T Lain - Treachery's Wake

A soft glow from the interior of the box fell across the wizard’s face and he lifted the staff from within. The artifact was magnificent, beyond anything Lidda had ever seen. Even without magical properties, the item would have been priceless. A thin wire of gold was sunk into the shaft, winding its way up the staff to the crown, where it flowered into a blossom of diamonds and opals. The staff grew as Wotherwill lifted it free of its confines until it was twice its original length. The top of the thing radiated a diffused, green glow.

Eva Flint rose from her seat and said, “You seem pleased, wizard,”

“Quite, m’lady. Quite pleased indeed.” Wotherwill’s gaze didn’t stray from the staff as he nodded. He ran a hand down the length of the shaft. “Quite pleased indeed.”

He lowered the staff back toward the box. As it neared the container, the staff shrank to accommodate its housing. Wotherwill reached for a sack that lay on the floor near his chair.

“You will find the agreed upon amount inside,” he said, handing the pouch to Lidda, “plus a little extra for your troubles. Lady Flint told me of the bandits.”

Lidda opened the sack and peered inside. A mound of gold with a few modest-sized gems mixed in rested at the bottom.

“I trust there’s no need to count this here,” she said, casting Flint a glance as she sealed the bag, “and that the guild has already seen its cut?”

Flint nodded.

“Then it is settled,” Wotherwill said, bowing to each of the women. “I’ll take my leave now.”

Flint summoned the doorman, and the wizard was shown from the chamber. Lidda hesitated a moment, unsure how to proceed. She turned to leave.

“I guess I’ll be going, too,” she said, moving for the door.

“Wait one minute,” Flint commanded, taking her seat. “I’d like to hear more about these bandits .” The final word rang thick with sarcasm. “I like to keep tabs on those who might try to move in on my territory.”

“Just a band of gnolls, as far as I could tell,” Lidda said. “They had a two-headed giant with them, but I suppose that’s not too strange. It’s not with them anymore.”

“Not strange at all,” Flint said. “I’ve been dealing with them for a few months now.” She leaned back in her chair. “The cretins are trying to muscle in on my shipping interests.”

The guild master summoned the doorman and had Lidda shown to the door. Lidda turned to bow to Flint as she left, thinking it would only get her wedged even more deeply into the woman’s good graces. As she raised her eyes from the floor, she caught the quick flash of Flint’s hands, the subtle movement of her fingers.

Good work , she signalled, I’ll be in touch .

Eva Flint pushed her chair back, tipping it up on two legs and setting her boots on the desk. She slid a dagger from under the seat and was carelessly running her finger along the blade as Yauktul was shown into the room. She motioned the commander to a seat with a flick of the blade. The gnoll looked nervously over his shoulders, at both Flint and the departing doorman, as he moved across the room. When the door clicked behind the doorman, Yauktul fell to his knees.

“It was not my fault,” he whimpered.

Eva looked at the creature with disgust.

“Get up,” she said. “Your presence repulses me, so I would keep this short.”

The chair slammed back to the ground as the guild master lunged forward and slammed her blade into the desk. Yauktul yelped and drew back, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.

Eva got up from her seat and moved around the front of the desk. Yauktul cringed as she brought her hand down on his head to stroke the crest of hair that crowned it. She cooed to the creature as she petted him.

“Yauktul, Yauktul,” she tisk ed.

She grabbed a handful of fur and yanked. The commander’s neck snapped back as his eyes were brought into line with hers.

“You failed me,” she said, pulling harder on the creature’s fur, craning his neck farther.

Yauktul whimpered and Eva let go. The gnoll commander’s eyes fell back to the floor. She scrubbed the front of her breeches to wipe the gnoll’s musky scent off her hand.

Pitiful, she thought, that such a being would be considered a leader among its own kind.

It had a small aptitude for the art of magic, and she’d interpreted that as a sign of intelligence. She never should have trusted the damned thing, but she had too much time, gold, and effort invested in this undertaking to watch the treasure slip from her grasp. She had to make one last effort.

“You can still make it up to me,” Flint said, stroking the gnoll’s head again.

The guild master walked back to her desk and leaned against it.

“You,” she said, turning back to Yauktul, “know what you have to do.”

She lifted the dagger from the desk and hurled it to the floor near the gnoll’s clawed foot. Yauktul jumped back when the tip of the blade struck and clattered across the stone floor.

“This time, failure is not an option if you value your life. Now get out of my sight.”

The gnoll rushed to the door and disappeared into the hallway. Eva returned to her seat. She lowered herself into the chair slowly, calmly, then slammed her fist on the desk. It would be impossible to keep the city’s officials away from this. Wotherwill only pretended to be a hermit, she knew. He was well connected within the circles of the city’s gentry. His political ties alone outweighed the worth of the staff in her estimation, and they made him more dangerous than his magic, which was considerable. There had always been risk, but more was at stake. Too much more to even consider backing out. Whatever Wotherwill’s connections and power, her chief clients were wealthier and better connected than he would ever be. Eva smiled to herself. The rogue and her companions would prove to be of use yet.

It was a pity, she mused. She was starting to like the halfling.

The scene at the Bung and Blade that evening was raucous to say the least. The whole of the company was warm with the intoxication of ale, and even Krusk loosened up after half a dozen rounds. Mialee stopped the barbarian from ordering drinks for the entire waterfront, cringing at the thought of an army of acquired friends.

“We don’t need to advertise our fortune to the world,” Mialee murmured, looking around the pub.

Dozens of rowdy sailors filled the place from wall to wall. A trio of them stood on a table on the far side of the room trying to rouse the assembled rabble into song. So far, they’d only managed to stir up a handful of glares.

Malthooz was face down on the table. It hadn’t taken much to put him under. Mialee felt bad for the half-orc. He tried to match the rest of the company and it wasn’t long before he was talking wildly about his plans to bring his powers back to the village and replace the shaman with a new order of healers, with him at the head. Krusk egged him on as probably only he could have, though the wizard believed it had less to do with spite or jest than with the empty tankards piled high in front of the barbarian. Krusk had also convinced Malthooz that heavy drinking was his birthright, something required by his blood. The more they drank, the louder they became, until Malthooz collapsed in mid-bellow. Even the sailors were beginning to get exasperated by the time Malthooz passed out. Vadania did her best to hide the unconscious half-orc behind her backpack.

As the night wore on, the mood grew more sour.

“I wish I had slit that gnoll’s throat when I had the chance,” Lidda said, stuffing her mouth full of fried potatoes. “Flint said there’s a bounty on them. She says the city pays fifty gold a head.”