No One's Chosen (3 page)

Out in the alleys the heat was as oppressive as ever.
The cloak and shadows of the three and four storey stucco buildings
helped keep Óraithe from the sun directly. Cosain, frustrating as
she found him, was right about the guards. Their memory was not so
short as a day and she'd do best to avoid at least those involved
in chasing her.

She passed across a through street and was nearly
bowled over by a rush of shavers making for the main street.
"Little bastards!" she called after them. One turned to make a rude
face but was implored by his friend. "Don't mind that hag or we'll
miss it!"

Miss it? Óraithe hadn't heard of any nobles coming
through today. What could they mean? She decided to follow and see
what was happening, if anything. It could just be some clown or
candy maker. She cut over to a thin alleyway that she knew exited
to the main street. One that wasn't like to be used by the rabble.
She could make out a line of silhouettes along the street at the
end of the alleyway. Whatever was going on, it'd drawn more than
the whores' whelps she passed before.

She came to the end of the alley and found herself
staring at nothing but shoulders. She cursed her height. The
Sisters had not been kind. She was short to the point of mockery
most times. Not dwarfish just… tiny. Tiny in so many ways, she
thought, and placed a hand to her breast. She'd managed to anger
herself and began trying her damnedest to shove through the
rabble.

Her elbows were sharp but the throngs were not quick
to part. She shoved forward with what weight she had and found it
slow going. She'd nearly forgot why she was forcing her way through
a crowd in the heat of Saol but the murmuring picked up and brought
her back to her senses. What was out there? Just one… more…
push…

She burst through, but she'd put too much momentum
into it. She awkwardly loped out into the street, just keeping her
balance. She was looking down at dirty cobblestones. Oh no, she
thought, breath catching in her throat. She was in the middle of
the street. She looked behind to see a few elves pulling themselves
up from the ground. The crowd hushed and the voice sounded as if it
was inside of her very mind.

"Do you have business with me, child?" The accent was
foreign, like nothing she'd ever heard. The voice, husky and
confident. Óraithe turned her head and saw what had caused the
fuss.

"D… Drow?" Óraithe stammered somewhere between awe
and terror.

"Elf." The Drow squinted at her in the light of the
day. "Your skin will burn if you spend so long in the sun."

Óraithe held her breath and stared. She was
mesmerized. A Drow! No more than an arm's length from her! Light
purple hair pulled back tight, the shifting grey skin. It seemed to
run through colors between the greys. A deep rainbow in between
gulfs of darkness. Her eyes, black as coal.

The Drow put a hand on her hip, growing impatient.
"Well, elf?"

Before she knew it, Óraithe was darting for the other
side of the street. The crowd parted to let her through and she
made it to the dark comfort of the alley way. She slumped to the
ground, back against a cool wall. The murmuring continued. A few
curious elves looked down the alleyway toward her. She had to get
away.

Óraithe got up and began walking briskly. She'd meant
to meet Teas! She'd nearly forgotten. Her walk became an open run.
She was late.

Teas was standing at the edge of the alleyway they
normally met wringing her hands and looking back and forth. She
spotted Óraithe running toward her and crouched, not sure if they
were running from something or not. Óraithe held up a hand and
shook her head to signal that things were fine. Óraithe clopped to
a stop in front of Teas.

"So…" She caught her breath. "Sorry! I was late.
There was…" she stopped herself and looked around.

She grabbed Teas by the arm and pulled her into the
alleyway. Teas was a good deal taller than Óraithe. A half-foot or
so. She had the light hair of the northern elves and something of a
fat face. Óraithe found it incredibly endearing. She was innocent
and looked as though she should be. They'd been friends nearly as
long as Óraithe can remember.

"Why were you late? Did something happen? Cosain?"
Teas seemed concerned for Óraithe.

"No, no. Well, yes, but that's not what kept me. Fool
old man." Óraithe looked to the side, frustrated remembering the
morning's conversation.

"He just cares for you," Teas offered.

Óraithe scoffed at the thought. "He cares for comfort
and peace. He doesn't…" She realized she was getting off track.
"AH! A Drow!"

Teas raised an eyebrow. "A brow? I don't…"

Óraithe threw her arms up and spun around, elated.
"There was a Drow! She was just walking down the main street!
Sisters, she was magnificent! Much prettier than they say. I wonder
what she—"

"You saw her?!" Teas was excited at the idea.

"Saw her?! I near touched her! She wasn't any farther
than you are from me now!" Óraithe was practically swooning.

"Oh! That must have been scary." Teas put a hand to
her mouth.

"It was amazing!" Óraithe grabbed Teas by the
shoulders. "She stared right at me. Her eyes were like black
diamonds. I wanted to touch her so badly! And the way she walked,
it was as if she owned the world!"

Teas rolled her head back and looked up at the pale
blue of the sky. "It must be nice, such confidence. And can you
imagine? Being stared at like that? By so many people?"

"What I wouldn't give to talk to her. She must have
so many stories."

Teas sighed. "I want to have stories."

Óraithe was silent a moment, looking up at the sky.
After a time, she spoke. "Why shouldn't we?"

"Hm?" Teas asked, as if she had only been half
listening.

Óraithe grabbed her friend by the hand which brought
the taller elf back down to the world. "Why shouldn't we have
stories?"

"Well, we're lowborn slum elves, for one. And you're
short and I'm a coward." Teas said it matter of factly.

Óraithe persisted. "Aside from your booming
confidence, then. Why shouldn't we?"

Teas shrugged and Óraithe clapped her hands. "Then
it's decided! We'll make our own stories."

The pair headed to a potshop, continuing to talk of
adventures and the stories they'd no doubt be a part of. Óraithe
told of her adventure with the bread from the day before. Teas's
mouth watered to hear about it. She wished she'd had some to use on
the awful stew. Óraithe protested, insisting it'd be a waste of
such heavenly bread.

They parted ways after a few hours time at the
potshop. Óraithe wandered the streets alone for a time. She
couldn't shake the Drow from her mind. Where could she have been
heading? The High District? Did they even allow Drow there? Óraithe
hadn't thought they allowed them into the city at all. She asked
after the woman to a few passersby. Most ignored her but finally a
fat drunkard of an elf directed to an alehouse not far from where
she was.

She approached the alehouse with caution. It was loud
and night was falling outside. Óraithe's heart had been in her
throat since the directions, thick with the stink of alcohol, had
made their way into her ears. It was dangerous, she knew. She
hesitated. Should she go in? It was apt to end poorly.

"If yer goin' in, get on with it, whelp." An angry
voice barked at her. Without thinking she pushed the curtain aside
and stumbled in. No one seemed to notice but she made her way
quickly to the corner of the place nonetheless. It was dimly lit
inside and smelled more of piss than ale. Across the room from
Óraithe was a staircase leading up to a few rooms, no doubt. She
scanned the room for the Drow. The grey skinned woman was sitting
at a table in the far corner. Her seat faced out over the room.
Surely she'd seen Óraithe come in. What would she do now? What had
she come here for? To gape at a Drow? Would the Drow even talk with
her? Is that what she wanted?

Óraithe didn't quite know. But she knew she was
curious. She made for the stairs as casually as she could manage
given the raucous temper of the place. She reached the stairs and
climbed them quickly. Something in her chest loosened as the sounds
of revelry became muffled by the floorboards.

It quickly became clear that Óraithe had failed to
think this through properly as she scanned the doors laid out
before her. She wasn't sure if she should check each room or even
if the Drow meant to spend the night at the inn. Fires take her,
she should have planned. She turned to go but stopped herself
spinning toward the stairs when she noticed a door with slightly
better fittings around the knob and hinges. That was it, something
inside her called out.

She walked to the door and reaching for the knob.

"Perhaps you are lost, little elf." That accent.
Óraithe froze in place. "Or did you hope to share my bed? I'm not
one for bedding anything without a cock to put between my legs.
Though with tits like those, I suppose I could pretend."

Óraithe put her hand on her chest and clinched her
teeth. She wanted to turn and run. Maybe she could knock the Drow
over and get past her before she— Her planning was cut short by the
feel of steel at her back. The point of a blade and then the warmth
of a body. The Drow had pressed herself against Óraithe. A slender
grey hand reached around the shivering elf to unlock the door. It
swung open and Óraithe was shoved inside.

Her knees gave out from fear and Óraithe found
herself staring up at the Drow from the floor. The darkling
sheathed the blade and strode patiently to a chair in the corner of
the room. Óraithe looked around for the first time. The room was
far finer than the main floor would have led one to believe was
possible.

"Is it that you fancy yourself a thief, elf?" The
Drow crossed her legs and considered. "It would fit one of your
size. You are scarcely taller than me. Rare for your type."

It was true. Óraithe had been so excited by seeing
the Drow that she scarcely noticed the size of her. She'd heard
they were short but she'd never met anyone smaller than herself.
Could she overtake her, maybe? With her size? Óraithe shifted to
sit properly.

"I… I am no thief." Óraithe finally had managed to
force words from her throat. "I was… I was curious. About you, I
mean."

"Goddess! You elves are intolerable. And on a night
when I am so busy." The Drow grew impatient, agitated, like an
animal who thirsted for blood and found only water.

The grey woman stood up, her skin dark in the dim
light of the room and more imposing than it had been in the street.
She was beautiful still, but sinister now. She walked to Óraithe
and crouched. Her black eyes seemed to burn. An inky fire that
burned away everything Óraithe thought she knew about the world.
"You are weak, elf child. And the weak do not interest me. Go."

Óraithe would not wait for a second invitation. She
scrambled to her feet and burst out of the room with all haste. She
didn't stop running until the light of the alehouse had long since
fallen away to the twists and turns of the slum alleyways. She
wanted to go home. She wanted to sleep in her bed. She wanted to be
safe. Onward she ran, in the only direction she'd ever known. The
taste of bile rose at the back of her throat. She never wanted to
go home. She wanted to sleep where she fell. She wanted to be
scared.

Rianaire drummed her fingers impatiently on the large
table which took up the bulk of the drab stone meeting hall. While
there were ornate main doors and a few posterns, the rear of the
room was an open colonnade leading to a large balcony. It had
originally been more extravagant, with stained glass and banners,
but Rianaire had insisted it be stripped down and opened to the
square, that the Binse and Treorai alike might remember their
purpose.

The air in the room was cold in spite of the season.
It made her slightly nostalgic but before she could slip into
daydreams, as she so often wished to do, a member of her Binse
spoke up. "Treorai, the fighting in the south has escalated
again."

"And what of it?" She made no attempt to hide the
boredom in her voice. "Has Spéirbaile slid down the mountain and
joined the rabble?"

"I…" the Binse member wanted to protest but thought
better of it. "No, your Grace."

"Then why do I care what happens in the south?" The
underling opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. "I do not.
Now, is there any other business? Business relating to Spéirbaile
or its people?"

Her eyes must have looked angry as she scanned the
table. No one moved or spoke as her gaze passed over them. "Good.
Then we are done with this farce and you lot can go back to busying
yourselves bothering people with nothing better to do. You are
dismissed."

The gathered members of Rianaire's Binse stood and
bowed. She scoffed openly at them as they cleared the room.

"Sisters, if I'd known this was what my mother spent
her life doing, I'd have run off with one of the hippocamp
hordes."

"I'm not sure they'd have had you, Treorai, with your
disposition." Síocháin walked casually into the room carrying a
tray with tea and finger foods.

Rianaire couldn't help but laugh at the truth of it.
"Ha! A loss they've clearly suffered for."

Síocháin placed a cup and saucer before Rianaire and
poured carefully. She did the same for herself at the nearest chair
and sat down gracefully.

Rianaire said nothing but took a sip of the tea.

"Seems it's going to be a cold summer. Or so the
Oracles keep saying." Síocháin broke the silence before taking a
bite of a cucumber sandwich.

"Fat lot of good predictions like that are. Next
they'll bless us with the knowledge that the morning comes after
the night."