[WOTA] The Road to Ruin - Chapter Three
Jun. 10th, 2015 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsonTitle: The Road to Ruin
Series: War of the Animum, Sixth Story
Summary: With time growing shorter, Sleet and company make the decision to divide their forces in order to beat Balaam at his own game. But their enemy is no fool and will cause them to make one of their hardest choices yet.
War of the Animum -- The Road to Ruin
Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Darthen was the first proper city Alaris had seen in weeks and she couldn't quite hide the relief that washed over her. It was a large, sprawling city, unencumbered by walls and in a constant state of growth. It was civilization at last and Alaris couldn't believe how much she had missed such a simple thing.
“We need to stay together,” she said after they sold their horses to a stable outside Darthen, pocketing the coin to use toward their fare across the sea. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. “Hephaestion says that the animus' ship is set to arrive in two days, the seas willing.”
“Then we'll need to amuse ourselves for two days,” Beryl said with a smirk. “Shouldn't be too hard.”
Alaris tossed him a hard look. “And by that I mean, stay out of trouble. We don't have the funds to bail anyone out and I don't need you to continue our quest.”
He curled a lip at her. “Then fortunately for you, I don't get caught. It's Sleet you have to worry about.”
“Um.” The tentative interplay came from Ashur, who seemed to be growing more of a spine as of late. Iblion's teachings were having an effect. “Where is Sleet?”
Alaris ground to a halt and whirled, scanning the crowd for the aforementioned thief. He'd been lingering at the back of their group when they'd entered Darthen, but she couldn't see him now. It didn't help that he was a short brunet and there were always an abundance of those no matter where they were.
She gritted her teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose. Should she be surprised he'd run off the first chance he'd gotten? She ought to keep the brat on a leash.
“He'll be back,” Iblion said and Alaris gave him a startled look, for the demi-deity was paler than usual, his lips drawn thin.
He is stretched, Alaris. He needs to return to Elysium, Hephaestion informed her. We were not meant to exist for so long without our tether. Much longer, and the consequences may be something we cannot repair.
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” she asked her anima before directing her attention back to Iblion. “What makes you think he's coming back? The coward probably took the opportunity to abandon us.”
“If he were going to do so, there have been multiple opportunities,” Iblion replied and he pressed a palm to his temple, wincing as though the beaming sunlight hurt him. “Why would he wait until Darthen? Why would he go off on his own knowing the danger he's in?”
Ashur scoffed, folding his arms. “We're the ones in danger. Sleet's the one sleeping with enemy.”
Yes. That was a comment Alaris didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Sleet's relationship with Frost was both none of her business and infuriating to consider. That Sleet hadn't already taken the hand extended to him both surprised Alaris and relieved her. One less weapon for Balaam to wield.
She still wondered, however, when Sleet's priorities could change. When he would choose Frost over their company and destruction over saving the world.
“You have a point,” Alaris said and looked heavenward, searching for patience. Hephaestion, can you find him?
“Yes. He's making no efforts to conceal himself from our ability to locate him.”
Alaris frowned. Is it because he doesn't know how or he doesn't care if we find him?
“You'll have to ask him that.” There was an exasperated edge to her animus' voice. “And in answer to your prior question, we fear that an extended leave from Elysium without his tether will result in Iblion losing his immortal status.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean he'll turn human?” she demanded, too late to realize she'd spoken aloud.
Iblion, obviously, knew she spoke of him because his gaze instantly shifted her direction.
“That is our fear. Whether or not Balaam is aware of this, we do not know. What happens to Iblion's abilities is not known either.”
Alaris palmed her face, her innards squirming with a mixture of dread and exasperation. Great. More complications. Just what she needed.
“Their fear is for naught. I am fine,” Iblion said, hands jerking into fists at his side. “There is nothing to be concerned about. We must, instead, focus our efforts on our unknown anima and locating our errant one.”
“I'm not so sure we should be bothering,” Ashur offered and then ducked his head when Alaris looked at him. “If he doesn't want to accompany us, why waste the energy dragging him along?”
“Because if he's not with us, then he'll be with Balaam and that's a complication none of us need. Balaam is powerful enough as it is.” Alaris turned around, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the crowd, thinner than she would have expected but at least passable. “We need to find somewhere to stay, preferably cheap and close to the docks.”
“What about Sleet?” Iblion asked.
She glanced at him, disliking the ashen complexion. He needed to rest but was too proud to ask for it. “I'll find him,” she said. “You get us a room and inquire at the docks. Then I'll find you.” She pulled out the pouch containing the entirety of their funds, paltry in comparison to their needs. “Try to be thrifty.”
“I think I can manage,” the demi-deity drawled.
“Then I'll see what I can do about acquiring more coin,” Beryl said with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest. “Unless you know of a more legal option?”
Alaris sighed. “Just don't get caught.”
“I don't need you to tell me that,” Beryl said with a cheeky grin. He sketched a salute and vanished into the crowd.
Do not trust his motivations, Hephaestion warned. There is nothing binding him to our quest. I must question his desire to be helpful.
Alaris sighed. Sleet, at least, was honest in his reluctance and selfishness. Beryl was the true mystery here.
“So long as he does what he's told, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. It's not like Balaam needs to spy on us. He can find us and he knows our plans are to take him down. What more could Beryl give him that he can't take for himself?”
Her point made, Alaris returned her attention to Ashur and an increasingly pale Iblion. She frowned.
“Are you sure you will be all right?” she asked.
“I think we can handle securing rooms for the night,” Ashur said. Iblion said nothing, his face darkening.
Alaris bit back a sigh. “Very well. I will find you later then.”
Right now, finding Sleet would be her first priority.
o0o0o
He could be on his way to Gwartney right now. It would be easy enough. He could go back through the gates, appropriate one of the horses they'd left at the stables, and ride south. He could do so without looking back. There was nothing stopping him. No one had noticed him slip away.
Yet, here he was, in the market district, flitting through the crowd and leaving many pockets and pouches lighter in his wake. His own grew heavier. That, at least, felt normal.
The voice in his head was silent. Sleet didn't stop to question why. He was merely grateful for the quiet.
Why was he still here? That was a question Sleet couldn't answer. He felt no loyalty to Alaris, but he was here to acquire needed coin. He could lie to himself, claim it was to recoup his own losses, but he didn't need that much. The wiser course would be to head toward Gwartney.
Fuck Alaris and fuck Frost and disappear into the sunset. There had to be some way to go into hiding, conceal himself until the war ended, with whatever outcome might come.
Was he that kind of coward? Sleet thought he might be.
When it came down to it, it wasn't that much of a choice at all. Pick the matter of your death, Sleet, he told himself. The world was going to end and he had to choose a side and neither were appealing save that Frost, at least, was giving him a choice.
Sleet used some of his new coin to acquire a new pair of boots and a meat pie from a vendor. He consumed it too quickly to taste, licking his fingers clean, and idly picked a pouch from a passing stranger, deep in conversation with his friend. He used that coin to replace his daggers, and continued.
There was plenty to be found here in the market district. Plenty to buy, plenty to sell, plenty to steal. Sleet's pouches grew heavier, he replaced everything that had been lost or stolen. He bought a new tunic, a new pair of gloves, and found himself lingering over a set of herbs before he realized he was considering them for Tungsten.
He moved on.
Sleet.
Erebus' voice, for once, was oddly hesitant. Less intrusive. Somber even.
'What?' he demanded as he passed a jeweler, hawking rows and rows of necklaces, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.
He thought about the necklace he wore, the one Frost had stolen for him and Sleet had yet to lose. Not even the Kurai had taken it from him.
If Tawnry had not been destroyed and all of this had never happened, what would you be doing right now?
Sleet frowned. 'What the fuck kind of question is that?'
A sincere one, Erebus replied, still in that subdued tone. He wasn't needling Sleet or making a sarcastic comment for once either.
His brow furrowed and Sleet merged back into the crowd, letting his feet do the guiding as he considered the question. 'Tawnry was getting boring. I would have left eventually.'
To do what?
Sleet blinked. 'What do you mean?'
Erebus lapsed into silence and that was more than a little unnerving. Usually, his silence was brought on by irritation and disgust. This was something altogether different.
'Oy, you started this,' Sleet snapped, coming to a stop in the middle of the road and being jostled by more than a few pedestrians. 'Explain the question.'
Tungsten intended to be a master mage, Erebus said as though Sleet didn't know that. Alaris was set to eventually take over Hephaestion's temple. Raven was caring for his sister. Malach would have been chieftain.
'Your point?”'Sleet demanded, though there was a niggling within him, a sudden increase in his heartbeat that meant he knew exactly where Erebus was going with this.
You seem to lack ambition. Motivation. Direction. I don't understand why you do anything that you do, Erebus said, sounding honestly perplexed and exhausted. Do you know what you want?
What he wants is for the world to go back to normal. Sure, living the hard life as a thief on the barest edge of existence wasn't much to aim for, but it was his life. His choice. And yes, he realized that option was no longer available to him but he didn't like what the universe had left him with and he knew that ranting and railing at reality wasn't helping.
Didn't you ever dream of doing anything when you were a kid?
Other than escaping his mother's tight grip? Nope. Sleet had taken the first chance he could to flee from his mother's arms and high-tailed it out of Toren. He'd headed for the closest piece of civilization and upon learning he had no useful skills, set to thievery. He could read and write, had that going for him, but otherwise, he was useless.
He became a thief because it was exciting and different and just enough danger to get his blood pumping. His mother would have been so disappointed in him and maybe that thought, too, was enough to keep him going. But did he ever lie in bed and dream about something more?
No, he didn't. What did that say about him that he didn't have dreams? Maybe he didn't have the imagination for it? Maybe he really was that empty inside.
Sleet folded his arms, a shiver creeping down his spine.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Sleet jumped and spun around, dagger leaping into his hand and heart crawling into his throat. He felt the fire boiling within him before he had the sense to call for it, relieved that it at least obeyed his unconscious will.
Alaris stood there, frowning at him, a storm building behind her eyes. “I'd ask what you are doing, but it's painfully obvious.”
Well, well. Raven wasn't here so Alaris had to do her own busy work. How plebian of her.
Sleet's eyes narrowed and he sheathed his dagger. “You should have said you were looking for me. I would have come running.” He smirked. 'Thanks for the warning, asshole.'
Erebus, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say in return. It seemed he had said enough.
“I'm not here to drag you back,” Alaris said, her face pinched with displeasure. “I don't have the energy to spare for that right now. I just want to know if I should bother keeping track of you anymore.”
Sleet blinked, momentarily taken aback before annoyance replaced it. He unsnapped the heaviest pouch on his belt and held it out to her, the jingle of coins audible even above the crowds.
“I suppose you don't need this then,” he said. “I went through all the effort of getting it, too. But if I'm no longer needed, than neither is my coin.”
It was Alaris' turn to look surprised, though she quickly buried it behind a scowl. “You expect me to believe that you came out here for our sake.”
“You can believe whatever you damn well want,” Sleet retorted and drew his hand back, but not fast enough to prevent Alaris from snatching the pouch from him. “And just so you know, I stole all of that.”
“I assumed as much.” Alaris weighed the bag before it disappeared within her robes. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm sure you picked your targets carefully.”
Sleet almost laughed at her. But since she was being polite, for Alaris, he held back. “Right,” he drawled. “Can I go now?”
“Go where?”
“Away?” He shrugged. “I'd be one less headache for you.”
Alaris shook her head, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “I wish that were the truth. You can leave if you wish. Or you can return with me. The choice is yours.”
She didn't wait for him to agree or disagree, instead turning on a heel and pushing through the crowd and away from him.
“Just like that?” he called after her, a squirming sensation in his innards.
“Yes.”
Sleet stared at her retreating back. 'If I walk away, do you come with me?'
Erebus sighed. Yes.
'There's no way for you to break the bond?'
None.
Damn it.
Sleet broke into a jog, attempting to catch up to Alaris. “I'm coming with you.”
Alaris didn't break stride but she did acknowledge him. “Why?”
“I don't like the alternative,” Sleet replied, falling into step beside her. It wasn't quite the truth, but it would do for now. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted from the future, but he could start looking. Now was as good a time as any.
Besides, if Balaam had his way, there might not be a future to reach for.
o0o0o
Beryl spent twenty minutes obeying. He pilfered and procured enough coin to get Alaris and her company through the next couple of days as well as acquiring passage to Sanjara. With that bit of business taken care of, Beryl set off for the Peddler's Market.
Contrary to its designation, the Market wasn't for ordinary people. It was not a collection of stalls and shops for the masses to spend their hard-earned coin. It was Corynth's version of Kurnugia, albeit much reduced with less influence. It centered around Darthen's Thieves Guild, which answered only to the Lord of Kurnugia.
In other words, it answered to Frayr. Except that Frayr was missing, the powers-that-be were bickering over what that meant, and Beryl found himself on an increasingly pointless quest.
It had been months since Beryl had contact with Kurnugia. Months since Merith sent him to look for Frost in a desperate bid to restore order to Kurnugia. He hoped that there was word of what had happened in his absence. He hoped Merith sent good news.
He hoped to find a good reason for following Sleet around and waiting for Frayr to regain his senses.
Unlike the Market District, Peddler's Market was quiet, less traveled. The streets held people, but they weren't choked with crowds. Beryl couldn't hide among the masses, not that he needed to. He would not be stealing from these strangers, not only because he didn't need to, but because any one of them could be a member of the guild.
One did not pickpocket a member of the guild. Even if one was the second in command to the head of the underworld.
The guild itself was a nondescript two-story structure in the center of the market. No flags or hanging signs identified it, nor were the doors guarded. Ignorant travelers rarely ventured to the Peddlers Market and those that did were swiftly informed of their mistake. They left with their lives and were grateful for it.
Beryl walked in the front door as though he belonged and wasn't challenged for it. The lobby was clean, barely decorated, and several closed doors were all that gave testament to there being more in the building. Here, in Darthen, the underworld didn't hide. They had no reason to do so. As long as they kept their business to the shadows, the local law ignored them.
Beryl chose the door on the far right and started to descend a steep set of stairs, lit by a string of tiny lanterns. He could hear muffled voices that grew louder as he reached the bottom, and increased in volume the moment he opened the lower door. Thick wood scraped the flooring as he pulled it open and stepped into the first anteroom of the Peddler's Market.
Here were the guards, two women standing to either side of the door, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting wanderers and known by those who'd been here before.
“Peace,” Beryl said, throwing up his hands before he even spotted them, though he knew they were there. “I am--”
“We know who you are,” a voice overrode his own and the two women stepped into view, one of them a tall dark-blond and the other with an eyepatch and a smile that would have made her a perfect match for Raven.
“We would be a poor excuse for a Guild if we didn't know you were here the moment you walked through the gate,” said the other, the blond.
Beryl lowered his hands. “And yet, such a friendly greeting.”
The two exchanged glances. “We aren't here because we're friendly,” said the other with a growing smirk.
“We're not going to bar your way either. You are welcome here.” Blondie gave a little chuckle as though she knew something he didn't. “Though for how long, well, that's up to you, I suppose.”
Beryl's eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“We're just the guards. We don't know anything. Anything at all.”
The two women stepped aside, movements oddly in sync, and it was Blondie who gestured for him to pass her, while the other idly palmed the hilt of her blade.
“Have fun,” Blondie said with a wiggle of her fingers.
A shiver crept down Beryl's spine. His frown didn't waver, not even as he passed them and headed for the last downward staircase to the Market. Something about that conversation didn't sit right with him.
Noise surrounded him the moment he opened the last door and stepped into the Market. Like most guilds, the Peddlers Market was an underground city for the shadows. The Market was different from Kurnugia in that it was actually built underground, rather than just existing in a huge cavern.
Peddler's Market was a long, sprawling series of interconnected rooms, each room serving as a shop of some kind. Residences formed the outer ring of rooms so that only one door was necessary, but the other nine rings were various types of eateries, shops, and congregational areas, including a “library.”
Dead center of the maze-like madness was the guild itself, the only two-story structure in all of the Market.
No one paid Beryl a second glance of attention, which he was glad for. Some of the tension eased off his shoulders. The Market was not Kurnugia, but it was the closest he'd been to home in quite some time. Being around Alaris and her company was not at all relaxing.
Beryl dug out his badge, prepared to show it at the guild's gate, but he was waved inside by the attendant. It helped, he supposed, that he just had one of those faces.
The noise of the Market dropped to a dull roar as he stepped into the guild. While the rest of the Market was open to any man or woman considered a member of the shadows, the guild itself was restricted to those of rank. If rank could even be assigned to a motley collection of thieves and other undesireds.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before the underwarden would step through my doors.”
Beryl paused, recognizing the voice with no small amount of distaste. He had never liked the warden of Peddler's Market, though Frayr had remarked that Josef had his uses.
“So it would appear,” Beryl said, careful to keep his tone even as he turned to face Josef, the thin, reedy man stepping out of a side hallway, a smaller boy keeping to his shadow. “It seems there are some rumors that require my attention.”
Josef smirked and that, in itself, was a warning. “It's no mere rumor,” the once-great thief said, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his light robe, not that it meant he was less dangerous. “It is fact. Surely you've noticed the snickering behind your back?”
Irritation bubbled up and Beryl swallowed it back down. “I don't know what you mean.” He folded his arms, frown deepening. “I came here for news from Merith.”
“Merith is dead. An accident, so I'm told. Riordan rules Kurnugia now.”
It felt like a punch to the sternum and if Beryl hadn't planted his feet, he would have staggered. “You lie.”
Josef's lips curled into a genuine smile with edges of his teeth. “Do I?” He unfolded his arms, snapping his fingers. The boy behind him produced a folded missive, handing it to Josef with a bowed head.
Josef patted his pale hair and sent the boy back with an impatient flick of his wrist and the child returned to the shadows. Thief in training perhaps. Even Josef knew a successor would be needed eventually, though it was unlike Josef to loosen the tight grip he kept on the Market.
“I received this contact three weeks ago,” Josef said, eyes flicking to Beryl with triumph before he unfolded the parchment carefully, as though savoring each fold. “It announces Riordan's official ascension to rulership of Kurnugia, outlines the requirements of my continued patronage to Kurnugia, and invites me to either dispute or decline should I feel the need.”
Josef tossed the paper toward Beryl where it slapped to the ground at his feet. He made no effort to pick it up, recognizing a power play when he saw one.
“Of course, since I never liked our Lord Frayr, I have no interest in disputing.” Josef tilted his head. “And Riordan offers terms that I simply can't refuse.”
There was a sound in Beryl's ears, a combination of glass breaking and tides hitting the shore and he wondered if that was the sound of everything he worked for crashing and burning. Merith would have to be dead before he'd allow Riordan to take over. Not just Merith! More than half of Kurnugia was loyal to Frayr. More than half of Kurnugia and at the very least, three of the five guilds scattered around Lieve.
Beryl's hands clenched into fists. “How long?” he demanded and found himself, to his horror, crouching to pick up the folded missive.
There it was, the seal of Kurnugia, stamped on the top center of the document. He could see where the waxy stamp had been broken to open the missive in the first place. Sure, it was possible Riordan had stolen the seal from Merith to send out a false announcement, but not even he was so foolish as to claim a throne that wasn't technically his.
And there they were, at the bottom, the signatures of Frayr's cabinet. The surviving members, Beryl realized, as four of the seven were well-known followers of Riordan and Beryl's name was missing. But then, with seven of the eight, Riordan wouldn't need Beryl's acknowledgment.
“Long enough,” Josef said, and he laughed. “I'm sure there's a missive floating around, Riordan's official invitation for you to join him, but since no one knows where you are...” He trailed off, his meaning clear.
“I won't receive it,” Beryl murmured, the words blurring in front of him, anger making him tremble.
Merith was dead. Merith and Frayr's closest advisors. Beryl's friends. There was nothing left for him in Kurnugia. His properties, his vaults, had probably already been claimed. Riordan's invitation would be a farce, even Beryl knew it. In all likelihood, Riordan would have quietly arranged for Beryl to disappear.
Obviously, he was not at all concerned with the possibility of Frayr returning.
This was all Sleet's fault. The paper crinkled in Beryl's grasp.
“You can look on the bright side,” Josef said, clasping his hands behind his back. “You no longer have to concern yourself with chasing Frayr all over Lieve. For that, I almost pity you.”
“Fuck your pity,” Beryl snapped, shoving the crumpled paper into a pouch. “And when Riordan destroys everything, we'll see if you're still laughing then.” He whirled on a heel, stomping toward the door.
There was no reason for him to remain in the Market. In fact, he now had to be doubly concerned, watching for an assassin in the dark.
Josef chuckled. “Good luck,” he called after Beryl, nothing in his tone hinting of sincerity. “And I do hope you find Frayr, if only to inform him that his services are no longer required.”
Beryl ignored Josef, making a quick exit from the guild. He could see it, now that he was looking for it. Those that recognized him, watching him walk past with knowledge in their eyes. No wonder the two guards had been so amused.
Finding Frayr was pointless. Returning to Kurnugia was pointless.
Everything about his existence had become pointless.
What in Asherah's name was he supposed to do now?
***
a/n: More updates to come, I promise! Though I must admit, commissions do get first priority.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
“We need to stay together,” she said after they sold their horses to a stable outside Darthen, pocketing the coin to use toward their fare across the sea. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. “Hephaestion says that the animus' ship is set to arrive in two days, the seas willing.”
“Then we'll need to amuse ourselves for two days,” Beryl said with a smirk. “Shouldn't be too hard.”
Alaris tossed him a hard look. “And by that I mean, stay out of trouble. We don't have the funds to bail anyone out and I don't need you to continue our quest.”
He curled a lip at her. “Then fortunately for you, I don't get caught. It's Sleet you have to worry about.”
“Um.” The tentative interplay came from Ashur, who seemed to be growing more of a spine as of late. Iblion's teachings were having an effect. “Where is Sleet?”
Alaris ground to a halt and whirled, scanning the crowd for the aforementioned thief. He'd been lingering at the back of their group when they'd entered Darthen, but she couldn't see him now. It didn't help that he was a short brunet and there were always an abundance of those no matter where they were.
She gritted her teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose. Should she be surprised he'd run off the first chance he'd gotten? She ought to keep the brat on a leash.
“He'll be back,” Iblion said and Alaris gave him a startled look, for the demi-deity was paler than usual, his lips drawn thin.
He is stretched, Alaris. He needs to return to Elysium, Hephaestion informed her. We were not meant to exist for so long without our tether. Much longer, and the consequences may be something we cannot repair.
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” she asked her anima before directing her attention back to Iblion. “What makes you think he's coming back? The coward probably took the opportunity to abandon us.”
“If he were going to do so, there have been multiple opportunities,” Iblion replied and he pressed a palm to his temple, wincing as though the beaming sunlight hurt him. “Why would he wait until Darthen? Why would he go off on his own knowing the danger he's in?”
Ashur scoffed, folding his arms. “We're the ones in danger. Sleet's the one sleeping with enemy.”
Yes. That was a comment Alaris didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Sleet's relationship with Frost was both none of her business and infuriating to consider. That Sleet hadn't already taken the hand extended to him both surprised Alaris and relieved her. One less weapon for Balaam to wield.
She still wondered, however, when Sleet's priorities could change. When he would choose Frost over their company and destruction over saving the world.
“You have a point,” Alaris said and looked heavenward, searching for patience. Hephaestion, can you find him?
“Yes. He's making no efforts to conceal himself from our ability to locate him.”
Alaris frowned. Is it because he doesn't know how or he doesn't care if we find him?
“You'll have to ask him that.” There was an exasperated edge to her animus' voice. “And in answer to your prior question, we fear that an extended leave from Elysium without his tether will result in Iblion losing his immortal status.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean he'll turn human?” she demanded, too late to realize she'd spoken aloud.
Iblion, obviously, knew she spoke of him because his gaze instantly shifted her direction.
“That is our fear. Whether or not Balaam is aware of this, we do not know. What happens to Iblion's abilities is not known either.”
Alaris palmed her face, her innards squirming with a mixture of dread and exasperation. Great. More complications. Just what she needed.
“Their fear is for naught. I am fine,” Iblion said, hands jerking into fists at his side. “There is nothing to be concerned about. We must, instead, focus our efforts on our unknown anima and locating our errant one.”
“I'm not so sure we should be bothering,” Ashur offered and then ducked his head when Alaris looked at him. “If he doesn't want to accompany us, why waste the energy dragging him along?”
“Because if he's not with us, then he'll be with Balaam and that's a complication none of us need. Balaam is powerful enough as it is.” Alaris turned around, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the crowd, thinner than she would have expected but at least passable. “We need to find somewhere to stay, preferably cheap and close to the docks.”
“What about Sleet?” Iblion asked.
She glanced at him, disliking the ashen complexion. He needed to rest but was too proud to ask for it. “I'll find him,” she said. “You get us a room and inquire at the docks. Then I'll find you.” She pulled out the pouch containing the entirety of their funds, paltry in comparison to their needs. “Try to be thrifty.”
“I think I can manage,” the demi-deity drawled.
“Then I'll see what I can do about acquiring more coin,” Beryl said with a smirk, folding his arms across his chest. “Unless you know of a more legal option?”
Alaris sighed. “Just don't get caught.”
“I don't need you to tell me that,” Beryl said with a cheeky grin. He sketched a salute and vanished into the crowd.
Do not trust his motivations, Hephaestion warned. There is nothing binding him to our quest. I must question his desire to be helpful.
Alaris sighed. Sleet, at least, was honest in his reluctance and selfishness. Beryl was the true mystery here.
“So long as he does what he's told, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. It's not like Balaam needs to spy on us. He can find us and he knows our plans are to take him down. What more could Beryl give him that he can't take for himself?”
Her point made, Alaris returned her attention to Ashur and an increasingly pale Iblion. She frowned.
“Are you sure you will be all right?” she asked.
“I think we can handle securing rooms for the night,” Ashur said. Iblion said nothing, his face darkening.
Alaris bit back a sigh. “Very well. I will find you later then.”
Right now, finding Sleet would be her first priority.
He could be on his way to Gwartney right now. It would be easy enough. He could go back through the gates, appropriate one of the horses they'd left at the stables, and ride south. He could do so without looking back. There was nothing stopping him. No one had noticed him slip away.
Yet, here he was, in the market district, flitting through the crowd and leaving many pockets and pouches lighter in his wake. His own grew heavier. That, at least, felt normal.
The voice in his head was silent. Sleet didn't stop to question why. He was merely grateful for the quiet.
Why was he still here? That was a question Sleet couldn't answer. He felt no loyalty to Alaris, but he was here to acquire needed coin. He could lie to himself, claim it was to recoup his own losses, but he didn't need that much. The wiser course would be to head toward Gwartney.
Fuck Alaris and fuck Frost and disappear into the sunset. There had to be some way to go into hiding, conceal himself until the war ended, with whatever outcome might come.
Was he that kind of coward? Sleet thought he might be.
When it came down to it, it wasn't that much of a choice at all. Pick the matter of your death, Sleet, he told himself. The world was going to end and he had to choose a side and neither were appealing save that Frost, at least, was giving him a choice.
Sleet used some of his new coin to acquire a new pair of boots and a meat pie from a vendor. He consumed it too quickly to taste, licking his fingers clean, and idly picked a pouch from a passing stranger, deep in conversation with his friend. He used that coin to replace his daggers, and continued.
There was plenty to be found here in the market district. Plenty to buy, plenty to sell, plenty to steal. Sleet's pouches grew heavier, he replaced everything that had been lost or stolen. He bought a new tunic, a new pair of gloves, and found himself lingering over a set of herbs before he realized he was considering them for Tungsten.
He moved on.
Sleet.
Erebus' voice, for once, was oddly hesitant. Less intrusive. Somber even.
'What?' he demanded as he passed a jeweler, hawking rows and rows of necklaces, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.
He thought about the necklace he wore, the one Frost had stolen for him and Sleet had yet to lose. Not even the Kurai had taken it from him.
If Tawnry had not been destroyed and all of this had never happened, what would you be doing right now?
Sleet frowned. 'What the fuck kind of question is that?'
A sincere one, Erebus replied, still in that subdued tone. He wasn't needling Sleet or making a sarcastic comment for once either.
His brow furrowed and Sleet merged back into the crowd, letting his feet do the guiding as he considered the question. 'Tawnry was getting boring. I would have left eventually.'
To do what?
Sleet blinked. 'What do you mean?'
Erebus lapsed into silence and that was more than a little unnerving. Usually, his silence was brought on by irritation and disgust. This was something altogether different.
'Oy, you started this,' Sleet snapped, coming to a stop in the middle of the road and being jostled by more than a few pedestrians. 'Explain the question.'
Tungsten intended to be a master mage, Erebus said as though Sleet didn't know that. Alaris was set to eventually take over Hephaestion's temple. Raven was caring for his sister. Malach would have been chieftain.
'Your point?”'Sleet demanded, though there was a niggling within him, a sudden increase in his heartbeat that meant he knew exactly where Erebus was going with this.
You seem to lack ambition. Motivation. Direction. I don't understand why you do anything that you do, Erebus said, sounding honestly perplexed and exhausted. Do you know what you want?
What he wants is for the world to go back to normal. Sure, living the hard life as a thief on the barest edge of existence wasn't much to aim for, but it was his life. His choice. And yes, he realized that option was no longer available to him but he didn't like what the universe had left him with and he knew that ranting and railing at reality wasn't helping.
Didn't you ever dream of doing anything when you were a kid?
Other than escaping his mother's tight grip? Nope. Sleet had taken the first chance he could to flee from his mother's arms and high-tailed it out of Toren. He'd headed for the closest piece of civilization and upon learning he had no useful skills, set to thievery. He could read and write, had that going for him, but otherwise, he was useless.
He became a thief because it was exciting and different and just enough danger to get his blood pumping. His mother would have been so disappointed in him and maybe that thought, too, was enough to keep him going. But did he ever lie in bed and dream about something more?
No, he didn't. What did that say about him that he didn't have dreams? Maybe he didn't have the imagination for it? Maybe he really was that empty inside.
Sleet folded his arms, a shiver creeping down his spine.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Sleet jumped and spun around, dagger leaping into his hand and heart crawling into his throat. He felt the fire boiling within him before he had the sense to call for it, relieved that it at least obeyed his unconscious will.
Alaris stood there, frowning at him, a storm building behind her eyes. “I'd ask what you are doing, but it's painfully obvious.”
Well, well. Raven wasn't here so Alaris had to do her own busy work. How plebian of her.
Sleet's eyes narrowed and he sheathed his dagger. “You should have said you were looking for me. I would have come running.” He smirked. 'Thanks for the warning, asshole.'
Erebus, unsurprisingly, had nothing to say in return. It seemed he had said enough.
“I'm not here to drag you back,” Alaris said, her face pinched with displeasure. “I don't have the energy to spare for that right now. I just want to know if I should bother keeping track of you anymore.”
Sleet blinked, momentarily taken aback before annoyance replaced it. He unsnapped the heaviest pouch on his belt and held it out to her, the jingle of coins audible even above the crowds.
“I suppose you don't need this then,” he said. “I went through all the effort of getting it, too. But if I'm no longer needed, than neither is my coin.”
It was Alaris' turn to look surprised, though she quickly buried it behind a scowl. “You expect me to believe that you came out here for our sake.”
“You can believe whatever you damn well want,” Sleet retorted and drew his hand back, but not fast enough to prevent Alaris from snatching the pouch from him. “And just so you know, I stole all of that.”
“I assumed as much.” Alaris weighed the bag before it disappeared within her robes. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm sure you picked your targets carefully.”
Sleet almost laughed at her. But since she was being polite, for Alaris, he held back. “Right,” he drawled. “Can I go now?”
“Go where?”
“Away?” He shrugged. “I'd be one less headache for you.”
Alaris shook her head, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “I wish that were the truth. You can leave if you wish. Or you can return with me. The choice is yours.”
She didn't wait for him to agree or disagree, instead turning on a heel and pushing through the crowd and away from him.
“Just like that?” he called after her, a squirming sensation in his innards.
“Yes.”
Sleet stared at her retreating back. 'If I walk away, do you come with me?'
Erebus sighed. Yes.
'There's no way for you to break the bond?'
None.
Damn it.
Sleet broke into a jog, attempting to catch up to Alaris. “I'm coming with you.”
Alaris didn't break stride but she did acknowledge him. “Why?”
“I don't like the alternative,” Sleet replied, falling into step beside her. It wasn't quite the truth, but it would do for now. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted from the future, but he could start looking. Now was as good a time as any.
Besides, if Balaam had his way, there might not be a future to reach for.
Beryl spent twenty minutes obeying. He pilfered and procured enough coin to get Alaris and her company through the next couple of days as well as acquiring passage to Sanjara. With that bit of business taken care of, Beryl set off for the Peddler's Market.
Contrary to its designation, the Market wasn't for ordinary people. It was not a collection of stalls and shops for the masses to spend their hard-earned coin. It was Corynth's version of Kurnugia, albeit much reduced with less influence. It centered around Darthen's Thieves Guild, which answered only to the Lord of Kurnugia.
In other words, it answered to Frayr. Except that Frayr was missing, the powers-that-be were bickering over what that meant, and Beryl found himself on an increasingly pointless quest.
It had been months since Beryl had contact with Kurnugia. Months since Merith sent him to look for Frost in a desperate bid to restore order to Kurnugia. He hoped that there was word of what had happened in his absence. He hoped Merith sent good news.
He hoped to find a good reason for following Sleet around and waiting for Frayr to regain his senses.
Unlike the Market District, Peddler's Market was quiet, less traveled. The streets held people, but they weren't choked with crowds. Beryl couldn't hide among the masses, not that he needed to. He would not be stealing from these strangers, not only because he didn't need to, but because any one of them could be a member of the guild.
One did not pickpocket a member of the guild. Even if one was the second in command to the head of the underworld.
The guild itself was a nondescript two-story structure in the center of the market. No flags or hanging signs identified it, nor were the doors guarded. Ignorant travelers rarely ventured to the Peddlers Market and those that did were swiftly informed of their mistake. They left with their lives and were grateful for it.
Beryl walked in the front door as though he belonged and wasn't challenged for it. The lobby was clean, barely decorated, and several closed doors were all that gave testament to there being more in the building. Here, in Darthen, the underworld didn't hide. They had no reason to do so. As long as they kept their business to the shadows, the local law ignored them.
Beryl chose the door on the far right and started to descend a steep set of stairs, lit by a string of tiny lanterns. He could hear muffled voices that grew louder as he reached the bottom, and increased in volume the moment he opened the lower door. Thick wood scraped the flooring as he pulled it open and stepped into the first anteroom of the Peddler's Market.
Here were the guards, two women standing to either side of the door, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting wanderers and known by those who'd been here before.
“Peace,” Beryl said, throwing up his hands before he even spotted them, though he knew they were there. “I am--”
“We know who you are,” a voice overrode his own and the two women stepped into view, one of them a tall dark-blond and the other with an eyepatch and a smile that would have made her a perfect match for Raven.
“We would be a poor excuse for a Guild if we didn't know you were here the moment you walked through the gate,” said the other, the blond.
Beryl lowered his hands. “And yet, such a friendly greeting.”
The two exchanged glances. “We aren't here because we're friendly,” said the other with a growing smirk.
“We're not going to bar your way either. You are welcome here.” Blondie gave a little chuckle as though she knew something he didn't. “Though for how long, well, that's up to you, I suppose.”
Beryl's eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“We're just the guards. We don't know anything. Anything at all.”
The two women stepped aside, movements oddly in sync, and it was Blondie who gestured for him to pass her, while the other idly palmed the hilt of her blade.
“Have fun,” Blondie said with a wiggle of her fingers.
A shiver crept down Beryl's spine. His frown didn't waver, not even as he passed them and headed for the last downward staircase to the Market. Something about that conversation didn't sit right with him.
Noise surrounded him the moment he opened the last door and stepped into the Market. Like most guilds, the Peddlers Market was an underground city for the shadows. The Market was different from Kurnugia in that it was actually built underground, rather than just existing in a huge cavern.
Peddler's Market was a long, sprawling series of interconnected rooms, each room serving as a shop of some kind. Residences formed the outer ring of rooms so that only one door was necessary, but the other nine rings were various types of eateries, shops, and congregational areas, including a “library.”
Dead center of the maze-like madness was the guild itself, the only two-story structure in all of the Market.
No one paid Beryl a second glance of attention, which he was glad for. Some of the tension eased off his shoulders. The Market was not Kurnugia, but it was the closest he'd been to home in quite some time. Being around Alaris and her company was not at all relaxing.
Beryl dug out his badge, prepared to show it at the guild's gate, but he was waved inside by the attendant. It helped, he supposed, that he just had one of those faces.
The noise of the Market dropped to a dull roar as he stepped into the guild. While the rest of the Market was open to any man or woman considered a member of the shadows, the guild itself was restricted to those of rank. If rank could even be assigned to a motley collection of thieves and other undesireds.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before the underwarden would step through my doors.”
Beryl paused, recognizing the voice with no small amount of distaste. He had never liked the warden of Peddler's Market, though Frayr had remarked that Josef had his uses.
“So it would appear,” Beryl said, careful to keep his tone even as he turned to face Josef, the thin, reedy man stepping out of a side hallway, a smaller boy keeping to his shadow. “It seems there are some rumors that require my attention.”
Josef smirked and that, in itself, was a warning. “It's no mere rumor,” the once-great thief said, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his light robe, not that it meant he was less dangerous. “It is fact. Surely you've noticed the snickering behind your back?”
Irritation bubbled up and Beryl swallowed it back down. “I don't know what you mean.” He folded his arms, frown deepening. “I came here for news from Merith.”
“Merith is dead. An accident, so I'm told. Riordan rules Kurnugia now.”
It felt like a punch to the sternum and if Beryl hadn't planted his feet, he would have staggered. “You lie.”
Josef's lips curled into a genuine smile with edges of his teeth. “Do I?” He unfolded his arms, snapping his fingers. The boy behind him produced a folded missive, handing it to Josef with a bowed head.
Josef patted his pale hair and sent the boy back with an impatient flick of his wrist and the child returned to the shadows. Thief in training perhaps. Even Josef knew a successor would be needed eventually, though it was unlike Josef to loosen the tight grip he kept on the Market.
“I received this contact three weeks ago,” Josef said, eyes flicking to Beryl with triumph before he unfolded the parchment carefully, as though savoring each fold. “It announces Riordan's official ascension to rulership of Kurnugia, outlines the requirements of my continued patronage to Kurnugia, and invites me to either dispute or decline should I feel the need.”
Josef tossed the paper toward Beryl where it slapped to the ground at his feet. He made no effort to pick it up, recognizing a power play when he saw one.
“Of course, since I never liked our Lord Frayr, I have no interest in disputing.” Josef tilted his head. “And Riordan offers terms that I simply can't refuse.”
There was a sound in Beryl's ears, a combination of glass breaking and tides hitting the shore and he wondered if that was the sound of everything he worked for crashing and burning. Merith would have to be dead before he'd allow Riordan to take over. Not just Merith! More than half of Kurnugia was loyal to Frayr. More than half of Kurnugia and at the very least, three of the five guilds scattered around Lieve.
Beryl's hands clenched into fists. “How long?” he demanded and found himself, to his horror, crouching to pick up the folded missive.
There it was, the seal of Kurnugia, stamped on the top center of the document. He could see where the waxy stamp had been broken to open the missive in the first place. Sure, it was possible Riordan had stolen the seal from Merith to send out a false announcement, but not even he was so foolish as to claim a throne that wasn't technically his.
And there they were, at the bottom, the signatures of Frayr's cabinet. The surviving members, Beryl realized, as four of the seven were well-known followers of Riordan and Beryl's name was missing. But then, with seven of the eight, Riordan wouldn't need Beryl's acknowledgment.
“Long enough,” Josef said, and he laughed. “I'm sure there's a missive floating around, Riordan's official invitation for you to join him, but since no one knows where you are...” He trailed off, his meaning clear.
“I won't receive it,” Beryl murmured, the words blurring in front of him, anger making him tremble.
Merith was dead. Merith and Frayr's closest advisors. Beryl's friends. There was nothing left for him in Kurnugia. His properties, his vaults, had probably already been claimed. Riordan's invitation would be a farce, even Beryl knew it. In all likelihood, Riordan would have quietly arranged for Beryl to disappear.
Obviously, he was not at all concerned with the possibility of Frayr returning.
This was all Sleet's fault. The paper crinkled in Beryl's grasp.
“You can look on the bright side,” Josef said, clasping his hands behind his back. “You no longer have to concern yourself with chasing Frayr all over Lieve. For that, I almost pity you.”
“Fuck your pity,” Beryl snapped, shoving the crumpled paper into a pouch. “And when Riordan destroys everything, we'll see if you're still laughing then.” He whirled on a heel, stomping toward the door.
There was no reason for him to remain in the Market. In fact, he now had to be doubly concerned, watching for an assassin in the dark.
Josef chuckled. “Good luck,” he called after Beryl, nothing in his tone hinting of sincerity. “And I do hope you find Frayr, if only to inform him that his services are no longer required.”
Beryl ignored Josef, making a quick exit from the guild. He could see it, now that he was looking for it. Those that recognized him, watching him walk past with knowledge in their eyes. No wonder the two guards had been so amused.
Finding Frayr was pointless. Returning to Kurnugia was pointless.
Everything about his existence had become pointless.
What in Asherah's name was he supposed to do now?
a/n: More updates to come, I promise! Though I must admit, commissions do get first priority.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
