Fifty-eight

Stepping through the door away from Eludora’s temple and back into a wooded area Cyran felt a mix of relief and nervousness. Syreilla suspected him of giving her lustful looks and the thought of trying to explain he hadn’t meant to while they had a discussion of how wrong it seemed for her to be with Vezar Edra was already making him feel embarrassed and awkward. 

Kwes glanced around sourly, “Where are we, Father?”

“Near Lew. I didn’t want to drop you both into the inn, it would raise questions. As it is, the dwarves had to do some explaining on how you managed to leave without anyone at all noticing.”

“And our things?”

“The dwarves will have kept them. They’re honest, I don’t expect anything to have gone missing.” 

“And none of the humans in Lew-”

“There aren’t many thieves around this area, my little magpie. Your sister made sure that no one would dare to steal from the dwarves, shipments going in to the mine and coming out of it were protected by her reputation. Syreilla Hammersworn may have been murdered but dwarven goods are still avoided, just in case. The last thief she paid a visit to is still spoken of in hushed tones by old men in their cups. They burned the body and the brothel it was in rather than risk crossing any of her wards to bring it out.”

Cyran swallowed and nodded. “She’s trading on the protection she offered them to get the stones she needs from them?”

“She had them burn down a brothel?” Kwes’s glare could have rivalled one of Rook’s.

“She tossed them a bag of coins on her way out.” Grimgrip’s voice startled him but not Kwes or Odos and Cyran blinked at the dwarf who’d arrived with their horses and things packed up on them. “Or so I was told.”

“She gave them the thief’s pay.” Odos inclined his head. “I don’t think she expected them to burn it but the furnishings in that room were ruined.

“It took at least ten years for people to stop bowing and stuttering when someone said they were from Clan Hammersworn.”

Grimgrip snorted a laugh, “Syreilla Hammersworn made an impression, even in Bhiraldur. She was respectful but she carried herself as if she owned the mine. Lady Rook is just the same.”

“Where is my little rook? I need to speak to her.”

“She said to tell you not to rush her and she’ll come out when she’s done.” The dwarf grinned and shook his head, “I think if she had more time to let Master Aledelver and Bhirren Hammersworn warm up to her she might be invited to stay the way Syreilla Hammersworn was.”

“That’s why I want her out quickly.” Odos returned the dwarf’s grin. “One daughter who chose to stay in a mine was enough.”

“If she wants to stay you should let her,” Kwes muttered before stalking over to unload his horse. 

He caught something about it not making a difference but the dwarf was asking Odos if he knew any reasonable mages. Cyran took the time to go unpack his own horse and begin setting up his tent. Kwes has gone for a walk, leaving his things next to his saddle. He decided to put up his cousin’s tent as well and put the half-elf’s things inside it. By the time the tents were up and he was starting to think about making a meal, Syreilla joined them.

She was walking next to a black-haired dwarf and waved to him cheerfully.

“That’s my cousin, Cyran, that I was telling you about, Kaduil. And my brother, Magpie should be here somewhere.”

The dwarf shook his head with a smile, “Sirruil said he’s a thief.”

“He is, and a good one too I’ve been told.” She gave Kwes a warm smile as he came into view.

“It’s a shame you haven’t let me show you.” The half-elf folded his arms and gave her a sour look.

“We’ll do something fun as soon as I-” Syreilla stopped and blinked as Kwes turned on his heel and stalked off. “I think he’s angry with me…” 

“You left us.” Cyran cleared his throat and glanced away feeling uncertain of how he should be looking at her, he hadn’t meant to look at her lustfully before. 

He almost chided her for telling him he could stay close and learn from her and then abandoning him deliberately but when he glanced back she looked deeply sad. She dropped to her knees to embrace the dwarf and speak quietly to him. Stepping away seemed the only polite thing to do.

Kwes was pacing furiously by the fire muttering in elvish. When he saw Cyran he glared past him, “Where is she? Did she leave us again?”

“She’s saying goodbye to the dwarf, I think. It seemed… intimate.”

The half-elf stopped and then laughed unpleasantly before storming past. 

“Rook! You’re going to talk to me and you’re going to explain yourself.”

Sighing, Cyran shook his head and started going through the rations that had been packed for him, what felt like an age ago, at the Temple for something to warm for dinner.

“What exactly do I need to explain?” She paused, “Will you stand in one place? Magpie?”

A familiar looking man in a hood and commoner’s clothes stepped out of nothing and Cyran remained still, studying him as he glanced around the camp. He didn’t have long to look. Kwes came marching furiously back, speaking to his sister over his shoulder. 

“That was a cruel trick Syreilla.” The half-elf barely paused as he noticed the intruder. “And who is this? You’ve picked the wrong camp to rob-”

“Vezar!” Syreilla sounded pleased as she rushed up to the King Undying beaming and put her arms around him, rising on her toes for a kiss. “I have something for you.” 

Watching the two of them was still somehow unsettling. Vezar’s claws didn’t look like anything a woman, much less a goddess should be allowing near her skin and that kiss was indecent.

“My sweet Syreilla, you need to bathe.” 

The King Undying lowered his head and drew a deep breath against her skin as if inhaling whatever scent he was insisting she needed to wash off and she laughed whispering something in answer that Cyran didn’t hear. Vezar made a sound that made him flush and vanished with Syreilla.

“Where did she go?” Kwes stalked over to the point they’d vanished.

“With Vezar Edra.” Cyran’s eyes widened as the half-elf kicked at the dirt and began spouting what he assumed were elvish curses.

“That’s it! I’m done with her!” Kwes stalked over to the fire and dropped heavily across from him. “What are we having?”

“There is some sausage and-”

“I don’t eat that, what else?”

Wordlessly, Cyran picked up the bag with the rations in it and tossed it across to him. The half-elf picked through it with a sour expression.

“Who bought these supplies?”

“They were packed for me at the Temple in Withia.”

“Ah. Where is the bag I brought?” Kwes looked at him expectantly.

“With your things? I didn’t-” The bag was tossed back as the half-elf huffed and got up.

The man took some time to return to the fire and Cyran had already warmed his food and eaten when he did. Kwes joined him to sit and look quietly into the flames for a time. 

“I don’t mean to take out my anger on you, cousin.” 

“We both expected better of her.”

The half-elf sighed, “Father has been telling me for years that I’d be disappointed if I met her. She’s a legend… Perhaps she should have stayed that way.” 

Silence stretched. 

“When did you learn he was your father?” 

“I’ve been putting things together over time. My luck has always been better than anyone else’s, that started at birth. The fire that destroyed Tirnel Acharnion’s house should have killed me. My parents had fled and so had the servants when she started the fire. It raged and there was no time for anyone to think. A stranger who had been allowed to sleep in the stable ran in and saved me when he saw the flames.”

“Odos.” Cyran smiled faintly.

“Yes. Master Odos was given a place to sleep each time he visited after that. He used to tell me stories…

“Once everything started to fall into place, who Syreilla the Rook was, and her father, I’d had my suspicions about Master Odos being the trickster god. His names for us are similar and the way he speaks of us… I just needed the time to put it all… together. Others confirmed it and then I had to find the courage to actually call him ‘Father’.” Kwes gave him a curious look, “You never suspected your father was, ‘the divinity’, as you like to call him?”

“No. That he would create a child, or children, with anyone never occurred to me. I was the best of his priests, the greatest of his White Hands.” Cyran sighed, “I never wished to disappoint him.”

“When he comes back to himself, cousin, he’ll be proud of you.” Kwes gave him a melancholy smile. “Even I like you.”

There was another long pause, “She’s not coming back is she?”

“I don’t know, cousin.” Cyran watched the pain on the half-elf’s face turn to anger.

“If she does I won’t be here. I’m going back to Withia. Are you coming with me?”

“There’s nothing for me there.” Cyran frowned into the fire. “If she doesn’t return…” 

“The two of you couldn’t look sadder if you tried.” Odos stepped out of the forest shadows with a smile, brushing off his sleeves and looking pleased with himself. 

“I’m not looking forward to the long ride back to Withia by myself.” Kwes stretched and turned a heartbroken look on his father.

The old man broke into laughter, “I’ll take you to the edge of the city this once. Your sister isn’t with us to heal you if we get attacked and I don’t want to risk it.”

“Where is she?” 

“I sent her to visit a friend of mine.” Odos smiled smugly. “They seemed to be getting along well when I left, she only mildly insulted him during their introductions.” He glanced at Cyran, “I’ll take over your lessons. She’ll continue them as soon as she can but time is becoming an issue, my brother is complaining to our father and some of the others are as well. She wasn’t polite when she met them.”

“Where will we go?”

“My father has a Temple in the cliff top city of Briasa in Laegrenna. It’s a thing to see if you haven’t yet.”