Cerberus Rex, Nameless

Part 3| Disguise & Freedom, 8

Noarwin swept out of the dingy alley toward the Lostress Summit Barracks in the north-east side of the city. His tentative allies shrunk under his shadow, their hoods obscuring them from direct view as their eyes darted back and forth. Noarwin didn't intend to let them wander with their real faces for long and cleared the Summit gates—distracted despite his precarious companions. An irritated flutter ticked in his right temple, his fingers in a steeple at his chest. His knuckles pop, pop, popped. Where had the captain wandered off to? Wasn't his sort meant to be reliable? Noarwin passed several low, large buildings built from gray brick and tin. Some housed soldiers, a few mess halls clustered at one end to feed them all, and a place to wash created a center assemblage of showerheads and stalls. Other, less readily identifiable, structures created a maze for outsiders, but the Summit had dragged Noarwin there fourteen years ago. Plenty of time to learn its every path and quirk.

A mix of city patrol, guards, and soldiers passed them, but no one heeded Noarwin or his accessories. The men and elves were neither hostile nor friendly toward the solare who had made his mark there, though Noarwin avoided a path occupied by those from his earlier days. They skirted around a hospital and then beelined to the hut behind it. Noarwin ducked inside. Asinis and Feri hesitated but followed him down its steps, past the first level dug just below ground, and into the basement carved out of the soil.

"Wow..." Feri paused on one of the steps. Asinis, also marveling at the filled shelves balancing on each wall, didn't notice. He bumped into her, and both stumbled down the rest of the way into the significantly colder interior onto their faces.

Noarwin swished the tails of his coat and looked down at them. "You won't find anything useful down there. Unless you intend to disguise yourself with dirt. I won't argue its effectiveness, but I have other—more sanitary—means if you prefer."

Feri wriggled out from under Asinis, one long, floppy ear escaping where she'd tucked it. Noarwin tilted his head at her. She met his gaze and glared.

"What?" It sounded like she'd gargled nails or was a man trying too hard to sound like a woman. He wondered if he could mimic it. Voices came in handy, and he found hers reassuring and pleasant.

"Hm." Noarwin let that thought rest for now and turned away, the heels of his thigh-high boots following the marks of previously indented strides. He examined a scratched up shelf nearest the back and considered a few trinkets. His elegant hand turned a bottle over. Its liquid shimmered at the disturbance. He set it aside and opened a small chest with a handful of discarded rings. "Digesting a potion won't last long enough, and there is no amount of certainty you will be able to perfectly duplicate the original disguise. So. Though it risks someone recognizing these for what they are, they are the better bet." He presented Feri a bronze ring and Asinis a silver one.

"What will they do?" Feri asked.

"They're laced with magical energy. Each carries a set of disguises. Choose the one you want and stick with it."

"How do we use them?" Asinis asked.

"As a wizard, I thought you would know," Noarwin said. Asinis scowled, but it curiously turned into a wince. It seemed he might have a personality conflict. "Look close." Noarwin leaned over Feri to point. "There are transmutation fragments. Touch the one you want to use. Just remove the ring when you wish to release the spell, and it will reset. Go on. Try." He gestured to a frameless, aged-spotted mirror leaning on a makeshift stand he'd crafted specifically for the treated glass.

Feri took a breath and stepped in front of the mirror, the packed soil cold on the pads of her rabbit feet. She touched the sliver of a yellow stone, and her image stretched and warped and then reassembled to show a blonde gnome girl.