Golden Rook Ch. 16-24

"I expected..." Cellindir came to stand nearby with a curious look on his face, "This is a temple? And someone is here?"

"It is and she is." Vezar offered a small smile, trying to be careful not to smile too widely. "Syreilla calls her 'Grandmother', and she is our grandmother, but I prefer to speak more respectfully." Noticing the frown on the elf's face he tried not to laugh, "She doesn't mean any disrespect, for Syreilla family is something more..." he hunted for the word.

"Important than gods." Phiphla stepped closer to take her husband's hand.

"Family is something solid she can hold onto. A thing that should be cherished." Vezar inclined his head.

"If she wasn't so terrifying, I might like her." Cellindir smiled faintly and glanced toward where the children were. "What are they into?"

"They've gone quiet." Phiphla sighed, and then raised her voice, "Rivoril? Virilla?"

The pair walked down to the garden to see what the children were doing but Vezar went inside to what had once been the altar, where he had brought Syreilla years before.

"Divinity?"

After a long moment, the voice came as soft and gentle as a summer's breeze, "I have them. I wished to see them and speak to the children of Odos." Zyulla's sweet laughter made the room fill with bubbling joy, "They are regaling me with the tale of the Rook rescuing Virilla and of Odos letting her quarrel with their mother. The Rook sent them to me."

"She thought they would be safe here and that you would enjoy the company."

"My Odos and his sweet children." There was a pause, "Hevtos told them to be kind to me? They wish to sing for me to ease my... my heart will burst with joy and thanks."

He bowed his head and smiled. "I will tell them."

"Vezar!" Phiphla rushed into the chamber, "My children! They've vanished!"

"They are with Zyulla. The Divinity wished to speak with them and she is filled with joy and gratitude that they are here." He gave the woman a warm smile and she blinked at him as if she hadn't understood. "They were regaling her with the tale of Virilla's rescue by the Rook and of Odos allowing her to quarrel with you. And then they began to sing for her."

"I thought we all would... I don't begrudge her the company of my children, I just..."

Phiphla vanished and Vezar smiled to himself, "You have them all, Divinity?"

"I do. He chose a loving family for his sweetest children."

"I was asked to remain to keep watch. Enjoy your guests," under his breath he added, "I thank you for all you have ever given me, Grandmother."

Peace and warmth washed over him. He had never been much of a gardener, but his time in the monastery so long ago had given him some small idea of what could be done to bring the reflection garden back into order. Feeling content, he chose to set his hands to the task while he waited and watched for any intrusions.

He stripped off his robe and laid it aside choosing to work in just his undergarment. Syreilla would have been teasing him, or distracting him. Setting to work, he couldn't stop smiling at the memory of her pleasure in seeing him. She was almost a different woman now to the one he'd been growing accustomed to, more like the one he had first come to love.

By the time a small corner of the garden had been made less wild, the sunlight in the temple was fading and he found a small spring to clean the earth and plant matter from his hands before he settled onto a stone bench to rest for the evening.

His slumber was disturbed as the morning light timidly made its way into the temple, by the sound of a furious voice, "Mother! I ask you to take back the boon you granted to my brother's daughter! She has threatened to-" Imos stopped and vanished as Vezar lifted his head to see the angry god.

"What has my golden treasure done?" His question was more for himself but Zyulla's answering whisper was pained.

"She will do to my son what he has done to his Uncle. I cannot take back the boon I granted..."

"Hevtos has already reunited them, Rook and Hammersworn." He waited to see if the god of justice would return.

Imos looked stunned sometime later as he stumbled back into view. "She... even my White Hands... My temple in Withia is burning, Mother."

There was silence and Imos looked stricken, "Mother?" The god's eyes fell on Vezar and hardened in fury.

"She cannot take back the boon that was granted."

"Why are you here, Vezar? Have you come to beg for more from my mother?"

"No, I-"

Odos appeared with a faint smile on his face, "Brother. I thought you might come here. You murdered your mortal niece and thought no one would be the wiser. My Rook has claimed what may be your last White Hand, my nephew no less-"

"Claimed?" Imos stared in horror.

"Until he chooses otherwise he belongs to her. You sent him to her to be educated and she accepted the task and the burden of his care. But what I want to speak to you about now is the attempted theft of my fledglings."

"She burned my temple! She slaughtered and-"

"My little rook has Father's temper and Mother's soft heart. Her anger is focused on you, brother. She won't slaughter your priests if they abandon you and she'll give them the choice every time. Thieves are already praying to her as an intercessor to Uncle, she'll be a goddess of vengeance as well before she's done. Those who have no hope of justice will turn to her-" He stopped as Imos vanished and laughed softly with a vicious smile. "Offer harm to my children and you get what comes to you."

"Divinity..." Vezar tentatively spoke up and Odos turned to see him.

"Vezar?"

"Will he not go to-to your father and ask for her to be punished?"

"He won't be the first. She threatened to burn the entire city of Withia if the priests of the god who cherishes it didn't hand over his stone. They couldn't stomach so much loss."

He blinked and then, stood from where he knelt on the bench, "She was bluffing."

"Perhaps. You know how much she loathes that city."

"Yes, but she's too tender-hearted to burn it while innocents are present."

Odos broke into a broad grin, "Try not to ruin her terrible reputation. She relies on it to make people break and run from her. Why are you here?"

"I was told to stay and watch over-"

He laughed and waved his hand, "Mother will keep them safe. My brother now has more to worry about and too few White Hands to try to take them from her. They'll stay until she's free. Go back to Uncle and let him know you may be needed."

*Twenty-three*

Kwes was deeply amused by Syreilla's consternation on finding the priest's things missing from the Hollow Jester. The dwarf had gone back to the awful little place and collected them telling the innkeeper to deliver the message of where he'd gone to 'Lady Rook'. Even so, she really should have expected anything left there to have been stolen. He was still laughing to himself occasionally, remembering her face.

"It wasn't that funny, Magpie." She gave him a sourly chagrined look and he grinned at her.

"It was, Rook. How much dust have you gotten on your feathers? Not even you can leave things lying in the open in a place like that and expect them to be there when you return."

"I won't forget again." She gestured with her chin toward the door of the Bent Elf as they approached it. "Why are we here?"

"This is where I stay. I have a few things to collect and you can both come in, bathe, and rest in comfortable beds if you'd like. I'll have clothes found for you both."

"I have clothes, but Cyran needs something."

She'd stopped outside of the door, hesitating to go in and the priest stood next to her with a very similar expression of disapproval on his face.

"No one will bother you if you don't wish to be bothered." He grinned at them, "If you do wish to be bothered, that can be arranged."

"I could not understand why any divinity would choose to stay in that dirty inn, Lady Rook, but this..."

"Believe me, cousin, this isn't my idea of ideal either, but you do need a bath and you can't walk around in blood-soaked clothes. I'll guard the door for you and if anyone bothers either of us they'll wish they'd never heard of a brothel much less gone into one."

Cyran smiled faintly. "I thank you."

With a sigh, Kwes headed in to find Amtalia. The dainty half-elf was taking money from a well-dressed man and sending him with one of the girls. "My dove..." He beamed as he kissed her hands. "I have some guests-"

"And you want me to see to them personally?" She arched a brow and smirked at him.

"I want you to see to it that they aren't bothered at all." He glanced behind him and saw the two making their way in as cautiously as if they expected to be attacked. "No one is going to bite you, you have to pay for that here." He laughed at Syreilla's annoyed expression.

"If I want to be bitten I have a dragon at home to do it." She eyed the furnishings with distaste. "You like things so gaudy, Magpie?"

"Magpie?" Amtalia looked at him with amusement, "The name suits you, Kwes."

"Amtalia, my dove, let me introduce you to the Rook-"

"Lady Rook." Cyran corrected him sharply.

"It's fine, cousin. I'm used to being called the Rook." She placed a hand on the priest's shoulder with a smile. "It was sweet though, thanks."

"I don't understand." Amtalia gave him a frown that said odd people were trouble, "Is she a Lady or-"

"She's a goddess." Kwes shrugged, "And this is Cyran, a priest. He was one of the White Hands and is apparently a demi-god of sorts."

"Is one of the White Hands." Syreilla corrected him. "He's mine for the moment but that doesn't change what he is. And he'll claim his father when he's ready to, don't press him to be more before then."

The man looked relieved, "Thank you, Lady Rook."

"I'd like for you to see them bathed and he needs fresh clothes. No one is to bother them."

Pinching the bridge of her delicate nose for a moment, Amtalia sighed. "I'll see they get baths and fresh clothes. May I speak with you privately?"

"I'll be in my room. You can have them brought there when they're finished." Kwes left them in the Madam's capable hands and went down to his private chambers. He needed a bath himself and wherever they would be going there would probably be theft involved. Working clothes, tools, traveling supplies, all of those things were safely stowed and needed to be gathered.

As he ran the water for his bath into his small private tub, he considered how much money he might need to take to buy Syreilla's Eye from the dwarves... Or perhaps Syreilla the Rook could claim it and he could ask her for it as payment when she'd finished whatever mischief she was planning. He'd help her rob every temple standing for that circlet, possibly burn them too if it came to it.

It would have helped him avoid being taken by surprise. Kwes stripped and climbed into the water, groaning at the feeling of hot water on his skin. Being shoved under the floor of the assassin's house hadn't been pleasant and he was still mulling over some of the things that had occurred to him.

"Kwes?" Amtalia came in and shook her head at the sight of him in his tub. "You could have used the larger bath too. They're insisting on bathing separately."

"Rook is guarding the door for him. He won't need to do the same for her, anyone who disturbs her will wish he'd never heard of this place."

"Who is she? You can't be serious when you say she's a goddess. I know the White Hands by reputation, they-"

"I was told not to use the names of the gods for the moment or else they'd pay me too much attention, Amtalia, so let me try to get through this with a little vagueness. You know who the White Hands serve, yes?"

"Of course."

"Cyran is the son of that god with a human woman. He wanted a priest with gifts because his brother, the god of thieves and poets, has had a few children lately. One of them was my sister, Syreilla Acharnion." He paused and Amtalia nodded slowly. "She was split in two by a goddess into a mortal woman, Syreilla Hammersworn, and the divine part, a goddess, the Golden Rook."

The half-elf's eyes widened as she grasped his words, "Upstairs, guarding our bath, is..."

"The Golden Rook. You'll probably feel like you're going mad around her, it's something that happens, I was told. She's got a temper worse than Hammersworn's and I'm going to be helping her with a few thefts. She stole something from the god of death and needs to collect a few things here in the land of the living to reclaim it."

Amtalia's mouth dropped open and she sat heavily in the nearest chair, on top of his fresh clothes.

"It's best if no one bothers them. Today alone I've seen that blood-drenched priest shrouded in white flame wield a flaming sword to kill someone who attacked us. And the Golden Rook..." Kwes took a breath and breathed out a laugh remembering the stories she'd told, "lost her temper and burned the Temple of Im-of the one she's borrowed the White Hand from to the ground with dragon's fire. After she dragged a mage bodily to death's doorstep and kicked him over the threshold. Alive."

Wiping her brow, Amtalia nodded again, "I'll-I'll make certain no one goes near them."

"I'll be leaving with them as soon as they're ready. I hope they want to rest a bit first..." He groaned again and stretched in the water. "I haven't had a good couple of days."

"I'll have a few of the girls get the rooms next to yours ready in case they want to rest."

"Perfect, my dove."

*Twenty-four*

The bath was surrounded by lewd mosaics and from the depictions, it was very clear that bathing to get clean wasn't what this pool was customarily used for. Cyran did his best to wash without touching the tiles and he prayed fervently that it had been cleaned recently. At least the water was hot, in other circumstances soaking in such a spacious pool would have been enjoyable.

A loud yawn wrenched itself out of him. Shaking his head he tried to hurry his ablutions.

"The bath is occupied for the moment, find somewhere else." Lady Rook's firm tone through the satin draperies was oddly reassuring.

"No one can close the bath except the Madam and you shouldn't be anywhere without a companion." The smug female voice was followed by a giggle and a man's laughter.

"Why don't you join us in the-" The man's voice stopped abruptly.

"I don't like repeating myself, so let me be clear. The Rook has closed the godsdamned bath. No one goes in until I say they can. But if you want to know what it feels like to boil, freeze and have your bones turn to stone inside your body all at once, please, insist one more time. I'll let you satisfy your curiosity for free." There was a pause, "Was that clear enough?" Her viciously cheerful question was followed by the sound of at least one person hitting the floor, whimpering, stumbling, and footsteps fleeing.

Cyran climbed out of the water and dried himself, there were no fresh clothes yet but his lower undergarments weren't blood-soaked and he'd insisted that they be left. He put them back on and took up his sword.

"I've finished, Lady Rook. If you wish to bathe I can guard the door for you."

"That's adorable, cousin. I-" She pulled the curtain back to speak to him and flinched at the sight of the obscene mosaic. "You can tell he was raised by elves. No, I'll wait to bathe. It isn't urgent and even a cold stream would be better."

"I would have preferred that as well." He couldn't help but smile at her distaste for the image behind him.

"If I could have given you a choice I would have, but you needed to bathe." She gave him an apologetic look and he inclined his head.

"Thank you for keeping them out, without bloodshed." He stepped out and allowed her to close the curtain.

"I promised I would guard the door and the choice of bloodshed or not was theirs to make." She gave him an impish smile. "Let's go find the Magpie, apparently his dove didn't speak to everyone and brothels usually have someone to protect the-"

"I don't know a Magpie." The low gravelly voice came from a large angry looking man approaching with a length of wood in his hands. "And I don't think you should be here."

He watched as the man blinked and took a small step back as Lady Rook's face split into a wide mad grin that looked less like amusement and more like a creature imitating a human expression.

"Sagard!" The Madam hurried over, "They're to be left alone." The half-elf woman looked nervous as she sized up Lady Rook, "Do you need fresh water to bathe?"

"I won't bathe here, but thanks for the offer. I want to find Magpie."

"Of course-"

"Amtalia, Milla came running to me saying some witch had closed the baths."

The Madam paled but Lady Rook burst into laughter, "She and her friend wanted to go into the bath. I told them it was occupied and they tried to argue with me. If she's got me confused for a witch, bring her back and I'll show her just how wrong she is. There's no witch that can do half of what I can do."

"Mages marvel at Lady Rook." Cyran scowled at the man and she turned to give him a delighted smile.

"You're making me understand why everyone else has priests, cousin. I might look for a few if they're as good at priesting as you are."

"White Hands are exceptional, Lady Rook." He tilted his chin up proudly and she nodded.

"A few exceptional priests rather than many who might choose to take advantage of those who seek me out would be wise."

"Rook... Like Tark was fussing about? The one who..." Sagard eyed them both more warily. "Here with a White Hand?"

"My uncle wanted me to give him an education. I may no longer be on speaking terms with him but I keep my word. You can rely on a Rook." She gave Cyran an impish smile, "And I'm starting to like you."

"They came with Kwes. I said no one was to disturb them but I must not have made myself clear enough." The Madam gestured respectfully for them to come with her, "No one is to bother them, not for any reason."

As they followed the half-elf woman, she nervously glanced at them, "Rooms are being readied next to Kwes' and the clothes will be ready soon. I sent the white clothing to be washed and a seamstress will be here to tailor some clothes to you, my lord."

He opened his mouth to thank her but instead found himself yawning.

"I think he needs some sleep more than he needs clothes. He's had a hard day." Lady Rook stretched her arms over her head, "I should be getting moving, but I wouldn't mind an hour or two of rest either.

"You may want to warn people a second time not to disturb us, I intend to lay a few wards in his room and mine so that we can both rest easier."

"Wards?" Amtalia arched her brow, "Is that... I don't mean to argue but-"

"But you want to anyway?" Lady Rook grinned while wrinkling her nose and the expression was unnerving.

The other woman looked down and shuddered.

"I don't like surprises. I don't like people wandering into my room when I'm resting, and I really don't like having to repeat myself. The warning has been given and my wards..."

"Her wards are effective." Cyran frowned. "Even I couldn't escape one without help."

"I put you in one of the nicer ones. It just held you in place and drained a little energy away. The ones I intend to lay are deadly, after a few agonizing moments to reflect on why they shouldn't have disturbed us, of course."

"Of-of course." The woman looked ill.

"Please, only put the holding wards in my room, Lady Rook."

"If you wish. I've learned some really exciting ones while working for Uncle. Dragging lich back to him is educational. I'll teach you a few if you like. And the art of dragon's fire if you-"

"Kwes!" The woman hurried ahead.

"The divinity gives me strength and what you might call spells are a form of prayer, Lady Rook. I have no need of wards or of dragon's fire."