No One's Chosen (55 page)

"A Drow, eh? Come from the Blackwood lookin' to
buy?"

She ignored the question. "What is this gathering?
Some elf holy day?"

"Nothin' so joyful as that. The Treorai's dead, they
say. Killed by raiders along the main road."

"The convoy," Aile thought. She spoke. "And they mean
to pay respects at the gate?"

"Nah," the man said. "Gates are open all the way to
the Bastion. S'the way it's always been."

Aile smiled to herself and dismounted the horse.
Movement was too slow and she was too plainly spotted on the beast.
The man called after her as she left the horse among the throngs
pushing their way to the main gate.

The area she had dismounted in was among the nicer in
the outskirts. Heavy with visitors, it had alehouses and inns
aplenty, alongside any shops and services you could imagine. Aile
made directly for the nearest alehouse and pushed open the door.
She did not enter but checked around for pegs on the wall. There
were none and no unattended tables. She pulled back from the door
and moved to the next alehouse, doing the same. This time a pair of
cloaks hung just inside the door. She snatched the nearest one and
ran. Another block over she stopped behind a potshop and sat down
with the long, canvas cloak. It was far more fabric than she could
use. She pulled the knife she had taken off the hunter and tore at
the double thick canvas and its soft linen lining. The cloak gave
way, but the struggle was immense. This blade would never do for
her work in the city, she decided.

She finished cutting the cloak to size as cleanly as
she could manage with the dull instrument. When it was done, she
donned it, pulled it over her head, and made for the main road. The
elven mass had not moved itself forward an impressive amount but
the progress was steady. The road was well wide and full entirely
with elves. Aile worked her way to the middle of the teeming crowd
and hid herself there. She looked forward to see the gate. There
were at least ten guards that she could make out stationed above
the gate and she could not know how many around its base. There was
nothing else for it but to keep her head down and walk. It was
perhaps a quarter of a mile to the gate from where she stood.

As she had assumed it would be, movement was slow.
The singing and weeping had blended into a sort of cacophony that
threatened to drive Aile from her wits. It was nearly two hours
when her segment of the mourning tide had reached the gates. Aile
kept her head down and her skin from sight. None of the elves
around her had seemed to notice her, or if they did they simply
moved away and been replaced with less observant types. There were
many eyes on the column as it made its way into the city, though as
she passed under the great stone wall, she heard no shouts from the
guards or gasps from the crowd. She dared not look up. The feet of
the elf in front of her were the marching pace and she intended to
follow them blindly, and deafly if the chanting and wailing of the
travelers were to have a say in the matter. It was ten minutes and
then twenty. She thought surely they must have moved well enough
away from the wall, but she did not look up. She simply started
making her way through the sea of elf flesh toward the edge of the
road.

Aile was not the only creature in the crowd who had
warmed to the idea of leaving the main pillar. The bodies thinned
significantly at the edges as elves broke off here and there to
seek food and comfort and the like. The Outer Crescent nearest the
wall tended to be a bit more well spaced and open than the areas
closer to the Inner Crescent's barricade. Aile moved her way down
the streets between farms and small groves of trees, some bearing
bright fruits or late Saol flowers. She followed the street around
until she found another that moved north. It was a smaller side
street but was still full with mourning elves making their way
toward the bastion.

There was no want for distraction in the city today,
but Aile noticed that she still attracted more attention than
anything else on offer on the streets. She would need to take great
care to avoid the city's guards. Her employer had been in the Binse
and had coin enough to see her set after by three talented killers,
his influence over those he controlled through his position were
apt to be even more dedicated to their task. She needed blades. And
the cramping that had started to twist its way into her empty
stomach told her she needed food as well. Perhaps it was for the
best, she considered. While there would be confusion, there would
also be a surfeit of guards on watch for any wrongdoing.

The Drow pulled herself off of the main street and
into the shaded retreats of a nearby alley. It was lined with
crates and held a fair few juts out from the shops. She could hide
herself here until night fell. Not a soul passed in the first two
hours of her stay in the alley so Aile allowed herself a bit of
sleep, making sure to cover her skin as best she could in the large
cloak.

She awoke to the sound of a crate clattering to the
ground and jumped to her feet. There was no one in the alley save
for her and she calmed herself. The sun was below the horizon, she
could tell from the color of the sky, but night had not yet set
upon the world. Aile approached the toppled crate to inspect it.
There was a length of rope in the wreckage and nothing else but
dust. She decided the rope might be of use in procuring food and so
she took it and tucked it into a bulky pocket inside the cloak.

She walked out into the street as the purple sky
turned a deeper blue on the way to black. She walked the area
around taking stock of the shops in the area. There was a smith and
a jeweler along the first road she passed and a bladesmith on the
second. The sign attested that the owner made bladed weapons, no
shields or mail. She took it upon herself to remember the place.
The streets were still very alive with elves going about their
business though the throngs seemed to have died down. She made her
way south towards the miniature farms of the farther flung Outer
Crescent.

The plots passed her by, one after another, until she
caught the scent of roasting meat. She did her best find the house
that was producing the smell and then pulled her rope from the
cloak. She cut it into short lengths quickly with her knife. She
kept two to hand and put the rest in the cloak. When she was done
she walked to the door and knocked.

There was a rustle inside the small house and after a
short moment the handle creaked and the door swung open. A tall,
blond elf opened the door and looked at her with a curious
expression. Before he could question why a Drow was at his door,
Aile shoved her leg in behind his and reached up for his throat.
She placed her hand onto the man's neck and pushed hard. He swept
over easily and his head ricocheted off the floor violently. He
rolled to his side instantly with a groan. Aile quickly gathered up
his hands before his head cleared and tied them. She was half done
with the knot on his legs when a woman's scream came from the
doorway to the adjoining room.

Aile yanked the knot tight on the man and shut the
door in a smooth motion as she stood to chase the elf into the
other room. The adjoining room was a dining room and she caught the
woman there, just glancing the back of her knee with the knife. The
elf started to struggle, but Aile held the knife aloft to show it
to her and she stopped there. There was no trouble tying the
woman's hands and legs after that.

She dragged the elf back into the main room where her
mate was bound. She screamed when she saw him on the floor with his
eyes closed. She slapped the woman, which quieted her, and went
back to the dining room. There was a cloth across the table. Aile
cut away two strips and returned to the main room. She gagged the
elves and leaned them against the wall farthest from the
street.

The woman did not look up at her, she kept her eyes
on her unconscious lover. Aile looked them over and spoke. "I am
here for your food. I will kill you if you force it."

She left them and walked to the kitchen, just beyond
the dining room. There was a bright clay box dug into the floor of
the house with metal covers over a fire and a pot and pan with
simmering mushrooms and cream and a seared piece of beef
respectively. She pressed a finger to the meat and it was firm
enough to be done. A bottle of wine sat on a stone counter beside.
She took the small pot and dumped its contents onto the seared meat
and it bubbled rapidly. She grabbed the wine in one hand and the
other, wrapped in the cloak, picked up the pan by its iron
handle.

She spilled some of the sauce when she dropped the
pan onto the table. The wood cracked under the heat of the pan but
she ignored it and went back to the kitchen seeking a utensil of
some sort. She found a kitchen knife and fork and took them back.
Aile enjoyed the meal slowly and took regular, deep drinks of the
wine. It was awful, closer to vinegar than anything she could find
in her recent memory, but it sufficed to quench her thirst. When
the beef was gone, Aile sat in the dining room chair a long while,
staring at the ceiling. There was no need to rush. Not now. The
later it grew, the fewer souls would be wandering the streets.
There was only time now. And a vast series of hiding places should
anyone wish to find her. But that would not do. He had an
outstanding debt and had tried to kill her besides. Her reputation
was also a matter worth considering.

Aile stood and walked into the main room and stood in
front of the couple. The man was awake but glassy eyed. She spoke
to the woman.

"I will loose your mouth before I leave, elf. If you
scream before sunup, I will come and kill you. If you say the word
Drow to anyone, I will come and kill you. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded feebly and Aile leaned in and cut
free the gag from both of her captives. With that done she turned
and left. As she walked down the approach to the road, there was no
sound from the house. The streets had grown quiet for the most part
and Aile made her way toward the bladesmith's shop she had seen
earlier, ducking into alleys if any others joined her on the
street. She was more likely to be called to as a child than a Drow
in the darkness, but in ways that tended to be worse.

She arrived in front of the bladesmith's with little
delay and saw no candles burning among the windows. She slid into
the amply sized alley and checked the other windows for light.
There were none. It was quite early still, but she counted herself
lucky. Either the owner took to bed early or took to his cups
late.

The door to the shop was barred from the far side,
but it was a poorly made door and the whole of her knife blade slid
into the crack. The wood barring the door was thin and light, to
her pleasant surprise. Aile lifted the board and pushed the knife
in farther before bringing it to the ground. She had worried it
would fall to the floor and clatter, which would delay her plans,
but the board stayed steady and when it fell from the far catch, it
propped itself handily against some nearby case or the door jam,
perhaps. She did not know but she pushed down on the latch and
pushed the door open just enough to put herself through it. The
wood slid out obediently and Aile could not help but wonder about
her fickle Goddess and what constituted a blessing.

She grabbed up the board, a cheap piece of pine, and
it almost had her laugh. This was meant to protect a bladesmith's
shop from intrusion? Even the promise of noise was wasted on this
slat of wood. She smiled to herself and put the board aside to look
around the shop.

Around the walls were every size of sword. Dirks and
rapiers lined the walls and at the back side of the shop a glass
case sat in front of a stair leading to the upper floor of the
place.

Aile crept around the shop but there was not a dagger
to be had along any of the walls. All swords and weapons of a
length for which she had no use. A light enough rapier might do in
a pinch, perhaps even a body her size could use a dirk in place of
a short sword if need be. But her hand was used to the weight of
daggers, custom steel at that. It was not uncommon for children in
less reputable areas to carry smaller daggers. Some were even
finely made.

She made it around to the counter proper. The case
before her was glass and contained the daggers she was searching
for. A fleeting wave of joy washed over her as she slipped around
the back of the case and opened it. It left her when she picked the
weapons from the case and handled them. She could not have known by
sight in the dark shop, but touch betrayed the quality of the
bladesmith's work. The blades were uneven in weight throughout
their length and were scarcely sharp enough to scratch leather
without some serious effort. The tips had been sharpened to a point
and quenched hard, but they felt brittle. They would serve as a
decent enough plunging weapon but they were otherwise almost
entirely useless. The handles were far too light and made of
cheaply finished wood in most of the cases. These would not serve,
not at all. She placed a few of them among the various sheaths of
her torn leathers. They were another problem she could not see to
as quickly as she would like. The outfit would need to be custom
made. Even the smallest of elves stood nearly a head above her.

She nearly let go a sigh but a sharp snort from
upstairs reminded her of where she was. And gave her a notion where
she might find better steel. She helped herself to three of the
blades in the cabinet and made for the stairs. She climbed them
slowly and found the upper floor of the shop was open with the
sleeping shop owner on a bed just away from the stairs.

She moved to the bed and looked down at the man. He
had a full head of silver hair and awkward mutton chops. In the
dark she could not guess at his age but it did not matter. She
raised the hand holding a single dagger above her head and plunged
it into his thigh.