Fourteen

Cyran followed the old beggar out of the inn and the dwarf fell in with them. “She slew two White Hands…” and she’d caught him in a ward as if he weren’t one at all, “How much help will she need?”

“If these are the ones who murdered Syreilla Hammersworn?” The dwarf sounded speculative, “That woman wasn’t the trusting sort, she wouldn’t have been an easy target.”

“She wasn’t.” The beggar glanced back looking almost angry, “I’ve suspected they had divine help since I heard of her death.”

“The divinity spoke to me, he would have the woman’s murder punished. I am to see justice done to the assassin swiftly if I find him.”

“There were two.” The beggar stopped in a doorway. “One with poisoned weapons and the other a mage.”

“Lady Rook said she was going to speak to the mage.” Cyran nodded.

“And you are going to give justice to the assassin.” The smile the beggar turned on him was unnerving. “In here.”

Drawing his sword as the dwarf hefted his axe, Cyran murmured a prayer of protection and entered the house. It was empty and looked abandoned. Cobwebs hung from the walls and ceiling attaching themselves to unused furniture. The room nearest the stairs held a faded, rumpled rug and nothing else. He made his way up the rotten looking stairs.

Against all odds, the staircase made no sound whatsoever as he slowly made his way up, testing each board before putting his weight on it. As he looked into each of the rooms he thought perhaps the beggar was wrong, this place was entirely empty. Then he caught sight of a slender form hunched in an open window holding a crossbow.

If he were quick-

“Does Imos have more orders for us? That is why he would send a priest to visit me again, yes?”

“Orders?” Cyran stopped and blinked in confusion as the woman turned the bow on him with a frown.

“Orders. Does he want the Golden Rook dead?”

“I was commanded to protect her and slay the one who murdered Syreilla-”

The bolt embedded itself in his throat before he could finish his words and Cyran fell to his knees clawing at it and dropping his sword. It felt as though fire were spreading from the wound faster than blood was pouring out. The woman kicked him to the side as she passed and a white mist of rage settled upon him.

Tearing the bolt from his throat, white flame poured from the wound and he came to his feet, taking up his sword once more. He stalked after the fleeing woman, she would feel justice for her crimes and it would burn.

In the room in front of the door, the dwarf stood over the woman, his axe already bloodied.

“-promised we would never die, our reward for killing Hammersworn was being put out of Hevtos’ reach! You can’t kill me with that.” 

She started to laugh and the dwarf looked up and noticed Cyran, stepping back from the woman.

“Your god made a promise!” She shrieked as he brought his sword down in the middle of her chest and it turned into a scream unlike anything he’d ever heard.

When it stopped, he realized he was trembling and the white mist was gone. Gingerly, he touched his throat and found it whole, the blood staining his white tunic was the only proof he had that he’d been shot in the throat.

“Master Odos,” a quiet man’s voice came from behind and Cyran turned to look with dawning horror, “I don’t think I want to meet any of her uncles.”

The beggar laughed, helping a bedraggled looking half-elf to the door, “No, little magpie, you don’t.”

“Master… Odos.” He came to his feet and bowed. “Divinity.”

“None of that.” Odos waved his hand, “My brother enjoys priests and bowing, I prefer to go unnoticed.”

“I was told Lady Rook also does not wish to be called Divinity.” Cyran pulled his blade loose from the floor and the assassin’s body fell into ash. As he did, something metallic the woman must have been carrying made a muted sound as it clattered among the remains. “If I had kept my wits I could have discovered how this assassin was deceived. The Divinity would not have promised such a thing nor would he have had Syreilla Hammersworn murdered. He spoke of her good heart.”

“The Rook should be nearly done with the mage.” The Divinity eyed him speculatively. “Why don’t we go find out? What is your name, priest?”

“Cyran. They may be nearby. I-”

Odos laughed, “I know exactly where my rook is. Master Dwarf, the assassin stole Syreilla Hammersworn’s circlet. She wanted Sirruil to have it.”

“Who is Sirruil?” The half-elf took a step toward the ashes, “Can I buy-”

“One of her sons, the one she worried most about.” Odos, smiled faintly and put his hand on the man, stopping him. “She left everything to her family.”

“I wish I could have met her. And she was my sister.” The man straightened his dirty clothes. 

“I’ll see to it the boy gets it.” The dwarf dug around in the ash with the butt of his axe until he found something and picked it up. Fine, if filthy chains, with an ash encrusted jewel hung from his fingertips. “It looks more like something for Kyrilla.”

“If you clean it and put it on you’ll understand why she wanted Sirruil to have it and why the assassin took it.” Odos shook his head. 

“Something in the stone…” The dwarf frowned and rubbed at it.

“If it’s the circlet she was rumored to have,” the half-elf nodded toward it, “It will light the darkest room like brightest day, show the edge of every trap, every ward… I’ve always heard it called Syreilla’s Eye.”

The dwarf’s face crinkled and split in the broadest grin Cyran had ever seen, “Syreilla’s Eye. That’s what she was on about. ‘The boy will have his mother’s eye.’ I thought she meant he would have her eye for trouble.”

“He has that too.” Odos shook his head. “My own daughter threatened to take me on a tour of flooded mine shafts with a length of stout chain if I-”

The dwarf broke into loud laughter but Cyran was appalled, “She threatened a god? Her own father?”

“To keep her boy safe she would have made the Nightforged look like boys at play.” He grinned down at the stone in his hand.

“She would have.” Odos nodded with a sad smile. “Come, we don’t want to be late.”

“Late?” He felt baffled as he moved toward the door.

“Lady Rook in her glory is something to behold.” The Divinity was smiling his unnerving smile again and clapped him on the shoulder. “As are you, nephew.”