The Alabaster Staff r-1

by Edward Bolme

  As he held the chair for her, Demok whispered, "Be grateful."

  "Let us start of new," said the merchant.

  Kehrsyn noticed that his baritone voice had softened. Her heart skipped a beat to hear someone with such power treating her with kindness and speaking so softly. Her experiences with those in power had heretofore always involved raised voices, commands, and threats. She nodded and tried to relax, but she ended up sitting forward in her chair, clutching the warm mug between her hands.

  "I am called Massedar," he said. "Wing's Reach is my house, the center of a modestly sizeable mercantile and expeditionary combine. This room is the center of Wing's Reach, wherein agreements are detailed at the onset and consummated at the end. Upon the observations of my servant Demok and my own instincts, we open such an agreement now.

  "I deal in the rare, the exotic, and the exquisite. Until recently, I had in my possession an item that not only fit, but dare I say defined all three of those categories." He leaned forward. "Until thou, Kehrsyn,"-he pronounced the name with added emphasis, causing Kehrsyn to bite her lip- "removed that item at the behest of parties unknown. I trust thou knowest what that item was, for thou removed it with great skill and precision." He paused and looked at her blank eyes. "Knowest thou what that item doth?" he asked.

  Kehrsyn shook her head. "I don't really know anything about it other than it's supposed to be some necromancer's staff."

  Massedar pursed his lips. "Fascinating," he said. "That is in part correct. The item hath great powers worthy of no small service unto the plight of the army of Unther. We had recently recovered this item upon expedition, which claimed the lives and souls of some twenty of the near thirty who risked the venture. We have since been negotiating a suitable method of granting this item's power unto the army, that it should smite the Mulhorandi forces in one fell battle."

  "But the guild said that you were going to sell the staff," said Kehrsyn.

  Ahegi snorted. Massedar smiled slightly and said, "And they, a self-styled guild of thieves, hath intent to save Unther? The guild hath reversed the roles, my dear. I shall use the staff to save our people. The guild would fain sell it for profit. They are, after all, thieves, and they care not a whit who ruleth the day, so long as they should rule the night."

  "I guess that makes sense," said Kehrsyn, absently running her fingers along the edges of her brand. "They don't trust me, so why should I trust them?"

  "That bringeth us to you, my dear," said Massedar, "and thy role in this intrigue."

  "Let me guess," Kehrsyn said. She half-smiled, wryly raising one corner of her mouth. "You want me to burglarize the thieves' guild and bring your magic wand back to you."

  Massedar winced and leaned back, pressing his fingers to his temples.

  "Please," he said, "is it not enough that High Untheric hath been abandoned by the populace? Must we also mangle the vulgar words of the common tongue?" He exhaled. "Please, young gentlewoman, the word is 'burgle,' not 'burglarize.' Thou art a 'burglar,' not a… a 'burglar-izationator.' " He shuddered. "Thou art a talented young gentlewoman, with grace, intelligence, and beauty. Develop thou thy tongue to be equally attractive."

  "Sorry," said Kehrsyn.

  "As to thy point, yes, that shall be thy role in this affair. Thou shalt hazard to undo the wrong that thou hast done. Furthermore, the endeavor thou shalt undertake as a retainer of Wing's Reach. Shouldst thou return the aforementioned item, thou shalt be recompensed for thy efforts, with a bounty of, say, one hundred gold shekae for its safe return, plus healing for all wounds incurred."

  Kehrsyn's jaw dropped. That was more than she'd made in the last two or three years, and all for what might be a single night's s work!

  Massedar looked amused. "I take it that this rate is acceptable unto thee?"

  Kehrsyn recovered her aplomb-most of it, at least. She'd never seen someone so free with his gold, let alone when it was being spent in her direction. Nor, for that matter, had she ever met someone of wealth and standing who was able to look past her street-urchin veneer and see the woman beneath.

  "Uh, yeah," she said, "that would be fine. Then… you won't turn me over for stealing?"

  "Heavens, no," said Massedar with distaste. "If thou canst do this, why ever would I throw away a work of art such as thee? Perish the thought."

  "Good. Well… great!" said Kehrsyn. "I'll do my best." She thought about the situation for a moment and smiled. "It'll be good to turn the horns on a certain someone."

  "So be it," said Massedar with finality. "Demok shall see to thy needs."

  Demok ushered her up and started to guide her out of the room, but at the door Kehrsyn pulled away, just in time to see Massedar open the doors to his quarters.

  "I want an advance!" she exclaimed, need overcoming her self-consciousness.

  Massedar turned around, a hard look in his handsome blue eyes.

  "You want coin?" yelled Ahegi. "Thinkest thou to line thy purse and flee?"

  "No," said Kehrsyn, "no gold. I… I want a hot bath. Please, sir."

  Massedar stared at her for another moment, then chuckled.

  "So be it," he said. "See ye her provided with the largest bath in this house, with oils and soaps. Wash her garments whilst she relaxeth, and send unto her whatsoever she desireth to break her fast."

  The servants later told him they had never seen someone so thin eat so much.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By the time Kehrsyn pulled her warm, well-fed body out of the deep bronze tub (she'd insisted on eating while she bathed, for the sensation of being warm was even more delicious than the foods), it was approaching midday. The sky shone bright and clear, and ambient light reflected off the snow that clung on the rooftops. It was altogether a sapphire day.

  As she left Wing's Reach, Kehrsyn saw Demok leaning against the wall, watching the crowds walk past, his eyes sharp and attentive, his brows drawn together. He stopped her as she passed.

  "Know what you're doing?" he asked seriously.

  "I'm burgling unto the knaves whosoever hast maked me unto burgle," she said, her voice flippant but her eyes shining with grim determination.

  She started to walk away, and Demok fell into step beside her, his long gait allowing him to keep pace easily.

  "Not what I meant," he said as they sloshed their way through the streets, wisps of condensation puffing away from their noses in the breeze. "Can you? Need help?"

  Kehrsyn pondered before answering, "Can I trust you?"

  He did not answer but held her glance, and she saw his eyes were as cool and solid as granite. About the same color, too, she noted. She pressed her lips together and nodded. Demok had a position of authority with a rich and powerful man, and she doubted anything that passed in through those eyes was ever spoken of again.

  Having received an answer to her first question, she asked a second: "You're not, like, a member of the thieves' guild, right?"

  "If I were, you'd be dead."

  She giggled nervously, then walked along in silence for some time.

  "I didn't have a good childhood," she said tentatively. It had been a long time since she'd talked about herself, but so much was new or upside-down that she felt she needed to confide in someone. "I never knew my father, and Mother didn't have a copper wedge to spend. As early as I can remember, I stole food to get enough to eat. I got real good, too, sneaking, stealing, running, hiding…" She snorted. "Acting innocent. For a while, I was innocent. It was all a game. But I remember one day my mother was showing me a new trick-I don't remember what it was-and I looked up and there were tears in her eyes. I never asked her about it, but I knew even then that she was crying because she knew it was wrong, but she was teaching me because she wanted me to live. My life was never the same, because, from then on, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I kept on doing it anyway. As I got older, the memory of those tears made me think about stealing, how I was like a leech, taking food that belonged to other people and leaving my hunger in its place.
I tried stealing from different people, but that only spread my own misery around more. I tried stealing only from a few rich people, but that made them poorer, so they had less coin to pay the poor people who worked for them. I was trapped in a life that was crushing my pride, making me hate myself for the pain I caused other people by wanting to eat. It was like I hurt people just by being alive.

  "So one spring day I was sitting and watching the buds just starting to sprout out of this lichen-covered plum tree. It was so beautiful, seeing those little nubs shaped like candle flames but colored the brightest green you could ever want to see. On each one you could see the outline of all these little teeny leaves just waiting to unfold and grow. What made it even better was that it was an old, gnarled tree growing wild by the side of a cart track, all twisted and broken and rough, with knotty bark all covered with black and pale lichen. It was like a tree that had been dead for years and shriveled and burned and tossed aside, yet it had all that life inside just bursting to get out, beauty and hope splitting out at the seams all over the place.

  "I decided I wanted to be that tree. I wanted a new life. I promised right then and there, swore on the sun god Hokatep that I'd never steal again. I found some work here and there, practiced the tricks you've seen, earned a few egorae that way-at least I did when times were better-and I got by. I had enough to eat most times, but, best of all, I felt good about myself. I found pride in my skills. Sometimes people even wanted me around, when the harvest was in and people had mintweight and they wanted to see someone without the talent play at being a wizard.

  "See, here, like this," she said, stopping in the middle of the street. "Hold out your hand."

  Demok hesitated, then held out his right hand. She turned his hand palm up and placed a copper in his palm, then turned his hips so his body faced her. Then she struck the heel of his hand with hers, snatching the coin from his palm.

  He shrugged, unimpressed.

  "The trick is distraction. While you were looking at your palm, I was doing my real trick. Take off your glove."

  Instead, he felt the back of his right hand. Through the thin leather of his glove, he felt a coin. He dug in with his fingers and pulled out a silver. He pursed his lips and handed it back to her.

  "Thank you," said Kehrsyn. "Since you're giving me my coin back, I guess I can return your dagger."

  Demok's hand flew to his hip and found his scabbard empty.

  "Impressive," he said, though his tone was one of displeasure.

  "Thank you," Kehrsyn said again as she grinned and held out his dagger, concealed behind her left forearm. Her voice grew dim and her eyes dropped as she added, "That's how I've lived for the last seven years, doing tricks like that. I never hurt anybody, and I've never broken that vow. Until yesterday. I had a new life, but now it's gone."

  She looked up at Demok, her eyes narrowed with anger and sadness.

  "I'm going back to undo a theft that they made me do," she said. "They stole a staff from Massedar, and they stole my vow from me. And here Massedar treats me really good, he's a sweet man, and I've never met such a powerful guy who was so nice.

  "So yeah, maybe that's a longer answer than you want, but I know what I'm doing. I'm going to hurt the people who robbed me of my new life."

  Demok nodded and chewed on the corner of his mouth.

  By silent consent, they began walking again. Kehrsyn scuffed along for a few moments, kicking at higher lumps of slush.

  "Sorry," she said finally. "I didn't mean to drop all that on you. It's fine if you didn't want to listen to all that."

  "Your father?" Demok asked.

  Kehrsyn smiled to herself. He had listened. She was starting to wonder if anything escaped his notice.

  She said, "I'd rather not talk about it just now."

  Demok remained silent for some time as the two of them walked through the streets of Messemprar.

  "Know where you're going?" he asked.

  Kehrsyn stopped and said, "No, I guess I don't, but I know the name of the street, so I can find it."

  "Ask me."

  Kehrsyn laughed, and asked, "Do you know where Right Street is?"

  "There isn't one," Demok said.

  "There isn't? Maybe Right Avenue? Boulevard?

  "No."

  "But I know that's what Ei-what I heard him say," she said.

  Demok rolled his eyes skyward and thought.

  "Wheelwright's Lane," he said. "Near the north wall. Chariot Memorial. Try there."

  He turned and started to walk away.

  "Hey, thanks," Kehrsyn called after him.

  She saw him wave in acknowledgment, a simple, efficient gesture as he moved off into the crowds.

  Kehrsyn moved through Messemprar, the heat of her long, languid bath sticking with her as she walked the chilly, slush-filled streets. The slight tang of winter's snow still lingered despite the best efforts of the city's other smells, and Kehrsyn couldn't help but smile. She was warm, well fed, and out for revenge on those who'd wronged her. Best of all, she held the secrets over her so-called employers, and they were none the wiser.

  Her brisk, confident gait, billowing cloak, and open sword parted the crowds before her, and she relished the sensation. Her entire life, she had been relegated to skulking in shadows, deferring to others, moving aside when persons of import passed by. She had gone from being the one to bow her head to the one walking down the center of the street.

  She owed it all to Massedar, and in her heart, she thanked him for it. It wasn't just that she felt appreciated for a change. True, he'd spoken courteously, looked her in the eyes, indulged her, even promised her payment for services rendered-far more mercy than a thief could expect in Messemprar-but more so, he had set her upon a path of justice, with stakes far higher than the wedges and coppers and egorae she'd performed for.

  Most of all Massedar had power and he had extended the aura of his power to her, his chosen agent. He had given a street waif like her a portion of his great stature. She'd never experienced anything like it.

  She tried to think of the task ahead, but his piercing sky-blue eyes held her mind's gaze until she saw the unimaginatively named Chariot Memorial looming ahead of her.

  The crowds were thick and noisy around the memorial, which suited Kehrsyn fine until she saw the source of the commotion. Some Zhent merchants had set themselves up at the foot of the great statue and were hawking advanced purchases of their forthcoming food shipment. The activity had generated quite a crowd, and Zhent guards and the city watch alike had posted themselves throughout the crowd.

  Kehrsyn slid along the edge of the crowd, confident in her anonymity but nonetheless preferring to keep a safe distance.

  After a few more tenbreaths' search, she found the building Eileph had inadvertently mentioned. Number sixteen Wheelwright was a two-story building wedged between two convergent streets that intersected some thirty yards away from the plaza of the Chariot Memorial. The building was shaped like a narrow wedge of flatbread, which, Kehrsyn mused, must have made life interesting for the architect.

  It was on the verge of becoming dilapidated. The windows on the ground floor had all been securely, if inexpertly, boarded over. Heavy curtains filled the windows on the upper floor. The vertex of the narrow building was blunt, and into the end the main door had been set. In the years since the building had been created, however, it had sunk (or else extra dirt had raised the level of the plaza and surrounding streets), for the outward-opening front door was inoperable and had been boarded over as well. Instead, a ladder of questionable integrity led to a makeshift door roughly cut into the second floor. A sign dangled from one rung, proclaiming "NO ROOM."

  Kehrsyn stuck out her lower lip appreciatively. The building looked poor and uncomfortable, declined the interest of the casual passerby, and yet was eminently defensible. In all likelihood, there'd be a hatch to the rear of the roof or a tunnel dug beneath the streets for a quick exit. Maybe both. It looked like a good setup.

&nbs
p; Kehrsyn decided that the best tactic would be a straightforward, confident approach. It had worked through the city streets, and it just might work there. Kehrsyn ran her right hand up and down along the edge of her burn. Certainly her experience with the sorceress showed that timidity was asking for trouble.

  Without further ado, lest her courage give out, Kehrsyn vaulted up the ladder, keeping a solid grip on the handrails in case one of the rungs should give. She used her dagger to depress the latch of the door and push it open, standing slightly to one side in case the occupants had a crossbow aimed at the entry. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, for whatever her images of a thieves' guild had been, the interior of the building failed to live up to them.

  The only light in the room spilled in from the door, the curtained windows, and two other doors that stood slightly ajar on the far side of the vestibule. A variety of packs, large satchels, bags, and water skins hung on pegs along one wall, alongside the cloaks that Kehrsyn had expected to see. The other wall held an assortment of camping gear, ranging from clean frying pans to coils of rope to oiled-canvas rain tarps. At her feet, an old hunting dog lay on a ragged blanket. He opened his eyes and raised his muzzle a bit but declined to raise an alarm in favor of curling up a little tighter. He whined at the sudden influx of light and cold air, so Kehrsyn kneeled down and pulled a corner of the blanket over his haunches.

  Kehrsyn heard voices chatting behind one of the doors. Given the ambient noise from the crowds in the street, it was likely that they were unaware someone had entered the building. Kehrsyn put her bag right by the door, paused to think of a suitably casual line of entry, and, when she'd found one, she walked easily across the room, pushed the door open, and leaned against the jamb with her dagger in her right hand, concealed within her folded arms.

  "Has Eileph made his delivery yet?" she asked.

  "Yeah, this morning," said one of the occupants, his back to Kehrsyn. "He's got it downstairs," he added, gesturing toward an old man seated opposite him.

  The others in the room stopped their conversation, the old one holding up his hand to silence his unaware companion.