"Tools. Interesting choice of words. After the stories I've heard about those weapons," Keevan muttered, cinching a braided rope tight around his waist. The robe bit into his chest from every angle. He scratched his torso repeatedly, glaring at her in frustration.
"They're all true," Bahjal smiled, coiling the weapon in one hand and taking Keevan by the other as she led him outside. "The robe is itchy to teach initiates to keep the mind focused, regardless of outside distractions. Since you can't command water at all, most will assume you are a lowly initiate interrupted from your punishment by the Harbor Guild's alarm. Sometimes Suadans come here to train."
As if she'd walked through a portal to another world, Bahjal's persona completely changed when her leather boots hit the outside cobblestones. She jerked Keevan along with all the impudence one might expect from a guard dispatched to punish a deserving child. He nearly laughed out loud. Her frail stature made the threat of violence such an empty threat. Then he thought about the whip dangling at her side. A shiver of fear ran through Keevan, enough to hold back a chuckle.
It was a fortunate thing, for just then the first pair of guards emerged into view for a brief moment, ducking into the storage room Keevan and Bahjal left only moments before. Had they seen Keevan, posing as a lowly initiate, chuckling in mid-punishment, they may have suspected some sort of deception.
"Excellent show of fear when you saw the guards," Bahjal whispered to him, pushing him to the left at the next intersection of tunnels. "It looked genuine."
"It was," Keevan hissed back. "How'd you know the guard wouldn't recognize the disguise? You’re too small to pose as a guard."
"Suadan guards are weighed by their command of water," Bahjal explained as they worked their way down a torch-lit hallway. "Not by their physical size. My whip's first blast is loaded onto the handle. Only guards or Etrendi have enough command to make it stay here, and hurl it on the spot."
Keevan glanced down, peaking through the elemental plane. Sure enough, a tangle of water energy hovered at the base of the whip, tied to Bahjal's cloud-like exterior. The lines bristled with contained energy, like a drawn bowstring.
"Drop your eyes!" Bahjal ordered in a firm hiss. "They're a dead giveaway."
"How am I supposed to identify the assassin if I can't use my elemental vision?" Keevan countered angrily. His skin felt like dozens of ants were skittering around his body, nibbling at him in odd intervals.
"I'll get you to a well-lit area, that will help hide your glowing eyes," Bahjal offered. She led him into a small, narrow alley, pulling a smaller wad of fabric from her belt. "Tie this over your eyes, see if that helps."
"A blindfold?" Keevan grumbled, holding the strip of linen out in front of him. "How will making me blind and more itchy help?"
"I’m hoping it will smother the glow, but be thin enough for you to see through," Bahjal paused at the next intersection, glancing around the corner tentatively. "We don't need an analysis. Just find the man without an elemental connection. He's the prisoner the guards are searching for..."
Bahjal trailed off, looking around confused, and then gasped in realization. She spun on Keevan, enraged. "How did you convince me to do this?! We were safe in the repulsor room. You were safe! How'd you convince me to come out here and put you in greater danger? This Varadour could kill us both!"
"There wasn't much lighting in the repulsor room." Keevan admitted sheepishly, staring at his feet. He felt like a mouse caught before a hungry cat, ready to pounce at the first sudden movement. "Since you couldn't feel fear like you normally could..."
Wide-eyed Bahjal held her head in both hands and leaned against the wall, staring at Keevan as if for the first time. "You're saying you used the elements to influence my emotions. Only the Malik's best can touch my emotions with their elemental fields, without me realizing it. I didn't suspect you for a second."
"I don't have an elemental field for you to feel." Keevan reminded her, grimacing at the obvious frailty that lay in that sentence. "I can only see your surroundings and try to take advantage."
"Still, I didn't realize until just now that I was emotionally... compromised, while in the repulsor room." Bahjal echoed with a nervous shudder. "I normally trust your judgment, but you're not trained to fight or track escaped prisoners. This is too dangerous, Keeves. We have to go back. The Suadan High Priestess will protect you until this mess is over."
"Bahjal, this place is swarming with guards." Keevan pleaded, pointing further ahead. "Once I identify the Varadour, they'll swarm him from every direction. I'll be perfectly safe and the Malik will see I'm on his side. Right now, all he's seen is me leading Zerik's troops and humiliating the Harbor Master. You and I both know I need to do something more. Help me. Please."
Bahjal hesitated a moment, weighing their options. The normal balance of heat, moisture and electricity in the outside air returned her to her usual pensive, thoughtful state. He could practically feel her mind analyzing their situation from every angle. Considering, plotting, anticipating...
"Please, Bahjal." Keevan repeated, taking her hand in his.
She looked down at their hands, and he drew on his elemental vision to see her reaction. Fear crackled inside her, mixed with an extra swirl of moisture. He silently cursed his poor luck. Many emotions didn't carry elements at all, called 'dead emotions'. Like love or sympathy. He could only read half of her response to his words and touch, like only hearing half a sentence.
"Very well." Bahjal relented, licking her lips as her mind leapt from one decision to the next. "But you must promise to back away from the fight once it starts."
"Absolutely." Keevan confirmed, raising both hands palms out in a defensive gesture. "I'm perfectly aware of what I can and can't handle. Fighting Tri-Beings or Varadours falls into the 'can't' category."
"Alright, there's the entrance to the Inner Circle." Bahjal said, pointing around the corner. "The Watcher's chambers are one floor above this one, and this is the shortest route to it from the catacombs below."
Keevan sighed in relief, wrapping the blindfold around his head. With Bahjal's rage nullified, anticipation built up in his chest once again. If all went well, he'd get to see another Outlander today. Perhaps, with Bahjal's help, he could even talk to the man. "What makes you think Kors and the assassin would try to go in this way?"
"Just the assassin," Bahjal sighed, rubbing her temples. "The other entrances are another hour out of the way or better guarded. Kors will send him in first and have him let down a rope somewhere along the walls. Too many guards know his face. We catch the assassin here and now, we stop the whole mess before it starts."
"Catch the assassin," Keevan thought, cinching the knot tight. "By the Gods I wish there was a better way to meet this man."
"I know, Keeves," Bahjal agreed. Giving him a tentative hug as she scratched his back. Keevan sighed in relief. "When he's back in custody, I'll talk to the Malik. I'm sure if he knew the Harbor Guild were capturing and torturing an Outlander, he wouldn't allow it. Not with you here."
Keevan nodded grimly, opening his eyes. "Just, please, don't hurt him."
"I can't promise that," Bahjal answered, stroking her whip's handle. "But I'll try."
"Okay," Keevan agreed, a sinking feeling setting in his stomach. "I can partly see through the blindfold. Reading anything is out of the question. How do you know so much about Kors anyway?"
"The blindfold helps dampen those glowing eyes. Good. I just need you to pick out of a crowd the one person who isn't a Tri-Being," Bahjal insisted, licking her lips nervously. "Can I count on you to do that?"
"Yes," Keevan decided, trying to ignore the worsening nausea as he mustered out the words. "He's literally killing people. I can't let that stand."
"Alright," Bahjal said, looking him up and down, glancing at her own armor. "Let's go."
She led them around the corner, towards two large oak doors held open by four Harbor Guildsmen wielding shields, maces and chainmail armor. Their weapons glow
ed with Danica-forged hues of heat as they warded off any citizens trying to enter.
Bahjal walked up to the first, dragging Keevan along by the wrist. "I've a disobedient initiate I'd like to teach a lesson too. Is the Temple forge available?"
"Not until we've caught the prisoner," The Harbor Guard explained, keeping his shield between them, weapon at the ready. His eyes glowed with a steady diet of suspicion and dedication. "Wait outside until the building is clear, unless you have a signed order from the Harbor Master."
"That's a hard thing to find these days," Bahjal added with a grimace, "Considering how his last discussion with Lanasha went. I heard he's been detained."
"As are your means of entering the Harbor Guild," the guard spat back bitterly. "Now, move along before we move you ourselves."
"As you wish," Bahjal relented, dragging Keevan down the hallway, in front of the big oak doors. Here, the ceiling reached a good fifteen feet high, supported by thick columns that still afforded them an ample view of the main courtyard. The broken window they escaped through still hung there like a mouth agape from a recent brawl, but someone had already rolled the tied blankets back up into the room.
A few other tangles of citizens and merchants were also waiting before the grand entrance to the Harbor Guild. Suadans among them sat meditating on thick carpets they sometimes carried, embroidered with the elegant symbols of the water goddess. A few Belenok merchants paced back and forth between the columns, one in particular juggled a pair of fire daggers with one hand to stave off his irritation.
"What's the plan?" Keevan whispered.
"Wait here, by the pillar," Bahjal answered. "Just tell me who stands out and take cover. It will likely get messy."
"Indeed," Keevan said, feeling a thin layer of sweat form over his palms. "Be careful."
"Of course," Bahjal said, offering a comforting smile. "I sat by you when you read all those ancient legends, I picked up enough to get by."
"You were never paying attention to the pages. I don't think you actually read a book in your life." Keevan countered with a chuckle. Mimicking her higher-pitched voice, he whispered, "You'll learn nothing from your books that you couldn't learn faster and better from a live person."
"Shut your mouth," Bahjal chuckled. "I don't sound like that. Now relax and keep your eyes open. I’m supposed to be the about to punish you for your insolence. It won't do if we spend the whole time laughing like old friends."
"Right," Keevan agreed, forcing a straight face. He even offered her a finger-knitted salute. "As you wish, commander."
"That's right," Bahjal agreed, folding her arms. "Now, do as I command and keep your mouth shut, or you'll blow our cover."
"Yes, sir."
Bahjal rolled her eyes, turning away so she could face the entrance. Despite her folded arms, there was something dangerous in her slightly bent legs and unwavering gaze as she sized up the gate guards. Keevan couldn't shake the feeling she was ready to pounce on the first thing he pointed at, be it guard, citizen or the High Priestess herself.
The minutes trickled by. Small tangles of Etrendi approached the great gates. Most were turned away immediately. A few, high ranking members of the Guild were let in without a word. These were officials the Harbor Guards knew on sight, removing them from the list of potential suspects even without the help of Keevan's powers.
This building stood apart from the rest of the Harbor Tower as the Guild's headquarters. The store rooms, docks, warehouses and forgotten libraries were all cut off from the Guild's upper floors, except for a few well-guarded entrances like this one. It was a new addition, atop the older quarters that a few generations ago had called home.
The Guild's walls wept a steady stream of water, giving it an ever-shifting appearance as the sunlight struck the falling liquid. The Etrendi here were so powerful, they attracted gallons and gallons of water just by turning their attentions to daily problems. The artisans designed a beautiful and effective way to vent water from the uppermost floors.
Keevan glanced out at the wall dividing the Palace District and the Harbor Guild from the Etrendi District. A few archers still lined the edges, watching either side with equal disdain. Before yesterday, he thought the whole city looked down on the Haldrans and Rhets, as second class citizens who only existed as a source of services or supplies. Now he saw a chain of sorts, with the Malik and Elemental Temples looking down on the Harbor Guild and Etrendi Nobles, who in turn looked down on the rest of the city.
He thought of the whispers among the Rhets, tentative threats of rebellion or revolution, depending on your loyalties. With each Danica weapon they saw among the nobles, a dozen more Rhets dreamed of stealing such tools for themselves and turning against the high and mighty nobles who'd dismissed them for so long. Bahjal had spoken of such tensions in the city, a civil war ripe for the making if someone with the right powers and resources were to make a claim.
Not his war though. His people lay across the sea after all. A surge of anticipation shot through him. What would he ask this Varadour first? He longed for hours to hear this man's voice and soak in the details of home. So many years reading about his people in book and ancient tomes... now one freely walked the stones of Issamere. A part of him looked around at the Tri-Beings and longed to flee the city with a fellow Outlander in tow. To leave these bitter, dangerous, terrified people behind.
Keevan shook off such thoughts. His family was here. He couldn't just abandon them, not after the years they spent raising him. They would have time to talk once Bahjal and the guards caught the Varadour. Surely seven battle trained Tri-Beings could capture one Outlander.
There, a man emerged from the milling crowd, walking towards the gates. Keevan's elemental vision revealed him immediately, for elementally, he resembled what the Sight Seeker saw in the mirror each morning. A regular, unassuming man. No elements tied to his soul. No cloudlike energy wreathed his face. He walked through a crowd of white, cloudlike Tri-Beings like a mortal walking among the divine beings of old. The imposter was careful, his pace patient, but steady. Abandoning the distracting glows and flashes of his elemental vision for a moment, Keevan took in what features he could glimpse through the tightly worn armor.
The protective clothing sagged over the Varadour's body, as if weaved for someone two sizes larger than he. His buttons and cuffs were stained with blood, though his hands were still wet from a recent washing. Somewhere, a guard lay unconscious or worse. A careful observer though, would notice the imposter's bony features and the utter lack of fat in his face. This man was little more than skin, bone, and a wispy beard. Keevan couldn't help but marvel that the man was still standing at all, much less executing Tri-Beings.
Keevan shook his head in conflicting feelings of duty and compassion. This man didn't ask to be captured and tortured by the Tri-Beings, he likely didn't deserve it. Just as likely, however, he wasn't about to stop. Particularly with the mounting body count.
The whole situation slid past him like a child facing Suada herself but refusing to believe her own eyes. For years, despite the Harbor Guild's constant insistence that Outlanders were little more than monsters with men's faces, he'd always fantasized about meeting his own kind. What child in his position wouldn't? He'd pictured rescues, escapes, but nothing like this. Here, his only living connection to his own kind, walked only a few spans away. Lives were counting on Keevan's help though, lives this man would likely take if not stopped.
A sinking sensation settled in Keevan's gut. He gulped, clenching his fists in frustration. The imposter turned his back on the gate guards, as if admiring the District Wall before them. Slowly, he drew his short sword free. Keevan shook his head, the imposter clearly wasn't a Sight Seeker. What could he do against four guards? He took a deep breath and grit his teeth.
"There, that's the escaped prisoner!" Keevan cried, pointing at the imposter.
Their eyes locked for a moment. Two sensations passed between them. The first was confusion, until a moment later as
the imposter clearly recognized the subtle glow behind Keevan's blindfold. Then, the imposter offered a small, sad smile, as if understanding.
"Don't move!" Bahjal ordered, uncurling her whip. Merchants and pedestrians scattered, the guards surrounding the imposter on all sides. The prisoner faced Keevan, unmoving, staring intently at him, sighing in frustration.
"Are you sure, Suadan?" one guard asked, hands resting uncertainly on the handle of his mace. "How would you even know his face?"
"This child is wasting your time," the imposter suggested coldly, holding his weapon up as he spread his arms wide above his head. A strange accent soaked his words, with too much emphasis on the o's and u's. "Are you blind? I'm one of you."
"Then why's there blood on your collar and buttons?" Bahjal asked, pointing at his clothes. A few of the guards drew their weapons, their weapons hissing against their scabbards in suspicion. "You stole those clothes from a guard."
"He would hardly be much of a guard," the imposter answered with a sly grin. His fist tightening around the hilt of his sword. "If he couldn't protect his own weapon and armor, am I right?"
"Drop the blade and come with us," Bahjal ordered, arm cocked to the side, whip hanging to the ground like a coiled tentacle. It glowed with blue energy as she strung water around its base like the string on a bow. Keevan could practically feel the tension building in the weapon, and the surrounding soldiers for that matter. Hammer and blade alike glowed red with fire-fueled Danica. The imposter didn't even glance in their direction, though Keevan couldn't shake the feeling he knew quite distinctly who stood where.
Instead, the imposter glared at Keevan. "Picked me out of a crowd, just like that," he muttered, "Quite the watchdog you have there, for a blindfolded one. Does he do any other tricks I wonder?"
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