Leap of Faith
A/N: I have heard that the writer should get out of the way, and let their characters do their own thing. That's what happened with this chapter. Less action and more conversation than usual for me.
Also, a friend told me that a writer should "show, not tell". This chapter perhaps has too much 'telling' in it, being mostly concerned with character interactions. (For those more interested in 'action', be patient – that is coming.)
Chapter 3 –Rabbit Stew
Savras, God of Fate was screwing with her! She needed only a few more minutes to find and bar the door. The All-Seeing could not have given her two minutes? What to do?
Daelynn rose unsteadily to her feet. Shaking, she half turned to the doorway, a pleading look in her face, one hand pointing down at Poke's body, the other resting against her vest, near to where her dagger was secreted.
She'd stay with the 'blind street-walker' role. 'Oh, Sir! Help me. Someone has killed poor Poke!' Playing the timid and helpless ingenue was the way to go now – at least until the visitor came closer.
Before she could offer any explanation, the man spoke.
"You've made a mess of things, Kestrel. Poke had information that I needed. I suppose you had a good reason to kill him?"
Daelynn gasped.
Only two people had ever addressed her as 'Kestrel'. One had been her mentor, Sir Roland. He had given her that alias a few weeks before he died. The other was Roland's former apprentice, a man who had paid off his debt to Roland by aiding Daelynn. While helping her, that man had died in the fiery collapse of an old tower over a year ago.
Footsteps advanced towards her. They were a touch uneven as if the man had a slight limp. He stopped beside her. She could smell the faintest hint of spices. Nutmeg? No, cloves.
"Sard?" She spoke his name in a hushed tone.
"Surprised", he asked?
"You are alive?"
"Neither dead, nor undead", the man joked. "Very much alive. Now, if you'd tell me what…"
Daelynn knew that Sard was several inches taller than she. Standing so close while speaking to her, the elf was able to accurately judge where his mouth was. Two inches higher and three inches back was the point for which she aimed. Her left hand lashed out and unerringly found his face. The slap was hard.
"Ow!" Sard's head rocked to the side. He stumbled. "Kestrel! What in the Nine Hells…!"
"I thought you dead!" The elf hissed. "I grieved for a fallen comrade. Paid clerics to pray for your soul and an easy passage to the afterlife. And now you just show up, and… Hey! What are you doing here and how do you know Poke?"
Daelynn heard Sard walk over to the other side of the room.
"Your elvish eyes might see well enough in this dim light, but if you do not mind, I'll light a few more lanterns? Now that Poke is dead, I'll have to search his rooms. Unless you've already done that? No?"
Daelynn heard the hiss of a lantern start up. Sard crossed the room, passing near her. Another lantern was lit.
"Ah, that's better. Why are you tilting your head like that? You've a strange look about you. So, I'm not dead and I do owe you an explanation. You know, I like to think that those beautiful violet eyes of yours shed a few tears for me. Kestrel? Oh!"
Daelynn lowered her head. Hiding her sightless pale orbs. Being blind was something that one could not hide for long.
"What happened?" He asked, softly.
"We can catch up later, Sard. I need to know how you are involved with Poke."
"It's a long, complicated story", replied the thief.
"Simplify it for me", retorted Daelynn.
"There's a bottle of wine on a table ten feet to your right. We may as well sit, be comfortable, and have a drink. Let's see, where to begin?"
"I got out of that burning tower by sliding down the same rope you used", related Sard, referring to the ancient guard tower they had climbed over a year ago while being pursued by Beshaban fanatics.
"But before I could reach the wall, the whole structure came falling down on top of me. Ever been buried alive and set on fire? I would have died, except that some of the idiot Black-Scar gang members who were chasing us thought I was one of them. Several of those street rats had been caught in the tower when it came down. I was pulled out of what was sure to have been my funeral pyre. I was badly hurt, Kestrel."
"The limp", asked the elf?
"Yes. Mostly healed now. I can still do rooftop work. But my dancing has suffered." Sard smiled at his little joke, before realizing that the elf maid could not see that he was jesting.
"The landlady mentioned a 'Burned Man'. How bad?" queried Daelynn.
"Half my face, the right side, is still quite handsome", Sard answered. "The rest is, well, children do not shriek and run, but they are startled. Lot of scarring elsewhere."
"Surely the Guild could heal you? You are one of The Five, who control the Guild. You must have sufficient wealth to buy curative elixirs, to pay healing clerics?"
"I have not had … access to those resources", stated Sard. "Let me explain why I did not return to the Guild."
Sard sipped his wine, pausing for a moment. He found it unsettling talking to someone who looked at him but did not see him. The staring eyes and the peculiar tilt to her head gave the elf an otherworldly appearance. Still damned attractive.
"You are staring", said Daelynn.
"Forgive me, but yes, I am." The thief resumed his tale.
"I, and several others hurt by the tower's collapse, were taken to a Black-Scar safe-house. We received nominal healing from a Beshaban cleric. Additional healing came at a cost that my soul was not willing to pay. But while there, and in considerable pain, I learned that followers of the Maid of Misfortune were making a concerted effort to gain power within the Thieves Guild. I told you once that the Guild does not get mixed up in politics or temple affairs? Our members honour many different deities, most paying only lip service to Mask. There are many who follow your Smiling Lady - the Goddess of Luck - although I doubt the Tymoran church sees them as earnest parishioners. A not insignificant number follow Black Bess, the Goddess of Misfortune, I think more out of fear than any true devotion. Some, like myself, put their faith in Brandobaris. Anyways, minor appointments and promotions within the Guild have been favouring Beshabans as of late. It seems that two of the Five Councillors are followers of Beshaba and have recently come under the thumb of some dark cleric."
"Braxes", claimed Daelynn.
"Aye. I believe that was the name." Sard continued, "Councillors are elected by Guild members. But in the old days they gained their Council seat by assassination of the incumbent. The old rules have never been formally revoked. Wounded as I was, I knew that I could not carry out my duties as Guild Councillor, pry into this Beshaban business, and protect myself. So, I vanished. I only had access to limited funds and used those to acquire healing. But the coin ran out before I could get to fixing the face. Function before form, you know."
"And Poke", asked the elf?
"He is a Beshaban, a Guild member, and an ex-Black-Scar. A dangerous man. My investigations led me to him. He and an associate, who is unknown to me, are planning a big job. It will take place in the next few days and will help to increase the Beshaban faction's power in both the Guild and the kingdom. I came here tonight to… persuade Poke to tell me more, only to find him newly dead by your hand."
Daelynn silently cursed herself. Her only lead, now dead, and stuffed into a chest by Sard. What was Braxes up to? Control of the Thieves Guild? It would make a powerful weapon for the Maid of Misfortune. Her followers, using the Guild's resources, could wreak havoc in the city, and beyond.
"Your turn", directed Sard. "And please, keep it simple for me?"
Daelynn snorted, felt for, and located the bottle of wine, then poured herself another glass.
"You know something of Sir Roland's work? As one of his former apprentices, you must have gathered that he was… allied with the Tymoran Church?"
Sard nodded, then replied in the positive. "Aye."
"Have you ever heard of a 'Divine Seeker'?
"No", answered the thief.
"On occasion, someone with Sir Roland's skills is needed to discreetly carry out tasks for the Church. Other faiths have similar roles filled by Seekers, such as Divine Agents, or in the case of the Beshaban faith, Black Finger assassins. I took on Roland's work after he was killed, and I served faithfully in that role until cursed with blindness."
The elf hesitated, reliving that moment when her sight had faded. Pushing aside the despair, she continued.
"By coincidence I was seated in a kava house with friends today when I overheard Poke and Braxes speaking about a job that is to be carried out tomorrow. It can be nothing good with Braxes involved. I followed Poke, hoping to learn more, but our meeting did not go well. You saw the result."
"Coincidence? Really? You were once a divine instrument for the Goddess of Luck, and you think it a 'coincidence' you and Poke were at the same place, at the same time?" Asked Sard, in a sarcastic tone.
"I am no longer that", Daelynn responded, sharply. "I have no need of Tymora!"
"Uh-huh. Maybe she has need of you?" Was Sard's response. "Enough talk. Poke had started on a rabbit stew. Come, help me prepare dinner. We may as well eat while will wait here for his associate to make contact. Our only hope is that he and Poke had one last meeting set up before tomorrow's 'job'. And, that they were to meet here."
Daelynn and Sard worked side by side at the table that held the rabbits and assorted vegetables. Blindness did not impair the elf's ability to peel, cut, and dice vegetables or skin a rabbit. Sard's contribution to the dinner was mostly to offer suggestions, hand the elf various implements, and keep their wine glasses filled. They disagreed over Sard's preference as to how the stew was to be flavoured, Daelynn finally relenting to his insistence that additional spices be added.
"Now", said Sard, as the stew simmered over small stove. "We have, what? An hour before we can eat? Let's use that time to search this place. There's a room in the back. Check that out? I'll start in here."
Using her short staff, Daelynn made her way to the back of the apartment. She found a doorway, blocked by a fabric hanging. Pushing the material aside, she stepped into the back room. She slowly circumnavigated the room, noting its layout. It was as wide as the apartment's front room, some thirty feet, but only about twenty feet deep, making it half the size of the front room. Two moderate-sized, locked chests, an armoire, a high table, and a large bed made up the room's furnishings. Two narrow, shuttered windows were on the back wall, one on either side of the bed.
Daelynn opened one of the shutters and stuck her head out. She could smell and feel damp, cool air. The sounds of the city were muted. Fumbling in her belt, she pulled out a large copper coin and dropped it out the window, silently counting and listening. She heard a soft 'ploop' as the coin fell into water. They were above the canal.
The elf continued her search of the room.
The bed was wide and moderately comfortable. A slender dagger lay under a pillow.
The armoire contained clothing, an old pair of large boots, and a wide leather belt with a plain metal buckle, or so her fingers told her. There were several hidden pockets in the belt, all were empty except one, which contained a coin. She rubbed the coin, smelled it, then licked it. Silver. But not a coin of the realm. The lettering on the one side was odd, maybe runic? The image on the obverse side was odd. Her fingers could not determine what it was.
Daelynn pocketed the coin, slung the belt over her shoulder, and moved over to the raised table.
The elf examined the tabletop, slowly moving her hands across the smooth, cool wooden surface. She found a few rolled sheets of parchment, some small, fine tools that might be used for scrollwork, and a slender, wooden cylindrical object about as long as her hand. It was sharp at one end. Something tickled her forearm. She grabbed at it. Feathers? No. A small ball of soft, fine, fur.
Sard entered the bedroom. It was dark. He could make out the elf near a table, working in the in the blackness. He returned to the common area, grabbed a lantern and returned to the smaller room.
"Nothing of interest", he said. "And certainly nothing to indicate who Poke's associate might be. You?"
"Two locked chests. I have not got to them. Here is a coin I found. Mean anything to you?" Daelynn held out the silver coin she had removed from the belt. Sard took it from her hand. Did his touch linger, just a bit?
"Hmm. Runic. Not sure what the design is... Looks like a stag's head. Antlers anyway. The runes… Dwarven derived… "Luck" but then there is a negation after the "Luck" rune."
"Means 'Bad Luck'", said Daelynn. "The antlers are the symbol of the Bad Sister… Beshaba. So, not a coin, a token."
"Probably used too identify fellow Beshabans", offered Sard. "And what have you here? A knitting needle?"
"Open the chests? I have to go check on something."
Daelynn walked away from the table, neatly skirting the bed, and exited the bedroom.
Sard shrugged and moved over the east wall where the two chests sat. Kneeling down with the lantern beside him, he closely examined each one. Satisfied that no mundane traps were set, he pulled out a thin leather case from his sleeve. Opening it, he extracted a few tools and set to work picking the locks.
He heard the front door open, then close a minute later. Movement in the front room. Daelynn's voice spoke to him from the bedroom doorway.
"I found a key on Poke's body. Probably fits those chests", she stated, smugly.
Sard smiled to himself. "Yes, I found the same key when I moved the body. Using a key, when you are a thief, is just laziness. Practice, practice, practice, Kestrel."
"Ye gods, you were Roland's student!"
"I will take that as a compliment", said Sard. "First chest is… empty. Second chest is filled with… clothing. A cloak, a robe, a long white strip of white material – maybe a sash? Sandals… nothing else. Why lock the chests?"
"Thieves are creatures of habit", said Daelynn. "Poke probably always locked them because he is…was… a nasty suspicious, sneak-thief. Sard? What colour is the clothing? How fine is the tailoring?"
"Grey", answered the man. "Moderately well tailored. The cloaks are similar in style to what you and Roland used to wear."
Daelynn reach past Sard and grasped the clothing. She ran her fingers over the robe.
The elf was close beside the man. He could smell her hair. What was that scent? Definitely something floral. Not lavender. He leaned ever so slightly closer trying to place the pleasing fragrance.
"Is that a pattern stitched onto the robe? On the front?" She asked.
"Damn", replied Sard, jerking back. "It is. Um. A four-leaf clover. Let me unwind that strip of white material. Excuse me. Yup. Embroidered green four-leaf clovers all along it."
"Tymora's holy symbols", exclaimed Daelynn! "This chest contains the robe, cloak and stole of a Tymoran priest."
"Want to bet the other chest contained a similar outfit", Sard asked? "Poke and his friend were going to disguise themselves as Tymoran priests. Perhaps they were going to slip into Tymora's Temple and rob it?"
"Hah!" Daelynn snorted "Good luck to them! Tymora's treasures and relics are well guarded. Except… tomorrow…"
Her voice trailed off.
"What about tomorrow", asked Sard?
"Tomorrow is a Tymoran High Holy Day. Sacred object, relics, treasures, and gifts will be on display", the elf answered, "Priests from across the kingdom and beyond will attend. Poke and his friend would be two new faces among dozens. No telling what mischief they might get up to. A bold theft from the temple itself would enhance Braxes' standing."
Sard sighed in disappointment. "I thought Poke was into something bigger. More nefarious."
"Displeased?" Asked the elf.
"Yes!" Stated the man.
"Perhaps dinner will improve your mood", suggested Daelynn, straightening and extending a hand to the thief.
Sard grasped the elf's hand and rose to his feet.
Once standing, both seemed reluctant to release the other's hand.
There was a low 'wuff' from the bedroom doorway.
Sard found himself looking at what was possibly the largest dog he had ever seen. The short-coated, brindle mastiff had powerful shoulders and a deep chest. It was looking at him. It growled.
"Sard, meet Big-Boy."
Daelynn let go of Sard's hand and turned to her dog. "Big-Boy, this is Sard."
She placed her hand on Sard's arm. "A friend."
"Kestrel, your horse should not be in here. There is a stable 'round the corner."
"He is hungry", said the elf. "And I am famished! The stew smells good. Let us eat."
The elf and thief sat at the table while Big-Boy curled up in a corner. The remains of the rabbits were the mastiff's dinner.
"Before you say it", sighed Daelynn, pointing her spoon in Sard's general direction, "you were right. The additional spices were needed, this is excellent."
Finishing their dinner, Sard poured them the last of the bottle of wine.
"So, Kestrel. Poke's accomplice might still go ahead and try to rob the Temple. I assume you will alert someone there about the planned robbery?"
"Aye. The Temple is closed now, and the Temple Quarter itself is well guarded. I can head over tomorrow morning."
"You know, there is still a chance, though I think a slim one, that the accomplice could come by here to confirm any last-minute plans with Poke", stated Sard. "I will stay here for the night. Also, I recommend that you stay, too. This late at night, walking Capitol's streets, even with that… monstrous dog, is not safe. And the Temple Quarter is not far from here, making your morning errand a short one."
"You assume, sir, that I live in the Elven Quarter which is some ways from here", smiled Daelynn.
"Do you?"
"And where is it that you reside? Your hiding place from the guild?" Asked the elf, innocently.
"So many secrets between us, eh Kestrel?"
"That is not my name", stated the elf. "And I doubt that 'Sard' is yours. Am I right?""
"Correct", averred the thief. "I was given that name by Sir Roland, our mentor."
A look of sadness crossed Daelynn's face. She missed the old man. All his hard work training her, now for naught.
Sard noticed the elf's reaction to his mentioning Roland's name.
"I miss him, too. I wish he and I had parted on better terms". Sard sighed. "I always thought that there would be time to repair what was broken. But it was not meant to be."
"What happened between the two of you", asked the elf?
Sard shook his head. "That tale, my dear elf, will take more than one bottle of wine."
Daelynn smiled. "Another time then. We should get to bed. Er, I mean get some sleep! It is getting late."
"Stop blushing, I know what you meant", said Sard, grinning. Although, now that the subject has been touched on, the bed is easily big enough for two".
The elf shook her head. "You are both flirty and direct. As bad as my friend, Sari… as a friend of mine. She'd like you."
"Let's get some sleep. I will behave myself, Lady Elf."
"Of that I have no doubt, Master Thief. Big-Boy will sleep in the room with us."
Sard carried a small lantern into the bedroom and placed in on the table, giving the parchment and paraphernalia a cursory look. Shedding his tunic and boots, he quickly climbed into the bed. It was cold in the room.
Daelynn, slipped out of her sandals, skirt, vest and blouse. She wore a light, sleeveless shift. Shivering, she slid into the bed, and bumped into Sard.
"Hey, move over!"
"I'll fall out!"
"You've got all the blankets."
"Why is there a dagger under this pillow? Damn", said Sard. "I forgot to extinguish the lantern."
"The light doesn't bother me", sniggered Daelynn.
Sard sat up, chuckling at the elf's little joke. In the soft light, he noticed something on her shoulder.
"What is that", he asked?
"What?"
Sard reached out and gently touched the elf's right shoulder.
"I thought it was metal. But it's a tattoo", he stated. "I have never seen it's like before."
His fingers delicately traced the outline of the fish tattoo that covered her shoulder. "Astounding how the creature's scales shimmer."
Daelynn quivered ever so slightly. "My aunt is an artist. It is beautiful isn't it?"
"Definitely." Sard removed his hand from her arm. "Any others?"
Daelynn hesitated for a breath. "Yes. One."
"Going to tell me where and what it is?" Sard asked, slyly.
"No", said Daelynn. "And you are not going to see it tonight. So, go to sleep."
Sard got out of the bed, allowing a waft of cold air under the blankets. Daelynn cursed. The man put out the lantern and crawled back beneath the covers.
"You know", Sard mused. "Saying that I am not going to see your second tattoo 'tonight' implies that I might see it some other night."
"That would take more than one bottle of wine", murmured the elf.
"Ouch." Was the man's reply.
"Good night", laughed Sard. "I assume we are safe with that hound of yours guarding us?"
"Uh-huh. G'night."
Sard rolled over onto his side, facing away from the elf. The shift she was wearing was not entirely opaque and the room was cool. It was too easy to imagine her wearing even less. Icy blue skin. Wavy black hair. Long legs. Delicately pointed ears. 'Go to sleep' he told himself. If she were sighted… then his burns would scare her away. He focussed on sleep.
Daelynn could feel warmth radiating off of the man beside her. He smelled good. His touch on her shoulder, perhaps innocent, had been like a caress. Before she could bring her thoughts under control, she found herself wondering how enjoyable it would be if he were to trace out her smaller, and much more discreet, second tattoo with his fingers. No, no, no! Go to sleep!
What had been an evening's pleasant banter, had become idle curiosity, and was now growing into an earnest interest. Even as she lay there, 'interest' was shifting to 'desire'. Oh Goddess, why not?
Daelynn turned to the man lying next to her.
"Sard?" her voice was husky.
"Sard?" she repeated his name.
A soft snore was the only reply.