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No Time to Die

Part 2

Anastasio and Sophia's initial excitement at figuring out "Inn at Rigel Street" soon dissolved into frustration as they failed to make anything meaningful from the seven remaining letters – o,b,i,s,k,i, and w.

They had decided the clue would have to point to a location fairly close to them, since otherwise, no matter how fast they were, the mission would be impossible, and had concluded searching for proper names would be their best strategy. With the amount of letters they had to work with, the number of cryptic word combinations were endless, so searching for another vague clue would likely yield too many possibilities to be useful.

Anastasio's stomach twisted in a knot as the Chantry bell chimed the half hour far sooner than he would have expected. He pushed the anxious thoughts that threatened to crowd his mind away and concentrated, finding 'lake' soon thereafter. They started working to find lake names in the remaining letters.

"Resist' also spells 'sister'", Sophia commented, any excitement she may have felt clearly tempered by their recent disappointment.

Before long, Anastasio piped up again. "Look, 'twin'. Lake Twin Sister is a lake, and it's not too far away."

They were left with b, n, r, t, e, o, i, g, and another e. 'In', 'on', 'to', and 'not' immediately stood out, as well as 'beer' and 'ingot', but nothing seemed to make sense and use up all the letters that remained.

Finally, they settled on "Lake Twin Sister, on big tree" as the most likely phrase. It seemed a bit dubious, but they were running out of time and had to do something. The pair headed out at a quick jog to look for a big tree around the lake.

They traversed the distance through the city's side streets until they could cut through a public park to make a beeline for the lake. Their first glimpse disheartened them. The lake had some trees here and there around it, but none seemed much bigger than the others. Undeterred, they split up, one making their way around the left-hand side of the lake, the other on the right, searching for anything that might stick out.

How Lake Twin Sister had gotten its name, Anastasio wasn't sure, but it was small enough for them to be able to stay within each other's line of sight, although too big for them to search the whole shoreline without splitting up. As much as he felt the pressure of time slipping away from them, he slowed down enough to be able to take some weight off his left leg, although he tried to keep the limp from becoming obvious, just in case she happened to glance over and see. It wouldn't do to let anyone know how injured he was, they'd be sure to use it against him during the fights. Alliances were for the moment only, enough to get the mission done and that was all.

By the time he'd made it halfway around, he saw Sophia signaling for him. He jogged to her side in spite of the pain, more worried about time now than stealth. "What is it?"

She pointed to a cluster of shops within eyesight. "What if it's not an actual tree? There's a tavern over there called The Spreading Oak. It's not really on the lake, but..."

Anastasio looked around. There just wasn't any other feature around here that fit, as far as he could see. He turned back to Sophia. "Well, it could be something located on the roof of the tavern rather than inside it." The fact of the matter was that they were running out of time and had no better options, with the exception of falling back on fighting another team for possession of their prize. Let's call that plan 'b', Anastasio thought. "Let's go," he said, and they took off.

oOo

Although seated, the woman was clearly tall and lanky. Her grey hair was pulled up into a loose bun, but her skin was very smooth, with only a few lines around her mouth and eyes. Her skin tone had become much softer, though, and noticeably thinner, giving away her age despite the lack of wrinkles.

Dante closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had this. He could do it. He schooled his face into a mildly curious but humble expression, and headed for the lady. He stopped a couple of steps from her left, trying to look as timid as possible, with Pietro right behind him.

"Forgive my interruption, ma'am," he said shyly. "Would you mind if we watch you work for a moment?"

The woman looked up, and Dante immediately revised his initial impression of a kindly and possibly bit eccentric elderly matron. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, and while not cold or malevolent, they definitely didn't give one a warm fuzzy feeling, either. It was an intelligent gaze, and a bit crafty, as well. When she spoke, however, it was in a cordial tone he could find nothing to fault. "Not at all. Might I ask your interest, however?"

"I love art," he replied earnestly. "It's my favourite subject in grammar school. I wish I could study under a real artist like you – but I don't think that will happen. My family thinks art is pretty, but useless."

Her head tilted to one side as she raised a brow. "What makes you say I am a 'real' artist?"

Brasca, that was a mistake. They all knew she wasn't an artist at all, but he shouldn't have started with such obvious flattery. He tried to think of a way out, but before he could, Pietro jumped in.

"He just means in comparison to himself, ma'am," he said with obvious good humor, giving Dante a chance to recover.

"Ah, I see," she said with a small chuckle, gracefully playing along. "Well, I certainly do not mind if you watch. You may even ask questions, if you'd like." And with that, she picked up her brush again, considered for a moment, then added a bit of green to the canvas sitting on the easel in front of her.

The boys moved to either side of her so they could more clearly see what she was painting. As the magnificent fountain was not far away, they expected that to be the subject, and were surprised to find it was not.

Dante forced himself to focus. If he could, he really would spend the morning watching her paint, and he'd ask all sorts of questions. This isn't art, this is a clue, he reminded himself. And they were in a hurry.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but why did you choose to paint a gardener? With all the beautiful things here, why paint a common servant?" Was the gardener in the game too? But that didn't make any sense; in that case, the task could be completed by sheer dumb luck if they went directly to the man, and he didn't think the allenatores would do that.

She continued to work on her painting as she replied, "Art is more than just superficial beauty, child. In fact, I would say it is not about beauty at all, or not in the common sense of the word. If anything, art is about truth."

"What is truth?" Pietro replied cynically, his arms folded across his chest.

"Well, what do you think it is?" she shot back, pausing in her painting to look over at him.

"Perception is truth," he replied. "Whoever controls perception determines truth."

"And you?" she asked, turning to Dante. "What do you believe?"

"I don't know," he replied slowly. "But I don't think truth can be controlled. If it is, it's not true anymore, is it? It's just an illusion. It can give you power over others if you make them believe it, but that doesn't make it true. The truth is… the core, that essential thing that can't be changed and that makes people and things who or what they are."

He glanced away, suddenly embarrassed – this was just a game, after all, and the lady was a Crow or their hireling. No need to take it so seriously. "Anyway, I don't see what truth has to do with art," he muttered. "Art looks pretty, but it's an illusion, too."

She nodded, a small smile on her face. "Well, you know, they say that art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth." When Dante turned back to look at her, she continued. "I chose the gardener because I see him. Most people don't. Servants can walk right by someone without notice, as if they are invisible, because so many people believe they are beneath them. And yet," here she turned and gestured to the gardener, "without him, how much less beautiful our surroundings would be!" She turned back to Dante. "I am painting him because I want others to see him, too."

Art was the lie that enabled them to realize the truth? That was an interesting idea – he'd never thought of art like that. But thinking about it had to wait. Right now, what mattered most was that they had their clue. He was trying to think of a gracious way out, when his problem was solved by the sound of the clock striking the half hour. Dante's eyes widened in realization – half of the time was gone, and they still didn't have the treasure!

"Excuse us, ma'am, but we have to run – we're so terribly late!" He didn't have to fake the regret in his voice this time. He'd love to talk to her more, even if she was just a part of the test. "Thank you for your patience with us," he said with a respectful bow. "Come on, Pietro!"

oOo

Sophie cursed softly. They had made a quick survey of all sides of the building, but there was nothing to help them get to the roof – no boxes or barrels conveniently stacked up, no ladders or balconies, and the walls were too smooth for any handholds.

"Okay," she said, as they crouched together in the shadow cast by the tavern, "what do we have that could help us get to the roof? Otherwise, we'll have to sneak in." As good as they were, getting in and out of a tavern during the day was risky at best, assuming it was even open this early.

They looked at the items they had and the environment around them. "The only thing that I can see," Anastasio replied, "is if we use the rope as a lasso. Do you think you can do it?" He pointed out the chimney on the roof, hoping she'd say yes. His wrist was aching again, and starting to swell, too. There was no way he'd be able to do it.

"Damn right I can," Sophia replied with grim determination.

As Sophia fashioned the lasso, Anastasio took another quick trip around the tavern, mostly to satisfy himself that they remained undetected and that there still wasn't any foot traffic to be concerned about, but also to give himself something to do. He knew she'd do her best, but lassoing objects wasn't a skill they'd spent much time on, although it could be useful in stealth situations. Watching her attempts would have just increased his anxiety.

But when he'd come back around, he found her still trying to get the loop of the rope around the chimney stack. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he could see beads of sweat on her bare neck, and tendrils of hair that had fallen from her ponytail were now sticking to the sides of her face. "You can do it," he encouraged in a low voice.

"I know," she grumbled, but he could see the tenseness in her face and shoulders ease some.

Her next attempt was a success, sort of. The lasso wasn't all the way around the chimney. It had landed on the top, but by careful tugging, Sophia was able to make the rope tighten over half of the chimney crown. "It'll have to do," she said as she started up.

Anastasio waited, heart in his throat, until she pulled herself over the edge of the roof. While she secured the rope, he sneaked a sip of one of the potions the healer had given him.

The climb was brutal, but he made it to the top and dragged himself over the side, then pulled the trailing end up behind him. Anastasio dried his hands on his shirt, looking around.

oOo

"Fifteen minutes to find it," Dante breathed as they stopped behind one of the statues, blocking the line of sight of the lady. They had to pretend to be going out of the area – it wouldn't do to blow their cover so openly, and it might confuse any other apprentices if they were nearby. "We need to find a way to get into the servants' area, and we have to do it now. We don't even know what to do when we're in, so there's no time for hesitation or mistakes. Hopefully it means there aren't many more clues, or that they'll be pretty clear once we're there."

After observing the servant's entrance for some moments, Pietro replied, "Okay, there are servants bringing in the artwork and others bringing in supplies for the caterer, and they likely have some setting up inside. We should split up to make it easier to infiltrate – since I'm bigger, I'll fall in with the help bringing in the artwork. You can help bring in the tablecloths and platters and utensils for the caterer, since those are lighter. We're less likely to be noticed if we separate, and we can surveille a larger area that way."

Dante gave his partner a pointed look. Who the hell did he think he was, commanding him like that? But there was no time to argue, and the plan was good. The art was all covered with drop clothes anyway. "See you inside."

He walked briskly up to the wagon of the caterer, trying to look like someone with a purpose, someone who knew exactly what they needed to do. A man who looked to be in his forties was supervising the work. Despite the early hour, there were drops of sweat on his brow, and he looked like he could have a stroke at any moment.

"Careful with those caviar canapés!" he barked at the unfortunate elf carrying a huge covered tray. "They're worth more than ten the likes of you!"

The elf hurried away, and the man turned to Dante, frowning. "What now?"

"Good morning, ser," Dante said with a respectful bow of the head. "I was sent to see if there's anything I can help with – like the tablecloths and décor?"

"Here." The man picked up a large stack of black linen tablecloths and put it into Dante's outstretched arms. "Bring this inside and start covering the tables we have set up for the canapés."

"On it, ser!" Dante left as fast as he could without raising suspicion. A few yards to the left, he saw Pietro picking up a large covered painting, positioning it so it blocked his face from view. So far, so good.

Nobody tried to stop him as he entered the building, or question what he was doing there; one of the servants just pointed him to the main hall buzzing with people fixing large paintings on the wall or placing the smaller ones on easels, and arranging the tables with the refreshments. Dante set the tablecloths on the nearest table and looked around. If he'd gotten it right, they were supposed to come here and find the next clue. In front of everyone, and under time pressure, so it shouldn't be something difficult. Something hidden in plain sight…

Aware that it was dangerous to just stand there and look around – people could give him random little jobs to do, or start questioning who he was and how he got there, and both were equally bad – he grabbed a piece of paper he noticed on one of the tables, pretending to study it. Nothing interesting, just a list of directions as to where each painting should be hung… Wait. Inspection of Masked Circumstances?! That was the title of the exhibition? That couldn't be a coincidence! Excited, he scanned the list of titles. Most of them were mundane, like Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman, but every once in a while – every third title, in fact – was more than a little weird.

Raven Deceiving a Staircase was the first one, followed by The Whole Nine Yards, Emerald Fragment of Closed Purpose, The Mask of the Red Death, and Information Dreams in the Dark. If those weren't clues, then he was a dwarf and would eat his beard. He slowly re-read the odd titles two more times, then put the list back down and hurried to the door, discreetly signaling Pietro to follow. There was not a minute to waste.

oOo

The roof was flat, with only a small lip running around the edge. It was obviously being used as an extra storage area – perhaps that was why there were no boxes or barrels along the sides of the building.

"Well, let's look around and see what we can find. Maybe the treasure is hidden in one of the boxes," Anastasio said hopefully. They split up, and it didn't take long for Sophia's cry of success to reach his ears. He hurried over to where she was crouched.

"A safe," she said, looking up at him. It was a small one – too big to just pick up and move easily, but small enough to be concealed between the other boxes. There didn't seem to be a convenient key lying around, though. "I think I can pick the lock," Sophia said, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair.

"Okay," Anastasio said. "I'll see if there's a key hidden somewhere." He started at one end, carefully and methodically inspecting every box, crate and barrel as he worked his way across the roof. Unfortunately, all of them seemed to be nailed shut, and he had no crowbar to pry them open. He kept going, though, running his hands lightly over each of them, feeling for any false bottoms or little niches that shouldn't be there.

He froze as his fingers found a gap a little wider than the ones between the other slats of the crate. Anastasio removed the boxes stacked on top of it, then pulled the crate out in the open to get a better look. There it was – he could see the outline of a small square area. It looked like a piece of the wood had been cut out and then replaced. He held his breath as he felt around, pressing each part of the little square, searching for a spot that would give a little more than anywhere else.

Yes! he thought with exultation as he heard a little click and the square suddenly opened on one side. He could see now the other side had a hidden hinge. And glued to the inside of the little door was a key!

He ran back to his partner, who had yet to pick the lock. "Move over," he said hurriedly as he crouched beside her. It worked! Inside the safe were two Crow daggers. Anastasio reached in and picked one up, then carefully unsheathed it. It was sharp as a razor blade. He grinned and handed the other one to Sophia. "Come on, time is almost up."

They tucked the sheathed blades into their belts and climbed back down as fast as they could, then took off, not bothering to try to recover the rope. They'd be lucky if they could even make it back to the compound before the clock struck eight.

oOo

Dante turned the nearest corner and looked around. No one was around, but he still wrapped himself in shadow and squatted behind a nearby tall potted plant with big heart-shaped leaves, dark green at the edges but pale green in the middle. Not nearly enough to cover him, but it had to do. He took the paper and the pencil out of his belt bag, flattened the paper against the wall, and hastily started to scribble the titles of the pictures before he forgot them.

"See any staircases nearby?" he asked Pietro, not bothering to turn around.

Pietro had already made sure to note all entrances and exits in their immediate surroundings, and that included the stairs, so he didn't even have to look around to reply. "There's one about five feet to our left, just around the corner up ahead."

"Let's go." Dante shoved the paper into Pietro's hand. "See what you can make of this."

As Dante led the way upstairs, Pietro glanced at what his partner had given him, but it wasn't until they'd gotten to the top that he had a moment to hunker down and really take a look. Okay, he could see how Dante had picked up on the Raven and the staircase. "So, what's nine yards away?" he asked quietly, looking around. "Something green?"

Dante looked around, but there was just a long corridor with several doors on both sides, empty but for a few tall potted plants like the one he used for cover before. "Maybe a green door, or… a room! The green room – you know, where the artists wait before the event!" He pulled out the rope. "We need to measure nine yards in both directions, see what's at nine yards. Let's hurry."

To the right, there was only an empty wall, but the left side was a shot in the dark. Not only was there a door, it was wide open, with two servants carrying in trays with pastry and fruit. That had to be it! Excited, they hid behind the nearest potted plants, waiting for the servants to leave. It didn't take long, thank the Maker – they had to be really short on time now!

The moment the servants were far enough from the door, they ran into the room, closing the door behind them and bracing it with the nearest piece of furniture they could grab – a red plush velvet chair.

"Now what?" Dante asked breathlessly, looking around. "See any mask? Or anything that could be 'the red death'?"

A quick glance around the room, and Pietro felt sure they were in the right place – it was the sort of ostentatious luxury that practically guaranteed they'd find something valuable. The hardest part would be figuring out what to take. But then his attention was captured by a particular painting. "I see it," Pietro answered confidently.

The painting was a bird's eye view of the interior of a large room that looked as if it belonged in a mansion. Lying on the floor, scattered about like forgotten toys, were men and women in costume – partygoers at a masquerade. Their limbs were cocked at awkward angles, making it obvious that everyone was dead. "'The Masque of the Red Death' is a short story by some Fereldan guy. It's about this rich prince who locks himself up with all his friends in his mansion while all the poor people of his country are dying of the plague. They have this big costume party, but in the end, a mysterious stranger shows up dressed like a plague victim, and everyone dies." Pietro's voice held a dreamy quality to it as he stared at the painting. "I remember it because I cheered when they died. Serves them right, locking themselves away when they could have been helping people. They got what they deserved, if you ask me."

Dante shot an appreciative look at his partner. He'd always thought Pietro was just a brute, but maybe he was cleverer than he let on. Hm... He'd have to keep an eye on him from now on. "Okay. Let's take it down, see if there's any 'information dreaming in the dark' there."

The picture was quite big, and hung too high; they had to take the vases and porcelain figures off the end tables and drag them over to reach it. Each took one side as they lifted it down – the damn frame weighed a ton – and were about to get off the tables when someone tried to open the door.

"Hey! What's going on? Who's in there? Open the door!"

The boys exchanged a panicked look. They hopped down, just barely managing not to drop the picture on the coffee table with all the cute pastries and plates on it. They leaned it against the table and checked the back.

There! Dante almost sobbed with relief as he pulled off a sealed envelope that was glued to it. "If that isn't 'information dreaming in dark', I don't know what is," he said softly, so the servants wouldn't hear.

"I don't know about the dreaming part, but it's time to get out of here, and we can't go back the way we came!" Pietro said. "Now what?"

"That's it, we're calling the guards!" one of the servants yelled.

They could hear the sound of running footsteps going away from the door, but there must have been two of them, because there still came the sound of the door handle rattling.

"Come out quietly and it'll go easier on you. It's not like you have any place to go, so no point in making it harder on yourself."

"We've got a couple of minutes at best." Dante picked up the picture on his end. "Let's put this back, then we'll go out through the window." He could see from Pietro's expression that he didn't like the idea of hanging the damn picture back up, but at least he didn't argue. Maybe it was silly, but Dante was certain a Crow would come to the scene, maybe with the guards, to see how they left the place; Dante didn't want to give them any reason to report they did a sloppy job, not unless it was absolutely inevitable. And it wasn't just yet – not with the huge oak in front of the window.

There was one more thing on his mind, though. "When we get near the gates of the compound," he said as they were hanging the picture, "I want you to start ranting, loudly and angrily, that it's all my fault we didn't find the treasure. Until the moment we're in front of the allenatore. I don't want to waste time fighting with the losers who'll be waiting for one last chance to get their hands on it."

Pietro agreed, if only because they actually did have the prize. And it was a good strategy, although he didn't bother saying so. It was likely that Dante would conflate that to 'brilliant'. Nonsense, of course.

Once the picture, end tables, and figurines were all back in place, they opened the window and jumped onto the windowsill. Not a moment too soon; they could hear footsteps and voices coming closer. Dante wrapped himself in shadow and jumped, grabbing for the nearest branch.

Unfortunately, the nearest branch was the only one close enough to reach, so Pietro gave Dante half a second to start moving before he jumped after him, grabbing the branch at the spot Dante had just vacated. Thankfully, it was pretty thick, and it was nearly a second before they heard the first 'crack'. Both of them continued inching towards the trunk hand-over-hand, but seconds later they heard an even louder 'crack'. Looking down, Pietro spotted a lower branch and let go – risky, but not nearly as risky as hanging on to that one. He landed on his feet, quickly crouching and grabbing the branch with both hands to keep his balance. He glanced up at Dante only briefly before occupying himself with reaching the ground.

"I'm worried we took too long in there," Dante said as he reached the ground. "We need to hurry up – let's cut through the side streets."

The boys took off like rage demons were at their heels.

oOo

Just as Dante expected, there was a group of apprentices lurking near the gates. Anastasio's team wasn't there, he was relieved to see. It would suck if his main rival turned out to be such a loser. Like Lorenzo, whose morose expression just made Dante's day. Too bad he couldn't show it, not yet.

He did his best to look defeated and exhausted instead as he looked around. "Do you think there's any point waiting here?" he muttered, just loud enough to make the cretin hear it. "Lorenzo is here too, we don't have much of a chance to win…"

"Yeah," Pietro replied, "And it's all your fuckin' fault, too! Piece of shit. If you would have just listened to me, we'd have the treasure right now!"

Dante gritted his teeth. "You better watch your tongue! Don't blame your incompetence on me! If you hadn't hindered me, I would've been back half an hour ago!"

Pietro scoffed. "You couldn't find your own ass with both hands and a map," he replied. "Next time, I'm leading!"

"Don't make me laugh. You, leading? From the tenth position? Remember your place, idiota. You're lucky to still be alive – but you won't be much longer if you keep talking shit!"

"Oh yeah? Just wait until the fights! I'm gonna mop the floor with your ugly face!"

"Sí, sí. Keep dreaming." Dante looked around, as if assessing his options. He noticed Anastasio and Sophia running through the plaza now, each carrying a wicked dagger. All the losers around the gate stood straighter. As if any of them had a chance against Anastasio! If anyone could deal with the pompous cretin Lorenzo, it was him. But he had no wish to be caught in it. "Well, you do whatever you want. I'm going in. I don't want to be late, too."

With that, he turned on his heels and hurried inside, Pietro right behind him.

oOo

Anastasio's lungs were burning with the effort of running all out, and his leg hurt so bad he couldn't help the slight limp that had developed. His heart sank as he and Sophia came into view of the compound and saw Lorenzo and his partner, Christoph, waiting for them, along with the other losers. He'd hoped they'd get lucky and only have one team to deal with. He could see Dante and Pietro as well, passing up Lorenzo and looking defeated. Lorenzo let them go by without confrontation, apparently buying that they didn't have the prize. As if Dante would return without completing the mission!

He and Sophia never slowed. They'd expected opposition, and they ran straight for Lorenzo and Christoph – the biggest threats they could see – barreling down on them at top speed. They both still had the Crow daggers sheathed, but Sophia had the empty bottle in her right hand, holding it by the neck.

They'd decided ahead of time to gamble that whoever was waiting would be surprised enough by their unorthodox approach that they would hesitate, giving them an edge, and it looked like it just might work. Both of them were in a loosely defensive stance, but it was clear they were unsure what sort of attack to expect, and were uncertain what posture to take as a consequence. Anastasio and Sophia waited until they were within arm's length of their opponents to strike. Sophia swung the bottle at Christoph's head then swerved right, just missing barreling into him, while he drew the Crow dagger, slashing and swerving left simultaneously.

Both of them connected with their targets – Christoph folded to the ground like a house of cards in a sudden gust of wind. His blade caught Lorenzo across the front of his right shoulder, cutting deeper than he'd meant it to. Anastasio was suddenly seized by fear as he realized he'd failed to take his momentum into account – he'd never attacked anyone while running straight at them! The allenatores might not have a problem with him defending himself, but if he killed another apprentice, especially because of a lack of control or a miscalculation, they'd be furious. He stopped, waiting to see if Lorenzo would continue to try to stand in his way, but the other apprentice had his left hand pressed tightly against the wound, trying to stanch the flow. The fear in his eyes told Anastasio he didn't have any fight left in him.

Anastasio turned to the remaining team. "You gonna stand in our way?" he asked, holding the Crow dagger with the same practiced ease he held their training daggers. Sophia stood by his side, still holding the bottle, which was surprisingly intact, although bloody. White-faced, they both shook their heads, and he and Sophia turned and ran the rest of the way into the compound.

A/N:

Stay tuned for part three - it will also come out 'shortly'. :)

Many thanks to our beta Bloodsong 13T for her help.

Artemisia Gentileschi was an Italian Baroque painter, now considered one of the most accomplished seventeenth-century artists working in the dramatic style of Caravaggio.

Edgar Allen Poe was the author of The Masque of the Red Death, not some Fereldan guy. xD

"Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth."

― Pablo Picasso