Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain (14 page)

The elf swallowed nervously, and held up his hands. “All right, you have us. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. After that, just please leave us alone!”

“Excellent.” She replied, pushing the first brother over with her foot. “First, who are you?”

“I’m Markus, and if you haven’t killed him, my brother is Lukas.” He answered immediately. “We were originally from house Si-”

“I don’t care about that.” She interrupted. “Now, tell me everything you learned about surviving as a lost seed.”

The elf nodded. “Okay.”

Lukas awoke some time later to find his brother sitting on a chair, staring out the open door. A breeze fluttered through the room, and the loaf of bloodwine bread was missing. In fact, most of their food was missing.

“Ah hells,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “We got robbed.”

Markus muttered something, and Lukas shook his head. “What?”

Still staring wistfully out the door, Markus murmured. “I think I’m in love.”

Lukas shook his head again. “W-what?” he exclaimed.

Markus sighed. “That was a Sha’hdi that will go somewhere.”

“Who?”

“The girl.”

“The girl?”

“You know. The one that approached us at work?”

“What about her?” Lukas asked, walking over to the door and shutting it. He had been out for nearly half an hour.

“She was here.” Markus replied. “She thwacked you on the head, interrogated me harshly and left with most of our food like she was a professional.” His voice sounded almost reverent. “I never saw anything so beautiful.”

“Great, I hope she clubbed you senseless.” Lukas replied. “Who was she?”

Markus looked at his brother. There was a welt of a handprint on the left side of his face that had been obscured while he was gazing at the door. “She called herself Devinia, and I think she’s not a lost seed after all.”

Lukas was feeling he must have been hit fairly hard in the head because his brother wasn’t making any sense. “What? Why would she say she’s a lost seed if she wasn’t?” he asked. “She wouldn’t get anything out of it.”

“She was holding a dagger from house Nightsever.” Markus admitted, touching his cheek.

Lukas hesitated. The only ways she could be holding one of those daggers and still be alive was to either be an assassin of that house or to have been given the dagger by someone powerful in the Nightsever family. They didn’t leave their equipment around for anyone to pick up, and stealing their gear was a good way to wake up dead.

“Whoa.” Lukas admitted. “I… I think we may want to keep an eye out for her.”

Markus nodded. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “I know, she probably set us back months, but… you have to admire her determination. She could become someone.”

“If she lives that long.”
Markus stated. “Come on; let’s see what we have left to eat tonight. It’s going to be a lean week for us.”

She had relished the bloodwine bread. She digested the bread at her sewer home, along with the information she had gathered. There were people who had made a business of working with lost seeds, and now she knew better how to operate within the city without the social support of a house or bloodline. Most importantly, she learned what it cost to start a house of her own.

While the humans put less stock in bloodline than the elves did, they consequently had an easier time starting a new one; most of their societies accepted new family names without resistance. For the elves, it was a significant matter since family lines could last for thousands of years, and human bloodlines were so intermingled it was rare to see one last a few centuries.

For now, she lacked the means to draw together enough seeds to form a bloodline, nor did she have the ability to afford the tithes to the kingdom nor did she know what she would be tested on; Markus had little knowledge on that fact. She’d even slapped him around a bit to make sure.

It seemed like surviving the six years and joining the Poisonblades was the best idea for her. She had already been growing, but as far as the assassins were concerned, she still had the body of a child. As she settled in to sleep, she considered what she would do to keep busy during the wait. Practice, she concluded.

* * * *

In the months that followed, Devinia started making progress. She found new ways to reach her saferoom, and never took the same way home twice. She quickly mastered the art of shadowmelding, getting to the point where she could remain in a single shadow for hours. It taught her patience. She practiced following in a person’s shadow, trying to keep in sync with their motions. It taught her to anticipate.

At the end of the first month since her rebirth, she returned to the plaza where her new life began. During the day, it was a beautiful place. In the night, it took on a mournful air that she couldn’t shake. She knew that the assassin she was to meet wasn’t there, nor would she be for years. But still, a part of her hoped that she would come back and take her away early.

It was getting too hard to steal food; many of her marks had caught on to the depletion of their stores and changed their displays to better protect them. Now, many of their shops and stands included bright lights over the door or directly over their product to keep any shadowmelded thieves from taking advantage.

It suited her just fine. She had stocked up enough supplies to last her a while, and had been working on hoarding money. With the money she made, she just purchased the things she wanted. The problem with making money still remained, but she discovered another problem altogether with the process.

Salthimere used precious metal coins just like many other countries, but their coin was mostly used for external trade. Wealth inside the kingdom was mostly kept in the vaults of the Alastrel house or in the head of house’s coffers of other families. Coin was only doled out for sufficiently small purchases, while anything more costly than a few silver pieces was transacted by internal means. A voucher of payment was written up and signed by the members of the house in charge of money. The seller then took the voucher to the Alastrel house and their ledgers were adjusted accordingly.

While efficient, it presented a number of problems; the first of which was that only houses could make large purchases. It was beyond her abilities to fake a house voucher of purchase. It was also beyond her abilities to go to the source, the house Alastrel vaults. Attempting to forge a voucher or nip anything from their vault was more likely to kill her than jumping off a cliff. She’d heard stories of how quickly house Alastrel responded to forgers and thieves.

So for now, she would have to collect small bits of coin. She practiced sleight of hand, learned from watching other lost seeds. She only took information by force the one time, having learned that making enemies could be detrimental to her well-being. Ever since then, she’d had to keep an eye out for the two brothers. On several occasions they had come looking for her, and she’d used the pursuit as an opportunity to practice her skills at evading pursuit without using her advanced shadow magic.

She never did discover what it was that the brothers wanted from her. As far as she was concerned, revenge was a common motivation among Sha’hdi. It was one of the emotions they felt more passionately than other races. To them, an offense must be made right, one way or another.

It also meant that things like theft were punished more severely than in other countries. The Sha’hdi side of Salthimere had more death penalty offenses than even the barbaric humans had. Devinia had to be cautious, but as time passed her caution became ingrained in her. Being prepared and ready for anything was second nature to her.

However, she hadn’t been prepared to be hit where she had made her own home.

Devinia entered the sewers and knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. On edge, she moved stealthily  towards her home. She knew the elemental stewards would roll through the tunnel in only a few minutes, but she wasn’t going to rush into a potential ambush. She moved through the shadows, reached her door and strained her senses. She couldn’t find anyone outside in the tunnel, so she slipped cautiously out of the shadows.

The door had been difficult to open, and made far too much noise opening and closing. After two months in, she had taken some of the coin she had ‘acquired’ and purchased oil along with replacements for some of her broken lock picking tools. Those were not impossible to come
by, but it was hard to get any tools of quality. Regardless of the price she could meet, most craftsmen didn’t want to have a lost seed caught using their tools.

As such, she had treated the hinges so they wouldn’t make nearly as much noise opening. She also used her new picks to lock and unlock the door. It meant that she learned how to open locks, but also how to work under pressure, as taking too long could risk her being drowned by merciless elementals.

This time, she could immediately tell the door had already been picked. Someone had gone inside. She leaned her ear to the door and could hear movement inside.

Someone was in her home. She hadn’t much property, but she wanted to keep what little she had. And someone was trying to take it. Indignant anger started building inside her. She rightfully stole those things, and now someone was trying to take them from her!

She needed time to deal with the intruder. She quietly unslung her pack and withdrew a small waterproofed pouch. She undid the clasp, held her breath, and threw it down the sewer tunnels where the elementals swept in from. The bag sailed through the air and impacted the wall wetly, falling to the walkway beside the water.

Black, viscous oily slime burst from the bag. It spurted out of the neck and out from the slime wriggled some kind of wormy substance that left putrid stains wherever they writhed. Spreading quickly, the creatures on the stone didn’t find anything to feed on and continued wandering around the sewer. The few that fell into the sewer water found plenty to eat, multiplying and spreading like a small swarm. As it did, some of the wriggling black things found their way to the other side of the sewer and started climbing up the walls.

The Nimh’ot maggots were difficult to acquire, but they were useful for assassins and thieves alike. They were hard to kill without fire, stank so badly they foiled most scent trackers, and as an added benefit, their secretions were nearly impossible to remove. The Nimh’ot fly was hardly any better of a creature, being half foot long insects that preferred to implant their eggs into live hosts.

The elementals should take some time to clean the outbreak out of the sewers, and it would mean that the tunnels in the area would be flooded while it happened.

Devinia drew her dagger and eased the door open a crack. Light poured into the tunnel around her. Nothing else happened. Low to the ground, she peeked into the room. An elf male poked among the crates using a crystal for light, apparently having not noticed her. She slipped into the room and pulled the door quietly closed. Crouched, she approached the man. He had his back to her, and it was easy for her to slip right up behind him.

Which was when his partner struck.
She raised her free hand to grab him by the shoulder and put the knife to his throat when another male came out from her right, shouldering into her hard and flinging her to the floor. Her dagger spun out of her hand, clattering to a stop by the door.

She hit the ground hard, her right arm hurting but not broken. She backed away from the new attacker as the bait turned to her with a smile. Lukas and Markus looked at her with predatory satisfaction. It was Markus who had smacked her into the ground. Lukas set the crystal on the highest crate in the room.

“Finally!” Markus replied. “You evaded us for months. We’ve been looking for you.”

Devinia scowled. “You weren’t interested in working together. I had no need to meet you anymore.”

“We disagree.” Lukas said. “Especially after you showed us what you’re able to do.”

“You’re good.” Markus replied. “Bit young, but you sure have been making a rep for yourself these last few months. Did you know that some people think you’re a myth?”

Devinia started to get her feet under her, but Markus took a menacing step forward and she froze. “You don’t say?” she replied. The pain in her arm was fading.

“Yes.” Lukas replied. “The little girl who slips into and out of the shadows like a phantom, taking what she wants whenever she wants.”

“Sounds like an effective person.” She replied. The roar of water rushing into the sewer outside became evident. If left alone, it would be done in a minute or two. After what she had done, it might not be done for several minutes. Now she had trapped herself in with two grown males who wanted revenge on her for robbing them.

“Indeed. We learned quite a few new skills trying to catch you.” Markus replied. “I have to say thanks for that. We never even considered there was more out there than just the little world we knew.”

“We have an advantage over you, you know.” Lukas stated. “I have support. Backup. You’ve got nothing but you and surprise on your side. Now you’re fucked.”

“Just be glad we’re not into little girls, or that would be a literal depiction.” Markus replied, lining up a kick.

Devinia tried to roll away from the attack, but had very little room to maneuver. The blow grazed her, and she tried to jump to her feet while he recovered. Lukas punched her in the side of the head and she fell into the corner of the room. Stunned, she was unable to shadowmeld or fight them off as they pummeled her for several minutes. One of them got in a lucky kick, and she blacked out.