No One's Chosen (16 page)

Inside the cache was a heftier bag of gold than she
had been expecting. Not a mere miscounting, it was nearly thrice
the weight of what was owed for the killing. There was a note under
the pouch that would no doubt explain the discrepancy. She opened
it and read.

"Your methods are effective, I will give you that
Drow. I suppose subtlety would have been too much to expect. No
matter. Your services are required in a somewhat unique capacity
and to this end I have included an hefty sum of gold. There is a
copper mine and its attendant village to the south-west of
Cnoclean. It is of great value to me that the mine become
non-operative, however outright murder will not do. It will draw
undue attention. I should think that with your skills you ought to
be well suited to arranging for misfortune to befall the workers.
It is of the utmost importance that you leave immediately."

Aile was displeased at the news. The weather was
worsening and she would not be able to show herself in Cnoclean or
any of the cities in near reach of it either. Word traveled
exceedingly fast in smaller settlements. An annoying journey for an
unfulfilling job. A kill where one could neither feel nor see the
life drain from a body lacked in satisfaction and held no real
appeal to Aile.

Either way, the gold was good and she had been long
enough inside an inn that held no further use. She made a hasty
exit, quickly tallying the things she would need as she exited onto
the side street. She had prepared supplies for a small camp and
warm clothes before leaving Fásachbaile. She wouldn't need much and
should be able to make good enough time if she rode her horse with
no intent of having it return.

She arrived at the inn, gathered her things, and
bitterly paid for a room she had used for the better part of a few
hours at most. The innkeeper looked a bit disappointed to see her
go, likely expecting she would draw customers. The guards hardly
looked her over as she made through to the Outer Crescent. She
retrieved the horse that had only been hers since her departure
from Fásachbaile. She mounted it with a heavy cloak over her body
and rode out the waiting gates, leaving Spéirbaile behind.

The horse was a good one, she had made sure of that
before deciding to steal the thing. It rode fast and hard with no
complaint. Well-trained and patient, but it seemed to lack in
stamina. Or at least stamina for the cold. She had expected to make
it near enough to Cnoclean to loose the horse of some meat and do
the rest on foot, under cover of darkness. It made well over
halfway, but she could sense it beginning to give out and, finally,
it collapsed a short walk from a small inn. She sneaked toward the
inn and heard the noise of horses from behind the place. They would
do. The Drow made quietly for the stables and cut loose the fastest
looking of the lot. She mounted the steed and rode back to the
corpse of her previous companion to retrieve the saddle and
packs.

Her necessities gathered, she carried on. A sign told
her that she was nearing Cnoclean so she made for the woods,
watching the stars carefully to keep her mount headed south-west.
She was lucky to have the stars, it had been a miserable ride
outside of Fásachbaile with cold rain doing its best to test her
resolve. Adding to that, she'd had to leave the road for traffic a
number of times. While the thought of having added to the Drow
stories of some yokel, it had slowed her some and caused her to
ride her mount to an earlier death than served her purposes.

The wood she had met when exiting the road began to
thin and paths began to appear through the trees. Aile followed
them but kept herself off of the roads proper. She could not afford
to be spotted, even in the wood. Before long the edge of the small
forest showed itself and she had arrived, exhausted from too many
hours spent ahorse at full clip.

She pulled her horse around, made for a thick patch
of underbrush that would afford her cover and stopped. Aile
dismounted without a worry over grace or elegance and pulled her
bags down from the horse that stepped about impatiently. She walked
her newly acquired mount to a tree and tied it there. The horse did
not seem to enjoy being among such tight quarters, the restraint,
or its rider, but that concern would be allayed soon enough.

Aile pulled the leather reins up over the horse's
head and wrapped them around the mount's mouth to keep it quiet.
She then cut the throat of the beast as deep as she could manage.
The large animal jerked violently in vain and strained to scream
out but could neither make noise nor free itself. After a few
moments, it quieted and slumped. In truth, she had wanted to
harvest some meat to add to her provisions but the unscheduled stop
had put her behind schedule. Even then, she could not have the
thing show up in town or, worse, in the wood itself. Elves had the
tendency to assume a rider when they found a horse and she need not
play host to a search party at her camp.

The Drow grabbed her packs and made off to the
north-west. It would lead her up and around the town and closer to
the entrance of the mine. Likewise, it would lead her away from a
freshly dead horse which was apt to draw wolves and the like. Or if
it were found, would likely draw curious folk to the area. She
could not afford time spent avoiding neither of them.

A suitable site found, Aile made note of landmarks
and stars to guide her back. She would set the camp proper after
she had completed the first step of her task. Dropping her packs,
she opened a few and prepared some necessary items. She had brought
rope, a file, adhesives, and a number of alchemical tinctures which
would be of use.

She made for the mine, hoping that it was not guarded
by night. She was in luck. While it remained lit, there were none
to stand guard, so she made for the interior. The mine had, at one
point, played host to a fairly shallow vein of copper, it seemed,
as the mine drove directly into the heart of the mountain under
which it sat. After a bit of a thin, winding walk inward, she came
to a hewn cave large enough to support several elevators. One was
clearly meant to haul loads from the bottom of the chasm. It had
ropes to either side and a series of locking gears descending to
the floor far below. It could not be operated by a single person.
The other two would be of use, however. A simple cab with rope
stretching from above to below. It could be let down slowly and
raised by hand. She entered the thing and made for the bottom.

The main shaft of the mine was quite long. Upon
reaching the bottom Aile exited at once to find the main work area.
To her benefit a series of lanterns would lead her there. The
mine's terminus was tall and open. They had been following copper
veins up and around, causing a large room to form. There were
trestles built up easily ten and fifteen feet up the sidewall. Aile
climbed them at once. Pickaxes had been left for use the next day
and she meant to make use of them in her mischief.

She pulled a dull green oil from her bag, being
careful not to touch the liquid. She poured it gingerly over the
handle of the pick and the wood seemed to drink it in. It was no
poison, not as such, but it was deadly enough. It was a sleeping
oil. And from this height was apt to have the desired effect. It
bothered her that she would not be able to see her work come to
fruition, but gold is gold. The work was wearying for the Drow. She
had had little sleep and repeating the process on nearly a dozen
picks chosen at random required an agile mind. She could not say
that about the state of her own at the moment. Still, the work was
done. At least that aspect. She figured she had taken an hour, all
told, and would need a bit more of another to finish all she had to
do. This would leave her precious little time to clear herself out
to the wood easily.

She made for the elevators. They were next. She
pulled herself back to the top with as much haste as she could
manage. It was not much, but minutes would matter, surely. At the
top of the shaft, Aile began her work. She pulled a small file and
her adhesive from her pack. She had wanted to replace the rope with
weaker stuff, like to snap under the right weight, but she found
her rope was of a different material than the workers had used. It
would be found out, possibly found out quickly. And obvious
sabotage is as good as murder. Especially with her employer doing
his best to play the part of the ruthless lover of coin.

Aile would use the file to weaken the rope in key
spots along the length of the thing. If some should snap, she would
put them back together with the adhesive. A trained eye would know
a knife cut rope in a second's time. A well-trained eye could even
tell a filed one, but it was a risk she would have to take as her
primary plan had been rendered useless by the materials she had on
hand. Not the worst luck. She would simply take her time in the
filings and ensure they looked proper before any fraying could
occur. It would be a hard job, especially for a mine that was not
like to see a proper inspection on the deaths of a few workers. The
work took her the better part of the hour she had left and, even
then, only included the two personnel elevators. It would have to
be enough for the night's work, though. The sun would rise soon and
the miners with it.

She had one surprise left. A bit of fun she had
thought up the moment she had been given the job. There was a small
bug in the deserts outside of Fásachbaile that was quite well-known
in the region. A tiny, unremarkable bug. Brown with occasional
flecks of dull red mixed in, it was the sound it emitted that made
the insect so curious. Wailing Beetles, they were called, and that
is exactly what they did. When the tiny bug rubbed its legs
together it made the sound of a woman wailing. They lived only a
few days at the most. Aile had been lucky to find a medicine shop
in the Inner Crescent which carried the things. They would wail
nearly constantly to attract a mate in just about anything other
than complete darkness. She pulled the box from her pack and threw
it into the air. The box fluttered open and she could just see a
brown speck fly out and make for the ceiling. Aile collected her
tools and made for the exit. As she approached she could hear a
distant wailing from the cavern.

She smiled as she made it out into the earliest peeks
of dawn. The sky had moved from ink to purple to dim orange by the
time she made it to her camp. She set up a rough, low tent. Just
big enough to tuck herself inside. She covered herself and fell
asleep almost immediately.

Aile awoke to find herself unmolested by any wildlife
and not in shackles. A good sleep as hers went. Dusk was
approaching. She had slept nearly half a day but the timing was
good. She turned herself over and poked her head out of the front
of the tiny covering she had slept under, somewhat amazed at how
comfortable the ground had been. There was nothing around so she
stepped from the small tent and stood, stretching. It was one thing
to do without sleep, but another entirely to do without sleep on
top of carrying on her daily business. Even the vile tasting
droughts that the alchemists gave her did not truly let one do
without sleep. The body would move, yes, but not deftly. And the
mind worked but was dulled. It was workable but far from ideal.

The Drow figured it would be at least another night
and this time she would be well rested. She must work within
expectation, however. The townsfolk would have their own ideas on
what had happened that day in the mine and if their perceptions
swung toward the practical rather than the metaphysical, Aile would
need to adjust her tactics with a mind toward furthering the
narrative their imaginations had created for her. Telling a story
with blood and death, it was almost a romantic notion.

She pulled some dried meat and figs from the packs
around her tent. It was cold again, and the temperature was less
apt to rise in the valley below the mountains of the west. She
groaned with a stark wind and pulled a skin of wine out as well.
She ate and drank slowly, savoring what was a less than enthralling
meal if for no other reason than to pass the time. When she had
finished the sky was still dim and there could well be hunters
returning through the woods. She crawled back into the tent to at
least grant herself a reprieve from the occasional whips of wind
that lashed her face with the beats of frigid wings.

When an hour had passed, Aile again exited the tent.
This time it was full dark, an overcast having rolled into the area
during her wait. She made straight for the village, dressed more
lightly than she had been the night before. Comfort could be
afforded when there was to be no opposition. Or if the presence of
any opposition meant waiting. Tonight she would need to move
quietly and deftly in areas where a drunkard was apt to stumble
into a shadow at any time.

She made the wood's edge in good time and found that
there were still many lights flickering through windows around the
town. She was in some luck as the bulk of the houses faced the main
road through the town, which also led directly toward the mine. It
was typical for people in such towns to never look beyond the edge
of the lines of homes. There was a small inn and tavern which was
raucous and boasted a porch which she could just make out at her
angle. An ideal spot for eavesdropping.

The open field between Aile and the tavern was lush
with grass nearly knee high. It provided ample cover for her
approach. The going was slow on her stomach. Diligence was key. She
could likely have made it standing, but why take the risk over a
bit of impatience? She was too old for that sort of thinking. Two
centuries and then some. Middle aged, the prime of life and a good
deal past the heady days of youth which might have invited such a
blunder. At least, she liked to imagine she was no longer
headstrong and impetuous.