Chapter 5 – The Angel

The crowd's stunned silence lasted only seconds. Shouts of surprise, outrage, and wonder echoed off the warehouse rafters. The Zhentarim banged swords and tables trying to restore order. Daelynn stared at the caged figure, trying to understand what she was seeing.

"An… angel?" she asked aloud.

"Aasamir, or some such," was the reply from the man next to her. She looked over at Sard, who had appeared next to them. His comment referred to the mythical offspring said to result from a union of a human or demi-human with an Angelic being. The elf shook her head in disbelief. She'd heard rumors of the existence of such extra-planar creatures - everyone knew stories of angels and demons. Some, her parents included, claimed to have met and fought the latter.

The crowd had settled somewhat, but the auctioneer had to shout to be heard above the muttering.

"Is not human. Guild approves sale, eh? Start at five-thousand gold!"

Again the crowd noise rose. Many a questioning look was directed at known Guild members, including Sard. He made no response.

"Five-thousand!" That first offer was the spur that some in the assemblage needed. Bidding started to climb. Other shook their heads in disgust and turned to leave the Bazaar.

"Good. We can easily follow Braxes in this mob. Come along apprentice," commanded Roland.

Daelynn was looking hard at Sard. "Slavery was outlawed in the kingdom generations ago…" She got no further as he angrily cut her off.

"That only applies to The Peoples - humans, elves, dwarves and the like. This… abomination is allowed."

She assumed he meant the auction and not the caged creature.

"The Guild agreed to this?"

His dark eyes met hers. "Yes. Our contract with the Zhentarim, which is centuries old, cannot be flouted. Abrogation would…have consequences for the Guild." He could see she was not placated. "That section of the contract – it has never been invoked before tonight - will be removed. But only after a vote of senior Guild members. There is nothing that can be done this night!"

With that, he turned and left.

"Damn it, lass. We have ta go! Bazaar rules keep Braxes and his prize safe fer tonight, but we need ta know where he gets to!"

Within a few minutes the bidding had risen to twenty-five thousand gold pieces and seemed destined to stay there. Daelynn looked at the crowd, which had appreciably thinned. Those remaining were mostly well-dressed, masked or hooded men with body guards. Beside most of the guards lay small chests. None could hold so much gold as was being bid. Gems, perhaps?

"You recognize 'Lady' Geirth, yes," asked the auctioneer? He indicated an old woman at the far side of the warehouse. The crone was the madam of one of Capitol's more notorious brothels. "Prize she guarantees is pure!"

The bidding started afresh. Daelynn's stomach churned. The elf studied the shackled Aasamir. She was lovely. Golden-white skin that seemed to shine; eyes of a silvery hue that showed no pupil; hair as white as her feathered wings which, while beautiful, were small and did not look strong enough to enable flight. The girl had delicate features cast in a sorrowful gaze. She knew what was to be her fate.

Roland placed a hand on the Daelynn's shoulder. "We must leave. Now," he said firmly.

The elf shook her head, finding it difficult to look away from the Aasamir. "What? But... your employer did not even know that object, or Braxes was here! How do you know they even want it?"

"The fact she did na know about the odder half o' the Trysech causes me some conc'rn. But I know her mind. That prize canna stay under Beshaban control."

"You know what is to be her fate?" She demanded, pointing at the Aasamir. "She may not survive this night!"

Roland looked at the caged creature as if seeing her for the first time. He frowned. "A pet, or a plaything? Better that then ending up owned by a mage who'd cut he up for parts? And what the Zhentari canna' sell, they'd dispose. Our prior'ty is elsewh're."

Daelynn nodded. She well knew the rules governing the relationship between master and apprentice. Even their informal and unlawful arrangement demanded that, where the master led, the apprentice followed.

Violet eyes, already darkening to a purple, stared at Roland.

"Thank you, Sir Roland. Good-bye."

Turning from her mentor, Daelynn worked her way closer to the cage. A final offer of fifty-thousand was accepted by the auctioneer.

Four Zhentarim trundled the cart holding the Aasamir to a doorway at the far eastern end of the large warehouse. The winning bidder and his bodyguards, each carrying a small chest, followed. Daelynn tacked across the warehouse, weaving in between departing guests and Zhentarim to a door on the northeast end. She entered unopposed and paused to listen. She could hear nothing above the general hubbub in the open portion of the warehouse she had just quit. Moving to another door, she slowly opened it and passed into a dim corridor. This part of the warehouse consisted of a warren of smaller storage and counting rooms, interconnected by doors and short, dark corridors. Her darkvision was of enormous aid in navigating what amounted to a maze.

Moving into a modest-sized room lit by a small lantern, she spied two small chests lying open on a table. Empty. She passed a flight of rickety stairs that led upwards; she could just make out the line of a door or hatch set in the ceiling. Two doors at the far side of the room were closed. A faint light spilled out from under the one on the left.

Pulling down her hood and scarf, she pressed an ear against the door. She could make out two male voices, one speaking the heavily accented Common of the Zhentarim, the other with the flat intonations typical of the kingdom's southern baronies.

"My Lord Baron," said the Zhentari. "Price paid does not cover transport."

"For what I paid, the damned cage should be gilded!"

"Transport extra."

"Very well." There was a peevishness in the Baron's reply. "Here."

Daelynn heard the tinkle of coins.

"There is a house by the southern gate. Tall, columned portico, red tile roof. I will await her there."

She heard footsteps receding and a door closing. Carefully lifting the latch, she turned her head to avoid being blinded, and opened the door a crack. Light spilled into the room. Pausing to let her eyes adjust, Daelynn calmed her breathing.

After a moment she opened the door wider and peered inside. Except for the tall, covered cage, the room was empty. Small, feeble torches on two walls lit the central portion of the room, leaving the corners in shadow. She crept forward, grabbed the heavy, black tarpaulin and pulled it off. She found herself looking into the silver eyes of the Aasamir girl. Daelynn's breath caught in her throat. She was lovely! The elf moved forward to better see the wondrous creature. Those eyes! One could fall in to them - they were so big. She suddenly stopped and shook her head. Some sort of compulsion had been cast! Throwing off the spell effect, the elf gave the girl a stern look, causing her to scuttle back, a worried look on her face.

"I am familiar enough with magic to know when a charm is in use," she said, crossly. "You needn't try to enchant me. I am here to help you."

The Aasamir, or whatever she was, looked doubtful.

"You do want out of here, don't you?"

The girl nodded.

Daelynn circled the cage to its door, which was secured with a large, crude padlock. A careful inspection revealed a fine wire leading from the door's lowest horizontal bar to a small hole in the base of the cage. The wire would be disturbed by any attempt to open the door. She very gently placed a finger-tip on the wire and ever so slightly moved it to one side. It was slack. So, if it were drawn tight by the opening of the cage door? Best not to find out what that might entail. She took a small tool from her boot and snipped the wire. Returning her attention to the padlock, the elf selected a sturdy pass key and used it to force the wards and open the lock.

Pulling the door wide, Daelynn stepped back and motioned the Aasamir to come out. The girl crept forward. As she passed through the cage's doorway she shuddered and stumbled. Daelynn caught her and helped her stand upright. Odd, thought Daelynn. The girl had looked so small in the cage, but she was easily as tall as the elf.

The attack caught both of them by surprise. A solid blow across her back sent Daelynn stumbling forward, into the Aasamir. Something grabbed her by the cloak. She was yanked backward and sent crashing in to a wall. The Aasamir girl raised her hands to ward off a strike but the heavy chains slowed her. A tall figure in black swung a fist; the blow knocked her to the floor.

Gritting her teeth, Daelynn pushed off the wall. Coming in low, she struck at the groin, stomach and legs of the Zhentari guard. He staggered back, grunted and swung his club at the elf. There is a common belief that a large man cannot move fast. The Zhentari disproved that. Daelynn only half-dodged the blow. The tip of the club struck her left shoulder which instantly numbed. Had the blow landed true, bones would have broken.

With her right hand she drew her knife and slashed. As fast as the elf was, her foe was faster. The man twisted to one side, evading the blade, and with his free hand, caught the elf's wrist in a crushing grip, causing her to drop her blade. Dropping his own weapon, he quickly struck her on the side of the head then grabbed her throat. She was slammed against the wall a second time. She could feel the heat from the torch set in the wall sconce beside her.

Daelynn struggled, but the man was incredibly strong. There was a roaring in her ears and her vision dimmed. She went limp. The Zhentari was too experienced a brawler to believe that his prey had so soon succumbed to his strength, but he had to shift his body to support the thief's weight. His stance widened. The elf delivered a solid and well-placed kick to his groin.

The man barely flinched. But, for a mere instant, his grip loosened. Daelynn tore her wrist free and stuck her arm into the blazing torch beside her. She closed her eyes, wincing in pain. The flash powder hidden in her right sleeve ignited, brilliantly illuminating the room, blinding the Zhentari.

The man staggered back, bellowing, and clawing at his eyes. Daelynn somehow managed to stay on her feet and staggered forward. She needed to take advantage of his temporary blindness; the effect would swiftly pass. She stumbled and swayed. Damn! She was not going to make it!

The Zhentari could only dimly make out his opponent. It was enough. He would charge. Crush his enemy. His strength and experience would carry him through to victory. They always had.

A shadow flicked across him, wrapping itself about his arms and legs. He slowed. Stopped. Straining against blackness the Zhentari was held immobile. Stiffening suddenly, he silently dropped to the floor. The shadows released him, flowing away from the light.

A tall figure, half hidden by wisps of shadow, stood behind the Zhentari. Stepping forward into the torch light, Roland bent forward and drew a long slender knife from the man's back. Wiping it on the deceased's clothes, he returned it to his belt.

"I think ye could o' taken 'im, but we don't have much time. So, I hope ye'll excuse me interf'rence."

"Sir Roland." It took Daelynn two attempts to speak. Damn, but her throat hurt.

"Aye."

"What? What are you doing here? Should not you be off protecting some treasure important to your employer?"

"I am," replied the thief.

Daelynn looked at the man. Always enigmatic. "Thank you for the help."

"O' course. So, what's the plan?"

Daelynn pointed to the Aasamir girl, who was shakily getting to her feet. "Shackles off. Retreat to next room. Take stairs to roof. Find way down at south end. Lots of shadows there. Cross bridge. Coach." Her speech was raspy. Speaking was a chore.

As the elf collected her knife and carried out a quick search of the fallen guard, Roland inspected the silvered chains that held the girls wrists. The chains were thick. Far stronger than required to hold so small a person. There was something engraved on them.

"Oh, ho! Not only an exc'lent lock, but these are magically w'rded too. Somethin' about 'binding'… Na. 'Holdin' back' or 'containing' is more corr'ct. Let's see, then."

Although of fine craftsmanship, the manacles were no match for the old thief's skills and tools. In the space of a few slow breaths he had the chains off the girl's wrists and ankles. She stood looking at her wrists for a moment then turned and nodded at each of the thieves.

Daelynn led them to the next room. Quickly mounting the stairs she pushed open the ceiling door and the three clambered out onto the large, flat, warehouse roof. Shouting from below told the elf that the absence of the Aasamir had been noted. She lowered the door. There was bolt on the door's exterior which she quickly shot closed. Running to the southeast end of the roof, they passed several small wooden lean-tos. Crude shelters from rain and sun for the crews that manned the derricks and winches set along the canal side of the warehouse. Operated from the warehouse roof, they aided in unlading heavy cargo from the ships and scows that plied their trade along the canal. A number of wooden racks, some supporting sailcloth, spread for drying, were scattered across the rooftop.

Reaching the end of the roof, they paused to catch their breaths. A warm breeze touched them. The moon, while not full, shone too brightly for the elf's liking. Daelynn looked down between the warehouse and the next building along the canal, also a warehouse. While the area was dark, it was not as deeply shadowed as she had hoped. Damn moon. She looked across to the opposite roof. No - too far to jump. Stepping to the edge, she looked across the canal. Somewhere in the deep shadows of the far side their coach waited. Looking down, she saw the stern of the Zhentari ship to her left. Beside her was a derrick used to load and unload cargo from moored ships. The derrick arm stretched out above the canal and angled towards the arm of another crane belonging to the neighboring warehouse. Could she run the length of the arm, make the jump to the other derrick's arm, and gain the roof of the neighboring building? Could Roland jump that far? There were no shadows out above the waters of The Creek to aid him. Could the Aasamir?

Turning to the girl, Daelynn started. She had appeared so small in the cage, but when released, she was the elf's own height. But now she stood more than a head and half above her! The girl, no, the woman, stood tall and fierce. Her golden skin shone. Her wings... Her wings were huge, arching high over her head, the tips almost touching the ground. The being tore the green rag, now far too small to cover much, from her, stretched her arms to the heavens and stood bathed in moonlight. She could have been an avatar of a goddess. Daelynn could not but notice that she sported feathers in another place besides her shoulders.

"Goddess protect us," muttered Roland.

Daelynn nodded, whispering prayers to her mother's Goddess, her father's Protector, and Tymora. What had they released?

The silvered-eyed, winged giantess turned to Daelynn and spoke. It had a beautiful voice, but it was not human. Hearing it caused both thieves to tremble. It seemed to have heard the elf's question even though it had not been spoken aloud.

"I am not Aasamir, but Deva. Betrayal and bad luck brought me to this Plane and captivity. Accept my thanks for releasing me?"

Daelynn nodded dumbly.

"Then receive Irma's gift." The Deva leaned down, silver orbs boring into the elf's purple eyes. Still with gaze locked, the Deva gently kissed her rescuer full on the mouth. Daelynn swayed. Údun! That was unlike anything she had experienced! She felt a wave of fire, then ice, course through her. The eldritch energy quickly faded. Did she hear a whisper? A laugh?

The Deva smiled, nodded to Roland, and leapt off the roof. Wings spread wide, she glided out over the waters of The Creek at great speed. Shouts, cries and the smashing of wooden planks, caused the thieves to turn away from the amazing sight of an Angel in flight to focus on their own peril.

"Well, thet's just a fine 'thank you'!" Roland spat. "An' now we got men in the alleyway below. Moon's too bright ta do much with shadows."

Something tore the trap-door that lead down to the warehouse off its hinges and sent it spinning across the roof. Men poured out. Large, angry, black-clad men waving a variety of weaponry.