Golden Rook Ch. 33-39

The short man looked baffled but the tall one started to pale and gripped his friend's shoulder.

"Are-are you..."

"Not anymore. I'm Hevtos' Golden Rook now. I've come because it was Imos who had the Hammersworn girl murdered. I've come to see vengeance done, not to harm those who mean me no harm."

They didn't look reassured but she smiled and slipped away from them moving purposefully toward the temple. She was certain he'd be there waiting.

He was standing in the ashes as she approached and she started to laugh.

"Isca!" Imos' furious shout echoed.

The name made her grin. The goddess of war and hunting. A sharp-featured woman dressed much as Tona had been, stepped out of nowhere.

"This is the one who stole from you and burned my temples!"

"Uncle Imos! Still a liar, I see. I didn't burn this one. I'd have done a more thorough job with dragon's fire." Syr gave him a wide toothy smile and he glowered at her.

"I want what you stole back, thief, and you'll feel my steel for burning my temple. You didn't follow the rules."

"You'll get it back when Uncle Hevtos is finished. I'll even bring it to you if you'd like. But I didn't burn your temple. Go have a look at my work in Withia, that's what it looks like when I burn a temple. I took a little bit of dragon's fire to the wood supports around that center rod. Your people are good, by the way. They were ready for a fire but not for dragon's fire. Most of the damage was done when the cold water hit the hot stone."

Still grinning at the furious woman, Syreilla held her hands out and open, "But if you need restitution I can give you advice to prevent it from happening again."

Isca's fury seemed to abate slightly, "You're Odos' daughter?"

She pulled the hood back, "I'm Hevtos' Golden Rook, daughter of Odos, goddess of righteous vengeance and protector of gentle souls. I'm here because Uncle Imos is a liar and a hypocrite. He had Syreilla Hammersworn murdered, accepted gifts from her grieving children, and swore to see justice done while he protected and rewarded the assassins.

"I have no qualms about killing in defense of myself or others, or if you provoke me, but he doesn't get to call himself a god of justice while-"

"Whatever he may have done, we're addressing the wrongs you've done me first." Isca put herself in between them. "You-"

"Are you going to stand and protect one who would murder innocent children to strike back at me? If you want to put yourself there you'll see how well steel holds up against dragon's fire." Syr met the goddess' gaze without flinching until the woman stepped aside.

"I am not protecting him. I won't involve myself in this quarrel."

"I will discuss our business as soon as I've finished with my uncle, you can rely on a Rook."

"You have no right to be here, Syreilla the Rook!" Imos spoke in a booming voice, "You are not wanted here! Can you not feel how much they want you to leave? This is my place!"

Like a wave, discomfort, fear, and anger washed over her. Syr started to laugh mirthlessly, tilting her head back and waving her hand.

She gave him the widest maddest grin she could summon, matching his volume, "You think this is your place? They burned your temple, Uncle Imos. They would rather see you gone than see me walk down their streets. You offer them nothing but lies and empty promises, but you can rely on a Rook. My promises are solid.

"Can you feel it, Uncle? The pure and certain belief they have that I can take you apart with my bare hands? I would prefer to rain dragon's fire down on you, and if you so much as threaten to harm a child to provoke me ever again I will drown you in it, but if they want to see me rip the flesh from your bones-"

He'd begun to tremble as she spoke and vanished before she could finish. She called after him, "I'll add cowardice to your list of faults, Uncle."

Isca was looking at her speculatively as she turned to finish their discussion. "You're young but strong."

"And you're fun. I told Master Odos I wanted to come back when you rebuild."

The goddess' face soured and Syreilla grinned at her.

"It's a compliment, I promise. I like a challenge."

Coming closer, Isca tugged at the wrapped garment Syr was wearing, "You like the clothes my guards wear as well."

"You took all of the danger out of your city, they follow the rules but they don't remember why. On my first run, I tried it dressed like a whore. I didn't get far but they didn't treat me like a threat. I took this off of the one who pinched my cheek and said beauty like mine didn't need to come with intelligence."

"I'll remind them." Isca folded her arms and then glanced around before opening a door, "Come with me. We can discuss this more comfortably."

Stepping through into the ruined temple where the statue stood, Syr grinned and inclined her head. "There should be no wood in the wheel rooms, by the way, not in the supports, not in the wheels, nowhere, not even the doors."

"How did you get into the main wheel room?" The goddess walked to look down the still open hole. "You shouldn't have been able to. My priests placed wards."

"And I dispelled them." She shrugged as Isca gave her an annoyed look, "You did a good job of drying up the..." she gestured around at the air and the goddess smiled faintly.

"Thank you."

"But one of your men pulled a weapon on me holding enough power in it that I could dispel the ward in front of the opening." She paused as Isca looked thoughtful. "There should have been grating. You trusted too much to the force of the water if the ward should fail. If I were building it, I'd have made the waterways smooth, rough stone even when wet gives purchase, put in two or maybe three grates, one on each end and maybe one in the middle as a nasty surprise just in case anyone got that far, and definitely more than one ward. You could place it on the ceiling of the waterway deeper in. Even if you dry things up you can't assume a resourceful thief won't find something to draw from."

"Things get caught in the grating and cause problems but the rest seems sensible."

"You'd have made me work for it with a few small adjustments."

"You still think you could get in even with those precautions?" Isca frowned.

"All the luck you need is time. With enough of it, a good thief can always find a way. Locks are deterrents, wards are deterrents, but all you're doing is forcing them to find another route."

The goddess' eyes lit up and Syr grinned.

"You can absolutely leave a path open as a trap, but don't make it easy or obvious. I'll come back and test myself against your temple as often as you like." She spread her hands wide and put on as innocent a face as she could manage, "To help you secure it, of course."

"We'd need to discuss rules, Syreilla the Rook. I don't want to rebuild after every visit you make."

"That seems fair."

"I can guess why Hevtos wants the stones. Lending them would infuriate your grandfather." Isca folded her arms but didn't look entirely displeased.

"I haven't met him yet, he sounds delightful." Syr stretched and tried not to yawn, "Every time I irritate him, Master Odos suggests I take after the man."

Isca laughed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "There are certain similarities but you're clearly Odos' daughter. Walk with me and see if you have any other suggestions."

*Thirty-nine*

After Syreilla vanished Kwes heard Grimgrip mutter, "He's resting the way we all should be."

"You can rest at Delver's Deep. I'll open the door in the stable door frame, for larger doors a frame is always easier."

Kwes couldn't keep from asking, "Why? And won't it look ridiculous, as if we're all going into the stable?"

"It will look as if we're going into the stable, and from the other side, it will seem as if we came out of thin air. Frames are a point of reference. Making a hole large enough for myself is easy, making one large enough for a wagon takes more focus. You wouldn't want it to slide closed while the wagon was only halfway through. Now be quiet so I can work."

The thought of having half of his body lying here and half lying miles away made him queasy and he settled back in silence, barely daring to breathe. The wagon creaked loudly as it rolled toward the stable door and he closed his eyes as the wooden beam came into sight.

The sound of raised voices speaking dwarvish prompted him to open them. They'd entered a stable, but not Edun's.

A dwarf sounded like he was either cursing at or demanding something from Grimgrip and the dwarves around them fell silent as an answer was given. The cart didn't stop until they were all through.

"Father said you'd come if I decided to leave, Grandfather." One of the dwarves, dressed in an almost human manner, approached Odos with a grin.

"You're leaving?" Grimgrip got down from the cart, "Wherever you intend to go, you should stay a little longer, Sirruil."

"I'm restless. I-"

Kwes peered over the side and the dwarf stared at him. "Sirruil? He should at least wait until Syreilla gets here."

"Amad?" The dark-haired dwarf looked unsteady and Grimgrip took him by the shoulder.

"Syreilla the Rook, not your mother. But this is your Uncle Kwes. He's the son of Tirnel Acharnion, he's also one of Odos' children like your mother was."

A glance at Cyran's unsurprised face told Kwes he'd been right. He was the last to be told or at least the last to realize it.

"He's my magpie." Odos patted Kwes' leg. "You can get out of the wagon now. They'll find a place for you to rest either in the mine or an inn in Lew."

"Why does he need to rest?" Sirruil frowned and when the dwarf narrowed his eyes and tilted his head Kwes could see the resemblance to the Rook.

"He had a mortal wound that the Rook healed. She should be resting too but she's been off," Grimgrip gave Odos a sharp look, "working."

"She'll rest when she arrives. I taught them not to rest until the work is done. I lost one who thought he could relax before he'd finished. It isn't a mistake I've let them make since." The old man straightened and tugged at his sleeves.

"My mother always got upset if I tried to take a break before finishing, it didn't matter what it was." Sirruil smiled sadly and shook his head. "Oduil will work himself to death if no one stops him."

"I suspect the Rook will too." Patting Sirruil on the shoulder, Grimgrip exhaled. "We're all tired. Help us unload and tell me about why you want to leave."

"I feel restless, I feel like there's something I should be doing and I can't do it here."

"Are you going to give him Syreilla's Eye?" Kwes leaned against the wagon. "If you're rethinking it I'm still willing to buy it from you, name your price. I'll meet it."

"Syreilla's..." the young dwarf started to grin, "someone found my mother's circlet?"

"I did." Grimgrip fished it out of a pocket. "Cyran killed the assassin who stole it. The Rook took the mage to death's door, bodily."

"And then burned Imos' temple to the ground with dragon's fire," Odos added nonchalantly. "She didn't take it well when she found out he'd had them murder your mother. She's in Brosa now making him wish he'd chosen to be a god of things that hide under rocks and logs."

The vicious grin that spread across the dwarf's face was definitely the Rook's. "I want to meet her."

"You will. And she'll teach you the things you can use that for in a mine." Odos stepped forward to offer his hand to Sirruil, "Like your mother, she wants you to stay with the dwarves. You'll be able to continue your mother's work of making the mines safe and secure with her Eye."

"You'll come with me to Bhiraldur after you learn to use it." Grimgrip put it in the young dwarf's hand after the old man let go. "Syreilla's Eye came out of the Glan Minrhia. She left you an inheritance that would make a mine seem a lesser portion."

Kwes watched enviously as Sirruil held it up looking at the chains and stone.

"It's well-made, but it has an almost elvish look to it. I never thought it was made by dwarves."

"It looks like it was made for your mother. Syreilla's Eye is a good name for it." Grimgrip seemed pleased.

"What's going on down here?"

The bellowing voice made Kwes jump and put his hand on his belly with a grimace.

"I decided to come for a visit, Master Aledelver." Odos turned to grin at the dwarf making his way toward them. "I brought a few guests. This is Cyran, my nephew. This one who calls himself Kwes is my magpie, and the uncle of Syreilla Hammersworn's children. You've met Master Grimgrip," he paused, "and the Rook will be along soon."

Grimgrip and Aledelver started a conversation in dwarvish, and Odos murmured into Kwes' ear, "The last person claiming to be Hammersworn's brother wasn't."

Cyran had dismounted and come to stand nearby. "Do you understand what they're saying?"

"A few bits and pieces."

Kwes glanced back over at Sirruil and saw that the dwarf had put the circlet on and was studying them. He interrupted the conversation and Odos arched an eyebrow at him.

"They'll stay at the inn in Lew. I'll send some people down to get you rooms." Aledelver looked proud as Grimgrip clapped Sirruil on the shoulder. "This Rook can come to the entrance and ask to be allowed in."

"Your grandfather is dangerous?" Odos looked more amused than offended.

"My mother said you were. She said you don't have to close your eyes when you love someone, you can do it with your eyes open too. This is just the first time I've been able to see it, like a shimmer of heat off of the forges." Sirruil tilted his head, "The color around you changed, Grandfather."

"Sadness and anger." Odos inclined his head, "I miss your mother and I'm furious with my brother. But as long as I can keep visiting with you in Lew it's enough for me."

"What do you see with it? Rook let us look at wards with it but I didn't take the opportunity to look at people." Kwes eyed the circlet and then noticed the rookish grin on the dwarf's face.

"I see that you're a thief, you wouldn't think twice about putting things in your pocket in the mine."

"He should, my little rook might take it as personally as your mother did. Before she vouched for me she very pointedly told me that if anything went missing and it was my doing she'd never forgive me and I'd have ruined every fond memory she had of me. You don't want to be on your sister's bad side, my magpie."

He couldn't suppress a shudder as the memory of her eyes in the firelight came to mind. "No, I don't think I do."

"And what of me?" Cyran stepped forward curiously. "I'm not a thief."

"No. You look strange to me, there's..." Sirruil studied him with a frown, "You look as if you're lit from behind but you aren't dark, there's a... I don't understand why you look that way."

"He's my brother's son and he's gifted." Odos put a hand on Cyran's shoulder. "He isn't responsible for his father's actions."

"I wonder what Lady Rook will look like." Cyran smiled ruefully.

"When I tried it," Grimgrip glanced at the door as if he expected her to walk in. "The woman looked like dragon's fire shrouded in black smoke. She's a comfort to have protecting you but she's terrifying just the same."

"Sirruil will have a good look at her, and if he says she's safe enough, and someone vouches for her, she can enter. Syreilla Hammersworn was a good woman. The Rook was a part of her once, she should have a fair chance." Aledelver beckoned to Sirruil. "Come back inside to wait for her. Your father will want to see your inheritance."

Dwarves began bustling around them and Sirruil left with Grimgrip and Aledelver.

"Lew isn't far. They have an inn that was built just for guests discussing business with the mine. I've been there before to visit with my grandchildren. You'll be comfortable enough." Odos stopped one of the dwarves, "I have someone to visit, who will be taking them to the inn?"