Sand of the Soul

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  Normally, the tallhouse owner’s colors would have hung there, but the banner had been taken in due to the weather. Tazi grabbed onto the wooden staff and spun around it madly for a few revolutions. The rain, of course, as well as some moss had made the wood slick, and her dismount was uncontrolled, leaving much to be desired. Fortunately for her, the ground was not too far below.

  Landing hard on her rump, Tazi lost her breath in one whoosh. Momentarily dazed, she could only blink water from her eyes, a mostly useless exercise in the deluge. Even if she weren’t dressed as a not-so-respectable young man, part of her normal, “evening” clothing when she was on jaunts such as this, anyone who knew her would have had a hard time recognizing her. The only daughter of one of Selgaunt’s wealthiest families had come to rest ignominiously in a puddle of mud in the alleyway between the two tallhouses.

  Regaining her composure, Tazi stood and disgustedly tried to wipe her leathers clean with her gloved hands, as she flexed this part of her and that to assess any injuries. Realizing there was little chance of cleaning off the bulk of the filth, Tazi allowed a foul expression to fix itself on her face. Acknowledging to herself that it was her pride that was wounded and nothing more, she began looking for her prize.

  It only took a few moments of foraging for her to discover her sack, half hung up as it was on one of the lower window casements of the second tallhouse. The broken end of the rope swayed mockingly nearby and Tazi cursed herself for not examining her equipment more closely earlier in the evening. She decided to berate herself later and salvage at least something from this miserable night.

  With a quick jump, she reclaimed her sack with slightly more grace than her previous endeavor. The glass figurine did not fair so well. It had smashed into a few large shards. Tazi held one piece up for a moment and examined it absently, then let the piece drop to the street and kicked at the remains viciously, lucky that her boots were tough leather.

  “I quit,” she cried aloud and began to make her way out to Rindall’s Way.

  As she had rightly suspected, Tazi passed no one on her slow march back to the Oxblood Quarter and the Shattered Kit Fox. With the unusually warm weather passed nearly a tenday ago, the blustery and wild conditions of Marpenoth had returned. Only the most destitute or desperate would have no choice but to brave the inclement weather that night. And, of course, the serious sellers that Selgaunt was famous for. The climate, as it turned out, was a perfect match for Tazi’s mood: stormy. The cloak she kept in her sack provided little cover and practically no warmth. All she wanted was a warm mug of wine and some dry clothes—and to be left in peace.

  Such a simple job, she chided herself, and I still failed. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, but she had no answer.

  Soon enough, she was on Larawkan Lane, with the Kit in sight. The tavern had been her home away from home for nearly the past five years. Stormweather Towers, the Uskevren mansion, was spacious enough most of the time, but Tazi had discovered that keeping rooms at the Kit afforded her a certain amount of freedom that she found almost nowhere else. It was a place where, even though she was disguised, Tazi could be herself.

  “There is privacy in anonymity,” the family butler had once remarked to her. Like so many of his lessons, Tazi had taken it to heart.

  She reached the battered door of the Kit and pushed at it, her anger fueling her. The door slammed open, drawing bemused stares from the few patrons inside. The foul weather had made for a slow night at the normally bustling tavern. At the sound of the clatter, the barkeep shot the newcomer an angry look. Tazi returned his glare for a moment before turning to close the door behind her. As Tazi passed under one of the glow lights fixed near a support timber, Alall, both barkeep and co-owner, was able to get a better glimpse of the sopping wet intruder. Recognition lit across his face, and his gray-grizzled jowls softened as he began to smile.

  Ignoring his welcoming look, Tazi made for a table in the northwest corner of the bar. She shook off her wet cloak and slung it on a nearby stool with her sack. Slumping into a chair against the wall, she began to peel off some of her outer garments, but not enough clothes to ruin the illusion that she was a young man. She was always careful about that. As Tazi began to scrub ineffectually at her soaked hair, a dishrag was suddenly thrust under her nose.

  “Here you go, poppet,” Alall offered. “I believe you’ve brought in enough water tonight to rival the River Arkhen,” he chuckled good-naturedly.

  Tazi quietly accepted the cloth and began to towel dry her short, dark locks.

  Not too put off by her silence, the barkeep continued, “What can I offer you to warm yourself? Some hot cider or a mug of mulled wine?”

  “Just some hot wine, Alall,” Tazi replied abruptly, not looking him in the eye.

  “Right away,” he cheerfully answered, but the cheer was somewhat forced.

  Alall had a keen, albeit somewhat aged eye, and he knew something was troubling the cleverly disguised woman in front of him. In fact, he suspected something had been bothering her for some months. He decided to try another tactic.

  “I’ll see if I can scare up my good-for-nothing wife and get her into the kitchen for you,” Alall said, as he lit the gutted candle on her table.

  Tazi looked up sharply until she realized that Alall was teasing with his “good-for-nothing” remark.

  “Don’t trouble Kalli on my account,” she said.

  “No trouble for you, poppet,” he replied.

  He walked away before Tazi could come up with another reason not to eat.

  Tazi sighed and leaned back in her chair as she watched Alall bustle off. She shook her head disgustedly. There was just no stopping the innkeeper once he had a notion fixed in his gray head. Normally, she felt comfortable and safe there. Nevertheless, she was antsy and agitated.

  “It must be these wet things,” she mumbled and tried to dry herself with Alall’s dishrag.

  As she blotted her throat and shoulders, Tazi winced when she ran the cloth over a section of her chest. She dropped the rag and ran her hand along her breastbone. Once more she realized that the wound had long since healed over. There was hardly any trace of the scar left after all this time, just the memory of pain. Almost against her will, though, Tazi found her thoughts drifting back to that fateful evening nearly two years past.

  It had all started out well enough. The typical family response to a semi-important festival day: over the top and all the most elite of Selgaunt in attendance. Tazi had again favored a Cormyrean-styled gown chosen to drive her mother, Shamur, to distraction. Some details were vague but Tazi smiled slightly as she was sure Shamur had been angry about her clothing selection that evening. Tazi was also certain her mother was angered by the fact that her daughter was once again ignoring the eligible men Shamur carefully positioned before her. Tazi had chosen to give most of her attention to the daughter of a family friend: Meena Foxmantle. Tazi had chosen this course for its aggravation value alone.

  Meena was not the most exciting company, being rather a mousy sort of girl. Normally, Tazi would have only spent time with her if she had been forced to, but more than anything she enjoyed being contrary where her mother was concerned. Talking to a girl all evening was not what Shamur expected her daughter to do.

  As the evening and Meena’s ceaseless prattle dragged on, Tazi recalled letting her eyes wander. She remembered her elf friend Ebeian had been in attendance, but he was too busy working the room to do more than nod in her direction. Of course, Erevis Cale managed to catch her glance more than once that evening.

  Erevis …

  “What can I fix up for you?” a warm voice interrupted.

  Tazi was startled out of her reverie by the question. She looked up into the hazel eyes of Alall’s wife Kalli. The tall woman loomed over Tazi, who sat hunched in the corner. Almost as old as Alall, Kalli stood a good head taller than her husband. Tazi could tell that Kalli, like Alall, was trying to mask the concern etched on her face with little success.

/>   “Please don’t bother, Kalli,” Tazi said with a half-hearted smile. “I told Alall not to trouble you, but he just doesn’t seem to listen to anyone but you once he gets an idea stuck in his head.”

  “He knows well enough to mind me,” she replied jokingly, almost distracted by Tazi’s comment. But too many years in the Sembian army had trained the woman well. She could recognize misdirection when it came her way. “It really is no trouble. You should have something substantial inside you, especially if you’ve been up to no good.” At this, Kalli gave a slight nod to Tazi’s cloak and sack. “Even a bit of stew would do you good.”

  Tazi would have bridled if her mother had talked to her like that, even though their infamous quarreling had softened over the past year to something more like gentle fencing. But with Kalli, she had never felt anything other than companionship. Tazi respected and even envied the quiet discipline the older woman possessed. It went beyond her years of military service and training. Tazi recognized that Kalli felt complete in herself and with who she was.

  “Maybe just a little stew, if it isn’t too much trouble,” she relented, mostly to please Kalli but also to buy herself some time alone.

  The tall woman brushed a strand of her slightly graying blond hair from her eyes, and her strong features relaxed some at Tazi’s acquiescence.

  “No trouble where you’re concerned.” With that, she headed off to the kitchen.

  Tazi’s gaze drifted to the flickering light of the candle, and she shivered slightly. She could hear the rain pounding outside. It would take some time before her leathers would dry out after the night’s failed escapade. While it would only take a few moments to wander upstairs to her rented room and change, Tazi found that she was suddenly too tired to bother. Her failure weighed her down. Nothing seemed to go her way and hadn’t since that night. Involuntarily, her fingers trailed lightly across the faint scar on her chest. Once again, Tazi was caught up with memories.

  That night had carried on so uneventfully. Tazi’s only recollection of her conversation with Meena was her saying something about Steorf. That had captured Tazi’s full attention. It had been many months since Tazi had seen or heard much about the mage-in-training. She had broken off their relationship after she had discovered in a most foul manner that the young man had been hired by her father to keep her out of harm’s way and clean up after her. Tazi wasn’t able to get past the sense of betrayal she felt. She could number on one hand those people she counted as friends, and she had thought he was one of them. She couldn’t take the fact that it appeared that he was a hired friend.

  As much as that stung, still she found herself scanning the room for him at Meena’s mention. While her sea-green eyes were not able to find his tall, blond figure that didn’t mean he wasn’t somehow there. He was a formidable enough mage in his own right that a cloaking spell would have been easy enough to manage. That night wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed her mind. Sometimes she just sensed he was near, somehow, but before she could look much more, all hell was unleashed in the main hall.

  Black shadow creatures descended on the unsuspecting guests as well as a veritable army of ghouls. While the ghouls fought in the expected fashion, those revelers the shadow demons managed to slash paid a horrible price. Tazi had watched as one victim after another fell under their claws. As the victims were ripped open, wispy vapors escaped their bodies. The fiendish wraiths seemed to feed on the vapors, and as the mist left the wounded person’s body, the corpse itself shriveled away, leaving nothing but a dried husk behind.

  Tazi couldn’t remember how many of those creatures invaded her home. Defensive pockets of people formed as both ghouls and shadow monsters made their way through the crowds. Some of the guests fell while others tried to protect themselves. She recalled grabbing Meena by the hand, who had became immobilized at the sight of the creatures. Tazi had planned to drag her over to where her parents were circled by the family guard. She thought they would stand a better chance there. Only a few ghouls stood in her way. Since Tazi had defied her parents’ orders, she was not unarmed as were so many others in the main hall.

  She had hidden an enchanted dagger beneath the folds of her dress. It only took a moment to grab it and free herself of a few of those folds at the same time. Without the long skirt of her gown tripping her up, Tazi had been able to move more freely. It was a good maneuver on her part, for a ghoul was eyeing Meena and herself. Realizing her companion was helpless, Tazi knew it was up to her to save them both.

  The ghoul was formidable, and it did an insidious job toying with Tazi. As soon as she saw her opening, Tazi had slashed the creature’s throat and drove her dagger home as the ghoul writhed on the ground, gushing purple blood. Seizing Meena once more, Tazi again tried to reach her parents and the guard, but a shadow had other plans.

  With her parents only a few paces away, a shadow demon descended in front of Tazi, cutting her off. She immediately shoved Meena behind her and brandished her enchanted dagger. Of everything that happened that night, Tazi most remembered the icy yellow eyes of the shadow and how they bored into her very being—and how hungry they were. She felt caught by their intensity. The only thing that snapped her to awareness had been the sound of Cale shouting her name.

  Overcome by the horror, Meena fainted dead away. Tazi had no choice other than to position herself over the insensate girl. She couldn’t abandon Meena. She slashed at the shadow, which swirled around her, to no avail. Once more, she heard Cale scream her name and she recalled fearing he was somehow in mortal danger. Perhaps those thoughts distracted her enough, she wasn’t sure, but the shadow moved in with lightning speed to rake her with its talons. Though she was agile enough to sidestep the brunt of the attack, the creature still tore open her shoulder. The blow brought Tazi to her knees. She dropped her dagger and clutched at her shoulder. Once again the shadow swooped in and sliced across Tazi’s chest.

  Instead of the warm blood Tazi thought she was going to feel ooze down her chest, a chill stole over her. It was as though she was sinking in cold waters. She could vaguely make out the face of Erevis Cale, but it had an unreal quality to her. A gray mist obscured her vision then, and everything became darkness.

  Tazi couldn’t remember much after that. Her parents later told her what they were able to learn about the shadows. It seemed that they fed off the souls of their victims. Many had perished that night, but Tazi was spared, thanks to Cale’s brave intervention. She was told he managed to stop the shadow demon before it was actually able to feed on her soul. Furthermore, after he successfully wounded and drove the creature from the Uskevren mansion, most of Tazi’s essence flowed back into her. It took song priests many hours to reunite the rest of her soul and life-force with her body. Tazi recalled the long and painful months of recuperation that followed.

  She trained tirelessly, trying to regain her former strength and agility, but every day was a struggle. She was amazed to discover how weak she had become, and she was too frightened to admit it to anyone. Those closest to her saw how tired and pale she was, but she persevered through her own self-imposed training and had reached a point, or so she thought, when she was ready to try her hand at some of her more larcenous activities. When the winds of Marpenoth turned cool again, Tazi woke up feeling oddly refreshed. She took it as a sign that she was ready again, but she had failed tonight.

  “Sorry to interrupt your daydreams,” Kalli said, “but your stew’s ready.”

  Kalli looked at her, clearly disturbed by the vacant look in Tazi’s eyes.

  “It looks good,” Tazi replied after a moment’s hesitation. “It should be fine,” she added, sensing Kalli wanted her to say something else.

  Kalli placed both her hands on the wooden table and leaned closer to Tazi.

  “Child, what is wrong?” she whispered.

  Tazi looked up into Kalli’s face. She could see how worried Kalli was. Glancing past the older woman’s shoulder, Tazi could see that Alall was watching the
scene from behind the bar. As soon as Tazi caught his eye, he turned his attention back to the mug he had ostensibly been polishing for the past five minutes. If everything had been normal, Tazi would have laughed at the two mother hens clucking over her, but all she felt was suffocation.

  “Just leave it be,” she whispered to Kalli and saw the hurt register on the woman’s face.

  Kalli straightened her back and turned to leave. Tazi shot out her hand and caught the woman’s wrist lightly. Kalli turned at her touch.

  “One day,” Tazi promised, “I’ll try to explain.”

  If I’m ever able to explain it to myself, she thought.

  “When you’re ready, child, I am always ready to listen. You know I …” but the older woman was unable to say more. Tazi’s words had been enough to soften Kalli.

  “I know,” Tazi said sincerely and squeezed Kalli’s hand once before letting go.

  Kalli smiled at her and walked away, leaving Tazi to her solitude.

  She picked absently at the bowl of steaming stew, one of Kalli’s finer concoctions, with little interest. She knew if she didn’t at least play with the bowl for a little bit, either Kalli or Alall would find some excuse to come back over and worry over her. Tazi really didn’t want to say something to either of them that she would regret later. They had been too good to her over the years to deserve that kind of treatment. The only other person outside her family that she had known longer than the Ulols was Steorf.

  Why does his name keep floating up tonight? she wondered.

  Pushing the bowl away from herself, Tazi reached for the mug of wine. She sipped at it slowly, feeling its warmth start to spread through her. She warned herself not to drink too much without food, but Tazi had already decided she would spend the night in her rooms here. Her condition, inebriated or otherwise, really wouldn’t make any difference. She hoped the wine would help her forget the evening’s failure.