Thoughts - 'thoughts.'
Comments - "comments."
ooo -- scene/POV change
Q'ivel lounged about the streets at an early hour listening to nearby gossip with half an ear and watching the passersby. Sharp eyes regarded each person, as the mind weighed them in a balance and discarded them as nothing. He was here by express order of Her Holiness, Lady Une. The highest female cleric of Ooragard, god of trickery and deceit, she was also chief spymaster for the renowned Treize Khush'Ranada though this was not common knowledge. It was rumored however that they had chanced to warm each other's bed on occasion.
The former thief shifted his weight on his feet, blending in with half a dozen other loiterers who stood in the entrance to the market section. Recruited personally by the Lady after his news of the spies within the city, he was now under her orders to observe for any foreigners that might have designs other than trade in mind.
--Flashback--
"His Excellency must be protected from any plots that may arise from foreign sources as well as any internal coups that could develop by any of the other noble families." The Lady turned to regard him from under the hooded cloak that concealed most of her features. "Most of the nobles are either too cowed or lackadaisical to attempt such a thing however."
Q'ivel had lowered his eyes to the floor to avoid the gaze of the cleric. Surely she hadn't forgotten the failure of his information to lead to an arrest? His haste to warn of traitors and spies had not been enough to prevent them from escaping. His mouth opened of its own accord. "But the spies..."
"Are worth nothing." A brief gesture with her left hand, a wave of dismissal. "They were very good, it is true, but nothing to be concerned about. They were probably agents of the Elves, and there is nothing that they could or would do here. They were probably only trying to ensure that they hear about any invasions planned for their own cities before we could spring them."
"Not that it would help them at all. They have precious little resources to use in a war."
"Now then," The hood dipped forward as the lady stood up, "In order to fulfill my mission I would like to see you as a part of my information network here in the city. None other can accurately claim the knowledge that you have of the place, nor the abilities at your disposal. Therefore, I would be willing to grant you a small favor from the god." Her tone of voice left no question as to the choice that would have to be made.
The man merely nodded and continued his staring contest with the floor tiles. "After all, the god of trickery is always sympathetic to his followers."
The next few moments had been pure agony as unfamiliar waves of power radiated from the Lady. A touch of her hand stilled his agonizing form, and then a cooling wave rushed through his body to leave him laying still as death upon the floor.
When he awoke later he was alone in his room, a sealed letter accompanying him. After reading the contents, it disappeared in a burst of flames.
--End Flashback--
He shuddered at the memory. Once again in his life he had been at the mercy of someone or something else. No tricks to hide behind, no doors to close against the fear. That he'd been spared had been a complete miracle. Twice he'd faced what could have been his death, once each from god and man. "The gift of the gods is oft times cruel." His uncle used to tell him that when a summer's drought was followed by furious storms, causing floods all over their tiny village.
The noise from the marketplace had grown as he'd stood there. Likely the crowds had grown as well, each person looking or bartering for some thing that would fill a need in their lives. Humanity was like that. Q'ivel closed his eyes and relaxed his stance slightly. 'Go from one need or desire to the next
It was so subtle that he almost missed it.
A single passerby cloaked in foreign garb walking calmly down the street. Aside from his garments nothing stood out in the mind. There were others here with dark hair and lightly tanned features. No, it was the fact that something about him whispered, "Forget me. I am the earth, I am the grass underfoot, and the rocks you trod upon."
Had Q'ivel had any training in the theory of magic he would have realized that the person that he was trailing was using a weave of earth magic to conceal his presence. But the thief disliked anything that required deep study; therefore he didn't have this knowledge. It was the magic alone that caught his eye.
Nonetheless this did rate as suspicious activity in his mind, so he began to trail the stranger through the crowd. A few stops later he found himself outside of the Rising Star, one of the local inns. Carefully he slipped inside, bent on finding out what was happening.
The slight delay that he allowed before he entered allowed his quarry to begin negotiations for a room. Q'ivel absently noted the flash of gold coin as the innkeeper tallied up the sum and the stranger moved toward the stairs leading to the upper level. An uneasy feeling began to well up in the thief turned spy as he watched the man move out of his line of sight. Had he been noticed?
ooo
Heero narrowed his eyes as he approached the doorway to his room. Whoever was following him had been good, very good. Closing the door behind him cut off all observation for the moment, and he dropped the minor spell that he'd been holding. Memory of Earth confused the senses, causing them only to register the land itself when they interacted with the recipient of the spell. Detecting the use of the spell was hard enough, because of the subtlety of the magic.
But not only had he been detected, but followed all the way to the inn where he had hoped to take up his lodgings. Something had to be done and quickly, though not without some judicious thought on the matter. First off though he'd change into the garb that he'd bought in the market.
Throwing off the cape that had served him well during the chill of winter, Heero proceeded to remove the rest of clothing that marked him as an outsider. Rough garments took their place, clothing such as might be worn by any commoner in the street. A shirt woven of flax, breeches of dark wool, and a wide leather belt to hold the daggers that he would carry. His original garments he lay carefully inside of the crudely crafted locker that stood at the foot of the bed.
Stooping for a moment the Shadow Lord proceeded to weave bands of earth to seal shut the locker. No thief would be able to paw through the contents now, including the bag of gold left in the bottom underneath the clothing. Satisfied, he stepped back and left the room through the window.
The alley below was currently unoccupied. Just to be safe however, Heero dropped a silver piece onto the cobblestones below before jumping down after it. As he put it back into the purse tucked inside his shirt, he glanced around surreptitiously. Still no one in sight.
Shrugging, the young man made his way back into the street and then entered the inn a second time. Keeping to the shadows he made his way over to an empty table and seated himself, using the time until a maid came to serve him to observe each person in the common room. Most of those present for the high noon meal were travelers with one of the many merchant trains. Only a few seemed to have been likely to be born citizens, and Heero's eye fell on each one in turn.
The first two were common laborers, sweat still visible on the cotton material of their shirts. Haulers and lifters, they were no stranger to physical labor and seemed to be taken with their meal. No talk was wasted between them, and they seemed to ignore the world around them. No troubles there.
Next in the circuit of local faces was the merchant who sat discussing business with some of the travelers. Sweat gleamed on a pudgy face, and arms flapped expansively to help him make a point. Not that it seemed to do any good with his companions at the table; they merely watched impassively until the youngest of their number leaned forward in an earnest reply. The stout one seemed to consider for a moment before returning to his arm waving theatrics. All well and good then.
His gaze shifted again, caught by movement by the counter. A well built man with dark red hair moved away from the innkeeper towards the stairway. His movements were graceful despite the tension that evidenced itself in the set of his shoulders and the twitch of his mouth. Heero almost smiled to himself. This then was his follower, a man well accustomed to the streets and human nature. A hunter by nature and not some weak prey attempting to play games then. This would be for blood.
Settling back in his seat, he eyed the young maiden who came forth from the kitchen area carrying trays of meat, bread, and ale. Setting these before the table of merchants, she came straightway back to his corner. "What be your appetite today sir? Fowl or venison, ale or tea?"
"I'll have that which flies not and the drink that will not weep." (1)
The maid nodded and left.
This left the Shadow Lord alone to ponder. Leaning back in his chair and assuming a position fit for a man who had just finished a full day's labor, he half closed his eyes as he reviewed what he knew.
'First the mountains lost their eyes, something not heard of in millennia. The elders are worried, so they send us out to see for them. Most of the lands that I traveled through to reach this place worry about restlessness and war. Some are mobilizing their own forces in preparation. For all travelers without a sense of the earth it would be harder to cross borders.'
'Then there is a spy network in place here even before I arrived, at least one of whom has magical detection along with other abilities that blend well in the line of seeing that which should remain hidden. Well, perhaps the hunter shall learn a few things by being hunted.'
His meal was served to him by the same girl who had taken his request. He was finished before the bewildered spy came quietly down the stairs and hastened out into the street. Standing up from his table, Heero left a suitable wage for the food and a hefty tip for the girl. It wouldn't do to turn aside any possible avenues of information at this point in the game.
ooo
Q'ivel wended his way towards the temple of Ooragard intent on reporting the arrival of the stranger. Perhaps the magic that he wielded protected him from being identified today, but the gold that he carried to pay his way was not the coin of the realm. The lenders in Merchants' Row could identify it for him.
His mark had apparently caught sight of him while in the marketplace and led him into a hotel so as to vanish completely. The room had been empty and the window open when he had taken a quick check of the place. No spells were actively in evidence that he could see, though his sight would not tell him if any but an active spell were present. Oblivious to his pursuer, he entered a moneylender's stall.
Minutes passed before his acquaintance in the business was able to speak privately. It only took a few moments for him to identify the coin as being in common use in the lands to the north. "It's the stuff of traders in that area, common enough when we have to exchange it with a caravan of fur merchants."
Q'ivel traded his informant with a gold coin and took his leave. 'So a traveler from the northlands. One not familiar with the common currency, using magic to cloak himself. Or was it a woman?' He frowned at that. That it could be a woman was certainly not outside of the realm of possibility. The companion that he betrayed to the Lady had been a woman, and a powerful one at that. Shuddering slightly as he recalled the night he had spent pinned to a wall by his hand, her eyes watching him. 'It will be just as well if our paths never cross again.'
Come to think of it, the Lady herself was a powerful cleric and chief spymaster for the Lord Khush'Ranada. So thinking, Q'ivel entered the temple of Ooragard, god of trickery and deceit.
ooo
Behind him in the street, Heero marked the temple in his mind before turning and losing himself in the crowds.
--End Chapter--
(1) Venison and tea.
