Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy), page 34
“I’m going to be a Dagger someday too. Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of... uh, what’s his name?”
Ticca smiled. Bright boy, and a good one too. He might just do it, if things work out right. “His name is Rild. Don’t give up on that dream; it takes a lot of work.”
“I know. My da’ is in the guard and says I can join in a few more years. In the meantime, I am studying smithing and horse husbandry. I promise to take good care of Rild for you, ma’am. I can also clean your leathers, too, if you want.” She nodded. He saluted her and turned, walking the horse off to the stables around back.
Slinging the saddle pack over her shoulder, she stepped into the inn. She was reminded of the Dolphin. There was a large room with a single hearth that boasted a large fire. The room was filled with the smoke from dozens of sources, and people of all classes were talking or playing games. Next to the fire, in a corner, was a rather beautiful lady, expertly playing a dulcimer as she sang an old ballad. Many of the patrons had stopped talking and were entranced by her performance. There were two servers, so Ticca took a small, empty table, putting her pack and saddle pack under the table where she could keep her leg against both. Two people took note of her entry; a rather handsome man at the end of the bar, and the bard in the corner.
A server noticed her relatively quickly and came over with a platter of hyly. “You’re new. Are you hungry? We have some of the best stew in town.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll take one of those mugs, too. Do you have any rooms still open?”
Putting one of the mugs of hyly down in front of Ticca, the girl shrugged. “Don’t know about the rooms.” Indicating a man at the end of the bar, she added, “I’ll let Illari know you want one.” She moved off to serve others.
Ticca relaxed, drinking the hyly and taking an inventory of the patrons. She noticed that the bard would sweep the room with her eyes from time to time. Smart bard, keeping track of the drunks and other possible problems… Especially when you consider how good she looks. I bet she has issues almost everywhere she goes.
A male server brought her a large, wooden bowl of wonderful-smelling stew, placing a wooden spoon down on the table with it. While she ate, the dulcimer played on through a series of old songs. She is really very good. These are hard tunes, and she hasn’t missed a note. Tapping her toe to the beat, she finished her dinner.
Something was wrong, and Ticca couldn’t figure it out. Taking a quick glance around, everything was as expected. The bard had shifted slightly, and was actually facing more generally in her direction. The same male server came to take away the bowl and spoon. As he left, the handsome man from the end of the bar approached and pointed at the chair opposite her. She nodded, and he sat.
She tried to stifle a smirk at his over-the-top Gracian machismo. He had strong, brown eyes, the expected ever-present dark, stubbly beard, and a handsome, slim face. He sported a white, billowing-sleeved, open-neck shirt, showing off six gold necklaces over his black, wiry, chest hair, and wore several gold rings on both hands. His hair was well cared for and greased back. He smelled of pine soap with a mix of some top-quality cigars. He had the Gracian look that a lot of ladies, for ages, had thought to be the perfect look for romance.
“Hullo, my name is Illari. I own this place.” He had an accent that emphasized his vowels and elongated the ‘s’ sound. In fact, he sounded exactly right for his look.
“Ticca. Do you have a private room?”
He gave her an obvious look from head to toe, and might have even judged her worth correctly. “We do, Lady Ticca. How long would you need one for?”
“Just the night. I want a good room.”
“Of course, Lady Ticca. I have an excellent room that I am sure you will enjoy. For you, ten bells, including your dinner and breakfast.”
Wow, this place is expensive. Judging from the rest of the room, it didn’t seem the patronage was all that high scale. Trying to fleece the one-nighter, are you? “Three bells.”
Illari smiled widely. “Ah, you are not a silly traveler then, are you? Four bells, one pence. It really is a good room.”
Reaching down, she grabbed her packs. “Show me, and if so, I agree.” As they left the room, she noticed the bard in the corner glancing at her. Everyone else was either paying attention to their meal, their companions, or the beautiful bard.
Illari showed her through the bar and up the stairs. The second floor was composed of two long hallways, and he walked down the left to the very end. There was a wide door with a slightly better lock on it than the others. He produced the key and opened it, stepping back to let her enter.
As she stepped inside, she was impressed. It was a spacious room with windows on three walls, to the front, back, and side of the inn. She tossed her packs on the bed and stepped over to look out the windows, at the bustling street. The bard was leaving the inn, heading deeper into the town, her dulcimer slung over her back. She glanced back, and Ticca quickly dodged to keep from being spotted. Ticca was sure the bard hadn’t seen her in the window, and watched through the sheer curtains as she turned right, a couple of blocks down. “Your bard has left early.”
“Ah, she is often requested by wealthy people for dinners and such. She keeps a small room downstairs. She’ll likely be back later tonight, if you liked her.”
Ticca shook her head, as her instincts were telling her something was wrong. “No issue. How long has she been here?”
Illari moved to a door. He thought about it. “She has been in town for about four days now. Yes, that is about right, because she came three days after the big fire. You have a private bath and toilet here.” He opened the door, and Ticca looked in.
Surprised by the toilet and bath, she re-valued the room. OK, so this is a really nice room. “Big fire? Was the city burned then?”
Illari carefully moved her pack to the floor, grabbed the bed covers, held up his hand for attention and then rapidly whipped the covers off, revealing the cotton sheets. “See, no bugs. I pay good money to mages to keep this entire inn free of little biting things. I really do not like getting bit in the night.” Looking at her with an intensity only a true Gracian could get away with, he added, “Unless, of course, it was a beautiful lady such as yourself, doing the nibbling, aye?”
Ticca smiled and blushed, in spite of herself. She nodded and pulled out five bells. Handing them to the innkeeper, she said, “You won’t have that worry with me tonight. You said there was a fire?”
Illari’s smile never faded, but he shrugged with some disappointment and looked at the money. “I’ll give you your two rings’ change in the morning, Lady Ticca.” He flipped the covers back onto the bed. “Oh yes, we had a very big fire. It burned down six lovely homes before the guards and citizens got it out.”
“That sounds bad. Does it happen often here?”
Illari headed for the door. “Oh no, Lady Ticca, this is a nice, clean city. Sure, we have a fire from time to time, like everyone else, but this happened on a very windy night, which caused the fire to jump. If Magus Vestul had only been here, it probably wouldn’t have happened at all. But alas, he is traveling someplace romantic, I am sure, and he will be sad on his return.” He opened the door, handing her the key.
Alarm bells started ringing in her head. Keeping a casual tone, she asked, guessing at the coming answer, “Does Magus Vestul protect the city from fires?”
“No, Lady Ticca. You see, the fire started at his house, so if he had been here, he would have stopped it quickly, yes? Ring if you desire hot water or something from the kitchens… And of course, if you need me,” he said, giving her an obvious, intense look, “I’ll be downstairs.”
Ticca was too surprised to respond, which he must have taken for a gentle ‘no,’ because he gave her a friendly, crooked smile, shrugged again, and closed the door. She heard him humming the jaunty song the bard had been playing earlier, as he walked back down the hall.
Magus Vestul’s house burned down a week ago? That cannot be a coincidence. She carefully closed and locked all the windows. Next, she closed all the shutters, but left just enough space to look out onto the street. She noticed a bell-pull by the door. She pulled it, and started taking some of her stuff out of the packs. A few minutes later, a soft knock came at the door. She opened it, and there was a kitchen girl there. Well that tells me who the bell summons. I was worried it might be Illari.
The girl looked at her expectantly. “Yes lady, you need something?”
Ticca nodded. “May I have some hot water for a bath, and do you do laundry here?”
The girl nodded. “I’ll fire up your hot water, milady. It will take about twenty minutes to warm. I can do your laundry tonight, if you wish.”
Pulling out another bell, she handed it to the girl. “Yes to all of that, thank you. Is this enough?”
“Yes, lady, it is more than enough.”
“Ah, good. You may keep the rest.”
The girl did a little curtsy and smiled, running off down the hall. In thirty minutes, she came back with some towels, and showed Ticca how to open the hot water sluice from the boiler mounted on the roof. “I put a bucket of coal out for your boiler, lady, so it will stay warm all night. A boy keeps all the boilers full and stoked until late, and then checks early in the morning, so you’ll have really hot water in the morning. This here,” she pointed at another valve at the bottom of the tub, “will send the water into the sewer when you’re done.”
With that, Ticca stripped down, wrapped herself in one of the towels, and gave her clothes to the girl, who promised to have them clean in the morning. Once the girl was gone, Ticca locked the door and took her knives into the bathroom, putting them on the cabinet, close at hand. She then grabbed one of the Llino tobac shop cigars, putting it on the bath table, too. Testing the water, she found it was surprisingly hot, and she added a little cold water to make it just right. Letting the towel drop to the floor, she climbed slowly into the hot tub, and let herself enjoy it for a few minutes.
She scrubbed herself down, drained the dirty water, and then opened the hot water again and filled the tub a second time. Taking the cigar, she bit the end off and lit it from the table lamp, and again, climbed into the hot tub. Leaning back, she relaxed, enjoying the cigar and the bath’s heat soaking in. When the cigar was long finished and the water started getting cool, she got out and drained the tub. She dried herself with the other towel and took her knives out to the main room.
She dressed in her only clean clothes and slipped the boots back on. Taking all her gear, she arranged it around the room, with her knives out and ready. She climbed into the comfortable bed and fell asleep, feeling very relaxed and comfortable.
- - -
She was sitting by the silver lake at the edge of Rea-Na-Rey. The sky was clear, and the moons were reflected in the calm waters. Next to her, sat Kliasa, who was staring out over the waters.
“Hello Kliasa.”
“Ticca, I am worried for you.”
“Yes, I know. I have walked into a trap, and only appear free at the moment; it can close at any time.”
Kliasa nodded, turning to her. “I saw through you, the bard. She is Nhia-Samri, as you guess. You are in extreme danger. They have been waiting for you, and have already destroyed Magus Vestul’s home.”
Ticca sighed. “Yes, I expected this, which is why I asked Lebuin and Ditani to stay in the forest. We need to know what is happening.” Turning to sit facing Kliasa, she continued, “I have lived most of your life with you, but you have withheld some things. Your love is Shar-Lumen, the Grand Warlord of the Nhia-Samri, isn’t he?”
Kliasa nodded. “You figured it out, but you have shared a large part of my life, and you know me better than anyone except the Gods, themselves. You have seen Shar-Lumen before he became evil. You have seen the wonders he has done and the good man that he was.”
Ticca didn’t answer; she waited. Kliasa looked up at the stars. “This is painful to share.”
“They are going to try to kill us. Why?”
“It was only after your fight at the gate that I knew the Nhia-Samri were involved. I cannot answer your question, because I do not know. In fact, no one knew until your actions exposed them. Before you go further, you need to see three things. Then I shall hide nothing more of my past from you. You may then ask, knowing I will answer, if I can. This will be painful to you, too. Once you see, you cannot forget it. You must be strong.”
Ticca thought about it, deciding that, painful or not, it was necessary. “Kliasa, I love you as a sister. I am sorry, but I must know.”
Kliasa nodded, and her face grew tense as she steeled herself. Lady, what have I asked, that she is so afraid of, even now that she is beyond? Ticca felt her own palms sweating as her heart raced in anticipation. The world shifted.
They were sitting at the high table in the middle of a solstice feast. Elves brought dishes of fine foods, and dancers were entertaining the crowd. Kliasa was next to her.
“This is the beginning of the Nhia-Samri.” Kliasa pointed at a group of men. The men had shaved heads and wore white, loose clothing and saffron sashes over one shoulder. They sat, enjoying the dancers, and were eating very little of the fare. What they did eat were only vegetables and fruits. Shar-Lumen was speaking with the leader. Shar-Lumen stood as the dancers stopped, and stripped to his waist, pulling two knives. The men did the same. They stepped to the center of the circle of tables and began a knife fight demonstration.
Kliasa sighed happily as Shar-Lumen held off two, then three, then four of the men. Then the fighting stopped, and the master of the men stepped up, bowed to Shar-Lumen, and produced two knives. They fought to the cheers of the crowd, except that Shar-Lumen was forced to back up a step. The elves gasped, and then the man started fighting differently, and Shar-Lumen was put on the defensive until finally, he was disarmed. The elves applauded, and Shar-Lumen bowed to the master, smiling and laughing. He joined them as they sat and began eating fruits again. Shar-Lumen was talking intensely with the master of the group, who considered what was said.
Kliasa explained, “They call themselves monks. They value life and honor above all else. They know many fighting forms, and that was a demonstration of a very old style that was thought lost from this world. They are peaceful, loving people whom the elves respect. Shar-Lumen left with them to learn their ways. He wasn’t exactly pleased at being beat this night. He is a very proud man, but at this time, he was also willing to admit when he was wrong, and to learn from it. It was in their home, he found the old tombs that spoke of men called Samri that held honor above all else. These men ruled for millennia, calling themselves Warlords. Shar-Lumen decided he liked it so much, he adopted all of it and began building a vast empire of Samri. Nhia is an ancient name of this world, so he called them Nhia-Samri or Samri of Nhia.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain the evil. Losing at a fight, and getting taught the new techniques, does not make someone evil.”
Kliasa sighed. “No, but you need to know that the Nhia-Samri hold honor above all else. They are still trained and conditioned to follow the original pattern of the old Samri. It is the Grand Warlord who sets the tone for all. So long as he acts honorably within their code, they will follow him to their deaths.”
Kliasa looked down, her lips going white, and her face tense. “Now, I will show you the seed of evil and the evil itself. Are you sure?”
Do I really need to see this? She is very worried it will ruin me. ‘Knowledge is your greatest weapon,’ said her trainer’s voice. Looking at Kliasa, she nodded yes. Kliasa closed her eyes, and tears appeared. Before the tears slid down her cheeks, the scene had changed.
It was the winter solstice celebration, with all the elves laughing and drinking sharre. Kliasa was again seated at the high table. Ticca, however, was off to the side on a small hill, overlooking the scene. She was a little confused, and then she saw it:
Silently, a guard was knifed from behind. Ticca looked around, and the entire area was surrounded by ugly brutish warriors. They were slightly shorter than the elves with misshapen mouths, twisted yellowish teeth, and flattened foreheads; they all had irregular fangs and were heavily muscled beast like men covered with lumpy boils and scares. The brutes were running into the crowd, stabbing everyone in range. A whole group of them swept the high table, grabbing everyone there and dragging them off, screaming. The elves regrouped and retaliated quickly. All had blades out, and the sound of intense fighting replaced the happy music of the celebration. The elves and brutish warriors fought hard, and apparently, evenly. The elves fought with grace and skill. The brutish warriors fought with force and superior speed.
Kliasa was being dragged off, along with the elven lords and ladies. A detachment of elven warriors intercepted them as Ticca ran to see what was happening. The fighting was horribly bloody, and all but three of the high table occupants were freed. Kliasa was not one of them. She had been carried off by a small group, in a different direction; Ticca followed them, her heart racing.
They carried Kliasa into the forest, kicking and screaming, as she tried to use her magic. Finally, when they were a long way from the city, one of them laughed and pointed at Kliasa. Ticca didn’t understand what he said, but she screamed when the brutes began to beat and play with Kliasa, like a toy. Ticca tried to attack them, but her attacks simply passed through the warriors; she was only an observer.
Waves of horror tore through Ticca’s wretched heart. Sweat oozed from every pore in her body as the adrenaline poured into her bloodstream. She sobbed as she watched Kliasa brutally raped and tortured. Her heart felt such agony, she wasn’t sure she could survive the stress.
The more Kliasa fought, the happier the brutish warriors became. It didn’t stop with that first attack. When they stopped to rest, as they traveled, over and over again, the brutes played with her. Ticca followed them for three days, suffering Kliasa’s pain with every breath she took. Eventually, they came to a mountain village filled with ugly creatures like the brutish warriors. They carried Kliasa, beaten, bleeding, and broken-spirited, to a large, central building with a cavernous entrance and a bonfire burning in the center. Kliasa was tossed to the ground in front of the leader.
