* * *
"See why I brought you," Lunet whispered, her eyes boring into the shattered glass. It crunched beneath Reiss' boot like brittle bones bleached in the sun. She shouldn't be pacing over it, not while holding her baby, but she couldn't stop. Crack, the same sound the brick made when it struck their window. Pop, the wind whistling in through the giant hole. Shatter, what she was going to do to whoever did this to her life.
Reiss hadn't said a word when they turned the corner to reveal the Solver Agency. The door was pried open by a crowbar, barely hanging on its shattered hinges the way a broken jaw would. Their window was shattered from an obvious hunk of rock stolen off a retainer wall down by the riverfront, the reddish hue evident, as the culprit was left to rot where it landed inside. More rocks, smaller ones, smashed into their sign until the name was almost unreadable. And in giant red letters painted over the front of the building were the words "Knife-Eared Whore".
"Well," Reiss flexed her jaw, "I'm impressed they knew knife begins with a k."
"Reiss..." Lunet reached over as if she was afraid her friend and fellow investigator was going to fall to her knees in agony. She shook it off and yanked on the broken door.
A growl greeted her, which she answered by turning back to Lunet and asking, "I assume Muse was with you overnight?" At his name, the dog fell out of attack mode and wiggled his stump of a tail. It was enough to catch Myra's attention, the baby clapping her hands and trying to reach down to the doggie.
There was glass everywhere, glittering tears reflecting Denerim's dingy sunlight while Muse sat perfect still in a desert Lunet must have cleared away for him. They did more than smash up the window and the sign. Tables were ransacked, desks tipped up against the walls. It looked as if a bronto ran through doing its best to break everything it could.
"You doing okay?" Lunet asked.
Reiss ignored her as she walked through the destruction of three years of her life. Three years of sleepless nights, blood and sweat spent for the sake of helping, of saving the assholes who did this. As she stepped past the broken desk where Jorel and Kurt would argue, around Lunet's that they'd gouged more "Knife-Ear Whore's" into, Reiss took a breath to steady herself. It was only one, but she needed it before walking into her office.
The sword was gone, every case file they'd ever solved splattered against the wall as the thieves slid them off. Her work was smashed by what was probably blunt objects and... A sting struck her throat as she noticed the vase that held all of Alistair's flowers was shattered. A few bits of porcelain remained in place, the blue and white pattern crying out for vengeance.
It was a disaster. Everything they ever owned, everything that they created, everything that proved they were useful to this world destroyed, carved with filthy epithets, then shattered to finish them off.
Lunet dug her toe against the support pillar beside Reiss' office. At least they couldn't manage to break that thing or there'd be nothing to save. "Reiss," she whispered, her eyes staring down at the ground.
"Their first mistake was in taking the sword. That's easily traced, not many deal in gilded weaponry especially one bearing the Theirin crest. Did they get into my apartment?"
"No," Lunet shook her head, her dark eyes fading into the shadows of the unlit office. "Seems they weren't smart enough to figure that out."
"Good," Reiss nodded, one less problem for her to solve. "The others...?"
"Are all at home. I sent 'em back cause..." She stared up at Reiss and tears glistened in her eyes.
"Lune!" Reiss had been with her through raids, long nights, starving ends of the month, even longer days, a rotten breakup, and she'd never seen her friend cry. She reached over, wrapping a hand around her shoulders.
"It's over," Lunet gasped. "Everything is... This, there is no way to come back from this. We tried, we failed."
"Bullshit."
"Wha...?" Lunet began to sponge off her nose, then shook her head in shock. "I ain't bullshitting you. This is, for fuck's sake, look at this! The only bright light in all this fuckery is they didn't set fire to the place. Maybe you can sell it back for a measly price, but it's over, Rat. Shit, it's amazing it lasted as long as it did."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Reiss snarled, turning on her friend all the rage boiling inside her heart from what those shems did to her. "We've come back from worse, far worse. Do you have any fucking idea the things I've done to survive? To carry on? There's a roof, there are walls. Lune," She grabbed onto her friend's hand and lifted them together in a victory pose, "we're damn good at what we do, and they Maker damn know it. We will come back."
Lunet smiled at her enthusiasm when Myra's chubby hands suddenly darted over to grab onto her coat's collar. At the baby, she sighed, "Rat, don't go talking all high and mighty. You got your ticket out of here. And it's a good one, a real good one. You plus baby in the palace. Maker take me, but even the man involved is a good one too."
"Myra may be my daughter, but this is my life," Reiss hugged her baby tight, taking her away from latching onto Lunet's lapels. She paced back and forth staring at the abuse heaped upon her world, "And I'll be fucked if I'm going to let a damn gang of piss-legged shems steal it from me!"
"You're mad, but you're scary when you're mad," Lunet's head hung down as she seemed to be weighing how much this wasn't going to work. Reiss was prepared to give her every argument for why they belonged here clinging to her tongue, when her friend's head lifted, "A'right. What do we do first?"
"Get everyone back here fast. We'll need all hands on deck to get this place operational, which is happening tonight. The Solvers is reopening before the sun sets," Reiss swore to the Maker and upon every beat of her heart. She grasped her friend's hand again and Lunet snickered.
At that moment Myra began to cry. Right, it was nearing her nap time. "And get a crib on the way back here. It's gonna be a long day for us all."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Hate
Myra was tended to by both dwarves on a rotating schedule. At first, Reiss sent Kurt to talk to the window repair guy, then Jorel to snag some cheap wood to cover the gaping hole in the meantime. The rest stayed behind to sweep up the glass and debris, all of it having to be filed away to check what was stolen later. Myra kept smiling safe inside her crib at the goings on, clapping from her silly mummy with hands coated in red goo as she plucked up glass wedged into the walls and gaps in the floor across the agency.
Reiss had to remind herself to wipe the blood from her hands before she could touch her daughter. The cuts came so fast, there was barely a point in bandaging it up until they were finished.
Jorel returned first with a giant slab of wood. He was cursing every third word at whoever had the shriveled balls to attack their place, but focused that anger into drilling nails through the boards and into the window. It was Kurt who slipped back later, his face pale and hands wringing the end of his beard.
Turning away from the pile of papers scattered out of their folders that she had to sort, Reiss asked, "What is it, Kurt?"
"It's, um..." the man glanced first at Qimat, who placed down her broom, then to Lunet. He was doing everything he could to not look at Reiss.
Of course she picked up on that fact instantly and girded herself. "I'm not about to shoot the messenger," she tried to soothe him.
"I spoke with the glass guy and, uh..." he tipped his head back, the face between beard and hair turning bright red while he rubbed his neck, "he said he couldn't help us."
"Why?" Lunet sneered. She held a hammer in her hand from trying to pry apart all the nailed together broken wood pieces for the fire. The rage building inside caused her to flex her knuckles tight against the handle.
Kurt noticed her weapon, and gulped again. "Because of, he said that. It wasn't me, it was him who..." the voice dipped down to a mumble.
"Spit it out, man," Jorel shouted at his brother.
"He said he wouldn't take any money from a whore," Kurt cried before clasping a hand
to his mouth. Every eye whipped over to Reiss who'd tipped her chin down to try and hide the flush building upon her cheeks. She wasn't certain if it was all rage or if a twinge of shame burned in there.
Lunet spun on Kurt, the hammer embedding into their shattered door as she needed to work something out, "You get your ass back there and you tell that Maker damned, pig-faced, brontofucker that he will supply us with a window and he'll do it at a discount!" Kurt gurgled in her grip, his eyes darting around for help.
"No," Reiss spoke up softly.
"Good point," Lunet tipped her head, "take Qimat. If anyone'll scare the pissants, it's her. Glare, a lot. Maybe if we rub some blood on your horns..."
"No, he's not going back," Reiss said louder, the command returning to her voice. "We're not going to force anyone to work for us that doesn't want to."
"For fuck's sake, Rat, you're gonna let them walk all over us? Over you, just because..." Lunet waved at Myra who was gumming on an old doll a girl gave them for rescuing her kitten. "This bastard owes us. Didn't you do him a favor by stopping the ones who were stealing his supplies?"
She remembered it well. Before they had a name, before they had a building, she stumbled into a gang of bandits posing as City Watch. They were confiscating goods left and right to sell on the blackmarket. It was a big egg on its face problem for the watch until Reiss brought all the imposters in. The glassmaker was so happy to have his supplies back, he offered them a free window when they moved into this place.
"It doesn't matter. We come back our way, with the people who'll serve us. The rest can...find someone else to solve their problems," she shrugged, her eyes glinting. "Qimat, head down to the riverfront. There's another glassmaker there, bit pricier, but maybe you can gently talk him down for it."
"Uh," the woman glanced over at Lunet who was still squeezing the hammer's handle with all her worth, "yes, Boss." She did her best to squeeze around Lunet out the door, when Reiss shouted out.
"And try to find a new door while you're out. Lunet's already started beating the old one off the hinges."
Her friend sneered, but yanked the hammer out of the good sized hole she battered into it. Reiss could hear the arguments between them, they'd been friends for far too long for her to not already know them. You can't pick and choose. They'll turn against us. It's what they do. They got the numbers and we got nothing.
Maybe she was right, maybe Reiss couldn't turn away those who'd spit in their faces in public but demand their aid in the dark. But she was exhausted from being the good elf. The kind and sweet one who always smiled politely at their little jokes, who didn't raise a fuss, who let them walk all over her back while acting as if she didn't know she was being screwed over. They strike at her, she'd strike back. And they forgot that in all this time ferreting out the secrets of Denerim, Reiss knew where the arteries of the city lurked and how to slice them open.
"Kurt," Reiss called out, "why don't you watch Myra for a bit? Take her upstairs where it's warmest. I have to start attacking this pile of cases."
"Oh," the dwarf's eyes lit up as he stepped away from the scary elf still holding the hammer. He reached in for Myra who'd been rather content sitting in her crib, but the appearance of a tuggable beard called to her like none could. Before the dwarf bustled her up to the apartment where a real fire was possible, Reiss reached over to her baby girl.
"You're being so good through this," she whispered, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. This is what I've pulled you into, the world you're born to. Hate. Hate on either side no matter what I do. Tears percolated in her eyes as she watched Myra vanish up the stairs, the regret at her selfish choice stinging harder when Kurt's foot creaked on the 13th stair.
"Boss?" Jorel grumbled, shaking Reiss from her fog.
She whipped back, the tears gone and her will of iron in place. "Finish nailing up the window. Lunet, rip off the door. I'll get to clearing a walkup path for customers."
They lost the day straining to get everything cleaned out in time. Reiss only took breaks to nurse Myra, and even then she'd often sit in what had been her office, trying to find the most important cases and put it all back in order. If a murderer slipped through their fingers because of what these cowards did... Qimat was a bit of a whiz with woodworking and managed to salvage Lunet's old desk. It was the only one that wasn't damaged beyond repair, though they were going to have to sand away the carvings.
For now it sat at the front with a stack of the cases Reiss picked sitting to the left, a single chair behind it, a bell for the customer to ring, and a small vase holding a single daisy because Kurt thought it would look nice. They pulled everything broken beyond repair to the back of the office and tacked up sheets before it to hide the mess. All day people would stop and stare, at first at the mess, and later at the spectacle of watching people dragging shit in and out through a broken window. Then their eyes would rise up to the graffiti and they'd scatter.
After a morning and afternoon of work, people began to ask, "Are you guys closed?"
"No, we're merely redecorating at the moment," Reiss would answer with a smile. "If you have a problem you need help with we should be fully open sometime after nightfall."
"A'right," was the answer, their eyes noting the damage and not voicing how in denial the elf was about pulling that off before sunset.
When the dinner hour set in, the baker stopped by to whisper about how he'd heard some hooligans had been around last night but hadn't witnessed anything. Reiss thanked him for whatever information he may have on them. She doubted the human would provide much, if not out of solidarity then not wanting to be targeted next, but he was kind enough to leave a bag of left over breads and pastries for the group to devour. After a day of hard labor and a baby stuck to her teat, Reiss was ravenous. The baker barely turned the corner before the entire offering vanished into weary but happy stomachs as a sort of celebration.
They'd done it. Streaks of waning sunlight stretched across the street while Jorel lit the new lamp outside their agency. He'd painted "Solvors" across the boarded up window. Reiss thought about correcting his spelling, but it was doubtful it mattered. A lot of their clients were illiterate anyway.
That was the final bit to finish in this insane plan to cling to normalcy. Yanking open the new door that almost looked as if it'd been ripped straight off of some other business' hinges, Jorel tugged out the sign that declared them "Open." He glanced over at everyone standing in front of the curtain, Reiss tipping her baby back and forth for Qimat's and Myra's entertainment.
"Got that all done up," he commented, wiping the blue paint off on his trousers.
"Excellent work," Reiss smiled, she couldn't be prouder of her people. They all pitched in to achieve the impossible with only a few minor grumps and groans about it.
"Whatcha want to do about the, er," Jorel jabbed a hand up towards the ceiling and then whispered, "K-E-W bit?"
"Leave it," Reiss' voice turned ice cold, her eyes narrowing to a slit.
"You can't be serious," Lunet half chuckled. "We'll get some ladders tomorrow and then scrub it off."
"Great," Jorel moped, as if it wouldn't be the qunari they'd send up there.
"I mean it," Reiss ordered, no laugh in her voice. "I want them all to see it. To know." She paused in bouncing Myra on her lap, her heart hardening in her chest. Hiding from the hate solved nothing.
"Rat, that's not..." Lunet began again, when Reiss whipped her head at her and snarled. "Okay, fine. We leave it. Who am I to argue with crazy?"
She stared a beat longer with Reiss, the only two elves struggling to breathe in their society enforced corsets. Take too deep of one and the narrow box they forced you into will break. The only hope of survival is shallow moments, quickly sipped in the corner where the shems wouldn't notice. Reiss smiled a bit and Lunet matched it.
"Talk of crazy, I ain't the one who once swam the breadth of the Drakon river in winter."
"Oh sure, it'll come out bad if we're gonna include
all the stories when I'm drunk," Lunet chuckled, extending her hands.
"If we're gonna swap horror stories, let's do it back by the fire. It's colder than a qunari's teat out here," Jorel grumped, rubbing up and down his shoulders. He paused as he felt two sets of eyes glaring at him. "What? It's one o' them expressions. I ain't on trial here."
"Not here, precisely," Kurt spoke up, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed happiest in the company of the baby. "But I remember back in Orzammar..."
They all hid behind the curtain, talking shit and trading stories from their old days. Speaking about the times when they nearly thought they'd die, or stood arse deep in freezing mud, or were glaring down the wrong end of a wyvern, it made all this mess seem so unimportant. It was a small divot on the road, nothing more.
Reiss kept Myra in her lap, the baby happy to see so many laughing and cringing faces, until she checked the hour and tucked her tight into the crib. She braced for oncoming wails but her daughter tuckered right out. Throughout the night, they traded who would sit at the front desk, doing their best to look busy in the chance a customer came through the door while keeping an ear back to hear the really embarrassing stories.
By around hour three, Reiss felt herself fading. She'd been up and down the night previous as Myra decided sleeping through an entire eight hours was boring when there was her foot to fight with. It was foolish to remain awake for the entire night, it wasn't as if anything interesting would happen, but she felt as if she needed to. Like that first night after the birth sitting there watching Myra breathe just to make certain she didn't stop. Her agency was struggling, and it needed her to sit watch by its bedside.
Jorel perched in Qimat's lap, their frosty relationship back to smoldering while Lunet kicked a foot into the remains of a desk. After rifling through all their business life, talked turned to personal. More than a few were drunk enough, or exhausted enough, to try and pry into the King's more private attributes. As the dwarf put it, "Well, we know it works at least, and is long enough to get in there."
Love's Blush Page 107
