Silver Blades: Dread Handed

Part 2, Section 3 - The Ill'Enniniess Hall

Warst 17, L.E.Y. 3252

Ivy. 

Thamine had always been a timid creature. Now she was downright panicked.

"Go away!" the mousy maidservant trembled at me, "the hour is too late, the mistress is not at home, and I have no instructions for you."

"Not at home?" I repeated, my surprise making it a question. It was past midnight and most of the world was asleep. It took a quarter bell to rouse even Thamine to the door. "Do you know when she will return? My news can't wait."

"I do not," she said, eyes wide and darting. "Please, just come back in the morning."

I scowled. Thamine thought me the very worst sort of vermin, and I considered her little better than a slave. Even so, there was no reason for her to be cringing behind the door the way she was, as if I would barge in against her will.

I only did that once.

"What's going on here?" I asked suspiciously. "You look like I just caught you burying the bodies." It was meant in jest, to break the tension, but Thamine squeaked and slammed the door in my face.

"Another time!" came her muffled shout as the deadbolts slid home.

"Bloody hells," I told the door, "my ears are round if she isn't hiding something." The door didn't answer.

I considered breaking into the house to see what was going on; I was even wearing the right outfit. But I wasn't in the mood, and convinced myself it was none of my business. I had bigger questions to answer—like what to do now.

I wandered aimlessly through the dark ward, carefully avoiding the watch. Clasicant's fall was so unexpected, I probably wasn't in the best frame of mind to talk to Orluz anyway. She might be thrilled, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I needed an ale and a few hours, so I walked toward the harbor lost in my thoughts.

The Church was working itself into a frenzy. War with Migar was looming, and those weird red capes were suddenly everywhere. They meant something, but damn me if I knew what. If I was smart I'd leave town before the city goes up in bloody flames. Maybe with Clasicant gone there was no reason to stay.

I passed the last watches of night in my room, staring up at the ceiling. When the suns finally showed their faces, I was still awake to hear the first bell sound. I got up stiffly and made three purses of Balina's coin before stuffing them into my shoulder bag. Working for Balina Orluz there was always someone to bribe. Her mood swings and sense of entitlement had grown unnaturally, but she paid well and I liked gold in my pocket.

I yanked on my street leathers, quashed my hair's wildest offenses and belted on my scimitar. Looking just like any other adventurer who called Dragoskala home, I set out for the day. Commoners gave me wide berth because adventurer meant trouble—no reason to go looking for me 'less they had something to sell. The dark look on my mug kept even the bravest at bay.

In the Palace Ward, nearing Kings Road, a large building seized my attention. I stopped and glowered at it for a while.

Even on Palace Wall Street, where estates were large and each more impressive than the last, Ill'Enniniess Tilwen Society Hall was a sore thumb. I didn't know how old it was, but its odd shape was meant to resemble the Tilwen halls of Old Oak and Ludenbrone in the Forest of Light. Its columns flared in from the street in front of the building, and out again at the top, reminiscent of silverleaf roots and branches. There were no windows—a defensive choice, maybe—and the entire facade was a monumental portrait of sylvan life in paint, sculpture and mosaic. It was so cleverly done that from a distance it was impossible to say which parts were rendered in oil pigments, and which were sculpted into the stone. As I walked, the eyes of animals, forest spirits and even tilwen in the painting seemed to follow me down the street, steady and unblinking.