This will come to an abrupt end, as of the next installment.
One might call it a cliffhanger.
The main reason for this is simple. I'm older now. A lot older. And nearly everything about this story as it exists in my imagination is … a whole different animal compared to what I've written here. Nonetheless, I promise that this is where I intended to end this particular storyline.
The main plot of this whole section is to do with Kin and his illness.
So, suffice to say: Kin is better.
So now, the story moves on.
When and if I do pick the story up again, we'll go in a whole new direction.
.
Anathala, the mother, looked fatigued on a level that was at least six centuries outside of tired. "I'm beginning to think you are too stupid to be lying," she said, almost to herself, and Altaira bristled. "However, I will permit you the benefit of the doubt. Let us assume that every word you have offered so far is the truth. There is still a matter of your having drawn a weapon within the limits of Moonglade. To threaten any life in these sacred groves is a serious matter. I doubt you wish to have the entire might of the Cenarion Circle descend upon your head. Do you?"
"No, ma'am," Altaira said, holding up a hand as if swearing an oath; she wondered if the stupid scheme that was half-formulating in her mind right now, even as she actively prepared for her own death, was actually going to work. "I certainly would not. I love trees, too. Runts and trees. That's me."
"Shut up!" Sylvanne snapped. "Enough of your patronizing lies. I'm inclined to force the whole truth out of you unless you start speaking straight with us." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you've taken the time to consider that we are exhausted, on edge, and are entirely uninterested in hearing inane prattle from a stranger with a weapon. So. Would you care to drop the act?"
Altaira blew a breath out and puffed a lock of hair away from her face. "Fine," she said, hoping the apathy injected into her tone was believable enough. "Whatever. It's not like I have anything to lose right now. I have no edge." She grunted. "Even if I wanted to sneak something into one of you, there's like. Three of you who can magic it out." She shook her head. "I'll play nice."
Sylvanne crossed her arms over her chest. "Marvelous."
"I was being serious," Altaira said. "I was hired, by a regular client of mine. I don't know his name. He has a lot of powerful people out for his blood, I'd guess, because he only ever sends agents to deal with anybody he needs business from. He doesn't go to anyone himself. He's certainly never met me. I don't know if you've guessed, but I tend to operate outside the law. And those of us who do that, we tend to get our business from other people who work outside the law."
"This nameless client of yours," Anathala said, "has interest in my son."
"Correct," Altaira said. "I don't know why. I don't ask too many questions. Makes things less complicated that way. It's always better to keep professional distance. Anyway, this client of mine, he wants to see the true measure of this here druid." Sythius growled. "I think I get it. How old is he? Hundred-ten? Hundred-fifteen? Twenty at the most. But it looks like he's had a rough time of it. Man's got more cares and scars than people thrice his age. But he's gotten strong from it. Haven't you, big guy?"
Sythius grunted.
Olrec spoke next: "Maybe ye dunnae ask questions. But someone in yer line of work knows a stretch about things ain't said, or ye don't last long. What ye think this client wants?"
Altaira hummed. Rubbed her chin. "I'm guessing he wants Sythius here to do something for him. Eventually. I don't know what, or how he intends to get him to do it. But the point of all this is that I was tasked with keeping a tab on him. Nudge him in the right direction. Now, obviously my plan didn't work out. On account of you all being such light sleepers. But here's what we can do. Okay? Would you mind me making a suggestion that permits me to keep my skin, while you go about your business?"
"I'm listening," said Anathala.
"Peaches," Altaira said. "So. Here's my proposal: we wait until the ru—ahem. Until the little one, over there, gets better." For a wonder, Kin was still fast asleep. "And then, what I do is, I tag along with Sythius and Sparky over there," she gestured to Olrec, "as they head on back to Lordaeron. I can watch him strut his stuff there, in person, all out in the open."
Far from being affronted at her attitude, Olrec seemed at least a little amused at being called "Sparky." His mustaches were twitching.
"I know you're hardly inclined to let me go off on my own again. I'm a prisoner now, effectively. And you know what? Fair. A lapse in judgment. Total shit-heel move on my part. So what about this? Sylvanne, is your name. Right? You've gotten reunited with your big brother after a real long time, right? So chances are you don't want to part ways. You're going to want to follow him as he goes back to his business, right? Back him up? The Argent Dawn would never turn away a holy worker."
Sylvanne's eyes went wide. Clearly, she hadn't thought this far.
But now that the suggestion had been made . . . she liked it.
She liked it a lot.
"You can be my chaperone!" Altaira went on. "I'll prove to you, beyond all doubt, that I'm harmless. Honest. Keep in mind, by the way, that while I certainly threatened the little guy over there, I never hurt him. Yeah? There's a difference between intent and action. I think, considering there hasn't been any blood spilled tonight, save mine, that this is a more than reasonable offer on my part."
There was a kind of malaise about them now. They were exasperated beyond reasoning with her. Altaira managed to keep herself from smiling; she bit the inside of one cheek. It was best not to let them in on the secret. Altaira Windscribe was in the business of information. And nobody hid much information around someone they thought was a numb idiot.
They were suspicious, but they were also exhausted.
That was good. That was perfect.
The only problem, who she hoped to be far away from soon, was Anathala.
Who very, very clearly wasn't taken in by anything at all.