The Amber Hilted Dagger
Part One: Berat and Udayapur
Chapter 2: Teachers and Students
Elsha heaved, trying to regain her breath as Gem took a turn at the single pell standing in the inn's practice yard. Exhausted hands clutched her practice daggers wearily. Dawn was the only time the two girls could get a try at the often busy yard. The only females active as thieves in Berat's entire Rogue, Elsha and the orphaned K'mir were easy to ignore. The only other women in breeches Elsha had seen in the whole of the city were the warrior-priests of the Temple of the Daughter of the Fields, and a single freelance thief named Eremin.
So what if they think girls aren't good for anything? Elsha crossly tucked a stray wisp back into her bun. In Tortall they have a lady knight, and a girl who's a page, and the Rogue of Corus is a girl, too. When her travelling cousin, Sol, had brought back stories of a girl named Emily who ruled the city's underworld, Elsha's almost-destroyed hope had buoyed up again. It was that hope that had let her resist her Mother's attempts to send her to a Convent to be trained as a priestess to the Goddess.
"Up early, aren't you?"
Alaric's voice startled Gem twice as much as it startled Elsha. By some innate sense, Elsha knew when someone was near, and it had been her choice to ignore the- she had thought- fellow Rogue come to taunt the "she-thieves". Turning, she could see that the dark-skinned Rogue was dressed for weapons-practice himself. After a full ride from Udayapur yesterday, he's up bright and early. Dear me. She still wasn't sure how to act around her new betrothed. "Good morning, Alaric."
He returned her lukewarm greeting with a smile. "I thought you two might like some company," he said, "and maybe help on your techniques as well."
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An hour later the two girls straggled out, feeling thoroughly beat. The sun broke over the city rooftops as they both retired to the Women's Parlor. "You're sure you want to get married to that monster?" Gem asked in her native K'mir.
"He's not a monster. We're just not used," Elsha sighed, "to being run around the ring like a pair of babies with butterknives."
"I still say he's a monster, no matter how handsome you think he is. What do you want to do today?"
"Didn't you promise your sister you were going to be Duke Roger, so she can run you through with a stick again?"
Gem winced and Elsha hid a grin. Kimri was a six year old piece of energy on legs. "Remind me never to insult your chosen people again." Brightening, Gem added, "But you said you'd play the thief queen. You're not getting off that easily."
As if queued by a script, Kimri bounced into the room brandishing a whippy willow "sword". With a quick glance at Gem, Elsha dodged around the child into the common room, with Gem's shout of "Coward!" coming from behind her.
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The Silver Orchard was doing bustling business for a Starsday morning. Merchants discussed their business over cups of the proprietor's renowned wine. Latticed windows, freshly painted an aquamarine blue in accordance with the summer sky, allowed fresh breezes to make their way through the common room, and afforded patrons a view of Berat's busy market.
Alaric glanced across the crowd over his cup of wine. Droplets of condensation beaded the glass, running onto his hand when he took a drink. Ler was lost in thought, surveying the crowd below. Ler Creshan. Now, here was a man to ponder. Obviously uneducated, and none too bright in the first place, only with enough wits and skill to rule by fear. Not the type for politics such as Alaric faced daily. Udayapur was an entirely different city from Berat, one where law had stood on its head long enough for the formation of Thieves', Assassins', and Mercenaries' guildhalls. The Rogue operated independently from all three, and swung its own sort of clout- if you worked with a guild, somebody would hear about it sooner or later. The Rogue paid no recompense to its victims if a mistake was proven. When mothers threatened, "Stay out late, or the Rogue will get you," They meant it. The Rogue did.
So what is an ethical thief doing ruling the lot? He smiles and took another sip. A white from northeastern Tyra, if he didn't miss his guess, and he barely did. He remembered the food from his home ground-
That stung, didn't it? A voice in his mind, like a buzzing gnat, bit at him, then skittered away before he could slap it. He was five when he left Tyra. Son of a lawful mercantile house, fletchers, true to their name, his parents had been overjoyed when their second son left for Shang. So much promise… He didn't return to Tyra when, after two years of training, his carefully hidden Gift came out into the open. The stowaway was turned out of a trader's caravan when they unloaded at the Port. It was shivering on a coil of ropes in the docks when, akin to the old wives tale, the Rogue got him.
Blur. That's all those years seemed to him, a blur. Snatched off the coil, cooed and petted over by the Ladies of the Rogue, sent to steal a few purses with the promise of bread hanging after it, learning how to steal in earnest. Things only came back into focus the year he turned seventeen. The cold, calculating young assassin that Ava Perl finally tracked down was nothing like the mischievous scamp that was turned out of her care at Shang a decade earlier.
It wasn't your fault she cared. It wasn't your fault she tried to find you. Another swallow of wine. It's too early in the day for you to drink, isn't it? It isn't my fault that Tren decided to kill her. It wasn't my fault! Stop saying that it was.
After that untimely demise, he left Udayapur for a while.
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Freedom. After a week of hard winds, a calm, searing blue summer day was heaven itself. As the brightly-dressed crowd wended its way around her, Elsha prudently put her hands in her pockets, deciding not to disrupt their revelry by lightening their purses. After being entirely trounced on the practice court by a man I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with, I could use some relaxing, non-Rogue time. She had limited her personal arsenal today to a belt-knife, boot-knife, and a small throwing star hidden in her hair.
One stall offered the beckoning aroma of roasting sunflower seeds; the next had blown-glass sculptures displayed, throwing cheerful blots of coloured light onto the pavement. An old man played at a hammered dulcimer while his six-year-old granddaughter sang a K'mir folksong. Pausing at a fruitstand, she gave in to temptation and handed over a copper and a half for a slice of the year's first watermelon.
She looked around sharply. She didn't seem to be attracting much notice. The other lady thief in the city had set her sights on a velvet-covered merchant, obviously new, since he hadn't given over to the light silks, linens and cottons that Berat's warm climate demanded. A young man was being stalked by an even younger, starry eyed woman. Elsha ducked into a lesser-used alley to enjoy her snack in peace.
Scuffling in a doorway to her right meant a fight in process. Getting up from her lounging place, Elsha ambled across the street to avoid the fight.
That was her intent, at least. Elsha was halfway across the alley when a body flew into her, knocking her to the ground. The watermelon rind went skidding across the cobblestones as Elsha ordered her aching muscles to act, and do it now! She scrambled to her feet as another figure emerged from the doorway. "Get the wench!"
Aha, she thought, feeling wise. It's an attack. Still slow from the early morning exercise, she pulled a small quartz pendant from her neck, pulling the stone from the setting and tucking the stone back into her pocket. Her attackers were baffled by this move, but as she yanked her belt knife out, Elsha prayed that another Rogue would be close enough to respond to her setting off of the alarm-spell in time.
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Alaric was rudely interrupted from his broodings when Ler jumped, as if stung. He watched in fascination as the other Rogue fished a small crystal from his pocket. Pursing his lips, Ler peered into its depths, scowling. "Elsha's been jumped. Not far away from here, neither. Just," he looked out the window for the location, "there. Three men." He pointed a finger in the direction. "She set off the alarm, so she's in trouble." Ler made ready to leave, his haste belying the usual scorn for his daughter. Try as he might to convince Alaric that the only of his offspring he cared about was his single stillborn son, he still cared for Allesandra and Elsha- when he was sober, that was.
Alaric put out a hand to calm his colleague. "I'll go help her. Don't attract notice, and I'll be back in a wink." Swiftly, he left the winehouse and could be seen threading through the crowd below.
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Things were looking grim by the time Elsha got the dagger out of her boot. It was a combination of monumental luck and stupidity that had her most accessible knife in the chest of one of the men. Desperation pounded through her head as the other two circled her, chuckling. She looked up and down the alley, checking rooftops, and a flash of relief followed panic as she recognized Alaric. One of the men charged at the and mechanically she pivoted, then swept one leg out to trip him as she went by. She grunted in effort and he went flying.She moved to step back and- what was that?
The line of pain over her scalp, and black band across her vision, let her know; the third man meant to knock her out Stupid! In a fight, never forget where all your enemies are!She staggered, and Alaric swept the last man standing away with a punch. Before she could think, he pulled an arm aroud her chest, half- carrying her down the alley. Looking into a deserted room first, he pulled Elsha in and set her on the ground.
Elsha fought to breathe, and to keep from passing out. Her lungs weren't working properly "Alaric-" she wheezed haltingly. Every breath was a fight to fill her lungs.
He held her head up, and a small amber threaded his hands. "I've got you. Don't give up on me yet."