Shadow of the Avatar

Chapter 37 -- Tales and the Onus of the Guild

No matter what anyone including Wren says, I will always consider her a part of my guild. She made her life mine more than a decade ago. That oath cannot be broken.

--Desiray

Wren never considered herself much of a story-teller, especially since thugs and pickpockets never made for a good audience. Aside from that, the typical guilder wasn't particularly intelligent. Those with sharp minds, who made a profession of burglary, were the ones that distinguished themselves as the elite. There were few of those--very few. Only her close friends, Grahm, Jharon, Sireth, Ziedra--were ever able to really connect with her, understand her ideas, her occasional flights of fancy and sarcastic wit.

Loric's enclave was like no group she ever imagined she would sit in front of, much less perform for. What made the experience particularly special was they seemed genuinely interested in the tale. All the onlookers gave the impression of not only being smart, but educated as well. Unlike past recipients of her stories, big words and complicated images weren't road blocks. Instead, they appeared to focus the group.

At first, with Desiray glaring at her from across the room, she thought she might not be able to carry it off. Then she resolved to tell the story despite the woman.

She accepted a warm mug from Vera, and sniffed the dark sweet smelling brew. Something white and foamy floated in the mixture. Even though she'd overeaten at dinner, the palatable smell encouraged her to try some. After the first rich sweet-tasting sip, and the warm glow that settled in her middle, she was hooked. She didn't know what it was called, but she knew she'd want it again.

She began with a description of her assignment to retrieve the Malicent gem from Cinnibar's tower. She described how she and Grahm had inched their way past guards, locks, and pitfalls, forced to foil all manner of traps and wards to reach the wizard's inner sanctum. There wasn't a single drowsy eye as she elaborated the moments of breeching the last of the magical defenses before finally lifting the huge amber colored gem from its pedestal.

"Then--crack!" Wren yelled. Everyone in the room lurched in their seats. "That's when the first of the lightning bolts hit. Fortunately, it just grazed me, and we both managed to jump out the window."

A dark-haired woman who was snuggling next to Caldorian, his wife from the ring on her finger, piped up. "Five levels up?"

"Yes," said another, he had to be one of Cassandra's sons, because his skin was gold and eyes were black like hers. "And how did the mage miss at that range?"

"Grahm trusted me to catch him, so he just dove. As far as Cinnibar being a rotten shot...he got me the second time." She shivered. "Felt like having a red hot poker shoved into my side." She made a swinging gesture with her arms. "The blast actually shredded my good leathers right off my body. I hit the dirt in the alley with about two shreds of clothing left."

"Owww," someone moaned empathy.

"Damn right," she said. "Anyway, Grahm comes down and starts yelling in my ear. I just tell him to go away 'cause I think I'm dead. He shakes me again. 'Where's the gem?' Can you believe it? I dropped the damn thing going over the wall." She shook her head thinking about it, and grinned at the image in her mind. "He flew over that wall like it wasn't even there. No way was he going through all that for nothing."

"So, you had to've gotten away," another lady said. She was tall and had her arm around Sebenreth.

"From Cinnibar, yes. Of course, things were about to get a lot worse." She leaned back, allowing the fireplace to warm her back. She took a sip from Vera's dark concoction that had somehow managed to get refilled when she wasn't looking. No one had moved. Even Cassandra seemed rooted to her chair. She glanced at Jharon, the priest had a contemplative look on his face. Desiray seated herself toward the back, apparently ready to wait it out. Wren looked to Loric. "More?"