly pursuits. Listen to me, She thought with amusement. If I keep entertaining such thoughts I might as well join their conversation. She slowed Datia slightly in order to hear them better.

“Remarkable.” Vaoris was saying. “You have an interest in philosophy?” He inquired of the man.

“Oh, I dabble.” The human answered smoothly. Although his voice could not be compared to the lyrical sound of an elf’s, it had a velvety and soft sound that was pleasant to the ear. “Gaius Nareth, at your service.” The man said, turning gracefully in his saddle to offer Vaoris his hand. Now there is someone who knows how to sit on a horse. She thought, watching the way Nareth effortlessly matched the motion of the horse’s walk with his body surreptitiously from the corner of her eye. Distracted from their conversation by his horse, she examined the mare as well as she could through the wall of people that separated them. She was a delicate, fine boned creature. The mare’s head was dainty, but her nostrils were large and her throat wide to allow sufficient air to reach her lungs. Although she wouldn’t hold up to combat, from what Rohiriel could see, she would be an exceptional runner. The mare might have given Datia a run for her money. She reminded Rohiriel of the horses bred by desert dwellers to move swiftly and easily over the sand where another, heavier horse would sink and struggle to lift its hooves. If she ever had the opportunity to speak with the man, Rohiriel needed to remember to ask him where he got his horse…

Her attention was captured by the look on Vaoris’ face as he stared at Nareth, still clasping the human’s hand. The scholar seemed as a loss for words, and suddenly Rohiriel realized why. He’s thinking about giving his real name. She forcefully kept the expression on her face pleasant on the off chance anyone was looking in her direction as she turned to stare at Vaoris, hoping to remind him why it was necessary to maintain his disguise as her servant. Although it might not have seemed important to Vaoris to play the role she’d given him even before they entered the city, she knew that even one moment of indiscretion could result in complications down the road.

On one of her first missions she’d needed to play the part of a servant in order to infiltrate the home of an unusually paranoid nobleman in Ellesmera. The noble who introduced her to the assassin’s art shared very little with her about her target. She knew his name, the fact that only his most trusted servants were allowed to bring him food or drinks, and that he needed to die in a way that appeared natural. She assumed the role of a servant girl named Ethiriel and spent months gaining the noble’s trust. At first she was delegated to simple tasks like cleaning and laundering, but after a few of the noble’s favorite servants happened to take ill, she was promoted rapidly. After she’d been bringing his meals for a few weeks, she began to add small doses of arsenic to them. As the noble took ill, she increased the dosage to make it appear as if the illness was slowly becoming worse and worse.

Shortly before he died, the man summoned his son home from Ceunon where he’d been apprenticing with a merchant to learn the ins and outs of trading. Out of pity, an emotion that she had not yet destroyed, she withheld the final doses of poison so the man could bid his son farewell. The day the son arrived she realized her mistake. She had come across the young elf one time while she’d been out with her master. He had failed to mention that the noble was one of his political rivals, and the son immediately recognized her and had her thrown in the dungeon. He accused her of being a spy for her master, not quite on target, but close enough to make Rohiriel nervous. She knew it was only a matter of time before the son put two and two together and realized his father’s illness and her arrival were no coincidence. She decided to cut her losses and escaped that night. However, the son was prepared for her attempt and she was forced to kill him when he tried to recapture her. When she returned to her master, he was angered and sent her back to finish the job after beating her pity out of her. If she had been researched the noble before infiltrating his house, she would have known the man’s son knew her as an employee of her master’s. She also would have known they were enemies. In the end, her carelessness resulted in the deaths of two people where there could have only been one.

“Noednir.” Vaoris said. Suddenly it seemed to Rohiriel as if all the tension had left her body. “Noendir Almis, personal servant to Lady Lantana of House Egladhrim.” A smile spread across her face and she turned to face the gate of Teirm.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

As the sun dropped beneath the horizon and dusk descended like a faded orange tide upon them, they cleared the gates into Teirm. Although some of the people that preceded them through the gate dispersed swiftly down various cobbled streets with purposeful movements, many loitered in the broad plaza just inside. The ground was covered with a layer of smooth, round tan and gray stones she suspected were gathered from the ocean shore less than a mile outside the city walls. Small buildings built of a stone similar to the one that the encircling wall was composed of create a perimeter around the plaza on one side and on the other she could see various shops and stands that were beginning to close as night descended. She studied the buildings as she guided Datia off to the left to wait for Vaoris, only half aware of Dantie following her like a silent shadow. All of the buildings were the same height, but she could see roofs rising in even increments beyond the ones right in front of her. She tilted her head back to stare at the peak of the hill they climbed, and shining like a beacon in the fading light was a citadel composed of white stone. In its tallest tower she could see the tell tale shine of a signal meant to guide ships into Teirm’s harbor through fog or darkness or storm.

She wondered why the city was built in such a way. The equal roofs would make it easy for thieves or others who harbored less than noble purposes to navigate the city without detection. Then again, such construction could prove beneficial to them during their time in the city should they have need of travelling somewhere without the knowledge of others. However, the architects of Teirm certainly would not have designed it to accommodate thieves. There must have been a logical reason for its design. She would ask Vaoris when they reached the hotel. He had spent the majority of their journey educating himself about the city from various scrolls he’d brought from the Grand Library, and his new friend might have shared that piece of information with him during their long conversation.

Rohiriel turned to see where her scholarly companion had disappeared off to just in time to see him and his new friend pass through the gate. They appeared to be deep in conversation, but after Vaoris flashed a glance in her direction, Nareth seemed to take the hint, and few parting words and a handshake later Nareth’s mare was picking her way daintily through the crowd, deftly avoiding toes and the occasional finger with the ease of long practice. She watched the man and his horse disappear down one of the many roads that branched off the plaza while Vaoris made his way slowly towards her and Dantie. His journey towards them seemed to weary him greatly, and when he finally made it to them, the scholar appeared preoccupied and slightly depressed about something. The corners of his lips were turned down in a frown, his eyes stared unseeingly at the mane on his horse’s neck, and he slouched tiredly in his saddle as if a great burden had suddenly come to rest upon his shoulders. He glanced at her fleetingly to tell her that the Golden Perch was the best inn in Teirm before he became lose in his thoughts once more.

Unwilling to disturb his thoughts, Rohiriel tapped the man nearest to her on the shoulder. As he turned, she immersed herself in the mind of Lady Lantana of House Egladhrim. “Excuse me. Yes, you there.” She said imperiously when the man raised an eyebrow at her. “My servants and I are in need of accommodations for our stay here in the city and we have been assured that the Golden Perch is the very best this town has to offer.” She let displeasure coat her voice to convey her skepticism about the Perch and the state of Teirm in general. “Direct us to it if you please.” The man was scowling outright now, and she could see he was on the verge of refusing her. She sighed inwardly and reached into her bag to retrieve a silver to buy his efforts. She flashed the coin, and immediately the man was more agreeable. Judging by his clothes, which were little more than heavily patched rags, he seemed to have need of the extra money. He also appeared not to have washed for several days. She could smell him even from Datia’s back, and could see smears of dirt on his hands and legs.

“O’course m’lady!” The man agreed, offering her a deep bow. “Right this way!” She offered him a bright smile and urged Datia after him as he started off down one of the more brightly lit streets.

As the number of people wandering the streets dwindled, she could hear the roar of the ocean. Despite the fact that she’d never heard it before that day, she knew immediately what it was. The sound of the ocean was something that was shared between people without conscious thought. It was a roar, a rush, the sound associated with gulls and freedom and pirates. It was something every child was born knowing much like all knew how to hear or see or feel. Even if one lived thousands of miles from it, the ocean was as much a part of every person’s soul as air or magic or the sun that gave every creature life. She inhaled deeply and could smell the sea faintly over the scents of the baking meat, leather, and mud of the city.

She prodded the man, who walked at Datia’s shoulder, with the toe of her boot. “How much longer?” She asked impatiently. Nobles are such rude creatures. She thought as she caught a flash of resentment on the man’s face before he covered it with a pleasing smile. I don’t know how anyone can bear to be in their presence, let along pretend to enjoy it?

“Not much, m’lady.” He assured her, increasing his pace a bit. “It’s jus around th’corner there.” He indicated a bend in the street marked by a brightly burning torch. It cast a flickering orange glow across the cobbled street, causing the lengthening shadows to recede. The sun had disappeared below the horizon almost an hour prior, and night was nearly upon them. She could see the first stars in the sky, and could hear the noise of insects as they rose in swarms from their hiding places to find sustenance from the hapless drunks that would soon be passed out on the side of the street. As it was, Rohiriel could already make out the sounds of merriment that accompanied bars and the common rooms of inns after the sun had set. She was not one for partaking in such festivities, and hoped the Golden Perch was a relatively quiet inn. Come now, She chastised herself, nudging Datia to keep up with their guide. More people will make it easier to come and go without notice, especially if they’re of the rowdy variety. Despite her logic, she found the idea of a good night’s sleep more pleasing than the thought of an easy time gathering information. One could only rest on rocks and roots outside in the cold for so long.

“Here’t is!” The man exclaimed, hurrying around the corner. “The Golden Perch, bes place t’stay in Teirm.” His waving arm encompassed a small two story building. It was composed entirely of wood stacked together to give the place the appearance of a cabin. A small sign with a small leaping fish embossed on it in gold heralded the inn’s name to passersby, and yellow light spilled from all of its windows to pool on the street. She could hear the murmur of many voices from beyond the sturdy door that guarded its entrance and the heady smell of beer assaulted her nose, but it was tempered by the sweet scent of cinnamon and apples. The scruffy man stopped next to her, inhaled noisily through his stuffed nose and rubbed his stomach with a gnarled hand. “Smells like apple pie I reckon!” He announced, eyeing Rohiriel hopefully. She might have purchased the man a meal out of pity for his hollow cheeks and bony limbs, but Lady Lantana was revolted by the ruffian’s coarse manners. She fixed him with her best condescending look and flipped him the silver, clucking to Datia after he’d caught it to move her towards the inn. He disappeared down shadowed the mouth of a side street where the light of the torch on the corner failed to penetrate as she and her companions made their way to the front of the inn.

“Noendir, go and fetch the hostlers.” She ordered Vaoris haughtily, flicking her hand toward the stables. “I will not be forced to suffer horse hair all over my things.” Datia snorted in annoyance and pawed the ground until Rohiriel placed a consoling hand on the mare’s dappled neck. “Have no fear, dear one. I could care less about my clothes.” She murmured to the mare as Vaoris walked stiffly away to fetch the hostlers, dragging his obstinate horse behind him by its reins.

A few moments later a swarm of hostlers surrounded them and Rohiriel found herself being ushered into the common room of the inn. It was a comfortable room filled with small wooden tables and warmed by a large fire that crackled merrily on the far side of the room. Antlers and pelts from various animals adorned the walls, and vintage beer and wine kegs decorated most of the flat surfaces. The room was not empty, but many tables sat unoccupied and the amount of noise being produced by the people in it was significantly less than the other inns she’d passed while following the scruffy man. Waitresses wearing stained white aprons moseyed from table to table delivering food and drink. Men and women sat along the bar and shouted in boisterous voices for the barmaid, a strong woman with auburn hair tied at the back of her neck in a loose knot, to give them their next rounds. As soon as he noticed them, a small, harried looking, pot bellied man hurried over. He bent his substantial waist in a small bow before he addressed them. “Welcome to the Golden Perch esteemed guests. I am Elberiy, the owner of this fine establishment. How long, may I ask, will you be staying with us?”

Rohiriel looked him up and down, visibly measuring his worn leather boots and patched cotton shirt with her eyes. The only mark of the man’s wealth was a gold ring on his middle finger set with a family crest she couldn’t make out. “As long as it takes.” She answered the man with a sniff at his appearance. Elberiy colored slightly under her gaze, but kept his face agreeable. She felt a small pang of regret at treating the man with such disdain when he had shown them nothing but courtesy, but she had to keep up appearances. “We are in Teirm in search of an artifact for my father, Waylon, Lord of House Egladhrim, and we will be staying here until we find it.” The small man nodded in understanding, and opened his mouth to speak. “We’ll take your two best rooms.” She ordered, cutting him off. “Have my bags delivered to one, and put those of my servants’ in the other.”

“Of course, my lady.” And then he hurried off to do as she asked. Rohiriel followed him with her eyes and saw him stop to speak to one of the waitresses. The woman had been sitting idly behind the bar, and he gestured sharply towards where the three of them were standing in the doorway before disappearing into a back room. The waitress fixed her brown hair and tucked an errant piece behind her ear before making her way over to them with a bright smile on her face.

“Would y’all like a table?” She asked them in a honey sweet voice. Her words had a certain lilt to them that differed from the accents Rohiriel had heard since entering the city. She wondered where the woman was from. From her experience, employees at an inn were usually related to the inn keeper, but she could see none of the small man’s pudgy features on the tall, slim woman.

“Yes. One near the hearth.” She told the waitress. The woman nodded and with a sultry glance at Dantie or Vaoris, she sauntered off towards an empty table near the fire, her hips swaying in a pronounced fashion. Rohiriel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. If she knew anything about the two men she would not be so eager to catch their eye. Shaking her head, she chose the chair that gave her the best view of the rest of the common room and sat, arranging her fine new clothes carefully so as not to wrinkle them.

[dantieduurden]

As they came to the line outside of Teirm Dantie relaxed a little. It was highly unlikely for anyone to attack anyone in such a large group but you never knew.

For hours Dantie sat on his horse at his mistress side silent as a statue, but as Vaoris left their small group he looked to his mistress and spoke as if to a higher. " Mi lady would you like me to retrieve your herald." His only reply was seeing her go to him, and he followed close by, his hand at his sword always. He did not trust humans, defiantly talkative ones, they seemed to always be looking for information. Soon though him and his mistress returned back to there positions and he was once again happy.

Once inside the tavern Dantie could not keep his eyes from shifting from left to right, after that beggar had spoken to Rohiriel he knew his job would be much harder then he thought it would have been originally. His eye's soon followed the bartenders hips back and forth as she sauntered over to there table. He was extremely happy he had his helmet on when she took there orders and he was still standing where he had when she began her walk. " I was just making sure the area was secure my lady." Dantie said to Rohiriel covering himself up poorly as he walked over and took a seat to her right hand side. From experience he knew most people were right handed and thus attacked from the right hand side. " My Lady if I may be so, I do not think it wise for us to have two separate rooms. I'm sure a couch will do fine for your herald, and for myself all I shall need is a chair so that I may place in front of the door so that I may keep watch." Then in a softer kinder voice Dantie said as he used magic to alter his facial features to that of a human, " And I would not like something to happen to you." As he said this he took his helmet off, letting long flowing black hair fall out from underneath it, his cold blue eyes remained, but they were kinder then normal. He was pretending to be a guard that cared to much for his liege, hopefully she played along. After all she had been the one to think of the ploy, he was only following orders as he saw them and how he was trained to see them.