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Dearest Readers, may your nights always be of restful sleep and the sweetest of dreams.

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THE HIDDEN SWORD

Book Two: Wandering Water | Chapter 52: Of Sleep and Specters (Part Two)

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Third night of staying in the women workers' dormitory at the Friendly Arm Inn?

More like her third eternity in the lair of a thousand rumbling dragons.

Irse tossed and turned, squashed the pillow against her face, chewed a corner of the frayed blanket, shoved a pinkie in each ear. Exhausted, the girl finally threw up her arms and rolled over on her stomach. Another interminable hour passed and eventually, dog-tired heavy lids began to flutter in sinking sleep, soon resting shut in that blessed blankness mercifully drowning out the ceaseless snoring of the slumbering women around her.

And then her eyes snapped open, wide awake, sore, red-veined, and twitching.

They're at it again.

Like the night before, faint chanting floated into her hearing but this time as words from a single mouth in an arcane tongue, gradually amplifying with an ethereal echo. Must be one of those stupid ghost cultists but had come in late to the murder party.

"Hey," Irse yelled, blanket flung to the side as she bolted upright from the cot. "You'd better pipe down your phantom piehole or I'm asking Mistress Gellana to come up here and exorcise every single one of your friends' flimsy butts!"

But it wasn't a ghost, rather a very much alive human. A woman robed in black with green-trimmed sleeves. Irse narrowed her eyes, recognizing the other's features in the pale light of the moon through the windows.

"Miss Tarnesha?" Irse stammered. "What are you doing here?"

This lady guest's name still rang fresh in her mind, for right after arriving this morning, she immediately complained about drafty windows in her suite and Irse had gone in there this morning to fix them. Nothing out of the ordinary, except when the scarf she had donned over the ears to keep the hair out of her face had fallen loose, the woman seemed to have frozen with an unreadable expression on her face. However, Irse paid it no heed at the time, having rushed out and headed downstairs for another job.

Yet here now stood that very same lady in their room. Hadn't the door been locked? How did she get in? With unlocking magic of some sort? And had she just been chanting something a while ago?

Tarnesha glared back, evidently surprised at seeing Irse awake, but composed herself once more. "Why, Friend, I forgot that sleep spells don't work on your kind," she said in a clearly feigned amiable tone. "Even when they're missing one pointed ear. But it doesn't matter. None of them will hear you scream when you die."

Irse clamped a hand at the temple in reflex. Not another bounty seeking ninny again!

The wizard hefted her staff with one hand and with the other snappishly unfurled a scroll and barked a shorter arcane phrase. The parchment disintegrated just as a volley of glowing projectiles shot from the same hand and streaked towards the elf in a blink.

Those things again! No time to evade if they could even be avoided at all. Against her sides the missiles slammed, but she staggered onward despite the pain, grabbing a stool along the way. However, the mage quickly positioned herself between two beds, beaming a malicious smile that dared Irse to throw the chair and risk hitting the sleeping women.

"Coward," the elf hissed, gripping the stool.

At once, Tarnesha hurried through another chant, launching more of the magical bolts from her hands. Knowing she would get hit either way, Irse dropped the chair and blindly ran forward, reeling at the force of their blows, giving the wizard time to complete another spell.

The air shimmered around the mage, and two identical copies of the woman materialized and flanked her. They mirrored each other's movements, and straightway cracked their staves at the elf.

Which of them is the real one? Irse dodged and skirted but disoriented by more than one staff whirling at the same time, she slipped, and a blow landed at her side. They advanced confidently, expertly swinging and spearing with the wooden point. Irse kept edging back, forced to the other side of the narrow room and between another pair of occupied beds. She ducked sideways to avoid another swipe, tumbling into one of the beds and right beside a snoring halfling.

The staves whipped down upon both elf and halfling, and Irse grabbed the still sleeping small woman by her shoulders and rolled off the other side just as hard wood whacked across the plump mattress. Circling round the bed, the staves licked at the air even as the elf staggered to stay out of their path, hindered by the added load.

"Wait, I need to put this one down." The elf canted her chin at the halfling dangling in her arms.

"Use her as a shield. Delay your death and my gold."

What a complete lowlife. Irse glared at the wizard, at all three mirror images for good measure.

Swiftly the staves jabbed at her and the elf crouched halfway, shielding the halfling with her own body, receiving a hard clip on the shoulder. Another strike belted her on the other shoulder as she pivoted. Gritting teeth, Irse scrambled away, the halfling's lifeless legs flopping over her arm, the Tarneshas right at her heels and swinging their staves unrelentingly.

Thinking quick, the elf unceremoniously deposited the halfling in another bed, dumping her right in the arms of another woman. Freed of her unwitting burden, Irse weaved in between the beds and leaped over one, barely feeling the scrape of a staff against her leg, narrowly missing a dozing occupant. Another hail of the missiles got her in the back and Irse toppled to the floor.

Lord of Swords and Chopped Gourds, how to get out of this without harming the others?

"Uh, we're wasting time," the Tarneshas griped. "Perhaps a little fear might keep you still, hmm?"

They slowly stepped back and began another chant. Trails of light swirled ominously around their hands. On one knee, Irse clutched at her chest, breathing hard. Whatever it is, clearly a far worse spell from the looks of it. Need to hit fast. Unthinking now, she sprang on her feet and dashed forward to grab the nearest free object with both hands.

A pillow. Irse grimaced.

But through the momentary chagrin a lesson resurfaced, one that Okami made sure to root deep in her.

More than the instrument is the hand that wields it, more than the hand is the will that drives it.

Raising a battle cry, Irse swung the pillow, harder than she had ever done with a hammer. It struck one of the mirror copies in the chest, the return arc catching the other with equal force.

Both images winked out! Tarnesha staggered back, flabbergasted. Spell disrupted and wasted, the wizard screeched in anger and wildly swatted her staff at the elf. But this time, each strike was met and deflected, the soft cushion now a compact shield in her hands.

Gathering strength and momentum from the core, Irse pulled back and smacked the pillow clean against Tarnesha's temple. A solid whump, and the stunned wizard stumbled sideways, knees finally folding as she fell on her haunches. Wasting no time, the elf kicked the quarter staff away and pressed the mage face-first against the floor, twisting the woman's arms behind her.

"Haha," she cheered, looking around the sleeping women. "And just with a pillow, too. Did you see that, huh?"

Of course, they didn't, nobody did. Sighing, Irse dragged the still dazed woman over by her own cot. With one hand, the elf grabbed her pack and roughly upended its contents on the floor. She seized a coil of rope and tightly bound the wizard's hands, a rag wrapped and knotted around the other's mouth for a gag.

What next? Take her to the guards? Tarnesha's half-open eyes flickered as her head lolled sideways. Clearly not in a state to be walking down the stairs and too much trouble to carry and drag her all the way out there. Better to keep the wizard here, watch over her until morning, and then fetch the guards.

A good call and one that would let her rest for a while. But where to put the mage so the sight of her bound and gagged doesn't scare the others when they wake? That large wardrobe in a corner should do. There she hauled and deposited Tarnesha.

"Sleep tight," Irse said acidly, then slammed the panels shut and knotted a line of rope through the door pulls.

Satisfied and dusting her hands, the elf marched back to her cot, sitting down with a groan as the aftermath of the magical and physical blows now made themselves remembered. Nothing broken inside, but a trip to the temple in the morning before breakfast would be a good idea.

After all, it was still dark and some hours away from dawn. Nothing else to do but lean back, keep her tired peepers open for a while longer and…

"Wake up, lass," a male voice urged.

"Wha- what?"

Startled, Irse bolted upright from the cot, grainy eyes blinking from the sudden harsh brightness. Had she fallen asleep? Disoriented, the elf looked around. Morning light beamed through the windows and upon the women workers who all stood around with varying degrees of shock on their faces, and Tarnesha unbound and ungagged but whose arm was fortunately in the firm grip of one of the inn guards.

"This guest claims that last night she went up here to ask for something, but you attacked and locked her in the wardrobe instead," the man said.

Irse rubbed her eyes and yawned. "If I truly meant her harm, why would I keep her here where everybody else will see? Why not stuff her in one of the many corners around the place, or dump her out there in the woods for the bears?"

"Yes, that's what I would've done, I mean-," Tarnesha blurted out, then bit her lip.

The guard narrowed his eyes at both women. "Then what in Lathander's blazing light really happened here?"

"It's true. She came into the room, maybe between moondark and night's end. But she put everyone to sleep with her magic and then tried to kill me. So I smacked her in the face with a pillow and chucked her in the closet," Irse explained while gesturing the actions.

"Is that so?" the guard drawled, casting a suspicious eye at the wizard who glowered back.

"Well, well, what be the meaning of this hullaballoo so early in the morning?" Bentley hollered from the door, Gellana standing at his side.

The crowd parted as they approached. The guard gave a brief report of how at dawn the women woke to the sounds of muffled screaming and kicking coming from the wardrobe. Seeing the cabinet doors lashed tight with a rope, they fetched him to investigate and sure enough, they found Tarnesha inside. Both elf and wizard didn't deny the scuffle yet accused each other of lying and worse things. Standing beneath and between their traded barbs, the gnomish priestess wagged her head like a longsuffering mother would with her unruly grown children.

"Like pure gold, truth will glitter even if you stick it in the mud," Gellana said firmly. She clasped her hands and intoned a prayer, spreading them out at its conclusion, a cloud of white light enveloping everyone which faded immediately.

"The Zone of Truth doesn't force you to speak true. Rather, it keeps you from lying through your teeth, big or small they be, whether the tooth or the lie," Gellana explained.

"Now, each of you, tell me what truly happened and don't leave out anything, not even a crumb," Bentley commanded them.

"Can I go first?" Irse piped up like an excited child, raising and waving her hand.

The elf recounted the events starting from being roused by Tarnesha's chanting, the magic slinging, the tussle, subduing the wizard, up until she sat down in her cot and got wakened by the guard.

"Sorry I forgot to put you back in your own bed," Irse apologized awkwardly to the halfling woman who stared in open-mouthed shock at hearing why this morning she woke up next to someone else.

Bentley shot an inquiring look at his wife who nodded. The gnome then turned to the mage.

"And you, Miss? Tell us again of your side in all this fuss?"

"I- I-," Tarnesha stuttered, sweat beading on her forehead. "I was outside my room, going about my business, and- and-"

Irse squirmed with almost pity for the wizard, and with gratitude at the thought of Gorion. How kind of her Father to have never used such a spell to filter out her fibs. After all, only one sad stern look from him was ever needed to urge the young elf to confess to her mischief.

"Come, come. Out with it," Bentley coaxed. "Don't be making us wait. Breakfast and tea are getting cold."

Irse bobbed her head in stomach-felt support of the gnome's admonishment. Tarnesha groaned and fidgeted violently until she yelled and tore at her hair.

"Agh! To the hells with you! Die!" the mage woman shrieked.

Tarnesha joined her thumbs, fingers splayed, locking eyes with the elf. She hurriedly mouthed the words to another spell and small tongues of flame began to flicker from her fingertips. But then a bolt whizzed through the air and pierced one of her palms. Spell fizzing out, the woman stumbled from the impact.

Irse watched as Tarnesha shrieked while clutching and staring at her impaled hand. The young elf, having already had a blade slice at her palms and ear, a katana run through her gut, received innumerable blows from practice swords and true wounds from enemies, and recently getting choked by a hobgoblin – genuinely flinched with sympathy pains at the sight.

"Can't have these crazy wizards setting fire to the curtains again," Bentley quipped, casually hefting a small crossbow.

Luckily for them, the old gnome must have been lugging that thing up his robes all this time. The guard seized Tarnesha by the arm just as another arrived, and they dragged the flailing woman through the door.

Irse saw her off with a shy wave of the hand.

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"Are you sure you don't wish to stay longer?" Bentley asked. "You ought to be safer within these walls."

Further interrogation revealed that Tarnesha, herself a shady lady mercenary for hire, had gotten the notice from a fellow mage, a certain Tranzig whom she had met in Beregost. But when pressed for more details, the woman confessed to having no knowledge of anyone behind this man, nor of the reasons for the claim on the marked elf's life.

With that much gold, now up to three hundred pieces, being piled on the head of the target, one doesn't foolishly question the who's and why's lest they find their own names appended to the notice. On the other hand, how many more scoundrels have been yoked into farming for that bounty?

"Wait a little more, maybe your blacksmith will turn up in a tenday. Why, I might even start paying you with coin. Not a bad trade, eh?"

Bentley's offer sure proved irresistibly tempting like a cartload of pies for just a copper penny. However, her stomach churned at the thought of risking the lives of everyone in the Friendly Arm. All the more pressing reason to find Okami at the soonest, and perhaps along the way she might likewise get to the bottom of this murderous nonsense of a mistaken bounty.

"You've all been very kind to me, and I'm forever grateful," Irse replied. "But I need to go now. This is something I must do on my own."

"Oh, but our Tall Sprout," Bentley said, wagging a finger, his severe gaze making him seem bigger than his diminutive stature. "Many sticks might be better than just a single rod for poking in the hornet's nest, you know."

Even as he admonished the young elf, the gnome glanced tenderly at his wife and the empty space beside her where their old friends might have once stood. He turned to look up once more at Irse, his stern harrumph a contrast to the worried pinch of his wrinkled eyes.

"Regardless, whichever road you take, crooked or straight, always take care of yourself, Child," Gellana added warmly. "Your wits ever be sharp like steel, and your fortunes always gleam like the brightest of gems."

The gnomish cleric pressed a healing potion and a jar of salve into the young elf's hands, adding firm instructions to spread the balm only on wounds and bruises and not on bread despite it smelling like honey and lemons. Beaming, Irse received the gift, bowing and bidding the kindly proprietor and his wife a fond farewell.

From the kitchens, the cooks happily contributed food for the journey ahead. Her sharp ears caught the giggles and whisperings among the serving girls, all betting how quickly the elf will run through the provisions. And not one of them would be wrong.

At the gate, she collected the tachi from the same guard who had confiscated it earlier.

"Did you behave like a good blade should?" Irse teased the Kogitsune, her cheery tone belying the relief over feeling its familiar weight and length by her side once more.

The guard chuckled knowingly. "Better than its owner, I heard."

The elf winked and cast him and the other guards a mock salute which they returned with grins of their own. Then breathing in deeply, Irse turned on her heels and marched through the gate to return to the waiting road.

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Sleepy Scribblings:

Moral of the tale: Do *not* challenge a Bhaalspawn to a pillow fight. Ever.

Pillow fight injuries and concussions are now listed in my litany of questionable Google searches. (｢๑•₃•)｢ ʷʱʸ?

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