Hammer and Feather Ch. 08-13

"My father inherited it. I borrowed some of the tools." She flushed slightly, "Out of his locked trunk in the middle of the night before I left. Lady Rook says it isn't stealing unless I don't give it back."

The elves broke into laughter.

*Twelve*

Curled between Vedhethrah and Syvezar, Syreilla ran her thoughts over their now untangled threads and was rewarded with soft laughter from both of them.

"You missed reaching out to touch us."

"I did. I missed my dragon and now I come home and I have two."

Syv kissed the back of her neck. "I can barely be called a dragon, my treasure."

"Mmm, you have the ridges in the right places."

He laughed as Vedhethrah made a contented sound. The large dragon began to shrink himself again and she grinned.

"You're not letting me get any rest?"

"We have twenty years of desire to sate." Vedhethrah teased, "Consider it part of your punishment."

"I'll take every bit of it." Laughing, she kissed his scaled chest and felt Syvezar begin to rub himself against her.

Both of them froze and she felt them tense. Vedhethrah began to resume his accustomed size and a low growl of displeasure radiated from him.

"What's wrong, my beloveds?"

"We've been commanded to take an audience with Grandfather and our uncles," Syvezar muttered sourly.

"We have to get out of bed for it?" Syreilla grinned impishly, stroking their threads again, and laughed as their displeasure melted to desire.

Vedhethrah planted a wing firmly across the bed shielding her and Syv mostly from view. "I will allow them to come. Perhaps we can steal a few moments longer after the audience has finished."

"I like that idea."

"We occasionally took audiences from our mistresses' chambers as King." Syvezar teased and laughed as Syr elbowed him. "We have neither need nor desire for a mistress now my treasure."

"I would bite you if you did."

Her dragons laughed and the sound made her feel content and warm. Vedhethrah peered into her threads and she opened them for him, letting him see her joy at being next to them both. His pleased purring made her want to cuddle closer and sleep.

"He's making that sound again," Cyran's voice sounded scandalized. "Are we permitted-"

Syreilla broke into laughter.

"My treasure is where she belongs, safe and content." Vedhethrah's smile could be heard in his voice.

"You've chosen new names?" Ahevhethrah's voice sounded curious.

"Vedhethrah and Syvezar. We are now complete, Grandfather, and no longer in pain," Syvezar pressed another kiss to the back of her neck.

"And our treasure is bound to us firmly." Vedhethrah began to purr again and she smiled, letting out a contented sigh.

"Where I go at least one of my dragons goes. Both preferably."

"How can you steal back our stones if you have to take a dragon with you?" Cyran sounded baffled and angry.

"Cousin, why are your threads out of place?"

"He was harmed, my treasure." Syvezar sat up and encouraged her to roll over and do the same. "Cyran tried to prevent this from happening and he was used. His stone was wrested from him."

"I gave mine to have my son spared." Imos laid a hand on Cyran's shoulder.

Syr studied them with one eye and then the other. Imos was clear but thin as if he'd been stretched to his limit, Cyran was more vibrant but the air around him shimmered and cracked. White flames licked around him as if they were trying to escape something that was sucking them back.

"You look odd to me, cousin. The air around you..."

"He is consumed by guilt." Ahevhethrah stepped closer shaking out a pale grey robe. "Dress, dear one."

Syvezar handed her the robe and she slipped it on before clambering out of bed and fetching his.

"Someone needs to tell me all of what's happened. The short version will do. The details can be-"

"Do you have no intention of stealing back-"

Syreilla stepped forward and clapped his shoulders, startling him into silence. "Cousin, I'm not the only thief, and if I need to sneak and thieve, my dragons won't be a hindrance. Vedhethrah draws the eye and Syvezar knows how to command attention when he wants to. You worry about getting your threads in order and I'll worry about stones and vengeance."

He flushed and his face set in a scowl she remembered from when they'd first met. "Don't speak to me like a child. You've been asleep for twenty years, Syreilla."

"I haven't. I was awake." She put on a mirthless smile. "Twenty years of wakefulness, unable to breathe, unable to escape, all I could do, Cyran, was think, plan, and sharpen my wits as best I could. The huntress is going to find out why locking me in my head with only myself for company is a bad idea."

"You don't even know what she's done! How can you even think you've prepared?! Isca has-" He flinched and she noticed the lash of the loose thread.

"So that's what it looks like when you get someone's attention. I spent some time thinking about that, and about the threads." Noticing the defeated look on his face she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You haven't harmed anything, Cyran."

"She dares!" Ahevhethrah spun and vanished.

"Speaking certain names, even here, is no longer safe." Imos rested a tired hand on Cyran's shoulder.

"We don't have time to go back to bed, my dragons, I need to get to work." Syreilla gave them a grin and started to get dressed as the others filed out. She put on her talons and made certain everything was in place and reachable with Syvezar's help and, grabbing a spare cloak, made her way out to the doorstep. Her grandfather was alone and the others were gathered looking out from the doorway.

As she brushed past and tried to step out, she felt something like a thin, invisible barrier and she began to laugh mirthlessly. Placing her hands on it she closed her eyes and let her mind follow the threads of power back where they began. Immediately, she felt Syvezar and Vedhethrah cover her own threads protectively. The threads she followed reached back to Isca, who turned with a baffled smirk as if the huntress could feel Syr's touch. On Isca's end was a great deal of power.

"Isca, you can come pick this up or I can start setting things on fire."

The huntress began to laugh and Syreilla put on her maddest grin, sending dragon's fire with the force of her will down the thread. At the same time, she mouthed the words to the siphoning spell to focus her intent and strengthen her grab for the hum of power she could feel as the goddess was distracted by the blossoming flame around her.

Everything on Isca's end that Syr could glimpse stood in flames, the hungry dragon's fire consuming stone, cloth, and flesh as the goddess raged. Drawing power, Syreilla kept it burning despite Isca's attempts to put it out.

As the huntress appeared before Ahevhethrah in a flourish of dragon's fire the god began to laugh.

"There are rules! She has no right!"

"You have bent and broken the rules, Isca. She had no judgment against her and you cast her into the black lake. You have usurped her place and given it to your own daughter. You will lift your barriers and none will be bound to this realm save by my word as the rules dictate."

"You think your sons will be safe if you send them-"

"Isca," Syr spoke the goddess name and got her attention, sending a burst of burning stolen power like a contact spell down the thread that connected them at the same time and making her flinch in surprise. "Don't look away, Isca. I want to hear your threats and all about your daughter. You harm my family and I will come for you and yours. I am the goddess of righteous vengeance, Isca. I am not just and my anger burns." The pulses each time her name was spoken made the huntress step back and the barrier vanished.

Syreilla stepped out and started toward the goddess with her widest grin in place, opening a door behind the huntress.

"Is there a judgment on her, Grandfather?"

"You think you can challenge me? I-"

"No. That would be Nimphon's to make."

"I'll have to make do."

Isca sneered and Syr wordlessly unleashed a spell that would have knocked the goddess back if she hadn't been bracing for it. It distracted her as Syreilla opened another door, to the oubliette Odos had been kept in, beneath her feet. The goddess looked shocked as she vanished.

"All of the barriers have been removed, Grandfather?"

"They have." He gave her a doting look. "She will not underestimate you a second time."

"Of course she will." She tilted her head. Once Isca had come to the doorstep the connection to the power had evaporated, "I still have a little of what I took from her, if anyone has a stone they want me to put it on."

Ahevhethrah held out his hand, "Place it in my hand. I will use what I need and give the rest to any who need it."

"I've never tried that before." Syr took a breath and laid the power on his hand as if it were a stone.

He closed it as if he were making a fist. "You learn quickly, dear one."

"I need my father, my dragons, and my cousin Cyran."

"You may take them."

"And I need your permission to kill as I see fit."

His face grew grim and he studied her resolve. "You have it. I trust that you will not kill more than you need to."

"I won't. But who I kill might give you pause."

Her grandfather gave her a curt nod. "Do as you must. I suspect I know what you intend, be careful, dear one. I would have you remain safe."

"That's like telling me not to get into trouble, Grandfather." Syreilla gave him her maddest smile, "You might as well ask me not to be rude or not to steal anything."

"Keep your wife safe." He turned to Syv with a rueful smile. "Both of you."

"Always." Syvezar bowed and glanced at the doorway where Vedhethrah was working to make himself small enough to come out.

Ahevhethrah smiled and approached, laying his hands on the dragon. Beneath them, the creature assumed a more human form much like what she remembered her uncles to look like, angular and hairless.

"A gift for you. You may assume this shape when it pleases you."

Vedhethrah looked sour. "I prefer to be beautiful."

"If you go among the elves in your true form you may find protecting Syreilla to be more difficult."

The dragon inclined his head. "For her."

He approached without a stitch of clothing and she grinned, pulling off her cloak.

"My dragon, you're always beautiful."

*Thirteen*

After the General had left, Amtalia came to fetch them all back to the other tent with what felt to Nali like a little bit of annoyance. She went eagerly, though, whatever Lady Rook thought of the food it couldn't be that bad. After having only had a little bit of her bread and sausage trying to be sparing with it, she was ravenous.

Her hosts spoke quietly in their language as the food was put on all of their plates. Each time Nali glanced over, the green-eyed elf girl was staring at her intently. She spread the peculiar soft cheese on the pale bread and took a bite, dropping it as the bread nearly dissolved in her mouth leaving the sweet cheese on her tongue.

Nali put the back of her hand over her mouth.

"I'll try to find something more like what my sister enjoys for you." Magpie smiled at her. "She used to carry little sausages around in her pocket."

"It wouldn't be so bad if the bread didn't dissolve." She gave him an apologetic look and Edun laughed.

"She once told me that you don't need to chew elvish food. I've learned to enjoy the textures but I do miss my mother's cooking."

"Razi was afraid my father would like elvish food because his mother was a half-elf. He laughed until he cried when she asked if she should try making some of his mother's recipes."

"My sister cooked?" Magpie grinned.

"Terribly. He told me a story about the time she burned the stew in the pot so badly that she just took it and left the mine, without telling Grandfather. She came back a few hours later with some poor family's freshly baked meat pies and their good pot."

He began to laugh, leaning on the table.

"She left them some money and the old pot, but they still complained to the master of the mine. Grandmother had slipped into their house and stolen their dinner off of the table while they were getting washed up. They came back to a terrible burned sludge stuck in the bottom of a pot and a handful of coins."

Amtalia had her hand over her mouth trying to hide her smile. "If I ever asked you to cook, Kwes, I think that's what I could expect."

"He said she got better. The older women started coming to the house and helping her learn but the family knew to stay out of the kitchen when Grandmother was cooking. She would get angry at her cook pots."

Tirnel laughed and shook his head. "And if they didn't like her food?"

"You didn't say a word about it, he said. Aunt Kyri learned to cook very young. Razi would trade recipes with her sometimes, through letters."

"Her daughter's name is Kyri?" Tirnel looked at her curiously.

"Kyrilla. Grandfather says she's as golden as her mother. And he said that Grandmother was surprised that she got pregnant the second time. They spent years trying for Oduil, their eldest. She was pregnant with him when she burned down your house." She tried another, smaller bite and winced as Tirnel's face soured.

"Oduil Flameborn is his name, I was told." Magpie smiled ruefully. "I always thought it seemed like an odd name for a dwarf."

"Father's name is Sirruil Flamedrawn." She shrugged. "They look at the past and the future when they give the men their second names."

"So do we." Tirnel sighed and tapped the table in front of Belthamdir who seemed to be making a painting with her cheese. "At the moment of birth, the child's future is glimpsed for an instant, and they are given a name with meaning. Acharnion means, loosely translated, vengeful son. Father was baffled at what they might have seen to have given me that name."

"It would have suited Syreilla." Magpie put a hand on his shoulder, "You have a goddess of vengeance for a daughter."

"She might have been Acharniel Berior if I had done as I should have and claimed her. The names mean vengeful girl and protector."

"What does Tirnel mean?" Nali looked at him curiously.

"Stargazer." He gave her a warm smile, "What does Nali mean?"

"The name your mother gives you is almost always pieces of family names put together or pieces of the names of good friends. Her name was Lir and my father, the father I was born with, was Nalder. Your first name ties you to your family, your clan name ties you to your clan, but the men get another name that..." She gave Edun a baffled look, the man was grinning and his pale eyes had brightened.

"You have a second name, Nali. Nali Rookfriend of Clan Hammersworn. The others might pull their priests away from their clans but Syreilla the Rook won't."

She found herself grinning back at the man. Clan Hammersworn wasn't the clan she'd been born into but they felt more like family than anyone else ever had.

"I wouldn't mind the name Syreilla so much if her mother had chosen it for family reasons. Humans, when they choose the name for a half-elf child, take sounds from elvish names without regard for their meaning and mix them. She was given an empty name."

"You said Acharnion meant-"

"She is not a son. The name was stolen. Every elf who heard her name knew that she was... that I had not claimed her." He looked down at his plate and Kwes reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

"She gave her name meaning," Edun spoke with quiet firmness. "When you hear the name Syreilla now, it invokes fire, theft, and vengeance. Does it not?"

"She's a born thief." Kwes grinned slyly, "She stole your name the day she was born."

Tirnel laughed and looked up with a faint smile. "We should eat and then see that Nali has some fresh clothes and bedding."

"I want to see my sister's kit." Magpie gave her a warm smile. "Lady Rook had an old-fashioned kit when I met her, Hammersworn should have kept hers more up to date."

"I didn't take all of it, only the tools Father taught me how to use. Grandmother taught all of her children how to work locks as soon as they could hold the tools, and a few of the other children in Clan Hammersworn. Father was the best at it."

"There's so much more to thieving than locks." He looked amused.

"'It's mostly the not getting caught,' Father said. Grandmother had some tools that she made herself. Grandfather said they were so good that Lady Rook asked to have duplicates made, but I didn't understand what they were all for. Father inherited a small chest of them."

Magpie leaned forward folding his hands, "Is he willing to sell them? They're wasted in a mine and I'll pay-"

"You should save whatever wealth you have left for your daughter." Tirnel gave his son a stern look.

"Father, even without seeing them, I can promise you that with those tools I could steal another fortune for her. Syreilla Hammersworn was a legendary thief."

Nali laughed, "Father won't sell them, but if you ask as family he might make some spares for you. His son inherits his tools and he doesn't have much in the way of metal-working tools; that chest is Raduil's inheritance." The realization that if she didn't return the tools, she'd stolen part of her brother's inheritance made her feel a little ill. "I have to return what I borrowed."

"What will his son do with them?" Magpie leaned on his hands with a sour look.

"He'll learn to work locks, we test them. And Father tests the treasure rooms. If he can get into it-"

"If he can get into it I could do it blindfolded." He arched a brow at her.

"Not without Syreilla's Eye. Most of the mines use Grandmother's ideas for securing the treasure rooms. She left tomes of her wards, things you don't want to stumble across, and she didn't just advise that they put them on surfaces. They don't sell the traps she designed outside of the mines because they aren't just improvements on the old ones, they have wards worked into them." Nali stopped as his face broke into a rookish grin. "What?"

"I never thought of dwarves using magic that way."

"Very few of them do." Tirnel looked at her curiously. "You said you do?"

"Yes. So does Father. Only certain priests are allowed to copy those tomes, much less look at them because they're so dangerous, and Father isn't one of them. But..." she glanced at Edun and the staring elf girl. "Baduil and I were able to look in the window and see that they'd just left them on the table and..."

Magpie laughed and clapped his hands startling his daughter. "You stole them?"

"I borrowed them! I read them and Baduil put them back."

"That's the Rook's influence." He grinned at his father, "She has a bad habit of putting things back."

Nali glanced around and realized she was the only one who hadn't finished her food. She pushed her plate toward Belthamdir and the girl looked at her father. He spoke to her in their language and she took the bread and sweet cheese, devouring it happily.

"You must still be hungry." Amtaila frowned.

"I have a little food left in my bag." Nali glanced at the food disappearing from the plate. "Lady Rook said that the dried fish she had was edible?"

"We don't have as much to choose from as we once did." Tirnel gave her a rueful smile, "We can find something for you."

"Let me see what you brought, I may be able to make something like it." Amtalia gave her a warm smile. "I'm familiar with human food, my father was human. Dwarf food is supposed to be similar."

"Get your food out, Nali." Tirnel shook his head, "We have things to do before Lady Rook returns."

°°°°°°°°°°

"I can help to sew it." Nali offered for the third time as her measurements were being taken.

"Our fabric is finer than what you're accustomed to sewing with." The elf woman finally gave her an answer with a faint smile. "I can sew the garment. Will a dress be enough or do you require something more like..." The gesture she gave to the old clothes waiting patiently nearby was dismissive.