A light haze drifted up as the few, regular patrons lit pipes and started in on their serious drinking. The smoke started to blur her view, and Tazi found herself thinking of the inn in Selgaunt where she kept a secret room. ThЈ owners of the Kit had treated her like a daughter, and Tazi realized she missed the place. Caught up in a flash of homesickness, she turned her gaze toward the far corner of the bar and almost gasped out loud. Standing in the shadows of the support timbers was a tall man dressed entirely in black. Taller than most humans, he appeared almost awkward in his movements, as though he was a touch uncomfortable with his long body. And in the fading daylight, Tazi could see he was completely bald. She unconsciously raised a hand to her open mouth.
How could he be here, she thought in wonder, of all places?
Starting to rise and grinning in spite of herself, Tazi saw that he was getting ready to leave. He paid the barkeep and turned toward the door. His actions afforded Tazi with a full view of his face. Like the woman who had purchased the slave, this man bore an elaborate design on his forehead. It was not the face Tazi expected and half-hoped to see. She sank back down into her chair, unaware that she had even started to stand. Not him, she thought. Not Cale…
Several months ago, her mentor had taken his leave of the Uskevren family. Circumstances had really left him no choice. Tazi had found that she didn't know how she felt about it all. She had recently grown closer to Steorf, the mage-in-training she had traveled to Calimport with, and thought very little of Cale while she had been gone. On her return home, all hell had broken loose. And, in those ashes, she had discovered that Cale had loved her all along. Tazi was torn as her emotions raged. She rejected his initial confession of love as something selfish, but she found that when it came time for his departure, she couldn't leave it that way between them. She knew, and she suspected Cale did too, that there would always be something unspoken between them. It was only when he was gone that Tazi discovered what she had been truly angry about: wasted time and wasted chances. Caught up in her daydream, she didn't notice that the Thayan she had been staring at did not appear to appreciate her attentions.
A squat barmaid with a dusky complexion and black hair moved over to Tazi's table with a rag. She wiped down the small table and checked on the level of Tazi's drink. Seeing that Tazi needed a refill, the barmaid reached over and plucked the mug from her unresisting fingers.
"Want another?"
When Tazi didn't answer immediately, the woman followed her gaze to the Thayan who was still lingering at the bar. He was starting to glower back at Tazi, but she was a thousand leagues away. The barmaid shook her head and leaned closer, as if she was taking an order.
"Listen, dearie," she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "you don't want to be doin' that."
"What?" Tazi finally asked, partially breaking off her daydream.
"You can't just stare at them of Mulan blood. You're beneath their station, and you don't want to make them angry at you."
"Why not?" Tazi disked in a half-interested tone.
"Because," the woman told her, "if they decide they don't like you or something you did, it's off to the magistrate you go. And you're done for."
"Thanks for the suggestion," Tazi replied. "But why bother yourself over me? " Tazi was leery of advice she hadn't solicited or paid for.
The flat-chested barmaid sighed. "Because you seem like an all right sort. You've paid your bills and haven't smashed the place up as so many of your kind do. And I think you're the sort that if you're not careful, you fall into trouble. In fact," she said, scrutinizing Tazi carefully, "you look like the kind that trouble just plain follows. And I'd prefer that it follows you somewhere else and not in my father's place. Another round?"
Tazi nodded numbly, the words "father's place" ringing in her ears, as the barmaid walked away. She slipped back into the past-to the day she left her father's place to come here. Tazi's gear had also been spread out on her bed, much like the youngsters' at the inn, as she conducted a last inventory. Counting off crampons, Tazi was startled at Steorfs unannounced entrance.
"Where are you going?" he had demanded.
"To do what I have to," Tazi had replied in a clipped tone. Her hackles had risen immediately at his intrusion. Just because she and the blond-haired mage had grown closer did not mean that they shared a bed, regardless of what others thought. And Tazi had not given him free run of her private rooms.
"You're going to follow him, aren't you?" he accused her. Tazi noticed that Steorf avoided using Cale's name whenever possible.
"No, I'm not," she answered more softly when she realized he was acting out of jealously.
"Then why won't you let me come with you?" he asked, calming himself down as well.
"Because this is something I have to do for myself," she had told him honestly. "Please understand that. Besides," she had joked in an effort to lighten the somber mood, "you have studies to complete."
"They don't matter anymore," he had said darkly. Tazi had frowned at his words a little. Since they had returned from Calimport, she had noticed he was quieter than he had ever been. And there were times she felt certain he was hiding something from her. She had resolved then that when she returned from Thay, she was going to find out what was going on. But she had to come to Thay before all else.
"Well, that may be, but I have to go alone. It's the only way to make it right," was all she had offered him by way of an explanation. She recalled how his steel-gray eyes had softened at her entreaty.
"I'm not sure exactly what you mean," he had replied, "but I think I understand. Would you do me one favor, though?"
She had moved to stand next to his large frame and had looked up into his eyes. "If I can, I will," she had promised.
"Wear this and think of me." Before Tazi could say or do anything, Steorf had fastened a thin, silver chain around her neck. Tazi craned her head down to get a better look at the unexpected gift.
Dangling on the end of the delicate necklace was a shard of an amethyst gem. The stone was all that Tazi had left to remind her of her fateful journey to Calimport and of the friend she had sacrificed there for a greater good.
"How did you get this?" she had wondered in amazement. "I've kept it locked up ever since we returned."
For the first time since entering her rooms, Steorf looked slightly pleased. "You're not the only accomplished thief," he reminded her, "or have you forgotten some of my other skills?"
Tazi had smiled up at him. "It's lovely," she whispered. "But it looks so fragile. Maybe I should leave it here."
Steorf placed his large hand over the stone and against Tazi's throat. "Don't worry," he had assured her, "I've seen to it that the chain won't fail." He ran his finger along the edge of the silver. "It's much like you. It looks delicate, but it is as strong as forged steel."
Smiling, Tazi played with the chain unconsciously as she sat at her table, unaware of the fetching picture she presented. The young man who had been gathering information nodded to the old barfly and approached Tazi's table.
"Successful?" he inquired as he sat down opposite Tazi.
"Excuse me?" Tazi demanded, perturbed that her daydream had been interrupted and that he dared to sit down uninvited.
The young man was undaunted by her sharp tone.
"You have the look of a cat that's swallowed the song bird," he told her.
Even through her irritation, Tazi could see the young man was pleased with his turn of a phrase.
"I do, do I?"
"Well," he added and brushed some of his auburn hair away from his face. Tazi could see he had a scar along one cheek. "As I understand it, you've just returned from the Sunrise Mountains."
"And how do you know that?" Tazi asked, playing with him a bit and knowing full well the crone had sold her out.
"My informants are well connected," he replied sagely.
"Your informants are everybody's informants for enough coin," Tazi shot back at him. She noted he had the good sense to
look somewhat abashed.
"Never mind that," he tried to change his tack. "My name is Gaed Attimthree, and I have an offer to make you." He studied her earnestly with his hazel eyes.
"And what might that be?" Tazi asked, enjoying the game in spite of herself. She leaned forward expectantly. The young man became flustered under her scrutiny.
"My friends and I," he motioned half-heartedly in the direction of the mountain of gear, "are getting ready to travel the road you've just returned from. You may have heard of Tharchion Nymia Focar's generous offer for the path through the mountains to the Endless Wastes. My companions and I are certain we can find it, and we would gladly share a portion of the reward with you."
"Then why do you need me? You'd only have to cut the pot more?"
"As you can see, my friends and I are well supplied. We don't like to take any chances, and I would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to have someone with me who was as experienced as you obviously are."
Tazi smirked at his lame attempt at flattery. "It's obvious that you are well prepared," she answered and suppressed a chuckle at his ineptness, "with the finest supplies that coin can buy. You don't need to buy me."
"I didn't mean…" he trailed off helplessly.
"No offence taken," she told him, "but I'm not interested."
"I understand," he finally replied. "Since this is our last night before we leave, perhaps I could buy you another drink and you might share some of your travels with me. Any detail would be helpful." And Tazi noticed a shift in his look.
"I'm fine. Besides, these days I travel alone, and I prefer it that way," she told him and motioned her mug toward her mouth. She hoped her tone would indicate that as far as she was concerned, the interview was over. But the hazel-eyed man just leaned in.
"If it's too crowded here," he said softly, "we could go up to my rooms. I could give you my undivided attention." He tilted his head.
Tazi sat straighter and replied more forcefully, "I don't think so." The young man obviously fancied himself a ladies' man.
"No?" he asked.
Tazi smiled sweetly and let her hand fall to her boot. Just as the would-be suitor leaned in even closer to her, Tazi brought back her hand with lightning speed. When her fist reappeared, she had a knife in it.
Balancing the point of her razor-sharp dagger on her index finger, Tazi bounced the mean weapon from one finger to the next, all the while staring at the young adventurer.
His face paled so suddenly that Tazi could see a smattering of freckles across his nose stand out in sharp contrast. Whether it was her easy proficiency with the small blade or the hard glint in her eye, he finally got the message.
"I understand," he said as he hastily rose to feet. "No means no." And as he scurried back over to his friends, Tazi laughed.
She leaned her chair back against the wall and slid her blade back in place. As she continued to sip her ale, she glanced around the room. Judging by the furtive looks that met hers and the quickly downcast eyes, Tazi was certain she had made her point. She was sure that no one else would trouble her this evening. However, Tazi didn't notice the pair of coal-black eyes that remained steady and gleamed with interest.
Naglatha was finally impressed. For the last hour, she and her two boayguards had been observing the inn's customers. They had stopped at The Black Unicorn first, but Naglatha had been disappointed beyond words by the dismal selection of potential candidates. She had verbally abused both of her Thayan Knights for their ineptitude in reconnaissance. By the time they reached Laeril's Arms, she was certain she was not the only one who had a vested interest in success; the servants now knew they would pay a steep price if there was no better luck at this tavern.
Located at a table against the wall opposite from Tazi, Naglatha had initially only caught glimpses of the woman during her survey of the tavern. She first noticed Tazi's black hair. She would never admit it, but Naglatha was a vain creature, and when she met or observed another woman, she always looked to her hair first. It stemmed from the fact that most Thayan women of Mulan heritage were bald or artificially devoid of hair. Only slaves were not allowed to cut their tresses. Even the Thayans of Rashemi extraction cropped their locks as close to their scalp as possible to separate themselves from the enormous slave population. So, Naglatha's interest was piqued when she saw another woman with long, black hair that was clean and healthy like hers. Of course, she thought, it's not as long as mine.
The other aspect that initially intrigued Naglatha was that the woman sat by herself. And she didn't sit like someone waiting for another person to join her; she sat alone but not lonely. Naglatha had made herself a mental note-the woman bore watching. But, in the course of her perusals, not many of the other patrons appeared very promising. They all looked too young and too inexperienced. Eventually, she had turned her attention back toward the black-haired girl, who appeared to be a bit younger than she was, just in time to see her handiness with the tiny dagger.
"Subtle, discreet, and she gets her message across with minimal effort or show," she whispered approvingly to Milos Longreach. Naglatha tried to get a better look at the woman, shifting her head from one side to the other, endeavoring to see past the regulars seated in front of her.
After a few more moments, the customers finished their drinks and left, affording Naglatha with her first, unrestricted view of the young woman. Naglatha nearly gasped out loud. What she discovered was totally unexpected. She knew the woman. Though Naglatha was no mathematician, she was aware that the chances of that were almost astronomical. She couldn't stop her thoughts traveling back to earlier in the day and her dream of Thay's creation.
"To have had that dream," she murmured, "and to discover her here, with all the ramifications that this discovery heralds, is not possible. Unless this is exactly how it is supposed to happen."
"Mistress?" Milos questioned. Naglatha was not normally given to randomly speaking aloud, so she forgave him his impropriety.
"It is nothing," she assured him, and she beckoned to her younger bodyguard.
"Heraclos," she said softly, "I need your assistance."
"Anything," he replied properly, "and everything at your wish." The instructions that followed were inaudible to everyone else but Heraclos. She spoke so softly, she was sure even Milos was not able to hear her words. Heraclos nodded quickly, and Naglatha knew he would do his best to fulfill them. Naglatha repositioned herself in her chair, arms folded, and smiled wickedly. What was about to happen next was critical.
Her bodyguard made his way across the large, poorly lit room and stopped a few feet short of Tazi's small table. Naglatha placed one finger against her lower lip and watched the scene unfold with growing excitement. She could see Heraclos motion to the empty seat opposite Tazi and say something. The woman declined to let him join, as Naglatha knew she would. After all, she had made it clear to all those around her that she was unavailable. Then Heraclos leaned in closer, placing his hand under Tazi's chin, and Naglatha leaned forward in her chair out of anticipation. Heraclos tilted Tazi's head up slightly. His face was only a few inches from the woman's ear, and Naglatha had a good notion of the offer he was making. In fact, she had suggested a few descriptives she knew were guaranteed to provoke any woman, whether they were barmaid or noble. In the ruddy glow of the candle on her table, Tazi's face twisted in anger. Naglatha had to hold back a laugh. It was perfect.
Tazi reacted as if on cue. As soon as Heraclos propositioned Tazi, Naglatha watched her hand drop to her boot once more. Faster than anyone could follow, Tazi had the blade unsheathed and under Heraclos's chin with deadly precision. Naglatha saw, from her vantage point, that Tazi had even drawn blood. That was the signal she had given Heraclos to move forward.
"You dare strike me?" Heraclos demanded indignantly.
Before the first drop of his blood hit Tazi's grimy table, Heraclos had shrugged off his expensive cloak and revealed a large scimitar sheathed at his waist. He drew it with deadly precision. Na
glatha saw that he wasted no time. With incredible force, he brought the sword screaming down at Tazi, splitting the oak table right down the center. At the same time, Tazi pushed away from the splintered table, crashing with her chair to the floor. She used her momentum to summersault backward and away from Heraclos's imminent threat. When she rose to her feat, Tazi had one of her Sembian guardblades withdrawn.
Heraclos pivoted and swung his blade with both hands. Tazi parried the blow. At the sound of crashing steel, the other patrons had stopped their activities and turned to watch the excitement. Naglatha was quite sure that it was not the first time a brawl of this nature had erupted here. In fact, her own table leg looked as though it had only been recently repaired. She suspected the break had nothing to do with the heavy food they served at the tavern.
Heraclos easily outweighed her by over a hundred pounds, and Naglatha was curious to see how Tazi handled herself against a larger opponent who had the advantage of surprise on his side. Her bodyguard did not give Tazi a moment to catch her breath. While Naglatha knew he lacked the finesse and overall skill that Milos possessed with the scimitar, he never tired in his assaults. Each of her two servants had his strengths, and they were learning to work together over time. Naglatha considered sending the older bodyguard into the fray as well, but she knew they didn't have much time. Fights as destructive as this one was shaping up to be invariably brought the attention of the local enforcers. Naglatha could see some of the tavern's clients leaving already, some afraid to be around when the reinforcements arrived.
A cowardly lot, Naglatha reflected disgustedly, and not a single one of you raise your hand to help the girl. Naglatha even thought she saw the auburn-haired man that Tazi had so eloquently rejected smile at her misfortune as he gathered his companions and geaf and hastily retreated up the wide staircase that led to the rooms above. Fools, she thought.
The Crimson Gold r-3 Page 6
