No ones chosen, p.12
No One's Chosen, page 12
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.
Aile was nearing the inn now. The porch she meant to hide under did not wrap around the side of the building so she would have to make her way to the side of the building and then under. Such porches were often adorned with latticework covers for the open spaces below the main deck to keep larger animals from hiding or dying or shitting underneath.
Around twenty yards from the back of the inn, the grass had been more well tended. It was no length to hide in and the open run, while dark, would mean the risk of drunks or tavern workers exiting the back side of the place. "Well, I can always just kill them," she thought, giving a shrug. A search party would be most unwelcome and they were apt to blame something from the wood.
She stood and sprinted. It was a short run but it filled her with excitement. She made the edge of the inn and was back to the shadows. Several houses along the road had windows on the back side which cast light out onto the grassy cut of land, but the inn did not. Most like the kitchen was there.
Aile slipped around the side of the inn and toward the front. Voices! She froze and they passed without so much as a glance toward the thin, grassy alleyway between the inn and whatever it was it neighbored. She approached the front, laying down to keep her silhouette as small and out of eye line as she could. She was almost to the porch now.
A lattice of thin pine covered the underside of the porch. "Goddess be damned," she thought, bitter at her luck. "Thin, at least." She waited a few breaths, listening for any sign that there was life on the porch. All sound came from inside the inn. It was time. She pulled at the lattice and the tiny tack nails popped out with ease. She only needed a few bits loose to make her way under the thing. Aile moved through the lattice, wriggling and turning to her side. She slid under and was able to crouch and move a bit more freely.
To her dismay, the wall leading to the underside of the inn proper was spackled stone and she could not see an opening to crawl through. She would have to wait for patrons to bring their drunken ramblings into the night air.
So she waited. And waited. And waited.
After what seemed like a small age, a pair of men finally came forth, complaining. "…the Fires damned thing down. No work means no pay, ya fool."
A deeper voice elf responded. "Ya think I don't know that? Arse. Poc says it ain't like to be more'n a week. Still weren't my shift. Heard an old man what was there sayin' it was ghosts."
"Sabotage, more like. Ain't no ghosts 'round here. Seen me a couple o' them folk in fancy dress from the mine office frettin' around the mine entrance. Must be they're tryin' ta get it fixed quick and cover up the deaths best they can to keep the Regent from payin' a visit. Auditor from Cnoclean looked well pissed off."
The men stepped down from the porch and started off down the street. Aile followed as best she could.
"Ha! Copper's worth more'n our bodies. Ain't it the way."
"Aye. That's certain as cold in winter."
"Hell, whatever it is I hope it does draw the Regent down…"
They had walked too far and she could no longer make out their conversation, but it had been enough as it was. The mine was shut down and she could do her business, but it was something else that caught her attention. An auditor working for the regent lived in town to keep the mine honest. And he had the power to summon the Regent. Curious thing, that. For all the pains to make this seem a matter of coin, politics was starting to slide its knobby fingers back into the pie. Aile was curious. She was beyond curious. She wanted to be a step ahead of the man who was sending her on her little errands. And she would get ahead of him, but without any real knowledge of the city it would have to wait a fair few hours.
The hours it took were boring indeed. Aile had been waiting for the inn to close and the streets to quiet. It must have been after midnight by a fair deal when the inn finally shuttered its doors and the streets went quiet. Her antics the night before had drawn a patrol. It consisted of only two guards, most likely hired hands from the mining company, each starting at opposite ends of the curved main street of the city and walking to the middle, crossing, and then back again. Aile made her way around easily enough and it wasn't long before she found the mining company's head office. This was going to be good fun.
The windows did not open so she was forced to make her way in through the front door. It was a cheap enough lock and the patrol was so lacking in valuable coverage that she made her way in with little effort. The bottom floor was an office space, desks, ink, and quill. Nothing useful. She made her way upstairs and found four doors. A bedroom each, she reckoned. The drunks had mentioned two company men but the rooms may all be full. She did not care who, she only needed one. She checked the rooms in succession and found only two of them were populated. Rooms each on either side of the floor. It was more than she could ask for. Perhaps later, she would apologize to the Goddess for her blasphemy over the lattice.
Arbitrarily, she chose the door on the right side of the stair. She entered and found a slender, elderly elf snoring away as he had been when she'd first checked the rooms.
Aile stood and strode silently to the bedside. She stared down at the old man, his pathetic mouth open, snores roaring out into the night. In a way, she thought, she was doing the fellow in the other room something of a favor. She pulled a dagger from the sheath on her hip and flipped it to be held by the blade. A sharp flick of the wrist brought the hilt down on the old man's forehead, cutting his snore off abruptly.
The old man's eyes shot open, he looked right, then left. There she was, smiling down at him. An evil smile, her white teeth shining in the light of a moon that had crept out from behind the clouds.
"It weren't ghosts," Aile said, her voice quivering with joy.
The wrinkled elf made to scream, but she jammed the dagger into his throat. A small wound, but it blocked his air well enough. The elf made to flail, doing anything to make noise but Aile mounted him, smiling a huge, insane smile.
"You're going to bring me something interesting, elf. You should be smiling."
She grabbed onto his cheeks and pulled them upward, wrenching his pained face into a sick smile. He died that way and Aile climbed down, breathing heavily.
"Good," she whispered to the corpse. "Very good. Now I need to get you ready to see the people."
PART FOUR
Socair
Socair had hardly slept, but not from excitement. Her eyes pained her when she met Silín and Doiléir that morning, both in brigandines and plate coverings down the front of their legs. Leading a Vanguard was a matter of directing force where it would be most effective. It was single combat with a body made up of tinier parts. She need only know her parts well enough to know which would do best where. It was without doubt that she knew the two extra parts of her new body, but there were simply adjustments that couldn't be made if the situation called for it. A superior force was not something that could be overcome through a clever shifting of weight. Six arms would always tire more quickly than sixty. That left stealth— which was far from her forte— and fastidious planning as her only options. Planning it would have to be, but the short amount of time and lack of ability to scout the position in person meant that much of her planning was apt to fall apart in the face of an opponent.
That had not been enough to cause her concern on their trek to the outskirts of Scáthloch, named for the lake which it bordered. A river fed the lake from the north. It was bridged at several places, none of which they could afford to use. The scouts had used a shallow a fair distance up river from the city to cross unseen and Socair had been forced to do the same. It wouldn't do to simply ride across in a show of force as she had no force to show. It had made for an arduous morning, and stressful. Doiléir and Silín had each been uncharacteristically quiet. Socair had wanted to brighten the mood but found herself unable to muster the act. They were nervous. It was new and the situation was unknown. Without tons of elf flesh and steel at your back, the unknown had a different flavor.
