Chapter 3 – Treasure and Terror

(DTP 2016)

Daelynn moved to the south end of the second floor checking the doors as she passed them. Two were locked and the third emitted a terrible groan when she attempted to open it. At the far south end she came to the staircase the guard had ascended. Light shone up from the first floor and she could hear the muted drone of conversation. She peered over the lip of the uppermost stair and saw that the stairs ended in a small anteroom. The lower legs and feet of a person were visible standing still with their back to a door that, she reasoned, opened to the large, empty first floor room with the wall hangings. At least two people were down there in a brightly lit, small room. No chance of a safe exit that way.

She was about to circle the stairwell and check out the far side of the second floor when she heard new voices from below. Some people entered the anteroom, approaching the stair case. She quickly scuttled backwards and ran on tip-toe down the hall to stand outside the door of the one room she knew she could enter.

No one came up the stairs. Instead they entered the large first floor room. Gliding to the balustrade she carefully looked down. A man and a boy of no more than twelve or thirteen, were walking to the north end of the room. The shabbily dressed boy was handing the man a small sack and seemed to be in the middle of explaining something which the man, of about thirty years of age, had no interest in hearing.

"Grit, you disappoint me, again. This is hardly enough to turn away Our Lady's displeasure. Bad things happen to those who refuse to acknowledge her power. You have seen that, felt that, yourself. Drink and drugs are making the Black-Scars lazy! When I was a Scar we had discipline. Did you know that in my father's day most Scars eventually became Guild members? Today the Guild recruits few of you. But now you have a chance to be something more, if you follow the Lady! Bad luck is everywhere waiting to happen, to be unleashed on anyone, anytime. Lady Doom can keep it from happening. For a price. That price is your obedience. And part of that obedience is to understand that your gain is the Lady's gain. So, what you have offered up to Her had better be all that has been collected!"

The man leaned over the youth during his harangue, using force of words and his greater physical stature to intimidate the boy. Grit nervously nodded, stammered out what sounded like an apology, reached in to his tunic and pulled out an item, holding it out to the man. All that Daelynn could see was that it appeared to be a silver chain with a green pendant.

"Ha! It appears, young Grit, that you robbed a Tymoran. The Maid of Misfortune will smile on us tonight. Excellent work!"

"Thank you Braxes," stammered the youth.

"But you should not have held this back from me." And with those words the man cuffed the boy a solid blow across his head sending the child to his knees. The youth stood up expecting another such blow but none came. The man seemed more intrigued by the pendant than causing additional pain.

Strike a child? She absently traced the scar on her arm with a finger. Daelynn glared at the man. The boy and man moved into the recessed part of the room and out of Daelynn's field of view. She could hear what sounded like a chant. Light now spilled out of the recess. She gathered that new lanterns or candles had been lit. Candles most likely, as the new light flickered, suggesting a flame open to the air and not shielded. Braxes and Grit left the recess and slowly walked to the south door.

With the increased lighting Daelynn could better distinguish details. The man's features were unremarkable but oddly familiar. He was clean shaven, dark haired, and wore a loose, dark red tunic over what appeared to be well-tailored street clothes. He sported an odd necklace that consisted of a leather strip supporting what appeared to be a short, gnarled black stick. She noticed that both Grit and Braxes had black jagged tattoos on their back of their left hands; Braxes' being larger and more elaborate.

"Remember Grit. Use fear of misfortune, not force, to extort gifts for the Lady. We gather for the service after the gong has struck twice," she heard Braxes remind the youth just before the door closed, cutting off any further opportunity for her to listen to the conversation between the two human males.

Daelynn had not seen either of the two carrying the small bag or necklace when they had left the room, so she surmised that the stolen goods had been left in the recess. As the stairs and doorway were guarded she would have to find another way down to the first floor.

The heavy draperies provided her that route. They hung as banners from two sides of the second floor. She examined the drapery fastenings and saw that they were secure, attached by chains to the balustrade. Slipping over the side of the balustrade the elf grasped the outer edge of the heavy drape intending on using it as a rope to climb down to the first floor. She had only progressed a few feet when her sandaled feet slipped off the smooth stone wall. Her full weight was now suspended by her hands clutching a bunched piece of heavy fabric. She stared to slip.

This was nothing like using a rope! She grasped the drape even more tightly with her right hand, let go with her left hand and quickly drew the dagger she had liberated from the guard. Her right hand could not hold on much longer. She stuck the knife in to the heavy fabric just above her head. It held. She sighed in relief.

Twisting from side to side she tried to look around and assess how best to proceed. As she twisted to the left more of her weight was placed on her dagger hand. The increased weight on the sharp blade overcame the friction of the heavy drape on the blade and it cut through the fabric. Her slide downwards started again. Frantically clutching at the drape, her weight shifting from side to side, she continued to fall with a haphazard, jerky motion as the blade alternately cut and caught on the heavy material. Her momentum could not be checked. She slid all the way to the first floor, losing her grip on the fabric several feet from the bottom. She landed on her left side with a solid 'whump', almost crying out in pain and frustration.

Slowly getting to her feet she rubbed her left haunch knowing that her ass would be black and blue for weeks after such a hard landing. No alarm had sounded; no one opened a door to investigate. Her crash to the first floor had not been heard. Thank the Smiling Lady! Limping over to the banner she used the knife to finish cutting the slit in the drape. By twisting the foot-wide strip of fabric that now hung free of the banner she created a makeshift rope, the top of which was still attached to the banner support and balustrades above. Good. At least there was now a way to get back to the second floor.

She made her way to the recessed section of the room, pausing only to shutter the lanterns on the east and west walls. Darkness was an ally. The recess was a large alcove some five or six yards wide and the same in depth. Against the far wall was a low table covered in black cloth. On the table was an empty sack, its contents spread out across the table - coins and cheap jewelry. In the middle of the table was the necklace Grit had passed to Braxes.

A dozen large candles set around the table gave light. On the far wall and above the table a large piece of red painted wood, cut to resemble a shield, was hung. An odd assortment of black sticks was grouped together and had been fastened to it. Ignoring the Black-Scars décor Daelynn advanced to the table and picked up the necklace. This was no worthless trinket of only sentimental value. The workmanship was exquisite, the silver of highest quality and the green stone that had been carved in the likeness of a shamrock was a semiprecious jewel! Lady Alline had suggested that the ten silvers she was to pay Daelynn was more than the necklace was worth. Ha! Daelynn had wandered the markets in Capitol when she had time and money to spend and eyed many a beautiful piece of jewelry. The price for this necklace would be closer to fifty silvers!

The Lady Alline, Daelynn could not help but think of her now as the elf's client, had some explaining to do. The other coin and baubles on the table might amount to a quarter the price of Alline's necklace. On impulse Daelynn collected everything on the table and placed it back in the small sack, tying it to her sash. The necklace she would not risk losing, so placed it around her neck and under her blouse.

With her task competed Daelynn took one last look around the recess before leaving, paying slightly greater attention to her surroundings now that she had safely retrieved her prize. She saw that the odd collection of sticks on the wall were antlers that had been painted black. The red of the shield that formed the background to them was the same red as Braxes' tunic. She wondered if that odd pendant he wore was a stick, bone or piece of antler like she was looking at. The cloth covered table and candle placement was odd. It had the look of an...

Udún! she swore. Her head snapped up, her eyes focused on the antlers, the shield. She quickly recalled all that she had heard between Grit and Braxes. She had thought that references to 'Lady Doom' and the 'Maid of Misfortune' was to a female leader of the Black-Scars. But the black antlers? Chanting? Talk of a 'service'? The table was an altar! She was in a shrine! A shrine to the Goddess of Misfortune. And she had just stolen an offering from the altar of a dark god. Oh, she was screwed.

Why had she taken on this job? To defy the Black-Scars? To avenge a past injury? To show off? For money? Tears brightened her eyes and her mind was awhirl. What to do? What to do?

She fumbled for the coin that Alline had given her for 'luck'. It was no cheap token presented to pilgrims or the superstitious. It was real silver. Well minted. The Lady of Luck's smiling face shown in fine detail with four small shamrocks surrounding it. In the presence of the dark shrine in which it found itself, the coin glowed. Damn!

She had to put everything back! Alline would understand. She seemed a kindly lady, she…. was a Tymoran. Braxes had said that. Had he meant a follower of Tymora or something more? Tymoran's often wore lucky four-leaf clovers or jewelry fashioned to look like one. She looked at the coin again. Was it her imagination, a trick of the light? The finely crafted face of the Lady Who Smiles seemed to wink at her. On the obverse of the coin, in small script, were the words 'Bless those who take risks.'

She remembered some of her Temple learning: Tymorans taught that risk was rewarded. That was the reason Tymora was worshiped by adventurers and merchants. Wasn't 'aid the daring' one of their catchphrases? Well, what more daring a thing was there than defiling a rival's place of worship?

Her breathing calmed. There was a way out of this. Tymora and … what was Her sister's name? Beshaba! The two goddesses were twins; good luck and bad luck. They'd cancel each other out, leaving Daelynn's fate up to Daelynn. Or so the elf reasoned. The pride and arrogance of a young woman, who had not yet learned the many hard lessons life still had in store, rose to the surface. Ignoring goddesses, then Black-Scars and a middle-aged man were all that stood between the elf maid and freedom. She'd leave here and collect her reward, if she decided to return the necklace. That would teach Lady Alline a lesson! As for Beshaba? Daelynn had heard much about her over the years, none of it good. If Braxes' instruction to Grit was to be believed, then Beshaba required a payment so that bad things did not happen. "Protection" money. Extortion. Pathetic! A goddess no more honorable than a criminal gang. The innate sense of injustice that many young people felt was strong in Daelynn. And Braxes striking a child? Her anger boiled over. She turned to Lady Doom's symbol hanging on the wall. It no longer loomed over her as a harbinger of dread. Perhaps the young elf went too far, but how much worse could it be for a being who broke into a shrine, attacked its goddess's faithful, and stole an offering?

"Bitch!" Daelynn, muttered under her breath.

She drew her blade and hurled it at the dark symbol. The knife struck hard and true, breaking off a large piece of antler and embedding itself in the supporting wood. Replacing Tymora's coin in her belt Daelynn turned her back to the shrine and quickly ran to the dangling piece of fabric she had cut free from the banner. She twisted the material tightly in her hands and stared to climb her makeshift rope. Her feet kept slipping on the stone wall but she found enough strength in her arms to haul herself up to the second floor. As she stopped to catch her breath she realized that she had another hard climb back down the outside of the building. She pulled up the long, foot wide strip of drapery. Drawing her shuriken, she used its sharp blade to cut across the drape, trying to free it from the rest of the banner and its supporting chains. She'd use the drape to climb down the side of the building.

At least that was her plan. Cutting across the fabric's warp proved much harder than cutting along it. She sawed at the material industriously for a few minutes, wishing she had not wasted a good knife in her fit of temper. A gong sounded. Twice. The service! They'd all be coming! She had only a few strands left to part when the door below opened.

Braxes, escorted by two tall youths, a boy and a girl, entered. He had his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. They walked slowly toward the altar. The young people each moved to one of the lanterns on the wall and opened the shutters, substantially increasing the light in the first-floor room. They then quickly joined Braxes in the recess. No one had noticed the ragged banner. Once they had passed Daelynn's position she frantically continued to cut at the drape. It was almost free!

A shout from below indicated that her removal of the offerings had been discovered.

"Theft! It's all gone. What? Defilement too!" Braxes roared.

Someone at the doorway had noticed the rippling of the banner as Daelynn cut the last threads holding down the strip of fabric she needed.

"Master! Above you. Someone is in the House!"

Braxes ran into the center of the room and looked around, his face like a dark threatening cloud about to burst. The girl who had accompanied him saw Daelynn as she scrambled to gather up her makeshift rope.

"There, Master!" She pointed to the elf. "Second floor, west, above the banner!"

"Defiler!" Screamed Braxes.

Daelynn looked down at the man. He was making a peculiar gesture with his right hand, his left hand holding the odd pendant. She was now certain that it was a piece of black antler, like that above the altar. A holy symbol. He was calling upon his dark deity and casting a spell! Daelynn threw herself to one side seeking safety behind a pillar. A strange crackling sound filled the air beside her, then abruptly faded.

"Get him!" Roared the Cleric.

The Black-Scar gang had been slow to react but on their master's command they all sought to apprehend the intruder. If they had entered the narrow stairway one at a time they might have caught her, but jammed together, each trying to outdo the other, none made it up the stairs before Daelynn had retreated to the room through which she had first entered the accursed gang house.

She slammed the door closed knowing that she had seconds before the howling gang of Black-Scars and the terrifying Braxes were upon her. There was no bar for the door. The torch was still lit and she could see several small objects and broken furniture scattered on the floor around her. She grabbed an odd-shaped piece of metal and jammed it into the door latch. Frantic pounding on the door startled her and she jumped back, tripping over the body of the still unconscious guard.

Braxes wasted no time trying to wade through the excited gang in the anteroom and on the stairway. He bowed his head, clutched his holy symbol and muttered a prayer. The next moment he floated upwards to the second level alighting by the pillar that had shielded the intruder from his first spell. Several yards down the hallway a strapping member of the gang was pounding on a door with the pommel of a sword. Putting their shoulders to the door Braxes and the gang member forced the door open, almost tearing it off its frame. They entered a near empty room lit by a feeble torch. Against the far wall, under the window, lay a twitching body. They ran forward and saw the reason for the body's odd movements. A piece of fabric had been tied around it. The fabric was draped over the window sill. Looking out they saw a shadowy figure clambering down the long strand. With nothing in the room to tie off to, the intruder was using the guard's body as an anchor; the tugs and jerks on the makeshift rope caused by the climber's rapid descent made the living anchor twitch. Before Braxes could caution him, the young tough raised his sword above his head and brought it down on the fabric rope where it ran over the sill, cutting it cleanly. The intruder dropped several feet to the ground, landing with a distinct thud. The intruder stood up apparently unharmed and ran to the rear of the house.

Braxes glared at the young man. "Now how do you propose to follow him? Idiot!"

The young man cursed, turned back and shouted at the crowd who had followed him into the small room.

"Get going. He's running out back! Quick!"

As the room emptied Braxes stepped to the sill and jumped out into the void between the two buildings. He slowly floated to the ground, landing softly. He ran to the rear of the house, rounding the corner several seconds before some gang members came streaming out of the house waving weapons and shouting. But it was too late. The yard and adjacent properties were empty, dark and quiet. The defiler was gone.