Clarke waits until the last of the ambassadors file out of the throne room before turning to face Lexa, her hands on her hips and a frown creasing her forehead.
"Some war—"
Lexa interrupts her with a quick raising of a hand as she gestures to the side towards the private study. Clarke sighs just once before falling into step behind Lexa as Ryder and Torvun both shadow them into the smaller room. As the doors close behind them Clarke finds herself standing by the table that dominates the interior. Candles and torches still burn away and the light that filters in from some hidden opening high in the ceiling bathes the space in a yellow glow.
"Some warning would have been nice," Clarke says into the silence.
"I apologise," Lexa says as she comes to stand opposite Clarke on the other side of the table, hands resting against its surface as she leans forward a little. "It was necessary that I surprise even you, Clarke," she finishes.
"Why?" and Clarke raises an eyebrow as she feels Torvun come to stand a little closer, the motion, she thinks subconscious, his movements dictated by her tone.
Lexa's gaze snaps to him for the briefest of moments before discarding it, "I suspect Ilian to be our culprit," she begins.
"Ilian?" Clarke says. "Elios' Ilian?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Clarke asks.
"He is walking with a limp," Lexa says. "He hides it well, but I have noticed hat he favours one side over the other," and she pauses for a moment as she seems to think. "He has access to places where his presence would not be questioned. He is not a guard who must be at one place at all times, he need only be at Elios' side during ambassador meetings. At all other times he may do as he pleases."
"And that lets him sneak off doing whatever it is he's doing," Clarke says, and as she thinks over what Lexa says, she can't help but to think it makes sense. "He might have just been injured in training," Clarke doesn't think it could hurt to play devil's advocate, at least so that they have considered all possibilities.
"Perhaps," Lexa begins. "Torvun," Lexa says as she looks to the man beside Clarke.
"Heda," he answers.
"What do you think of Ilian," and Clarke thinks she knows why Lexa asks.
"He dislike's his duties as guard to Elios," Torvun says. "He does it because it is his duty. But because of this, he does not try to hide his emotions as some others do."
"I agree," Clarke says as she looks up at Torvun for a moment as she tries to recall any moments she has shared with Ilian since becoming ambassador. "He isn't afraid to let his emotions show, if things annoy him, if people annoy him."
"Unlike other guards," Lexa continues, "who keep their emotions in check."
"And?" Clarke asks, now curious as to what Lexa will say next.
"And, Clarke," Lexa says. "During our meeting, Ilian was quiet, he was calm. Did not allow emotion to show on his face."
"So," and Clarke chews her lip in thought. "You've surprised him with the threat of death if he's caught," she says. "You want him to react, to do something stupid, to try and get away?"
"Yes," Lexa says. "We still do not have enough evidence to capture him, the clans will not accept his arrest without more proof."
Clarke takes a moment to think over everything they know. And she knows that whatever Ilian plans is still hidden to them, part of her even wonders if all Ilian does is simply experiment with tech due to a curiosity fuelled by the unknown. But she thinks it greater than that, if only because Teben had attacked them, had tried to hide what they were doing. Even the caves collapsing around them is more proof that Ilian and the others wish not to be discovered.
"You've forced Ilian into a corner now, Lexa," Clarke says. "He's going to have to do something."
"Yes," and Lexa nods her head. "We have been reacting to things he, and whoever he works with, do. It is time that they react to our actions. He will attempt to escape and we will follow."
Lexa pauses, and for a moment Clarke finds herself trying to gauge whether Lexa knows of her camp of Azgeda warriors outside the city walls, but she is sure Lexa does, if only because she thinks Lexa must have spies, that the Polis Guard surely patrols outside the walls of the city.
"You're counting on my warriors outside the city to catch him, aren't you."
"Yes," Lexa says simply.
"And that's why you're willing to let Ilian try to escape," Clarke continues. "You know he probably doesn't know about them and won't expect to run into Azgeda patrolling the forests."
"Yes, Clarke," Lexa says.
Clarke can't help but to feel just a little impressed, if only because she is sure Lexa having agreed for her warriors to patrol the streets of Polis so openly must have in some way played a part in hiding just how many Azgeda were in and near Polis.
"So now what?" Clarke asks.
"We wait for Ilian to make his move."
The dungeon is the only place this far south that feels like home. The coolness of the air doesn't quite have the same bite to it, but Ontari can at least appreciate the chill of the cold against her face.
Teben sits in a corner of her cell, her knees tucked to her chest and her arms wrapped around herself for warmth as she tries to find some form of comfort in the cold. The only softness afforded her is the straw that lines the cold stone, its presence only just enough to stop those unfortunate enough to find themselves in the dungeons from freezing. Perhaps for a moment Ontari finds herself feeling a small amount of sympathy for the woman, but that thought is discarded faster than she has time to fully register it. Entani stands beside her, the healer clearly in thought as she looks at Teben who so far has said nothing.
"We found their camp," Ontari says, and she watches as Teben looks up at them, her gaze guarded and unsure.
"I told you they would be," she says.
"They tried to kill us," Ontari continues.
"Are you surprised?" Teben counters, and Ontari thinks that perhaps her days in isolation in the dungeons has caused her to lose hope of ever seeing the sun again, of trying to placate rather than to hope for any leniency.
"No," Ontari says as her head tilts to the side in thought. "Would you like to know what happened?" Teben simply looks her in the eyes, but Ontari thinks that answer enough. "It was a trap," Ontari says. "They made the caves collapse around us."
Teben looks away then, perhaps to gather her thoughts, perhaps to hide whatever emotions must have been going through her mind, but the motion make's Ontari's eyes narrow, at least for a moment.
"Did you know it was a trap?" Ontari asks. "Did you know they were going to bring the caves down on us?"
"No," and Teben turns back to face them both, perhaps just a little determination now in her eyes as she stares at them. "I did not know they would bring the caves down on you," but she pauses for a short moment. "You think I knew?" and she laughs, but the sound comes out bitter, accepting of whatever she thinks is to come. "You think I sent you into a trap?"
"It crossed our minds," Entani cuts in.
"There is no point me trying to convince you otherwise," Teben says with a sigh that seems as much full of sadness as it does pathetic acceptance. "Are you going beat me?"
"It crossed our minds," Entani echoes.
They fall silent then, and Ontari wonders what Teben must think, she even wonders if Teben has begun to second guess whatever foolish notion had lead her down this path. But Entani walking forward pulls her from her thoughts.
"How is your arm?" Entani asks as she shrugs off a pack over her shoulders and starts to kneel. Teben doesn't answer right away, but rather her eyes narrow a fraction more. "Fine," and Entani snorts as she begins to rise.
"Wait," Teben pauses for a moment. "It—" she looks away. "It smells."
Entani lowers herself onto the ground in the middle of the room where the light is brightest, and Ontari feels herself stepping forward just a little so that she is close enough to intervene if Teben tries anything.
"You must come into the light if I am to see to your wound."
Teben takes a moment to think over what is said before shuffles forward from the corner of the room until she comes to sit before Entani, her arm held out for her to inspect.
"It has not been checked since you left," Teben says after a moment as she looks from Entani and then to Ontari who watches with narrowed eyes, her mind still untrusting of Teben.
"It is infected," Entani says as she unwraps the bandage and inspects the wound. "Not severely. But the bandages will need to be changed and you will scar badly."
Teben doesn't seem to mind, or perhaps she is simply thankful that so far she has been treated better than Ontari is sure she expected.
"You are a fool, Teben," Ontari says and she lets her gaze harden as Teben looks up at her. "You think tech is bad, you befriend fools who do not understand what it does, and still you protect them. Even after we show you compassion. Even after we spare your life," Ontari lets her gaze stare into Teben's eyes until Teben seems forced to look away. "How many times do you think Clarke will be willing to overlook your betrayals before she decides you have no use to us? How many times do you think Clarke will allow you to send us into traps before our warriors will be unwilling to listen to her command that you are not to be hurt?"
"Do not mistake Clarke's compassion for weakness," Entani adds. "There are no games we play with you, only truths and promises," she says. "It is true we need answers. But if we decide you either can not give them to us, or are not willing to answer our questions, then you will be of no use to us."
"It is that simple," Ontari says.
"Think about it, Teben," Entani says as she finishes wrapping a fresh bandage over Teben's wound. "Perhaps we will return later today, after you have had time to consider."
And with that Entani stands. Ontari takes a moment to look Teben in the eyes, to try to gauge just how much Teben may have taken in. Perhaps she sees a flickering of contemplation in Teben's gaze before the woman turns and shuffles back into the corner of her cell, arms wrapped around her knees as she draws them to her chest.
As Ontari exits the dungeons she peers up into the sky to judge how late in the morning it must be. She thinks whatever meeting Clarke has had with the ambassadors must soon be ending, that they will break for the midday meal. But Ontari doesn't really want to spend more time around them than she needs, she even pities Clarke and Torvun who must listen and endure whatever ramblings are sure to go on.
"Come," Entani says as she tugs on her furs. "I am hungry."
"Do you think Teben knew?" Ontari asks, now that they are both away from her she feels more able to voice her opinion.
"No," Entani answers. "Perhaps she knew we would be attacked, but not that they had tech to collapse the caves."
"We should tell Clarke what we know," Ontari says as she shuffles past a ground of merchants deep in conversation.
"Perhaps," Entani nods in agreement, "but I am sure Clarke has her hands full with the ambassadors."
"Yes," Ontari answers with a scoff. "I do not envy her."
"Nor do I," Entani says as she shakes her head.
But, as both women continue to wind their way through the crowds of people filling the streets, Ontari feels the hair on the back of her neck beginning to prickle, and as she looks to Entani from the corner of her eye, she finds that she, too, has sensed whatever it is.
They both continue to move deeper and deeper through the streets, but as they do so, Ontari is sure whoever follows them begins to close the distance with each passing second. Ontari's gaze snaps to a less crowded alleyway tucked between two large buildings, and as she nudges Entani with her elbow she finds the other woman having also noticed it, and so they both begin to change directions subtly.
As soon as they cross the threshold and pass into the alley Ontari darts into a recessed section of wall, one hand quick to fall to the knife strapped to her hip. Entani ducks down behind a large container of sorts, its metal hinges rusted, patterns long since faded covering every surface.
Ontari braces for the confrontation, she prepares herself to attack, to lunge as soon as their stalker crosses into the alley, but as the seconds tick by, and as Entani seems to grow more and more restless, Ontari can't help but to think their plan perhaps too obvious, too clear, too well read.
"You will have to do better than that if you are to attack me."
The voice makes Ontari's lips curl into a snarl, and not for the first time she imagines how good it would feel to plunge her knife into their chest.
"What do you want, Echo?" Ontari snaps as she steps out from the shadows and comes face to face with the assassin.
"Where have you been?" Entani asks as she, too, steps forward, one hand still lingering on her knife, her eyes narrowed.
"I have been investigating the same things you have been investigating," Echo says as she leans against the nearest wall, attitude seemingly unconcerned about the way Ontari's annoyance flares.
"Really?" Ontari says. "Because I do not recall you risking your life to hunt down the fools stealing tech."
"Unlike you," Echo says with a shrug. "I can do more than simply break things."
"Say that again," Ontari snarls as she steps forward, her lip curling even more as she clenches her hands into fists.
"Peace, Ontari," Entani says as she steps between them. "And speak quickly, Echo, we have no patience for you."
Echo laughs quietly at that, but Ontari tries to settle her annoyances, lets her hands relax and her posture ease into something less tense as she takes a step from Echo.
"You would not be back unless you found something," Ontari says after a moment.
"That is true," and Echo takes a moment to peer over her shoulder before stepping further into the alley as she motions for them both to follow her. "I found other camps," Echo says as she turns.
"And?" Ontari asks.
"It is not just all tech they are experimenting with," Echo says. "But specific kinds," and she shrugs off a bag strapped to her side and opens it for them to look into.
As Ontari looks she finds the contents to be metallic cylinders, some dented, others scratched, clear signs that they have been pried open, have been toyed with.
"I recognise these," Entani says as she peers closer.
"Yes," Echo says. "These contain the red smoke the Mountain Men used to capture our people."
Ontari's eyes narrow as she eyes the tech in Echo's bag.
"Where did you get these pieces of tech?" she asks.
"From their camps," Echo says. "I could not steal more before their disappearance would be noticed," she continues. "So now I have returned."
"What makes you think these people are searching for the red smoke?" Ontari asks.
"Much of the other tech is destroyed," Echo answers. "Broken, crushed, dismantled, but the red smoke containers are left intact, or as intact as these ones are," she finishes as she gestures to the bag.
"You do not know what they are planning to use them for?" Entani questions.
"No," Echo answers.
"Why come to us first and not Clarke?" Ontari adds.
"I was on my way to Clarke," Echo says with a shrug. "But then I saw both of you," and she leans forward and smirks. "Am I not allowed to visit my favourite little warrior?"
Ontari almost hits Echo squarely in the nose, she isn't quite so sure what stops her, but whatever it was must have been visible in her eyes for Echo simply laughs as closes the bag and tucks it closer to her side.
"Now come," Echo says as she turns. "I am sure Clarke will wish to know what I have learnt."
Clarke sits on her bed as her thoughts move back and forth over everything she knows. She can't decide if she should panic, if she should have people watch Ilian, or if she should take Lexa's advice and just simply wait until Ilian makes a hasty move to escape.
She feels a tension beginning to build though, and so she lets out a frustrated sigh and falls onto her back and lets her arms splay out on either side of her as she stares up into the ceiling.
"How are you this calm?" she calls out, and she hears the quiet clinking of cutlery coming to a pause.
"There is no point worrying over decisions and actions that have not yet happened, Clarke," Lexa says from somewhere deeper into the room.
Clarke sighs a little more ruefully before rolling onto her front and burying her face into the furs covering her bed.
"I hate waiting," she says, but she doesn't think Lexa quite hears or understands what she says simply because the sounds of cutlery scraping against metal plate continues. "I can deal with having a clear target, with knowing who my enemy is, with knowing that I need to attack or defend. But this?" and she sits up turns to face Lexa, "this is frustrating."
"You must learn patience, Clarke," Lexa says with a simple shrug. "We can not rush into things before they are ready," but Lexa pauses for a moment before continuing. "Is this not the same as Nia?"
"How?" Clarke questions.
"With Nia you knew not what her actions would be, you knew not if she trusted you, if Roan had been captured, if he had escaped or even where he was."
"Yeah," Clarke scoffs. "That last part's no thanks to you," Lexa simply smiles just barely as she takes another bite of whatever it is on her plate that smells so deliciously good. "And no, it isn't the same because I knew Nia was the enemy. And I knew her ultimate goal was to control tech and become the ruler of everything," she says. "But now? I don't know who is leading these people. I don't know what their goal is. All I know is that they're stealing tech for some unknown reason."
"Then all we must do is wait," Lexa says with a shrug. "We wait until Ilian becomes the one reacting to events out of his control, rather than us. We wait until he makes a mistake," she turns to face her fully. "We simply wait, Clarke."
Clarke hums something unsure, but she knows deep down that Lexa speaks from more experience than she can ever imagine.
"Now I know what your nightbloods must go through each day," she says, half in jest, half in serious curiosity.
"Yes," Lexa says. "They too must learn patience."
Clarke rolls her eyes, if only because she isn't quite so sure if Lexa mocks her or if she has taken her words far too seriously. But a knock on her door interrupts her thoughts.
"Clarke," Torvun's voice calls out. "Ontari, Entani and Echo wish to see you."
Clarke looks at Lexa for a moment, but the woman seems unconcerned about their state of casualness and so Clarke simply shrugs to herself as she rises from her bed and walks her way to her door.
She can't help but to smile to herself though, for, as she nears the door she hears Ontari's bickering with Torvun, whose seeming unwillingness to allow her to enter has vexed her deeply.
"—er, I apologise, Ontari."
"Move Torvun, or I will—"
Clarke straightens her features as she pulls open her door to reveal Ontari, fisted hands on her hips as she glares up at Torvun who bares her from entering.
"Clarke," Ontari's eyes snap down to her. "You have given Torvun too much power and he abuses it."
"Is that so?" Clarke says.
"Yes," and Ontari pushes past Torvun and enters the room followed by Entani who sends her an apologetic smile before Echo ducks in after them.
"Yeah," and Clarke sighs as she stands aside. "Please all come in," and she nods for Torvun to enter, too, she even looks to Ryder for a moment who has become a constant companion beside Torvun at times such as this. But Ryder shakes his head respectfully as he takes his place by the door and turns outward.
Clarke turns around to find Lexa standing, hands behind her back as she eyes those who have entered Clarke's quarters. Clarke can't help but to feel just the slightest hints of her face flushing as she sees Ontari take a much too obvious inspection of her bed, of the spare clothes that lie tucked aside, and of the way Lexa seems less formally dressed than usual.
"I assume you're all here for a reason," Clarke says as she steps forward.
"Yes," Echo says as she turns to face her as she unslings the pack across her shoulders. "I have been hunting," and she lets the pack fall to the floor carefully, one hand quick to open it for all to see its contents.
Clarke's eyes narrow as she stares down into the pack.
"You've been busy, Echo," Clarke says, and she can't quite help but to try to think back to when she had last seen the assassin.
"I gave Echo permission to do what she thought necessary to carry out her own investigation," Lexa adds.
Clarke simply nods, if only because she would have done the same.
"What did you find?" Clarke asks as she turns back to the pack.
"These," Echo says as she reaches down and pulls out a canister.
Clarke's eyes narrow for she thinks she has seen what Echo holds before.
"Smoke canisters," Clarke finds herself saying.
"Yes," Echo says. "The Mountain Men's red smoke comes from these."
"They've been stealing these?" Clarke asks. "How?"
"I do not know," Echo answers. "Perhaps from anyone who has found some that are discarded, perhaps from the storerooms throughout the clans, even the Mountain or Arkadia. But almost all campsites I have discovered had them."
"What makes you think they were using these in particular?" Clarke asks.
"I believe they steal all other kinds of tech to deceive," Echo begins. "To hide their true intentions. Much of the other tech is destroyed, is broken down. But these are kept mostly intact. Some show markings that someone has tried to open them, but most are kept in good condition."
"So," and Clarke looks to all those that stand around her. "What's their plan?"
"That is for us to discover," Lexa says.
Hegla leans against the nearest shelf, her arms crossed and her gaze following Tosla as she walks through the storeroom. Sunlight streams in from the window recessed high into the ceiling overhead, the fabric that covers it breathing with the wind.
Hegla watches as Tosla stops by a shelf full of odd looking sheets of metal, each one beaten into different shapes, some perhaps useful as shields, as doors, some whose uses still elude her.
"What about this one?" Tosla asks as she pulls a panel free, its ancient paint flaking and rusted.
"Maybe?" Hegla says as she tries to judge whether its shape could actually be used. "Jass would know," she finishes with a shrug.
"It is supposed to be a surprise, Hegla," Tosla says as she rolls her eyes. "How are we to keep Shana's gift secret if we keep bringing more people into it?"
"It will not be much of a surprise if it isn't the right kind."
"Maybe I will ask Heda instead," Tosla continues. "Or Wanheda, or someone from Skaikru. They would know."
"Maybe," Hegla says.
Tosla puts the metal panel back, her motions careful so as not to disturb the shelving layout. But Hegla can't help but to wince as one panel scrapes a little too loudly as it settles.
"Sorry," Tosla says as she seems satisfied with her placement of the panel, hands quick to retreat back to her sides as she steps away from the shelf.
"Maybe you are the one stealing all this tech," Hegla says in jest, if only because she has always found Tosla's fascination with tech to be at times a little too curious, even for her own good.
"What is there not to be fascinated by?" Tosla counters. "It is like magic," and she gestures around the room. "This," and she reaches out to the nearest table and lifts a rusted pipe. "You do not even have questions about this tech? What is this? What did it once do?"
"It is a pipe, Tosla," Hegla says with a laugh. "We use pipes. We have used pipes forever."
Tosla seems to deflate just a little at that as she puts the pipe back down onto the table.
"You know what I meant."
Hegla sighs, but she can't help but to find Tosla's infatuation at least a little infectious.
"Yes, Tosla," she says as she takes a few steps forward until she comes to stand beside the other handmaiden. "I d—"
They hear it at the same time. Hegla's mouth clicks shut, her hand falls to the sword on her hip and she steps back and into the shadows as Tosla readies the bow and arrow she had been holding in her hands already. Hegla looks up at the window in the ceiling, eyes narrowed at she tries to find the source of the noise overhead. Even Tosla seems to be straining to discern whatever it was as she begins to move further away from the centre of the storeroom as she gives herself more space and time to fire arrow after arrow if they are attacked.
It happens in an instant. A shadow appears briefly silhouetted over the window, Tosla fires an arrow and it hisses forward, and Hegla is sure it hits whoever it is overhead for she hears a grunt of pain. Hegla crouches lower into a defensive stance, eyes peering overhead, and sin the second it takes for Tosla to have fired an arrow and for it to strike the target, Hegla hears her draw another. But whoever it is fights through the pain and seems to drop something through a gap in the fabric covering the window.
It takes Hegla a moment of squinting as she eyes whatever it is that is dropped down. But as it hits a table, as it scatters the broken pieces of tech that are neatly laid out on top, Hegla's eyes widen as she recognised the cylindrical shape, the glimmering metal and the odd writing that seems always too neatly printed on its surface.
"Tosla," Hegla yells as she dives forward, hands outstretched to snare, to throw, to bury the red smoke. "Get away, get aw—"
The piece of metal hisses at the same time that Hegla closes her hand around it, and as she pulls her arm back, as she readies to throw the tech back up through the window in the ceiling, an explosion of red smoke, mist and something sickly wet sprays out from the canister in her hands. It hits her eyes, it fills her nostrils and her mouth and covers her face and her body. And it burns.
Hegla starts to choke, she starts to cough, to splutter, to gasp for breath that doesn't seem to come. The red smoke fills her senses, fills her lungs, fills her throat, and the more she gasps for air, the more she gasps for breath, the more she feels a weight settling over her chest, the more she feels the blackening around the corners of her vision.
And the last thing Hegla sees is the storeroom filling with the red smoke as Tosla tries to crawl to her, as she tries to breathe through a cloth over her mouth. And it's a sadness, Hegla feels, it's a desperation and an anger as she sees Tosla begin to convulse, begin to choke. And Hegla feels a tear fall down her cheek from where she lies collapsed on the ground as she sees Tosla collapse, one hand clawing at her throat as the other reaches out for her with the last of her strength.