Diffraction

Interlude - Kaalistera

The assassin hid in the treeline of a secluded clearing, nestled between foothills at the base of the Snowtip Mountains. Aulivar lay east, its walls and buildings violet in the setting sun. Cool afternoon mists clung to the ground, lending the brisk mountain air the softness of moisture.

To the north and south, mountains in seven shades of indigo blended into the twilight sky. Conifer trees formed ranks like armies along their slopes. Or rows of fangs.

She breathed in the crisp freshness and took a look around her hiding spot, committing every part of that moment to memory. This instant. This is my Tether.

Kaalistera strode into the open, decked in flexible armor made of overlapping sheets of leather. Her hood lay at the back of her neck, and her hands rested loose on the pommels of the knives at her hips. The breeze played through wayward strands of black hair that escaped the band of her ponytail, tickling at her forehead.

She checked left and right, and dipped her head to peer into shadows under branches. Her ears listened for the slightest noise indicating an arrival. Despite her cautious approach, she walked with a slow strut, unafraid of any weapon or foe.

"This is uncommon," a woman's voice said behind her.

Kaalistera gasped and spun into a stance, knives drawn. Where did she come from?

Before her stood a female form shrouded and hooded in a black cloak and robe. With her head bowed like a Devoted in prayer, the hood hung low over her face, obscuring any view of the woman's features. Her cloak seemed alive, undulating like a serpent close to her body. It moves, but not with the breeze.

"None of my past associates required a meeting in person," the woman said.

"None of them survived their arrangements with you," Kaalistera responded. "Leanda, I presume."

The shrouded figure did not move or acknowledge the name. Her head remained bowed. "And you believe yourself different—better than them, perhaps?"

"Without a doubt." Kaalistera relaxed her posture and crossed her arms, knives in hands, points down. Ready to stab if needed.

The hooded woman remained still, head bowed.

Irritatingly still. What is wrong with her?

Kaalistera eyed the figure, hoping for some indication of motive or intent. "Why did you doublecross me?"

"Peledor established the arrangement with resources I provided. He knew the desired end state and the funds at his disposal. What he chose to do is upon his shoulders."

Of course. Kaalistera scoffed. "Always the minion's fault. You want me to believe that?"

"I do not care about your belief or lack thereof."

No animosity, just emotionless. And she's still not moving. Kaalistera narrowed her eyes. I really want to ruffle her cloak a bit.

She silenced her frustrations. Patience. Move with care.

"You've seen my work," the assassin said. "You know my quality. Let's forget Peledor. What do you have for me next?" She allowed herself a smile. "Maybe eliminating him?"

"That is not my decision," the woman said. "He is still useful to my mistress."

Mistress. Well, that was easy. But now we're onto something. "And how may I prove my usefulness to your mistress?"

A wide grin spread across the hooded face, barely visible in the dim twilight. "You already have, Thronebreaker. My mistress heralds the coming of the Naurchoth—the Dark Hand of An'Khel who will finish tearing down what remains of this empire—the work you began for her so many centuries ago."