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Part Four, Chapter Four
The following Vantenii proved fruitful, far more so than any Zevran had yet experienced. He smiled knowing he had a part to play with such success.
Indeed, the pair spent many days discussing the potential bids beyond the initial request to compare the options to rumors at the tavern. Zevran and Taliesen not only debated the bid, but also who in the House would be assigned the errand should they win the contract and how the errand would be managed given their brethren's strengths. And Zevran knew his comrades well. Cerelus was an expert thief and when backed by a skilled marksman – say someone like Ren – he could get anywhere and into anything he desired. Cregin was a bulldog, someone who was called upon to stand guard or prove a menacing influence when required. Velnas was the same, but without his friend by his side, the dark-skinned Shem was less apt to act as a front man any longer. His intelligence demanded more too, the Daedric reasoned. Instead, it was suggested that Taliesen give him a mark, which would return far more coin for his effort, and perhaps prove their House's worth to the Guild Master in the process.
The other brethren in the House functioned similarly, although the housemaster was surprised by some of Zevran's suggestions at first. Nevertheless, the payoff was clear as the plush satchel landed softly onto the low table with a collective clink.
"Ah, friends," Taliesen balanced himself on the edge of his stool expertly, taking in the crowded room with gusto in his voice, "Andraste has blessed us with her holy work!"
The wooden tokens were pulled and names called; the small Daedric in the corner near the fire could not keep the smirk from slowly sliding into place. The men seemed satisfied with their presents as they examined the errands and chatted amongst themselves, readying to leave for the tavern with what little coin they had left to their names. For the first time in what seemed like a year or more, the House felt energized with more than just pent up frustration. It was refreshing.
Cerelus, ever observant, nudged his betting partner and sniggered, "We finally have something to do, yes?"
"It would seem so," Zevran replied, smiling more fully.
"And you? What are you tasked with?"
Zevran chuckled quietly. Prior to the public display, he plucked three tokens especially for himself, but he was not about to say such, even to his closest ally in the House. He teased, "Neh the wayward pupil reveals his wins."
Cerelus gave a gruff laugh and left for the tavern.
The following day was the same as all the days before. Zevran ran his errands as usual and returned to the House before Taliesen could drag him away for a gathering somewhere around the Grand Mile. The housemaster had been more relaxed in recent weeks as he finally came to terms with their joint venture. The young man did not receive any further advances either, much to his relief, and the pair went on as though the passionate exchange never occurred. Still, one was rarely seen without the other these days. They sparred together, ate together, drank together, whispered about local gossip on the shady back porch or in the housemaster's quarters. Taliesen even opted for his student to accompany him on reports to Gynn, acting as the quiet observer and then asked to submit his thoughts on the interaction. He learned that the housemaster did not trust the elder for all of the esteem that was returned. The meetings were brusque yet polite, the portly man in charge seemingly with little time and only sharp remarks to the young men before him. He would cast a discerning gaze on the Daedric on occasion before he casually dismissed the pair.
In his spare time, what little he possessed now, Zevran would hole himself in the attic. Secretly, he believed that Ren was glad their shared room was abandoned for the loft, although the Daedric could also feel the tension that his privacy carried with several of the men in the House. No one would challenge him, though. He was Taliesen's favorite, the alleged protégé, and even if they did contest his circumstances and won, they would then have to face a sword master in retaliation. The bitterness was not worth it, especially if there was work to be had.
Zevran organized his things. With a load of dusty crates, he partitioned a corner of the vaulted space near the far window with his makeshift desk, a raised pallet with a stuffed straw matt, a lock box, and a storage shelf where he kept personal supplies such as extra food, his clothing, candles and wine. At the center of his desk rested the copper lantern, polished reverently into a shiny golden hue. Below was a box in the far corner lined with cuttings and powders. The concoctions themselves were safely stored in the confines of the lockbox with several books he acquired specifically for this 'hobby.' He spent good silver on the wooden chest, more than his new boots he was still wearing in, but the item was necessary if he planned to grow his collection. So far, he kept hidden seven poisons of various potency, two sedatives, an elixir to stave off pain and another to keep one awake, and finally the new one, an aphrodisiac he was trying to create from a mixture of memory and anecdote.
He fingered the last bottle lightly, dressed appropriately in a delicate purple vial, and contemplated the next time he could pry himself away from Taliesen long enough to try it on Sinette. Or Lani, or even Tilly if the first two were not free.
It was no secret than Zevran was popular among the Courtesans; Sinette simply happened to be his favored. Quick trysts were always well and good, but in the end, she would woo him back into her arms. And he loved her for it in their trite way. There was no such thing as exclusivity in this world, yet what they had seemed close to it. She was his first, after all, and thus held a special place in his heart.
A visit was in order. In the evening then, when he could escape the clutches of his co-conspirator.
The afternoon dragged on longer than the Daedric would have liked. Two of the errands Zevran chose were to be worked together with the housemaster. One was a mark and the pair was preparing to leave the next morning for Rialto. The marked was a Guild Master, a rival among the crowd in the City, and Gynn wanted the man personally expunged. The act was to be silent, and no one was to know which House had been involved. Zevran saw this opportunity as a challenge and decided to coat serum of nightshade onto his dagger. Surely the process would be quick – Taliesen was to distract the guards through a series of traps in order to lead them away from the influence of their master, whilst Zevran found his way in to finish the job.
This errand would demonstration their finesse and reward them in kind. One hundred Antivan gold was the price, which left the young man just shy of twenty for his part. That would do.
Zevran might normally feel some unease, as the Guild Master was only marked for his competition with the Houses to the north. But what little was described reminded the young man of Gynn himself, and his growing dislike for the older man squashed any notion of guilt.
Taliesen motioned for the tavern to meet the others, but his partner declined.
"Plans," was all Zevran said as he cheerfully separated himself from the housemaster in the alley.
Taliesen already knew, "You'll catch the Death if you are nigh careful."
"If sweet nectar brings me my Death, then I am a rapt apostle to her whims!" He returned, grinning and bidding the other goodnight with a bow. The sun was starting to set and drafts of light were waning as the Grand mile obscured its decent over the north gate. He chose the conventional route into the front façade for a change, admiring the carving along the arch of the doorway. Orlesian script was beautiful.
Zevran slipped through a side door at the entry, reconsidering that he might prompt for some port and cheese from the kitchen now instead of waiting until later when he would prefer not to be disturbed. The sound of a harp wafted through the plaster walls, aimed to relax, yet proving exciting to the young man. He opened the door into the low kitchen near the back and peered around.
Near the hearth, one of the maids from the last time he visited was preparing spices for a stew, and for the first time he was able to get a good look at her whilst she was lost in her duty. She was Daedric, or at least he assumed so since her posture, dress, and features were markedly different from Ren or any other northerner he had come across previously. She was tall and thin, her long silken hair flowing over one shoulder in auburn waves. Her face was solemn, though no wrinkles of worry or anxiety had yet etched her sharp jawline or high cheeks. Her eyes were great almonds, and Zevran could see, even from his vantage, the sea of emerald flitting across the wooden surface she was so focused on.
She was absolutely stunning.
Suddenly, Zevran felt that he did not wish to disturb her now that he had come all this way. Instead, he turned to leave up the stairs, but was stopped when the other maid made her presence known.
"Oy, you need something?" The other maid was smaller, her brown hair short and knotted around her pointed ears. She too had almond eyes, but they carried a harshness to them he was not prepared for, and the young man turned back to face the pair. The first maid stopped cutting at her pile and looked up to his gaze in surprise.
Mustering a charming smile, "Such a lovely pair, I must be lost."
"Lost," the servant repeated, her tongue clicking at the edge of the word. "Nigh can be lost, so often you are here."
"Quite right," he replied, hardly concealing the laugh that followed. He leaned against a beam to one side and motioned at the stairs, "I bring a gift, a favor, for a lovely lady here."
She hummed knowingly, "Sinette."
He nodded, his smile curling into a grin.
"Well, you should know she with another," she drawled with her own vicious smile. The other woman turned stiffly toward her in shock and ire in her vivid orbs, her jaw clenched.
"Ah, well," he conceded with a shrug, although internally he was slightly disappointed. He winked at the first maid, eliciting a gasp, "I shall have to find another who might fancy my gift then, yes?"
"You think this brings you worth," The shorter one asked suddenly, standing between him and the other woman, a sneer now etching her petite face. Her dark bangs fell into her equally dark eyes a she lifted her chin up defiantly, "That you are regarded well by whores?"
Zevran's easy smile drained from his face.
"Linne!" The other snapped, her voice smooth against the roughness of her friend. She spoke in Nevarran, "You must stop this!"
"Stop what!" Linne returned, teeth barred, "The pike mocks us with every breath."
"Stop!" The first hushed, "Now or they will toss us from here if you speak so!"
"Neh, by who?" Linne threw back, her eyes narrowing into slits. She frowned, "Neh a care who we are as long as we do as told. Order the dishes. Wash the sheets. Clean the chamber pot. Neh a care. But this one," she jerked her head in Zevran's direction, her back now turned as she leaned over the table, speaking swiftly and with distrust, "Who is to say with this one? Look at him. He comes here to boast. He is but talk, fielding to his betters with neh the sense to know."
The maid spoke more than from distrust though, he could tell. Linne did not like his kind. Zevran straightened himself from the support post and cleared his throat just enough to gain both of the women's attention.
He spoke fluently in their conspiratorial tongue, focusing on the underside of nails, "One should nigh be so quick to assume another man's sway, yes?"
The maid slapped Linne hard in the arm, her long face pale now and adorned with beads of sweat. The other woman slowly stood upright again, waiting for the oncoming reprimand.
Zevran gave a stale grin, "You both seem aware of a whore's life. Please, do relay how they conduct their business in Kirkwall."
Linne snapped to attention, her expression seething, "Ma emma heral len'alas lath'din!"
Before she even finished her retort, the Daedric already held the maid's kitchen knife to her throat, his grip loose against the handle. His smile was gone, his golden eyes flaring momentarily before he responded in Daelish, "Child, dare insult the Arlethan Courtesans again, you will learn first hand the way of your whores, this I promise."
Immediately, he released her, and the sound of the knife sinking into the wood at the maid's side was enough to provoke a squeal of fright from both women. The sound of the back door shuttering was the only sign the man left at all.
Zevran made his way from the garden with rage in his steps. Never had another Daedric insulted him in such a way. An internal monologue of fury fogged over his thoughts of past arguments with Ren and comments from merchants who would look better onto a dog than give him the time of day. He could let those offenses fall away because he settled that it was the way of such things. But one of his own kind issuing the same hubris… He closed his eyes and set a pace for the docks to clear his head.
"Crow!"
Zevran ignored the call as he sauntered into the alley. The young woman behind him stumbled off the landing and ran to the wall, her voice cracking in the cool summer evening.
"Crow!"
The daedric stopped at the corner to ponder his response, his irritation level with his footing. This was a waste of his time, he considered. Slowly, however, the maid's plea sunk into his backside, willing the man to turn back. Zevran, usually so forgiving to the impulses of a woman, was not in the mood to be further ridiculed.
The first young maid he happened across in the kitchen, the brunette with the long soft face and giant green eyes, caught his glare and immediately bowed, head focused on the ground before him. She spoke with hesitation, her accent strong, "Please, you must forgive my cousin. She neh gives thought to her words."
Zevran stifled a snort, looking off to the adjoining street with a cynical smirk, "Perhaps you should tether her then for the moments she speaks to those nigh so kind."
She bit her lip nervously, nodding in acquiescence. Tears stung her eyes as she visibly withered against the wall. A long moment of silence fell over the alley then; even the far-off cries of the merchants were too distant to ease the tension. Eventually, Zevran let out a long sigh. Perhaps his anger was misdirected. It was surely not the one maid's fault for the choice words of her relative, yet she took the brunt of the other's punishment without question.
He turned back and asked quietly, "What is your name?"
The Daedric woman looked up from the wall and sniffed, "Rinna."
Rin'na, a derivative of Rin'na'la, translated to 'your bell' or 'chime' in Daelish, and the notion made Zevran smile. It was a kind smile, pure in his inquisitiveness and open to no misunderstanding. He leaned toward the maid again before nodding to take his leave, "That is a lovely name."
To his back, she blushed.