No One's Chosen (53 page)

"The whore has seen Teas. Or she thinks so," Scaa
said. If the woman was bothered at being called a whore, she did
not show it. There was no shame in the profession but it was
improper to call a person by their profession in lieu of a
name.

"Where?" Óraithe's voice was panicked and
insistent.

"An alehouse," Scaa replied.

"I was takin' this one when ya showed up," the woman
offered.

Óraithe bid her lead on, and quickly. There was
nothing quick about the pace and it pained Óraithe to not burst
forward and drag the woman to wherever it was they were going. To
help keep her calm, the small elf balled her fists over and over
and over. She tried not the count the steps. Finally they came to a
stop in front of a plain enough looking alehouse. It was not
entirely dirty though it had no windows to see the inside. A cloth
hung over the doorway and the smells flowing out were unpleasant
but the noise was not terribly raucous.

"Two of 'em was with the girl. Both in brown cloaks
and one with a big black beard." The woman spoke shortly after they
stopped in front of the door. "I'll have that silver now."

Scaa turned to the woman and put a swift backhand
across her face. "Who'd pay a silver for that?" Scaa's hand went to
her dull knife and the woman ran off awkwardly, holding her cheek
pitifully.

"You promised her coin?"

"I did. But I am not in the habit of paying people to
be decent." Scaa turned to face the cloth over the inn. "We should
go. Time is important now."

Scaa walked in ahead of her but Óraithe was quick.
The weight of the vial in her hand was suddenly much more obvious.
Scaa was of a correct height and looked older than her age so it
was Óraithe who drew the bulk of the curious looks. She was short
enough to have been a child, though her face was relatively mature.
Most of the looks were curiosity, plain and simple. Some were more
than that. Predatory looks, lustful eyes and open mouths. Most did
not notice their entrance. The alehouse was full and the talk was
loud.

Scaa tapped Óraithe on the shoulder and the small elf
jumped at the touch. Her heart had not started racing until they
entered the place but now it felt like to pound through her chest.
Óraithe looked up at Scaa and the taller girl pointed to a corner
table. Two men in brown cloaks sat with their heads down and their
backs to the room. Óraithe could just see the edge of a wiry black
beard poking out from the hood of one of the cloaks.

The two young elves approached, Óraithe forcing rage
and bravado into the place fear had been only a moment before.

"You there, in the cloaks," she called out
confidently.

The bearded man turned to face her. "What?" His voice
was punctuated and terse. When he caught sight of how young she
seemed, the man turned.

"You were with a girl earlier. Light-haired, with
braids. Where is she?" Óraithe wanted to scream. She wanted to beat
the man until he spoke but she did not have the strength. She
rubbed her thumb over the corked end of the vial.

"Ha ha ha." The stink of the man's breath was nigh
unbearable as he laughed through rotten teeth. "Don't know nothin'
'bout no light-haired girls, do we, eh?"

He ribbed his compatriot who said nothing but turned
to look the girls over. The silent man had a blind eye and crooked
nose. Half of one of his short, pointed ears had been removed and
had scarred over unevenly, though it could scarcely be seen under
the hood.

The bearded man spoke again. "Know somethin' about
little black-haired girls though. Fine ones with small tits. Bet
one'd fetch a pretty sum." He reached a hand out to touch her.

Her body screamed to pull away from the man but
instead she lurched forward and grabbed his cloak. She pulled as
hard as she could before the bearded man could shift his weight and
he went to the floor with Óraithe atop him. She ripped the hood of
the cloak away and the man turned to look. As he turned, she popped
the cork from its place in the vial and let the purple liquid fall
onto his face.

The first drops hit the hair of his beard and the
hairs melted away and shriveled. As more fell it began to hit his
face. The first drop to hit flesh immediately turned the spot black
and it began to spread. Óraithe climbed off as quickly as she could
manage. Before she had gotten to her feet, half the man's face had
gone black and the first touched parts were starting to bubble and
turn a putrid milky green.

The bearded man's partner made to stand but Scaa
caught his arm and brought it around behind his back, wrenching it
upward and forcing a sick sucking pop from it. She pulled the man
to the ground and he groaned in pain.

"Where is she?" Óraithe shouted it with all the
strength she could force into her lungs but the man only let go a
shrieking wail. It was the sound of a dying animal. The flesh from
his face began to run down in waves of liquid green. As a drop ran
into his eye, the sphere shrunk and shriveled.

Óraithe found it hard to look away, but she turned to
the man with the blinded eye. Scaa had pulled back the cloak to
reveal that he was bald and Óraithe held the vial out over his
head, repeating her question as best she could over the wails of
the dying man. The entire alehouse watched on silently but not one
dared move.

"Where is the girl?" She forced the words out with
all of her conviction. He had to know she would pour. He had to
tell them where she was.

The man turned his good eye up to her and Óraithe
tipped the vial. "No! No! We sold her! She ain't here! We sold
her!" His voice was thick with horror. The smell of rotting flesh
was thick in the air and his eyes had teared up. "Raiders. They
camp out in the sands a few miles. Southwest."

Óraithe gritted her teeth and looked at Scaa. The
boyish elf just looked back at her, not releasing the man's arm.
Óraithe frowned and her eyes welled with tears. From the smell, she
told herself. She tipped the mixture and a few drops of the evil
concoction fell onto the bald head of the man who had sold her
friend. She dropped the vial and walked from the alehouse.

Out in the street, Óraithe choked back tears,
clenching her jaw to keep herself strong. It was working but
barely. Scaa came out from the alehouse holding a small pouch. She
tied it to a hole in the waist of her pants and the clink of metal
told Óraithe it was coin. Coin that had been paid for her friend,
her sister.

"Do you know the place? The raider camp?" Óraithe
hoped she did not sound so weak as she felt.

"I have heard of it. The camp is large, from what I
am told. Should be simple enough to find. Finding Teas may not be
such a simple task."

"It does not matter. How do I find it?" Óraithe
started toward the alleyways to return to the main drag.

Scaa followed. "I will show you."

"No. I want you to find a healer. The best in the Low
District. Or High, I do not care. Tell me how to find the
camp."

"There is a rock spire that can be seen from just
outside the wall. Walk toward it and you will find the camp."

That was the end of the words between the two elves.
The main drag found them and Scaa turned to see to her task.
Óraithe turned away to go toward the outer wall but she heard
Scaa's voice.

"Bonn?"

Óraithe turned and saw the boy jogging toward Scaa.
His face wore a childish frown, almost pouting. But it was the body
behind him that made Óraithe's heart stop. Teas's father.

Bonn stopped at Scaa but the shopkeep ran to Óraithe
and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Where is my daughter? Where?" His face was bright
pink, flushed with blood and anger. He shook her violently.

Óraithe pulled in a deep breath and said the words as
cooly as she could manage. "She has been sold to raiders. I mean
to—"

The slap was strong. He had put every ounce of his
strength into the blow and Óraithe's cheek burned and stung. He
gripped her by the arm with his offhand, his short nails digging in
below the thin shift she wore. He pulled back again and struck her
in the same place. He was screaming something. She heard Teas's
name but little else. He struck a third time, the screaming was
frantic. Óraithe braced for a fourth but instead she heard a denser
sound and the man's assault stopped dead and his grip fell sharply
away from her arm.

She was afraid to open her eyes for a moment lest the
slapping continue but she heard the sound of soft sobbing from the
stone road beneath her feet. Óraithe opened her eyes to see the
gathered throng beginning to disperse. Scaa stood to one side of
her in a wide stance. On the other side, on the ground was the
simpering form of Teas's father. He looked up at her from the
ground. The man's jaw had already begun to swell and he was crying.
Blood ran down from his lip. He looked small and weak and lost.

Óraithe knelt in front of the man and he looked up at
her, broken. "I know what you think of me. What you always have. So
long as Teas was smiling you permitted my existence. It is
something I cannot bring myself to thank you for but it comes from
your love for Teas." She sighed. "I love her as you do. I know it
is something you will never believe but she is a sister to me. I
would never see her come to harm and this…" The lump returned to
her throat but she swallowed it down. "I am at fault. I will see to
it. I will bring her home."

The man said nothing in reply, but gave a small nod
and looked back to the ground. Óraithe stood and turned her
attention back to Scaa.

"See him home first. Leave Bonn with him if you
would. He needs someone." Óraithe sighed and looked toward the city
walls.

"Better him than me. You are leaving now?"

"Time is important, you said." Óraithe forced a half
smile. It looked more sad than she had hoped. "Your knife… could
I…"

Scaa pulled the knife and held it across her hand,
considering the cheap blade. "I expect it returned." Her voice
softened somewhat, as it had that night.

The knife was dense and cold and somehow made the
situation all the more real. Scaa put a hand on Óraithe's shoulder.
It was soft and gently placed. Scaa opened her mouth to speak but
stopped and looked away. Her mouth closed and she let her hand fall
away from Óraithe's shoulder. She moved to the man on the ground
and pulled him up.

"I will wait for you at the wall." Scaa said, turning
to leave. It was the last she might hear of the brash girl's rough
voice and the lump returned to Óraithe's throat.

She swallowed it down, cursing. If it was an end to
things, if death awaited her at the raider camp, she would not go
alone.

They had taken it in turns to sleep in the back of
the wagon. Rianaire now sat in the front with Inney beside her
holding the reins. The smile had returned and the nervousness had
long since disappeared. It was clear the mask served more of a
purpose than deception for the girl. It had been an hour since
Síocháin was taken her turn to nap. The sun was risen and they were
still some miles away from the town of Theasín. It was near the
border of the province and served as a waystation for many of the
travelers and traders heading north to Spéirbaile.

Rianaire had busied herself considering the ins and
outs of a plan she had decided on somewhat rashly the night before.
She had yet to reveal it to either Inney or Síocháin and in truth
she was not entirely sure she wanted to go through with it, or how
she would carry it out.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Inney's voice
calling her name. She looked up to answer. "Yes?"

The mask over the girl's face showed the same closed
eyes and polite smile as always. "I apologize. And I do not mean to
question your kindness, but I cannot understand why you have
accepted me so readily. Is it…"

"Foolishness? Childish, absentminded whimsy?"
Rianaire chuckled.

"I wouldn't be so callous as to suggest such a thing
of you."

"But it is not an uncommon suggestion. I am judged by
my decisions, and many of them seem flippant or unconsidered."
Rianaire leaned back and looked up at the sun. "But that is a
problem of perspective, I suppose. Tell me, Inney, how often do you
openly discuss your chain of logic with others?"

"I do not."

"Of course not. Certainly not in a profession such as
yours. It could mean death to work so slowly. But you move based on
the things you see and the experience you carry inside yourself,
yes? Being a Treorai… there are assumptions made. My meals are
brought to me so I mustn't understand how a roast is cooked. I have
a Binse to see to the workings of the realm so I must not
understand the ways of the smallfolk or their plights." She sighed.
"I have only known you a short time so I ought to be wary."

"Being wary of a person and the cooking of meat are
different things entirely." The smile did not change and Inney
looked back to the road.

"To an extent, this is true. People show their true
nature more than they know." She tugged at the girl's cloak, which
she still wore even in the heat. "This cloak is far too heavy to be
only a cloak but I did not meet my end at Mion's brothel. Nor in
the dark of the road. If you mean to kill me, you are certainly
going about it strangely. Síocháin is no warrior. My magics are
strong enough, but I have been near enough for the job to be done
for many hours now. What reason do I have not to trust you? That
you are half Drow?"

Inney lowered her head at the question.

"It is obvious your parentage has brought you no
small measure of pain. I fear I am incapable of such small minded
bigotry. I grew to despise it too soundly among my mother's court
as a child. And I find your scar to be absolutely enthralling."