by Drew Hayes
A day’s worth of gossip had given Thistle a theory, though he had no proof to back it up. In some ways, that was almost proof in and of itself. But rather than hastily jumping to more conclusions, Thistle was determined to keep an open mind. He would wait until they heard back from Elora and then use whatever information she delivered to shape his theory, rather than assuming he was right and finding a way to twist her information to his thoughts. Thistle needed to uncover the right answer, not the one he was expecting or hoping for.
Slowly, he began the trek back to the inn; his hobbled body would take almost twice as long to make the journey as a spry gnome’s. When he was young, Thistle had hated the gods for making him gnarled and twisted. It was only as he got older that he understood being weak in body had forced him to be strong of mind, and now, he wouldn’t trade his wits for the muscles of Grumph and Timuscor combined. It was time to start using that head, though. He’d been thinking like a paladin when he assumed Kalzidar was the culprit in their caper.
Now, he needed to think like a minion.
* * *
Perched on the rooftop, staring down at the empty streets, it occurred to Elora that perhaps she should have done this job at an hourly rate. Sure, a thousand gold for training their friend and taking his place seemed like a decent deal, but it failed to take into account just how boring this part of being a rogue was. Being motionless, watching intently while still letting her mind wander, these were gifts she’d mastered long ago. However, that didn’t make the act of using them particularly enjoyable. In fact, Elora generally padded her bills for these moments when working a normal job. She felt it was only fair to charge more for the bits she loathed the most.
Bringing Eric along might have made it more interesting and even taught him the very skills she was currently employing, but he was just too green to risk. Even if he’d managed to make it through two days of training, the first encounter with a target was vital. It was when she would get the chance to see just how powerful her prey was, and when they could be most easily alerted to her if she made a mistake. The first encounter was dangerous and thrilling, and she would really love if it would just happen already. Her knees were starting to ache.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if her contacts had been able to turn anything up. True, it had only been a day, but so far, the results were far from encouraging. No one really cared that much about underlings or their temple, and in a city the size of Alcatham’s capital, there were far more interesting tidbits for the information brokers to concern themselves with. Gathering intel on this situation meant either doing it herself or paying someone else, and Elora never parted with coin she didn’t have to. It was a matter of principle, so far as she was concerned.
As she watched, a small group of kobolds made their way toward the temple. They were neither the first nor the last to approach, their reptilian heads spinning about as they traipsed through the street. Three new figures stepped into view from a nearby alley, and suddenly Elora’s boredom was a thing of the past. Here, at last, was what she’d been hoping for.
The three figures were all roughly the same height, with one standing just a hair above the others. Each was dressed in dark clothes with hooded cloaks that obscured their faces, and they moved quietly as they crept along toward the group of kobolds. Someone without Elora’s skills might even have described their steps as silent, but she’d spent far too long honing her craft to miss their small noises. They had training, that much was evident, but it wasn’t especially great training. Their bodies were too muscular, their movements too stiff. Not rogues, at least not purely. Much as she wanted to adjust for a better view, she stayed utterly still. She couldn’t afford to give her position away; how they fought would tell her almost as much about them as an interrogation.
When the three figures struck, it was fast and precise. Whatever she could say about their stealth training, these three clearly knew how to fight. Not that it was an especially tough battle; the kobolds were cowering almost before the first punch even flew. Elora tried to detach herself from what she was watching, focusing instead on cataloguing the attackers’ movements, trying to learn as much as she could in the brief skirmish. Some part of her wished she’d brought Eric along—this was a vital training moment for any rogue. To watch was difficult, not just because of the sore body and bored mind. No, the truly difficult part was forcing one’s self to sit motionless, even when there was something happening that could be stopped. It was part of why she’d demanded her three days of autonomy from the group—even without the paladin, they would never have patiently observed while innocents were assaulted.
Mercifully, the attack was as brief as it was harsh, and though soft whimpers could be heard from the wounded kobolds, they all appeared to still be breathing. The three hooded figures darted back down the alley, their steps even less concealed than before.
Now was the time Elora had to make a choice. From what she’d witnessed, she was relatively certain they could put a trap together to snare these assailants. However, that depended on them sticking to the pattern as it stood. If they’d noticed her, then that might cause them to change things, and all her watching would be for naught. On the other hand, their task wasn’t done until the source of these attacks was dealt with, and nothing she’d seen indicated that any of them were the mastermind type. The gods had been with her; she’d gotten an opportunity on the first night. There was no telling how long it might be until her next one came along. Take what she had and return safely? Or risk it all and give chase?
A wide grin briefly flashed across Elora’s face as she sprang up from the rooftop, running and leaping to another as she kept a careful eye on the movements of the three figures. Unlike theirs, her steps were as soft as one beat of a songbird’s wings, and the night wrapped around her as much as her cloak. No rogue was perfect; no enemy entirely unaware. She’d forgotten that lesson while tracking Eric’s party and was now paying for it, which was why she had to work as hard as she could to remain undetected as she trailed the figures.
They kept running, movements growing bolder the farther they got from the scene of the crime. After a time, there was even laughter and talking, a bit of celebration at a task well-done. All the while, none of them noticed that they’d taken a souvenir from their evening’s activities, that they were bringing home one more shadow than they’d started with. And that’s exactly what Elora was banking on.
Chapter 24
When Elora walked in, the whole group tensed. No one knew what the night might hold, what enemy they might ultimately face. Everyone had spent the day preparing, readying themselves for anything as best they could while waiting for the dinner at which her findings would be revealed. In fact, they were so focused on Elora that it was several seconds before they realized there was someone was with her—a familiar face they should have placed immediately.
“You brought Eric?” Gabrielle asked before Elora had even had a chance to sit down.
“I did,” Elora said, although confirmation was hardly needed, as he was standing right there. It had only been three days, and he looked much the same. A bit paler, Thistle noted, which meant wherever he was being trained didn’t have ample sunlight.
She dropped into an open spot at the table and then motioned for Eric to do the same. He complied, and then gave a small wave to the others. “Hey, everyone. Do you know what this is about? She wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I didn’t want to have to explain myself twice—you know I loathe that,” Elora said. “And never admit your ignorance without cause. You might need to bluff information later on.”
“In this case, I think we could have put it together,” Thistle told her. “We’re aware of how little you enjoy sharing.”
“It’s not about this occasion; it’s about learning the habits in general.” Elora sighed and motioned to the wait staff for ale. “Anyway, yes, I had to bring Eric with me because I’d hardly be doing my job as a trainer if I left him alone for s
o long. Which brings me to my main point: everyone pack your things. We’re going on a trip.”
“But we’re supposed to help the temple,” Timuscor said.
Elora nodded. “Which is why we’re going to have to leave town. I tracked our culprits on the first night; they’re hiding out in the slums of the merchant district. Thing is, that’s all they seem to be doing. Go out, rough up people heading to worship Grumble, go back and drink some ale. It was a strange pattern from the outset, so I’ve spent as much time as I could in the last few days keeping watch over them. I even used a magical item for when I couldn’t be there in person. And what I eventually saw was that we’re dealing with a fist, not a brain.”
“What does that even mean?” Gabrielle asked.
“Pawns,” Grumph said. “They’re on orders.”
“Which is quite a jump to make,” Thistle added. “I assume you have proof?”
“Nothing that would hold up in a kingdom court, but more than enough to assure me I’m right.” Elora paused as a waitress arrived and set an ale down in front of her. “Your main attackers—there are three of them, by the way—are nothing but mercenaries. They only know enough about stealth to get by, but they’re clearly skilled fighters. The fact that they’ve managed to avoid any casualties so far speaks to that.”
Thistle blinked in surprise. He hadn’t yet shared that detail with Elora—or the others, for that matter. Her information gathering skills were proving to be far more than just talk.
“The thing about mercenaries is they’re easy to deal with,” Elora continued. “You follow the money back to its source, and then you cut it off. A rider came into town today and met with our trio. From what he was wearing, it was obvious this fellow was in a whole different league of wealth. Fine-tailored clothing, an enchanted cloak, and a sword on his side that was obviously the work of a master smith...” Elora trailed off, suddenly aware that she’d let herself go off on a tangent. With a soft cough into her hand, she resumed. “Anyway, Fancy Pants came in, chatted with our three, and then rode off. He’s heading out of the kingdom, somewhere to the north. If you want to find the source of this problem, then that’s where we’re going too.”
“How do you know where he’s going?” Gabrielle asked. “And how are we supposed to track him?”
With some theatricality, Elora dipped her hand into her pocket and produced a small compass. “I slipped a rune-stone into his saddlebags while he was busy with the trio, and this will lead us to it.”
“Magic?” Timuscor looked a bit bewildered for a moment. “For a rogue, isn’t that kind of... cheating?”
“Cheating is what rogues do best,” Elora replied. “And in a world full of magic, it’s only fools who don’t use it to their advantage. Granted, the rune-stones can be a bit pricey, so I avoid using them whenever possible. But this was an occasion that demanded such an expense.”
“To fulfill your obligation,” Grumph rumbled.
“Fuck my obligation.” Elora’s face darkened, and she slammed her mug of ale down so hard that the table shook. “I don’t spend a copper on paying off favors. No, this is personal. Someone brought hired muscle into our territory without so much as even passing it by my people. If we’d turned it down, that’d be one thing, but to cut us out completely is an insult to the shadows of Camnarael, and I’ll be damned if it’s one I’ll let stand. We’re going to show them what happens to those who think they can ignore the propriety of the shadows.”
Silence seemed to stretch around them, even amidst the rabble of other drinkers and adventurers causing a ruckus. Slowly, Thistle leaned forward, making sure to choose his words precisely. “To be clear, the reason you’re upset isn’t that someone is beating up the innocent, it’s that they didn’t hire you and your people to do it?”
“More or less. I doubt we actually would have taken the job, not unless the money was right, but it’s the principle of the thing.” Elora smiled, her usual carefree mask affixed in place once more. “Someone assumed it would be cheaper to bring in outside mercenaries, rather than even try and deal with us. And I suppose they were right, in a sense, but it’s my duty to remind them that are more types of costs than mere gold.”
“I know it’s weird, but honestly, this is the first time I actually sort of like her,” Gabrielle said.
“She grows on you,” Eric agreed, earning himself a sharp look from his teacher.
“Just so we’re clear, this still counts as me clearing the books on the quest help I owe,” Elora told them. “I just have a little more motivation than I did before. You get my silver-level aid rather than bronze.”
“I shudder to imagine what would be required to earn the gold level,” Thistle said. “I suppose there is nothing else to do but ready the horses and give our culprit chase.”
“Wait, shouldn’t we go stop the attackers first? She knows where they are. We could ambush them so they can’t hurt anyone else while we’re gone.” Timuscor looked to Thistle, waiting for confirmation that that was indeed the correct next step.
“Much as it pains me to say this—and if Grumble has any objections, he is free to pin me to the ground once more—I’m afraid we can’t risk going after them yet.” Thistle kept his tone calm, even as he fought back all the desire in his heart to do exactly what Timuscor was suggesting. “Knowing they have strong financial backers means we must account for the possibility that the mercenaries have been given some sort of magical emergency signal in case they’re compromised. If we attack them, we risk alerting the ones pulling the strings, at which point, they will likely vanish.”
“Which is what we want,” Timuscor pointed out.
“No, we want them stopped,” Thistle corrected. “In time, they would strike again, using new pawns in place of the old. I know it seems cruel to leave the capital’s minions in danger—and in fact, it is exactly that, a cruel and cold decision. Yet, if we don’t do this, then many others will suffer. Part of being a paladin is accepting that we have limits and can only do our best to ensure we use our strength to protect the greatest number of people.”
“And the ones you leave behind?” Timuscor was staring at Thistle intently, as was the rest of the table.
The gnome considered the question carefully; it was one he’d been asking himself since the day Grumble first laid the mantle of paladin upon him. “For those, we can only trust the gods,” Thistle said at last. “None of us, not adventurers, not paladins, has the ability to be in all places at once. Grumble set me, set all of us, on this path. I must believe he will take care of those in need while we see it through.”
The others thought he was done, but Thistle bowed his head slightly and continued. “And if he does not watch over them... well, then he and I will have a long discussion the next time he needs a favor.”
“What, are you going to tell your god no?” Elora asked.
“If I deem it the right thing to do,” Thistle said. “Paladins are servants, not slaves. And I will not serve a god who does not have his followers’ best interests at heart.”
Elora glanced up at the ceiling, no doubt expecting lightning or fire to rain from the sky. Eventually, she looked back at Thistle and let out a light chuckle.
“Now that the paladin has committed borderline blasphemy, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to plunge headfirst into the unknown, trailing an enemy whose strength we have no measure of. No way that can go wrong. Not at all.”
* * *
“You pass another party of riders as you make your way to the Hall of Adventurers, but they swing wide to give you the road,” Russell informed his players. “Since no one failed their Riding check, you all make it the rest of the way without issue, tying off your horses in the stables and then heading in.”
“Thank every god in the pantheon. I didn’t think we’d ever make it out of that grove.” Cheri leaned back in her chair, letting out a breath she’d more or less been holding since they started their escape attempt.
“That’s the danger
in collecting ether-silk from moon spiders; it can warp the senses and ensnare almost anyone,” Bert replied. “Which is also why it goes for such a high price. With just the bags we grabbed, I bet we can get new gear for at least half the party.”
“And you have no idea how overjoyed that makes me, but how about for the next quest, we trade payoff for safety. The last thing I want is for Chalara to kick the bucket right before we get to see the Grand Quest,” Cheri said.
“It’s still nearly a month away,” Russell reminded them. “You could theoretically have a party wipe and still get new characters qualified to participate. They would be less prepared, though.”
Tim, who’d been staring at his sheet for the last few minutes, cleared his throat. “Actually, and I don’t mean to bring everyone down, but I don’t think I can do another loot quest. Not right now, anyway. The first one was fine; we were trying to earn the right to take on more difficult missions. And Timanuel agreed to the ether-silk gathering because it was what was best for the party. But when we were being told about our options, there were a lot of other missions. Missions for people who needed help. I get that we have to prepare for the Grand Quest, and we need to be careful until it arrives, but Timanuel is still a paladin. He can’t sit idly by or go on loot runs when there are people out there in serious need. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t optimum for the party. I just can’t justify Timanuel putting gold over people again, not until he does some good in the world.”
The table grew still, save for Russell scratching down a few lines on his notepad. Although he’d given a passing thought to a paladin of Longinus spending so much time gathering gold, there was more than enough precedent for it. After all, paladins had to pay for their rooms and food, to say nothing of the weapons and armor used to combat evil. Gathering funds to do his job better wasn’t an inherently bad thing, and so Russell had said nothing of the party going from one loot quest to another. Tim, however, had obviously been giving the matter a great deal of thought. Russell didn’t know if it was the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to play a paladin in the first game, or if this was just a manifestation of who Tim dreamed of being, but he took the duty of paladinhood more seriously than anyone else Russell had ever known or played with.
