Three

Roughing out plans with Vezar, Syr spoke with the priests and builders. Some of the temples seemed straightforward enough. Vezar knew a great deal about the elvish gods and since she was a half-elf she probably wouldn’t need an invitation, but the warning was appreciated. However, even he had little to say about the dwarves. She had nothing on the dwarvish temples and little on their gods. Even Hevtos had little to say about them, except the only place to learn was in a dwarf mine. Her disinterest in religion wasn’t serving her well. 

The thieves gave her names of people to meet and the places to meet them. There was at least one other half-elf thief that had started to make a name for himself since she followed Vezar down to the Underworld. A man named Riellan Fethurin, who went by the name of Kwes. He couldn’t be approached at the usual places, only hired through a particular brothel in Withia. Alvesh Conon suggested she use his name when trying to ask for the right room.

Another round of lost soul gathering gave her the opening she needed to take her leave. She left Vezar before he reached the mouth, slipping away wordlessly. It was easier that way. Her goodbyes had been said thoroughly the night before.

First things first. Money. Borrowing a shovel from a farm in walking distance from Withia, she dug up a small chest of her own in Vreya. It would be enough to get her into the brothel and to interest Kwes as well as get her supplies. She’d been told where to go to find toolmakers, but she had to hunt for a clothier that wasn’t picky about what their clientele came in looking like. The one she’d been directed to had since closed, one of the hazards of taking a few years to plan with those who’d died some years before.

“What is it you’re looking for?” A voice asked curiously as she observed a dress shop.

Turning to glance at the source she found herself face to face with a half-elf of means. “I’m looking for something I haven’t had to look for in a long while.” Syr gave a shrug of her shoulders.

“I see. You might consider asking directions at The Proud Pearl.” As he mentioned the name he studied her face for a reaction and she nodded. If he wasn’t a thief he recognized her as one, a dangerous thing.

“I’m planning to go there eventually, but Master Odos always said to be prepared before you walk into a den of iniquity.” 

Recognition lit his eyes before he got control of his face, inclining his head, “You never know what kind of welcome you’ll receive. I’ve heard the same. He must have been a wise man.”  

“He knew how to turn a phrase when he was so inclined.” She grinned as the man glanced back at her to see if she was teasing. “Is he still drinking mead?”

“I’ve never known him to drink anything else.” The man looked almost mesmerized. “May I ask your name?”

“If I may ask yours, of course.” Syr laughed as he winced. “He always called me his little rook, Rook is a good enough name for now.”

“He called me a magpie.” His eyes sparkled as he straightened his fine coat.

“They do like things that shine.” She nodded trying to suppress her smile. 

“What brings you here, Rook?” The Magpie gestured for her to walk with him.

Sucking air through her teeth she hedged her answer, “Family trouble. I spent some time working for my uncle. He’s… a difficult man and I decided to try my luck elsewhere. That means-”

“Falling back into old habits.” The Magpie glanced at her with a smile. “You’re not worried you’re a little rusty?”

“I’m planning to see what mischief I can get into, and out of, on my own before I try to find paying work.” She shrugged again. “I thought I’d go back to basics and start with a temple.”

The Magpie began to cough before clearing his throat, “Ambitious.” He looked at her speculatively, “You might consider a house first.”

“You have someone in mind?” Rook tilted her head.

“Tirnel Acharnion. He-”

She burst into laughter and tried to turn it into coughing as the Magpie frowned at her. “Sorry, has he rebuilt the house? I thought at least part of it burned the last time I,” she corrected herself, “heard about someone robbing it.” Hammersworn’s memories bubbled up, a little hazy but still there.

“Master Odos does like to rig the game.” He studied her face, “Did you hear about the infant that was there at the time?”

“No. I was occupied with other things when I was hearing about it.”

“I was the infant. The robber was my sister, half-sister. Tirnel had taken something from the dwarf clan she had married into and she came to fetch it back.”

“How did you end up with Master Odos? I would have expected Tirnel to-”

“I ran away at the age of fifty-three after hearing Tirnel rant about Syreilla Acharnion for most of my life. Becoming what she became was my greatest desire.” He looked so serious she couldn’t help herself.

“Fond of dwarvish women are you?” Syr lifted her eyebrows suggestively and the Magpie nearly choked trying to stifle his laughter.

After he composed himself he shook his head, “He has something I need. I’ll help you shake the dust off of your feathers if you’ll help me get it.”

“That sounds like a fair trade.” 

“Come with me, I’ll see you properly dressed and we can go pay our respects… to which god?” The Magpie escorted her toward an inn that looked like it catered to nobility in the city.

“This is the city of Mabor, wine, women, and song.”

“What did he do to upset you?” The Magpie snorted.

“Nothing at all, my dear Magpie. This isn't punishment. This is mischief.” She gave him the broadest, maddest grin she could and watched his eyes widen.