The Tattooed Woman Pt. 39

"That definitely sounds like her. You... you didn't hurt her, did you?"

"No, Cassie. I suspect she managed to accumulate an interesting array of bruises and buffets as a consequence of her brawling, but I didn't hurt her."

"Thank you."

The Dark Elf nodded, "Evidently, she was most put out by being so rudely waylaid from her inn and was most keen to get back there. From what I gather, she was particularly concerned about your wellbeing. I'm hoping that your presence will calm her and mayhap temper her intransigence."

"She's... um, my sister."

"Is that so? Another sister? My my," The Matriarch sighed, "You know, for an orphan girl, you seem to be accumulating family at a formidable rate. It's impressive."

"But why take her from the inn in the first place? Why take any of them?"

"Because Shalidar says that agents of our enemies are due to attack the place very soon, and we mean to ambush and destroy them. Now, why our enemies would waste resources attacking a rustic tavern is an interesting conundrum, isn't it? Obviously, something about the place merits their attention, and the only thing I can think of offhand is that you were there."

"Me? But I'm not important. I'm... nobody, really."

Aventine stared at the girl, and her lips curled, "You keep saying that, yet just today, a Dragon leaps to your defence and is apparently wary, if not fearful, of your adopted sister. That same sister who marches with mine own kin, so you can see my interest. This Dragon hints your stepmother is a dread Queen of Imperial station, and, apparently, as if that were not curious enough, you hold friendly congress with yet another Dragon on your own merit and can actually convince it to fight for you. I think, little Cassie, that you are far from "nobody", and I must consider how you fit into this tale," she sniffed and shook her head, "still, even if you are but catspaw, you have done me and mine a service, and all debts must be paid in the end."

"Huh?"

"You saved my sister, Cassie, so how might House Varro repay you?"

The girl looked down into her glass and fidgeted, "I, um, didn't really go there just for her. I went there for Adair, really."

"Even so. The road to the Underworld is paved with good intentions, they say, that or yellow bricks, I can never be sure. Either way, no good deed goes unpunished."

"Will you free Narissa and the rest?"

"Soon enough, Cassie, but not just yet."

"Why?"

"Because the enemies who come against us are powerful, and so the forces I have deployed to meet them must at least be equally powerful. Even so, the confrontation is likely to be both bloody and destructive. Thus, it would not be safe for her to return to her inn just yet."

"Is that where Shalidar and your witch are going?"

"I'd not call her a witch to her face, young Cassie, but yes, and I imagine once those two roll up their sleeves and get to work as it were, things will take a turn for the distinctly calamitous for anyone nearby."

Cassie frowned, "The tavern is going to get wrecked, isn't it?"

"Probably."

"Gods, Narissa will be pissed. She's put every coin she has into the place."

"Just so. But better being angry and alive than the alternative, methinks."

Standing, the Dark Elf paced about the room, "There's another thing I wanted to discuss," she moved to stare out the window at the gardens beyond, "when did you learn to speak the Dwarven tongue?"

"I didn't. I've only ever spoken to two Dwarves before today."

"Curious, and how well do you speak the languages of the Dökkálfar and Ljósálfar?

"Adair taught me a few words of Dark Elf, Narissa taught me a few more, um, mostly swearwords. What's a Ljósálfar?"

"They are the Sunkissed, our bright cousins."

"Like Lily?"

"Just so."

"Oh, well, I heard her sing a tune once. It was right pretty, but I didn't understand the words."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

Aventine turned to the girl, "Because since the others left the room, I've been talking to you in Darktongue, the language of the Sunkissed, Dwarven, Orcish, even a bit of Gnome, and you've understood every word."

"No, I... That's not... That can't be right!"

"Oh, indeed you have. Your accent is distinctly strange, but I can assure you there's nought wrong with your fluency."

"But..."

The Dark Elf chuckled at the girl's confusion, "I can tell by your face you truly have no idea what's happening. It's probably an enchantment of some kind. Have you come into contact with some artefact or similar device lately?"

"Just the treasure I got from Ellén, but that's back at the inn. I was in such a hurry when I went off to save Adair I didn't even dress. I've got nothing, just this old shawl and," she pulled a blade the length of her forearm out from under the voluminous dark garment, "this knife."

Aventine's eyes widened, "Dear Gods! How in the Hells did my guards miss that thing?"

"I dunno, 'twasn't hidden or nothing."

"May I see it?"

Cassie hesitated, "Will I get it back? It was a present from Ellén."

"Do you promise not to stab me with it?"

The girl flushed, "You're the Captain's sister! I'd never do such a wicked thing."

Shaking her head again, the Dark Elf sighed, "We kidnapped you from your home, Cassie, enslaved you and dragged you into peril. Your loyalty to us is misplaced."

"She was kind to me."

"Cassie, we are Dark Elves, and we are not kindly. If you had defied my sister, she would have taught you obedience with her whip."

"I don't believe you."

Aventine shrugged sadly, "'Tis our nature. She flogged Adair, did she not."

The girl sniffed, "That was then, this is now."

"We are the Dark Eldar, and we do not change."

The girl grinned, "If you say so."

The Matriarch snorted and turned her attention to the knife in her hand. Her eyes widened as she examined its lethal curve and deadly edge, and her voice was an incredulous whisper, "This is Dragontooth."

Cassie shrugged, "I got it from a Dragon, true enough."

Hefting the thing as if to gauge its balance, Aventine murmured, "There are none, not even among the most cunning of Dwarven smiths, with the art to craft such a blade," she chuckled, "did you know, there are those who would trade your weight in gold for this dirk?"

"Seriously?"

"Oh yes."

The girl smiled and shook her head, "Well, 'tis worth more than gold to me. She gave it to me when I was sore afraid, and I'd not trade it. But you're right. She said she couldn't make another like it."

With a musical laugh, Aventine deftly spun the thing and offered it hilt-first back to the girl, "And do you know why that is, little Cassie? 'Tis because she made this from one of her milk teeth that doubtless fell out when she was a "child". Any such blade she made now would likely be far larger and much sharper, more in keeping with a scimitar than a dagger."

Cassie giggled.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Sorry, I was just imagining Ellén as a toddler."

Aventine made an exasperated sound, "Humans..."

...

Twilight was drawing in when the signal from the sentries gave Ashunara pause. She had been in the midst of her nightly rounds. Prowling the encampment seemingly at random, eyeing the placement and wariness of the night watchers even as she noted the disposition and temperament of her command. She paused here and there, warming her hands at the fire for a moment with Lashelle, cracking a lewd joke with Gorsini, muttering a wry comment to Varoona on the cleanliness of the latrines, and even sharing a drink with a pair of taciturn Dwarves in the passing.

Tallis and Lily were sitting side by side, listening as Magda hummed a tune, when the Captain slipped quietly by. Elsewhere, Muriah was doubled over with laughter while Elsadore shared her flask and regaled her with yet another bawdy tale from her youth. Ashunara grinned as she listened to the story for a while, "Surely exaggerated - I mean, surely?"

Azure was sitting all but invisible in the shadow of a tree, quietly crafting arrows, when she froze before looking up to see the Captain passing silently by, "She's getting better at that."

If Ashunara was aware of the scout's presence, she made no sign, but the wary Dark Elf could see the woman's lips were curled ever so slightly in the slyest of smiles. With a grin, she shook her head and went back to work.

Of course, the Orcs saw it all, for the wary bastards missed nothing, but as usual, they kept their own council.

Nyx appeared by her side, "Rider approaching."

"Just one?"

"One horse, two riders, probably a message from the column, methinks."

Ashunara scratched the tip of one delicately pointed ear, "Two riders? Where's the other horse?"

Nyx shrugged, "Lame, maybe? But I checked with the sentries, and there's nothing else out there."

With a grunt, the Captain nodded, "Fair enough, bring them to my tent and let's see what's what. Make sure Lashelle has something warming in the pot for our guests, 'tis a cold night after all."

"Right, boss."

Valair scanned the encampment with the wary eye of a professional as Ashunara approached. At her side, Ky stared in fearful wonder at the Orc sentry standing nearby. She had seen their Half-Orc kin many times, for all the Houses employed them as footmen and soldiers. They were tough, hardy creatures and fearsome fighters, but as she took in the lean form, gleaming yellow eyes and predatory mien of the warrior before her, she knew. If they were hounds, then this was a wolf, and she shivered.

The creature's eyes flicked to her, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, it grinned.

Ashunara nodded to them, "What price this, Valair?"

The tall Dark Elf reached up and removed a heavy bundle from the back of her horse and tossed it to the ground before her. It landed with a thump and the jingle of metal. Nodding to it, she sniffed, "'Tis Muriah's mail and other gear. I'd not have House Varro call me a thief."

Ashunara grinned, "I've called you worse, but I've never thought you a burglar," she nodded to the little slave standing timidly nearby, "and you needed to bring this wee lass with you to make your delivery?"

With an exasperated sigh, the woman shook her head, "Brone has been deep in her cups since Caspia's death, but when she finally rouses, she is sure to be in the foulest of moods. I'd not leave the girl to suffer her cruel abuse over actions that were none of her fault."

Eyes narrowing, the Captain took a half pace forward, and Nyx's hand slid to the pommel of her sword, "You're saying the fault lies with Muriah?"

"I'm saying the fault lies with Caspia for being an intemperate, spiteful fool! But you cannot say Muriah did not play her part."

Ashunara paused and pursed her lips. After a moment, she conceded, "That's fair."

Nodding towards her tent, she tilted her head, "Share a drink?"

"You'd drink with me?"

Nyx grinned, "We're not fussy."

Looking to the little slave, Ashunara pointed off towards the campfire, "There's a pot of hot broth over yonder, and Lashelle usually has a honey tart or other sweetmeat about her person, for she has a fondness for the things. If you're anything like the other scullery maid I know, you'll doubtless be hungry, for that lass could eat like she had hollow legs."

Ky grinned, "You know a scullery wench too?"

"Aye. We all do. Go ask Lashelle to tell you about her as you filch her confections."

The girl looked to her Mistress, and Valair nodded, "Go get something to eat, lass. I'll be fine."

Ashunara watched her scamper off, and her expression was strangely bleak. Valair followed her gaze for a moment before looking back at the woman, "Something troubles you about the girl?"

"Aye," she sighed, "I think I'm done with this..."

Valair shook her head in confusion, "With soldiering? You'd give up your Company because of the girl? Why?"

"No, slaving. I've had my fill of it."

"But... It's our way."

"It's not for me," she snorted, "maybe I'm just getting soft in my old age."

With a derisive sound, Nyx produced a flask and unscrewed the stopper, "Fat. Fucking. Chance."

Taking a swig, the Captain passed it to her guest, "Enough maudlin. What of you, Valair? What next for the First Sword of House Fel?"

The woman took a long draught and raised her brow in appreciation before replying, "I'm fucked, and not in a good way."

"How so?"

"I refused to fight for my House, and as a result, the Matriarch's eldest daughter lies dead. She'll not forgive me for that. Sooner or later, she'll have her pound of flesh in payment."

"Will you survive it?"

"Doubtful."

"Will you run?"

"And leave others to bear the brunt of her rage in my place? I think not."

Nyx took a swig before passing the flask back, and she gave the woman a wicked grin, "You could always accept the Captain's collar and sign on with us. It would place you within sight and yet just out of reach. It would surely vex her to insanity, and I hear you're half-decent with a sword. We could probably find at least some small use for you."

Valair choked on her drink, "Half-decent, is it?"

Nyx held her left hand up and rocked it, "There or thereabouts."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a fucking comedian?"

"All the time, for I am the very font of good cheer," she took a last swig and pressed the flask into the woman's hand, "think on it."

Turning to Ashunara, she nodded, "Right, I'll be off and finish the rounds. Night Captain, and fare thee well, Valair."

As she watched the woman go, Ashunara chuckled, "I think she likes you."

"Half-decent?!"

"Oh, from her, that's quite the compliment, I assure you."

"There is no fucking way I'm signing on with House Varro! My mother still serves House Fel. It would be a betrayal."

"Oh, according to the lists, we're an independent Free Company, only sponsored by House Varro, for my sister and I have had our squabbles and spats," she laughed, "but I wouldn't worry about it. Like as not, we're all going to get killed in this stupid siege anyway."

Valair took another drink and nodded, "Seems probable."

The woman shook her head with a sigh, "Ashunara, when you next see Muriah... Tell her I'm sorry," she snorted, "for what little it's worth."

"Tell her yourself. She's just over yonder."

Silently, the swordswoman looked across the camp for a long time before lowering her gaze, "No... I," she sighed, "best not."

Shaking her head again, she turned back to the Captain, and her voice was incredulous, "You'd really take me into your Company? After what we did?"

Ashunara's answering smile would have put a wolf to shame, "As Nyx says, we're not fussy."

...

The dungeons of any Great House were meant to be fearsome places. Cold, dark and frightening. Filled with dank cells, lonely oubliettes and terrifying torture chambers. They had thick doors and thicker walls and were usually buried deep enough in the earth's bowels to muffle even the most piercing screams.

The corridors had been mostly quiet, and as they walked Hildegard had explained to Cassie how the Dark Elves' long decline in numbers meant that more than a few of the lower levels of this great manse now sat all but empty. The young girl looked about at the many doors they passed, all now leading to abandoned chambers, the polished wood panels and finely carved beams, all forlorn, and silent, and she thought it a shame.

Even so, Cassie found herself swallowing nervously as she was led further, down dark staircases and along narrow, gloomy hallways that were but dimly lit by flickering witchflame lanterns. She would have been frightened in this ominous place but found comfort in the presence of Hildegard as the woman walked beside her. Behind them both the towering figure of Garrow padded silently in their shadow. Cassie had peeked round at her more than once, and she doubted those gleaming yellow eyes found much difficulty piercing the shadows that lurked around them.

Her head lifted when she heard noises and saw that up ahead, a pool of light dispelled the murk. The corridor ended with a very sturdy door that looked both armoured and ominous, yet it sat open, and the footman who guarded it was sat upon a stool, eating from a bowl, with a tankard on the floor at his side, though he all but leapt to his feet as the women approached.

Garrow gave him a grin, "I see you've earned hard duty this day, Fergus."

The man nodded with a smile, "Well, 'tis a sair fecht for a half loaf, as my ma would say."

Eyeing the half-drained tankard, she raised a sceptical brow and answered in a droll voice, "Aye, it looks it."

The man shrugged, "Here, lass, do you still have my knife?"

"That toothpick? 'Tis a sneaky wee blade for sure, but well enough balanced for throwing. I keep it strapped to my thigh," she stepped close enough for those yellow eyes to peer down into his, and her voice lowered, "Would you like to see?"

"Um..."

Hildegard snorted, "Oh, for the love of the Gods, will you stop teasing the poor man? Come! We have business to attend to within. Admit us entry and let us pass if you please."

Garrow winked at the flustered human, "Another time, maybe."

As they passed under the lintel, the handmaiden sighed, "Why do you torment that poor fellow so?"

Cassie looked up, "He gave her a knife."

"What?"

"Amongst the Orcs, when a hunter gifts some useful thing, especially a weapon, it shows their interest and is the oft first step in proving themselves a worthy mate and provider."

Garrow eyed her, "How do you know that?"

Cassie blinked, "An Orc told me."

The ex-gladiator sniffed dismissively, "Well, be that as it may, I'm but Half-Orc and have no time for the habits of ignorant savages."

Hildegard rolled her eyes, "Riight."

Beyond the door was the dungeon of House Varro, but if Cassie expected some cold, dank place echoing with the pitiful moans of the condemned, then she was to be surprised.

The hall was long and broad, with bare walls of paved stone and an arched roof. Running along both sides were the heavy doors of many cells, but that was where the similarities to the jails of her imagination ended, for the hall was warm and well-lit by burning lamps. The cell doors lay open, and down along the middle of the hall ran a long table, literally burgeoning with food and pitchers. The room rang with chatter and laughter as the serving wenches and pot boys she remembered from the inn clustered about animatedly, helping themselves to the feast before them.

And there, at the end of the table, ladle in hand and doling out soup from the stockpot, was...

Her vision blurred as she felt the tears forming, "M-Maggie..."

There was a clatter and a rumble, and moments later, she was all but lifted from her feet as arms enfolded her, and she was pulled into the bosom of the woman who had cared for her for as long as she could remember. She smelt of flour, hot bread, baked apples, and cinnamon, and it was the most wonderful thing in the whole world just to rest in that warm embrace, even if only for a while.

The woman's voice was hoarse, "Sweet merciful Gods! Cassie! I'd feared I'd lost you again! You and Ellén both! What possessed ye to run off like that?"

"I'm sorry, ma... Maggie, truly."

"Well, yer back now, and that's all that matters. Let me take a look at ye."

The embrace finally unfolded, and Maggie's eyes widened as she stared down at her, "Oh dear Gods! What happened to your clothes? Yer all but nekkid lass!"

The big woman rounded on Hildegard, "And you! How could you have the girl traipsing about like that in front of all these sleekit pixies, with her backside all but showing! And look at the state of her! She looks like she's slept in a midden. Have ye no shame, woman?!"

Garrow grinned as she filched a pie from the table, "Aye, Hildegard, have ye no shame?"