The Halls of Stormweather s-1

by Philip Athans

  "You might as well start undressing," Tazi said, almost tearing some of her buttons in her haste, "because I don't have all night. I've already wasted enough time here this evening." Larajin began to remove her white-and-gold servant's uniform, still not sure what her mistress had planned but secretly glad to be rid of her own costume.

  Tazi slipped off her dancing shoes and stepped out of the pool of red velvet at her feet. Without missing a stride, she padded unselfconsciously over to the settee and began to undo the bundle of leather. When she had her change of clothing laid out, Tazi could see realization dawn across her maid's pretty features. It took only a few practiced motions for Tazi to re-outfit herself. Now she turned her attention to her near-nude servant.

  "Come on over here." Tazi pointed to the pile of evening clothes. "Let me help you into this." She could see hesitation in every step Larajin took.

  "Oh, don't act so," Tazi gently chided her. "It's not like you never did this before." Larajin looked at her with some surprise.

  "What do you mean, mistress?" she asked softly.

  "I've seen you in here before, trying on some of my-how shall I put it-less respectable garments. We are, after all, almost exactly the same size." Seeing alarm spread across Larajin's smooth face, Tazi quickly added, "I don't mind. In fact, you can help yourself to any gown you fancy any time. But I need you to do me a favor tonight because you're my size. I need you to be me for the rest of this evening." She nudged Larajin into the center of her discarded evening wear and began to help her dress.

  "Mistress Thazienne, this can't work," Larajin implored, holding out her hands beseechingly.

  Almost as though she were dressing a child, Tazi caught up her maid's arms and began to slide them into the snug sleeves. "Don't worry about any of this," she soothed. You only have to be me for a few hours."

  Tazi walked behind her maid and began to do up the back of the gown. Larajin tried to protest once more, but Tazi cinched up her corset a little roughly, and Larajin's complaints ended in a sharp gasp. Tazi spun her around to face her.

  "This will work out just fine," Tazi warned her. Smiling again, Tazi began to tie up Larajin's rust-colored hair into a style that gave the illusion of shorter locks. After a moment, Larajin gathered up her courage to question Tazi again even after that first, painful rebuke.

  "Mistress, I only meant that it might be difficult to pass for you because of the difference in our hair and eyes."

  Tazi finished Larajin's hair and moved over to where she had carelessly tossed her feathery mask. She placed it on Larajin and took a step back to admire her handiwork.

  "No one should look too closely at your yellow eyes with that on, but you are right about the hair," she said after a moment, tapping one gloved finger against her chin. "Yours looks like it was kissed by the sun and mine is like night." She unconsciously twirled an onyx strand and thought for a moment. "Black," she spoke quietly, "like coal… or soot." With a quick laugh, Tazi ran over to the fireplace and plunged her hands into the cold ashes. She then beckoned Larajin closer with a dirty finger.

  "I'm sure this will come out fairly easily," Tazi reassured her maid as she powdered the woman's hair with coal dust and soot, "and it does solve the problem of color very nicely." Tazi finished her job and then gave Larajin a pat on the head to have her look up.

  "Now," she admonished, "stop biting your lip, stand up straight, and put a smile on your face." Tazi walked around to stand behind her. She placed her hands on Larajin's shoulders and leaned toward her right ear.

  "You can do this," she whispered encouragingly. "And you might even have some fun." Stepping around to once again face her, Tazi added a few last instructions. "All you have to do is dance with a half dozen or so of my current suitors. It shouldn't take more than a few hours. Don't look them in the eye too much," she continued her list as she paced around the unmoving Larajin like a drill instructor, "and don't answer any of their questions. I never do. My mother is now too angry to speak to me for the rest of the evening, and Father will be engrossed in business. He won't have time to trade words with you. I mean me," she smiled. "You should be all set."

  Some of Larajin's unease had faded at the mention of the word "fun." Tazi could see she was warming up to the challenge of a prank. There might yet be hope for the girl, Tazi thought. Even if things should go awry and Larajin was found out, Tazi wasn't too concerned. She had noticed that since Larajin had been in the service of the Uskevren, she never received many punishments, unlike the other maids. There must be some arrangement between her and my younger brother, Tazi mused to herself. Larajin would be safe enough. "Let's go," Tazi said and pushed the girl toward the door.

  Falling into the role of co-conspirator, Larajin cautiously peered down the hallway but saw that Tazi and she were quite alone. The two women, now so differently garbed, stepped into the passageway. Without exchanging a word, they headed as one toward the grand staircase. Tazi stopped just short of it, however, and Larajin turned questioningly toward her.

  "What's wrong," the maid demanded in a loud whisper.

  "Nothing," Tazi reassured her. "I'm simply not going your way. I'm just going to slip out through the window back at the end of the hallway," she gestured.

  Surprising Tazi, Larajin said, "Don't worry. No one will recognize you. I hardly do myself."

  Smiling, Tazi explained, "Actually, there are one or two guests who would recognize me, and I don't feel like explaining anything else tonight. Off with you now," she ordered in a motherly tone to the girl two years her senior. "Don't have too much fun. I do have a reputation to maintain." She only managed to maintain her severe expression for a heartbeat before stifling a laugh. Larajin joined her, and the girls wished each other well.

  For a few moments, Tazi observed Larajin as the girl, hesitantly at first, made her way down the grand staircase. At the bottom, Tazi saw with wry amusement that her suitors swarmed around Larajin, each one proffering her an arm and imploring her for a dance. She watched as Larajin carefully selected one and the lucky fellow swept her onto the dance floor. Confident in the subterfuge, Tazi turned to make her way out.

  The same two pairs of eyes that watched her leave the ballroom earlier now scrutinized "Tazi's" return. They were not so easily fooled.

  *****

  Once out in the cool night air, Tazi breathed more easily. It was during this time that she felt the most free. Her days were filled with family obligations and watching eyes, but she had made the nights her own, and she savored the hours. Her first stop would be in the Oxblood Quarter, to gather a bit of information and a drink or two. She moved easily down the streets, so pleased with her escape that she did not notice the dark figure trailing a discreet distance behind her. Soon enough, Tazi had another matter to distract her.

  Screams, more terrified than those normally heard in the Oxblood Quarter, caught Tazi's attention. She ducked off of the main street, ears pricked, searching for the source of those uncomfortable wails. It took no more than a moment's hunt down a small back street to locate the cause.

  In the rear of the alley, Tazi was able to make out three people. Two burly men had backed a woman against a wall. She must have been responsible for the cries.

  The men wore the oily slicks typical of people more accustomed to life on the sea. The boatmen had obviously wandered a bit to be so far from Selgaunt Bay, but Tazi was not surprised in what they had found to distract them this evening. Even in the dim light, Tazi could see the woman was a beauty. She could also see the men appreciated her looks. One of them had unsteadily reached up to touch the woman's face with a hand that did not have all of its fingers. He must not be so adept at handling ropes and nets, Tazi thought mirthfully. Fingers's shorter companion hung back a few paces, content to wait his turn and take another drag from the jug the two had obviously been sharing. The woman was not so content to be their plaything, and she lashed out.

  It was either this, Tazi mused, or drinks at the Kit. Without another thought, she c
harged into the fray.

  The woman, her clothes tattered and dirtied, had managed to slash Fingers, more by luck than any real skill. He hissed and pulled back his arm. The sight of his own blood enraged him, and Tazi could see rage burn through his drunken haze. He faced the woman with a hard look. The game was no longer entertaining for him.

  "Now you're going to pay," he snarled and balled up his fist.

  As he cocked his arm back, Tazi came up from behind and ran her rapier efficiently through the meat of his upper arm. Pain and surprise caused him to fall to his knees. Tazi shot the woman a quick grin, but she didn't respond.

  Probably afraid I'm going to be more trouble than these two, Tazi thought to herself. Dressed in black leathers and carrying a sword, she did not give an appearance of respectability.

  Tazi placed her foot on Fingers's shoulder blades and levered her sword free. Shorty, slightly less drunk than his friend, stood mouth agape for a moment before throwing the jug aside and coming to his cohort's aid. He had forgotten the woman they had bullied into the dead end, now realizing that everything was turning sour very quickly.

  Tazi could see the determined look on his face. She had a hunch Shorty didn't like to lose. She now had his complete attention.

  Shorty pushed the woman out of his way, and she tumbled to her knees on the cobbled alleyway. Tazi giggled under her breath as the man nearly tripped over his intended victim. The woman made no attempt to get out of the way. Tazi briefly wondered if she was in shock, or perhaps a little slow in the head.

  If our places were swapped, Tazi thought, I'd be gone like a flash of lightning.

  There was no time for more musings, though, as the second man drew his knife. He lunged toward Tazi's face, but she easily sidestepped his brutish assault. His momentum carried him right into Fingers, who had been unsteadily trying to rise to his feet.

  "Come on," Tazi taunted. "I've seen trolls more graceful than you two."

  Shorty freed himself from the tangle of Fingers's limbs and staggered to his feet.

  "Don't play with me, boy." A rain of spittle carried the shout toward her.

  Tazi smirked at Shorty's threat. Once again her leather vest and pants, short hair, skill with a sword, not to mention the poorly lit alley, had done its job. How easy it was, Tazi disdainfully concluded, to deceive people.

  "I'm more than man enough to teach you some manners," Shorty threatened.

  Tazi planted her rapier point down on the ground, like a walking stick, and leaned jauntily against it with her left hand. "Just what kind of manners could you teach me, you old lech," she demanded snidely. "And what kind of manners were you trying to teach her?" She nodded toward the woman, still kneeling on the street. "I think you and your friend should go back to the Bay," she suggested. "You two are fish out of water here."

  The man said nothing but charged her once more. With only a slight shifting of her weight, Tazi brought her sword straight up in front of her face and easily blocked his thrust. They stood facing each other, as close as two dance partners. She looked him square in the eyes and, with an angelic smile pasted on her lips, brought her right hand up and slashed across his thigh with her dagger. Shorty's face twisted in pain, and he sank to the ground, ineffectually clutching his oozing wound. A quick glance at his partner assured Tazi that Fingers was still nursing his arm and no longer posed any threat to her or any other woman this evening. She stepped past the two toward the woman who had finally stopped trembling and had regained her footing.

  "Come on," Tazi ordered roughly. "It's time to leave."

  In the darkened alley, it appeared to Tazi as though the woman was in a state of shock. She stared blankly at her rescuer. The two boatmen might regain some of their bravado if the women lingered too long. Tazi grabbed the woman's arm and started to pull her out of the alley. And, because she enjoyed being contrary, she paused long enough to yank a black scarf from her throat and toss it at the man with the leg wound.

  "Take it," she said disgustedly, "before you bleed to death all over this alley. It's soiled enough already." And with that, Tazi dragged the woman into a busier thoroughfare.

  They traveled a short distance before either spoke. Finally, the woman placed her other hand on Tazi's and tugged a little. Tazi stopped her march and turned to look at the woman whom she had just saved. The torches on the street were not very bright, but Tazi could see the woman was not from Selgaunt. The glow of the feeble light reflected blue off her black hair, and illuminated the dusky tones of her skin. Her clothes also marked her a foreigner. The swirl of silks, torn and dirty though they were, hinted of the desert. But travelers from so far afield were not unique in this city of commerce.

  "I wanted to thank you," the foreigner began, in a quiet but rich voice. "I believe I am in your debt, lady."

  Tazi was shocked that the woman had seen so easily through her disguise. No one had ever found her out so quickly before.

  "How did you know," she blurted out. "Didn't the clothes or my hair fool you a little?" Tazi paused to tug at her short, black locks.

  For the first time since she had laid eyes on the dark-haired woman, Tazi saw her smile.

  "It would be impossible for those things to fool me," she replied in a soft, melodic voice, "as I am quite blind."

  Tazi was dumbfounded. She pulled the woman closer to the light and tilted her face upward. By the gentle radiance of the torch, Tazi was able to see the woman's eyes were icy white. There was no recognition in them.

  "That explains why you're such a terrible fighter," Tazi said, chuckling. "You really couldn't see them coming."

  "While that may be true, I certainly was able to smell them." The woman grinned back.

  Tazi's face broke into a genuine smile. She liked this woman. The daughter of Thamalon Uskevren felt herself a good judge of character and acted on her instincts.

  "Well, if we are to be traveling together, even such a short distance as this street, it would help to know your name," Tazi remarked.

  "I am called Fannah il'Qun," the woman said, with a slight flourish.

  "And I," Tazi said with slightly more bravado, "am called Tazi. When I'm out in this quarter, dressed as I am now," she added, "that is the only name I go by."

  "Then I will have to 'see' what you are wearing," Fannah told her.

  Tazi was perplexed as to what the woman meant by "seeing," considering her condition. She had never before come across someone who was sightless. Curiosity won her over. Tazi rounded the corner, away from prying eyes, and told Fannah to go ahead and "see," whatever that meant.

  The foreigner gently raised her hands and reached for Tazi's thick hair. Delicately, she let her sensitive fingers trail through its thickness and moved her hands over her rescuer's features. She could feel Tazi's smooth skin, high cheekbones and delicate mouth. There was the trace of face powder, and a whiff of perfume that hinted at a pampered life. What her fingertips could not reveal was the sea green of Tazi's eyes. She could tell, however, that Tazi was slightly taller than she was. As her hands traveled down Tazi's slender but muscular arms, Fannah could "see" that Tazi was wearing atypical fashion for a lady. In fact, Fannah realized Tazi was not wearing the clothes of a lady at all. Her trained fingers recognized the texture of leather and silk. The cut of Tazi's clothing lent itself more to the style of covert activities, most often carried out by men. Fannah's mouth turned up in a smile.

  "I take it that you see now," Tazi asked.

  "Yes," Fannah answered in her rich voice. "I think I begin to understand. You're not quite what you seem."

  "Well, I am and I'm not. That all remains to be seen," Tazi added, suddenly not wishing this stranger to know so much. "Enough of this! All this playing about has given me a terrible thirst. Would care to join me for a drink?"

  Fannah was momentarily at a loss for words. Her confusion was apparent,

  "Well, I've obviously ruined your evening plans by bloodying your companions. The least I can do," Tazi offered grandly, "is make
my services available in their place."

  The raven-haired stranger took only a moment to make up her mind. Life had long ago taught her to accept what was given to her. She graciously offered her arm. Tazi noticed a strange design on it, but she made no mention of it. She gathered Fannah up as a proper escort should, and the two made their way onto Larawkan Lane. Tazi raised her free hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress the giggles spilling out of her. By the time she swung open the battered door to the Shattered Kit Fox, both women were laughing uncontrollably. As the Kit was not the most respectable of places, none of the patrons batted an eye at the scene the "young man" and his lady friend were creating.

  Tazi and Fannah seated themselves at a table in a discrete corner of the taproom. A plump serving girl lit the gutted candle sealed to the table by all the melted wax and took their orders. She was new and did not recognize Tazi. That suited the disguised Uskevren just fine. It seemed to Tazi far too many people recognized her tonight. The only one to acknowledge Tazi when she and her companion entered the smoke-filled room was Alall Ulol, one of the inn's owners. Of course he should recognize her, for he was the one she made her monthly payments to. The family's estate, Stormweather Towers, was a grand enough home, but Tazi felt the need to keep quarters that were wholly her own, with no attachment to her more "respectable" life. The Kit suited her completely.

  Not certain whom Tazi was with, Alall stiffened behind the bar. His jowls, prominent by their covering of thick, gray sideburns, tightened and Tazi knew he was ready to lend aid if she needed it. She gave a quick nod of assurance, and he relaxed. After three years, he took more than a passing interest in her welfare. She in turn had come to trust Alall and his wife, Kalakalan. Kalli knew more about Tazi than anyone else.

  When their drinks arrived, Tazi began to prod Fannah about her predicament. While she herself rarely talked about personal matters, save to Kalli and occasionally to the family butler, Erevis Cale, Tazi made a point of discovering as much as she could about those around her. Cale had taught her that knowledge was a valuable commodity. Plus, a blind woman wandering around unaccompanied in an unfamiliar part of the city must be an interesting tale. Before Fannah could tell her very much, however, Tazi felt a presence behind her. Fannah sensed someone as well and fell silent.