No One's Chosen (14 page)

It had been nearly an hour since she arrived in the
square. While she had seen a few thieves at work, they had all
either been caught in the act or gotten away before she could
approach. That made sense, she supposed. They would want to be out
of the square with their goods before they were noticed. Her plan
wasn't working. A wave of doubt began to creep over her as she
leaned against a wall waiting for a better solution to make itself
obvious.

Her eyes were closed when she felt something wet and
cool land on her head. She reached up to touch the substance and
pulled back a hand covered with the dim purple leavings of a
marmar. A few women laughed at her as they passed. She turned and
cursed the creature, picking a rock from the ground and throwing it
with all she had. The knobby bird flew off with a labored squawk.
As she watched it fly, she knew what had to be done.

"Above," she mumbled to herself.

She had been on the roofs before, in her youth. They
tended to be poor hiding spots so she'd forgotten all about them.
Few enough people looked up, but it was only a matter of time
before someone did. If your timing was poor it was not like to end
well with no ready way down and alleyways too wide to span with
sure footing. It would serve for watching, though, so she made her
way to the alleys behind the first row of shophouses.

The alley itself was quite wide, with space for maybe
three adults walking abreast to travel through with no issue, but
the spaces between the shophouses were not so wide. She needed
space to bridge her legs across and climb the walls. It took only a
moment to find a space just wide enough for her to climb. A moment
later, she was on the roof.

The going was slow and the rooftops had proven less
ideal than she had hoped. Jumping between them was apt to attract
attention and that would put an end to her scouting entirely. This
meant that she was limited to a small area just under and around
the building she had chosen.

The hot, white sun was making for the horizon when
she finally spotted something promising. A fresh-faced elf boy,
just barely full grown, in dirty clothes following a bit too
closely behind a much cleaner woman. But it was all wrong. He was
too obvious. It would be too easy for a shopkeeper to see him and
call out in hopes of winning some favor and a purchase. And
besides, the woman's dress was quite intricate. He was likely to
alert her just fiddling with the folds in search of where she kept
her coin.

Óraithe clicked her tongue and looked away,
disappointed that she had gotten her hopes up. It was then that she
saw him… no, her. Roughspun pants, a cap and a vest covering a
squarish face, short hair, and near imperceptible breasts. She was
at something of a blind corner. Óraithe narrowed her eyes against
the setting sun. She was sure of it. They were a pair. No sooner
had she convinced herself of it did the girl fall face first into
the street in front of the woman. From there, Óraithe knew the
play. Help her up, grab her coin, scold the sister, meet up later.
There was no time for her to watch it all go down, she had to get
into position. They would likely head off in different directions
and the sister looked the older so Óraithe would head her off.

Óraithe dropped as quickly as she could to remain
safe. She made a mad dash for the corner the sister had been
waiting on and turned away from the square. She would have to come
down the street and Óraithe would be ready.

Before she realized it, she was in position and
waiting, heart pounding like crazy. The girl was taking longer than
Óraithe had estimated. After what seemed like a season, footsteps
were approaching. They got as near enough that she figured they
could not run and she leapt out.

"Wait!" Why she had shouted "wait" at a pair of
thieves, she could not say, but she had to open the conversation
somehow.

The greeting was less than effective at conveying her
friendship to the pair. They turned and bolted for an alleyway.

"Damn it all, no! I'm not…" her voice trailed off.
Óraithe heaved a sigh and took off running down an adjacent
alley.

There was no way she would allow herself to be outrun
by a pair of barely grown elflings. She could outrun the entire
guard… or at least out maneuver them. The alley the pair had taken
was lined with row houses and there was no way out for them save
the other end. She would try her tactic again, this time with a
gentler tone.

She reached the end of the alley and they were
nowhere to be seen. It was unlikely they'd doubled back and she had
to trust she outran them. Two could not move so easily as one. Then
she heard them. Footsteps in the row house alley. She stepped out
again.

"Please—" She managed all of one word before she was
toppled by the female of the pair. They were both thrown to the
ground. Óraithe on top of the young elf. She was squirming with all
her might, trying to make an escape. Óraithe instinctively tried to
restrain her. She needed her.

The wavering voice came from behind her. "Let her
go!" Óraithe turned to see the boy awkwardly wielding what she
assumed he took to be a knife. It looked more to her like a rounded
tent spike and posed no particular threat of piecing anything.

"Listen, I'm not—" Óraithe tried explaining herself
but the girl used the distraction to wriggle free. Óraithe toppled
as the girl rose to her feet and made to run. "No! I'm like you!
Please!" Her plea was desperate, she knew it.

Óraithe looked up to see the girl looking across at
her partner. She frowned and nodded her head away from him. He
stowed the knife and the girl helped Óraithe to her feet.

"Like us how?" The girl's voice was husky and dark.
It rang with an age that the girl simply couldn't possess.

"I…" Óraithe looked around. It was not like to be a
crowded one, but the alleyway was certainly a passage that saw
regular use. "We should not speak here. I have a proposition for
you." She looked to the boy. "Both of you."

They agreed to follow, but nowhere far or indoors. It
was fair enough and Óraithe was honestly happy that they were not
so dense as half the pilferers she'd seen that day. She made for an
alley she knew that served only as the space between the back of a
pair of row house blocks. It was used only in the briefest of
situations. A whore making good on services paid for, an exchange
of money or papers, that sort of thing. They made for the center so
as to be far from casual glances and chance meetings. Three young
elves in an alley was cause for unwanted questions from patrols,
rare as they were.

When they arrived, Óraithe spoke first. "I apologize.
I know… it… I was unclear in my intention. My name is Óraithe."

"You were. And your timing was poor." She paused a
beat. "I am Scaa, and this is my brother Bonn."

"Scaa… that's a name I've not heard before." Óraithe
worried she might seem rude, but her curiosity got the better of
her.

"It's Drow. My mother was an eccentric. How are you
like us?"

Óraithe nodded to the pouch hanging on Bonn's
waist.

"Ah. A thief." Scaa sounded somewhat skeptical.

"Well, I was."

"Sisters be, I knew it. You are one of those…
those…"

Bonn spoke up to help. "Prosely… pro…?"

"That's it! Proselytizers. Want us to come over to
the good service of the Sisters, do you? Sodding zealots."

Óraithe put her hands up. "Oh! No, no, no! More the
opposite, I think."

"How's that?"

"I'm forming a…" She stopped there. She couldn't tell
them that she meant to form a proper rebellion against the High
District. That would make her sound crazier than the zealots.

"A what?" Scaa was growing impatient."

"A rebellion." Sisters, she'd said it. She was a
fool, truly.

The laughs she expected did not come, however. There
was a silence, Bonn looking at Scaa and Scaa looking at Óraithe.
The young girl's eyes could have burned a hole in Óraithe.

"And what would be the gain in that for the pair of
us?"

"Freedom," she said, though not willing to wait and
see if that moved them. She would need something else. "And coin.
And a place to sleep if need be."

Bonn perked up. "A place to sleep?!"

Scaa slapped his shoulder and he looked at the
ground.

She was quiet for a long time, staring directly at
Óraithe without a word. She looked at Bonn for a second, his eyes
still on the ground. Óraithe could feel the sweat rolling down in
the silence. A bead from her forehead had touched her chin before
the elf with the name of a Drow and a voice like wet sand finally
spoke.

"How much coin?"

Rianaire had awoken early that morning. It was
unusual for her. The night was a greater friend to the Treorai than
the day, but she had been to bed early after a full night without
sleep and a day filled with the droning complaints of her Binse.
She'd slept soundly knowing that on the morrow she would be free of
them for at least a while.

She had dressed herself in something fine for the
ride out. A light, white woolen dress adorned with embroidered
flowers and a lining of lightly colored furs. It was summer and
that would do for keeping her warm. If she was to be seen in a
proper procession, she figured she ought to at least look the part
to the twenty or so riders that would be along for her protection.
It was a guard she was quick to refuse for walks about town, but
the roads outside Spéirbaile were truly dangerous. While it was
true that hippocamps tended to ignore the north, there was still
the danger of raider bands and various carnivorous fauna. It
wouldn't do to show anything less than her best face to those
outside the city as well. They would have an easier time in their
travels if it was clear who she was.

When she was satisfied with the look of her clothing,
she made for the main hall of the Bastion. It was another cold day
for summer and the gold stone of the great northern keep did very
little to help. It was a dismal place and depressing. Rianaire had
always had trouble figuring out exactly what was meant to be the
point of such a drab castle. Especially one which always seemed so
damn drafty. The aspect of Spéir, she supposed. The Sister embodied
the air and a place with stifling air just wouldn't do. "Fair
enough," she thought. "But did they have to make it so damned
drafty?"

Two armored guards pulled open the doors of the
Bastion as she approached, bowing as she passed. She exited into
the clouds which promised to drop a cold rain down on the day. The
courtyard was bustling with soldiers training to protect the city
from whatever it was her Binsemen imagined threatened them in the
frigid north. Even in the height of Saol, the north was cold and
bleak. Rianaire had always loved bright colors and she thought it a
joke of the Sisters that she was born to such a drab and monotone
place.

The carriage was sat at the middle of the yard
surrounded by those that would attend her on the ride. It was a
modest thing, in general, with little in the way of color or
decoration. It bore the deep purple sigil of Spéir to show that it
was of the Bastion's stock and was otherwise coated in a milky
white paint from top to bottom with grey accents. A fairly
unremarkable carriage at a distance, by design. You would have to
come close enough to spy the sigil to know that it carried the most
important elf in all the north.

She had decided after her declaration to Síocháin
that they would make for Cnoclean in the east. It was the central
hub for the mining villages in the area and was home to a Regent
she had known since her childhood. Eldest son of a Binseman of her
mothers. She would welcome the distraction and the distance from
the unclosing mouths of her counsel. It would be at least two days'
ride with a party of their size. And that was if the weather held.
With some luck she could escape for a week in either direction and
possibly even spend one in the company of friends and drink in
Cnoclean. Twelve days away from her Binse would be an absolute
delight, the way they had been badgering her. And that would put it
near the turn of the season. With Soiléire coming, they would be
forced to turn to matters of actual import. The harvest and
preparations for the frosts and the snows. Even at the worst, she
would steal away a week and four days was enough to at least let
them get a taste for doing their jobs properly without having a
hand up her skirt every time they had an idea.

As Rianaire approached the carriage, a mountainous
elf turned to face her.

"Treorai, everything has been prepared and the bags
are nearly loaded. We may depart when they are secured," Grod said.
The massive elf bowed deeply and saluted, golden hair falling in
front of his face. He was the captain of her private guard and was
as able with a sword as he was in bed. She had found out the latter
well before the former. It was when she saw him wield a blade that
she named him to her personal guard. From there he had risen of his
own merit. He might have become her Binseman of Defense had they
met under different circumstances, an outcome she was happy had not
been the case. Still, he served capably.

"Very good, Grod. And thank you," she placed a soft
hand on his shoulder and smiled. Grod ended his bow and stood to
address his Treorai properly as she spoke. "That is all."

Rianaire turned to climb into the carriage. Some
attendant she knew by face but not name opened it for her. She
smiled politely and climbed into the thing. It was warm inside. The
sun on the glass had brought it to a quite comfortable temperature
and Rianaire sighed a relaxed sigh. She fussed a bit with the dress
on the velvet seat. It was no wonder nobles were always frowning
and complaining, she thought. The clothes served well enough for
looking beautiful, but a person was like to go mad trying to find a
comfortable position with half a foot of fabric shifting under
their arse.