Month: June 2025

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

The Guild

That afternoon, they decided to go out despite the risk of another attack. They had to return the horse to the caravan master they had travelled with and Myrthe had arranged to meet her possible thieves’ guild contact at a tea shop on the Royal Square. It was a very public place in a rich part of town with broad avenues. It would be hard for a crossbowman or a knife assassin to get close to them without looking out of place among the richer people who frequented the area. It was a nice sunny day too. A bit too sunny to be wearing a hood really, but Ala decided it would attract less attention than not wearing it. They walked through the streets of Duilhac, keeping to the larger thoroughfares. It was still all very novel to Ala and it was hard to stay properly alert and not be distracted by all the interesting sights in the city. Eventually, they arrived at the Royal Square and headed for the tea shop.

They sat down at a table, with their backs to the wall so that they had a clear field of view of the area around them. A serving boy came out, and offered them tea. He was of average height and seemed quite unremarkable, with brown hair and eyes. Ala spotted Myrthe do a double take and realised that the serving boy must in fact be the person Myrthe had spoken to the evening before. It occurred to her that seeming unremarkable was a valuable quality if you were a thief.

“Ladies, might I suggest the Ti Guanyin? It is said the plants it is made from were a gift from Guanshiyin herself, but of course you know that already Priestess?”

“Yes. Of course. Ti Guanyin will be wonderful. Perhaps we can also speak to you of something else?” Myrthe asked.

“Of course. I understand you wanted something else, off-menu, as it were?”

“Indeed, there is someone whom I wish to no longer have bothering me.”

“Someone is troubling you? That is most unfortunate. I know someone who could speak to them very sternly indeed.”

“I was thinking of something a little more final.”

“Ah. Something definitive, then? A last word perhaps?”

“Yes, that sounds more to my liking.”

“I see. There is a fee involved in such a thing, and some people are harder to… convince… than others.”

“Unfortunate, but expected.”

Was there no end to Myrthe’s hidden talents? Now she was negotiating an assassination as if she did so every day. Or, that’s what Ala thought she must be doing. She decided to just shut up and watch.

“Might I ask who is the cause of your woes?”

“An elven girl. She goes by Alagariel Half-elven though.”

Ala’s eyes widened. She was sitting right here! Her shock didn’t stop her seeing the waiter’s eyes narrow and looking them both over. He then glanced behind him, back at the tea house. Something was definitely askew. She couldn’t imagine he didn’t realise she was sitting there too, but then it wouldn’t be at all strange for him to have no idea who she was, she realised. Still she shifted her hand towards her sword, then moved it again when she remembered she was going to need her knife to cut her peace ties before she could draw it.

“I see. I’ve heard of this person. It may be possible to accommodate your wishes, though I understand that the renumeration to convince this individual has recently been reviewed.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some new information on how stubborn and eloquent she is became available.”

She’d kicked Caerel in the nuts and give Gladiuth a run for his money was what he meant, Ala thought. Also, yesterday’s attempt had failed. Perhaps Abe and the fourth rider had neglected to mention that she was handy with a sword to the guild. Wouldn’t it be nice if she turned out to not be worth the guild’s trouble?

“Hmm. I see,” said Myrthe, “how does this affect my desire to commission a solution?”

“The fee has become exorbitant. If there is another party with the same objective, it may become less prohibitive if both parties cooperate. There are opportunities.”

“There is another party with the same stated objective. I see. What is the total fee to be?”

“It was increased to a thousand yesterday. We speak of tea bundles, yellow ones, of course.”

Did he mean gold coins, Ala wondered? He couldn’t possibly? If so, that would be one thousand gold coins. That was sixty-five thousand silver. Ala stopped herself from whistling. Nice to know her life was worth more than a few silver, sort of. She couldn’t imagine that the Constable of Thetwick had that kind of money to spare though… although… could he? The whole family had been on the take for decades, after all.

“How much tea would I have to contribute?”

“I am afraid the other party’s resources only extend to three hundred bundles right now. You would have to contribute seven hundred to have it done quickly. If you have several weeks patience, the other party has claimed to be able to offer six hundred total, leaving four hundred for you. Perhaps an even split would be best?”

“Your associate had already agreed to do the work before the fee increase? Isn’t that irregular?”

“Not if the original client misrepresented the difficulty of the work, of course. My associates are well within their established rights to commission a review.” He said it with a strange matter-of-fact flatness. The guild was in charge in Duilhac. They could do whatever they wanted. They were in it for the money, after all.

“So you’re saying the original client has forfeited their original fee and the troublemaker can continue going about her business until the full fee is met?”

“That appears to be the current situation, barring the unexpected.”

It was good news. Her performance in the exercise yard had been good for something more than she had expected. It also suggested that the guild was a little annoyed with the fact that the Thetwickers had claimed she would be an easy mark. She wondered if Abe or whoever the fourth rider was were riding up and down to Thetwick to get more money? Somehow, she didn’t think so. There was little point in the whole contract if it didn’t happen before the Duke’s Court went into session and there was no way for them to make it in time. Had they already missed their chance? Would they become so desperate that they would try again themselves? Myrthe continued her little charade as the thoughts raced through Ala’s mind.

“How much exactly did they forfeit? How can I be certain your associate doesn’t decide my troublemaker has yet again been misrepresented and that the fee will rise again? Is the other party good for the further two hundred yellow tea barrels?”

“We are keeping a hundred yellow tea barrels in escrow for the other interested party. The current pricing is for an inordinately rare brand of troublemaker. Possibly more trouble than she is worth. It is unlikely to rise. Nevertheless, I would like to take this opportunity…”

Ala was wondering what Myrthe had in mind now. They didn’t have seven hundred gold coins. She didn’t think even Myrthe’s father would be willing to swing that kind of money, especially for an unclear reason, quite aside from how long it would take to communicate all this back and forth to Easthall. She couldn’t imagine that his factor in the city was allowed to just hand that amount of money to anyone, even one of his daughters.

This tea waiter was their line to Abe and the unknown fellow. It seemed the assassination had been put on hold for now though. She didn’t think that would stop Abe and the fourth rider from making another attempt before the Duke’s Court went into session. Would they want the guild’s approval and tacit support though? Could they afford to get it? She really needed a moment to discuss all this with Myrthe. The priestess was good at these things. Somehow the conversation wasn’t really syncing. She had a sense that there weren’t two levels to the conversation which she was able to follow, but three. She had no idea what the third one was about. She was only following the top two. Myrthe was obviously more in her element, though why a noble’s daughter was so practised at thieves guild double speak made no sense to Ala at all.

“I see. I will want to see the other party and your associate. I want to be certain all that tea is in good hands. It must be done before First morning. I think this evening is the time for a meeting then, it will give you and your associate the most time to organise matters. A place of devotion perhaps, as a quiet meeting place.”

“I am sorry. While I am available, my associate is very reclusive. Perhaps we can organise something where only the other interested party is present? Also, I think it would be the morning of Seventh at the earliest.”

“I am not enthusiastic about the idea. But alright. Tomorrow morning at eleven. Here?”

“Yes that would be fine.”

“Till tomorrow then.” Myrthe got up, leaving Ala to catch up to her.

“Am I missing something here, Myr? What was that all about?”

“I’m not completely sure. But I think that nice young waiter was attempting to make contact with us somewhere where the thieves’ guild isn’t paying attention. I think, we might expect him to visit us tonight.”

Ala reviewed the conversation in her mind. There were phrases in there which could be interpreted that way. She felt way out of her depth.

“He won’t come with a gang of his friends?”

“What would be the point if they don’t expect to get paid?”

They had their evening meal at the temple, which was a surprisingly good lamb stew. After that, Myrthe suggested they sit in the courtyard.

“Perhaps you should practice some swordsmanship, Ala?”

Myrthe had never asked her to practice before, but Ala had given up on trying to understand all the layers of communication for the day, so she stood and drew her sword. Sometimes Myrthe made Ala feel as if she wasn’t smart enough. It wasn’t a problem she was used to. She obliged though, focusing, running through her routines, envisioning the changes and options Gladiuth had suggested. After around half an hour of this, Myrthe rose as an acolyte crossed the courtyard. Something in the way he moved, or Myrthe reacted made Ala change her focus. She saw that the acolyte was the tea waiter from earlier in the day. She kept her guard, but Myrthe had obviously been expecting him.

“Thank you for the way marker Lady Alagariel. Priestess, a pleasure,” he said, bowing his head.

Ala just kept an eye on him. Myrthe spoke, “I am lucky that I understand a little Cant. What shall we call you, tea-waiter?”

“My name is Matthew. Matt is fine. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Myrthe led them to a room off the side of the main temple hall, used for private conversations. She barred the door behind them.

“You’ll understand if I’m concerned that this just may be an elaborate ploy to get close to Alagariel. Please relinquish any weapons, then strip. Thieves can be crafty.”

“I came unarmed especially.”

“Then just strip.” He looked at the two women uncertainly, then obliged. He stacked his clothes neatly.

“Undergarments too please. Stark naked,” Myrthe commanded.

She wasn’t doing it to be funny, Ala could hear in her voice. He was a well developed young man, with finely toned muscles, like a climber or a sprinter. She pulled a rough woollen robe from a closet.

“Pull that on and sit down, Matt. Now, why are we here?”

“Well, abandoning the Cant. I want out of the guild before I have to do something truly distasteful to me. I don’t mind a little thievery, but firing that crossbow at the two of you yesterday was the drop. I didn’t even know who I was attacking. I was nervous I fired as soon as I saw a target. Thankfully Lady Alagariel is very fast, incredibly so. I really don’t want to be murdering people. I’m way too good of a thief not to be assigned that kind of tasks by the Guild and I want no part of it. They’re meaning to make an assassin out of me and I want out.”

Ala spoke, frowning. “That was you?”

“Yes, yes, that was me. I’m sorry okay. As you noticed, I was shaking a bit too much to be a very good shot. I think that’s what you spotted, Lady Alagariel.”

“I’m not a lady, Matt. Just Alagariel.”

“Really? I thought all fire elves were nobles of their people? That’s what the stories say.”

Ala looked at Myrthe, who nodded at her and said, “now that he mentions that… I’ve never really thought about it, but it’s true.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Oh yeah. You grew up with humans. Those Thetwickers talked about you. Well, I don’t pretend to know anything about nobility, but I don’t think it’s something you get to choose is it?”

“He’s right Ala. You can choose to hide it for whatever reason… but that’s going to be harder for you if all Fire Elves are nobility… but nobility isn’t a choice.”

“Look… I’m not trying to hide anything. I didn’t know and I’d never really thought about it. Also… those stories have to be right for this to be at all relevant.”

“I’d bet they probably are, but I’m just a lowlife. No one could look at you and come to any other conclusion. But that’s not why I came here. I want out of the guild, I don’t want to murder either of you and I need a ticket out of this damn city so they don’t kill me for trying to leave.”

“And you thought we might help you after you tried to kill us?” Myrthe asked him.

“Well, for one, you wouldn’t have known it was me if I hadn’t told you. Second, I missed. Third, I can help you with these people who are going around hiring thieves guilds to try and kill you. Fourth, they have quite a lot of cash, which would be helpful, to me at least. Fifth, I have skills which would be beneficial to you if you let me tag along. Sixth, not every tried and tested thief is as much of a friendly softy as me. Seventh, I was pretty damn sure about who you were, Lady Alagariel, when you visited the tea house and I didn’t mention it to my guild seniors who were hanging out in the back.”

“Nice speech,” said Myrthe, “why would you want to travel with us? We don’t even know where we’re going,”
Ala could tell from the look in Matt’s eyes that he was dead serious.

“Assuming you have something sensible to say to the Duke, I expect you’ll be going to Thetwick. He’s going to need to set his affairs in order there. The Duke is very particular about his justice. He’d want to avoid all possible suspicion of favouritism, so I don’t think he’ll be assigning an elf as captain there. He’ll send someone else, and Lady Alagariel here will be free to travel, the Duke might even suggest it. After that, you’re an elf. You’ll probably want to seek out your brethren at some stage. I guess that’s what I’d do. Assuming that’s within my lifetime, I think that’s something I’d like to see. I could go on guessing, but I admit it might become wishful thinking from here on in.”

Despite having been shot at by him, Ala found herself liking the boy. He’d obviously given it all quite a lot of thought. Myrthe was smiling too.

“Alright Matt. You seem earnest, but then I think you probably have had a lot of practice making it seem that way. So why not just leave Duilhac? Even if the gates are watched by your fellow guildsmen or the guards know you by sight, you’re clearly resourceful enough to slip out of here. Why do you want to follow Ala here around? It’s not like the guild will put any less of a price on your head if you are Ala’s bodyguard.”

It occurred to Ala that Myrthe had formulated the question as much to learn Matt’s motivations as to examine her own.

Matt continued his pitch, “look. My mother was – is a prostitute. She loves me, but she’s going nowhere. My father was hanged for murder when I was three.”

“Okay,” said Myrthe, “I’ll concede that that’s a rough start.”

Matt continued, “in my circles, you had to fend for yourself and you really couldn’t expect to be apprenticed to a carpenter or anything. I just made do. It means I don’t know the first thing about farming, hunting or anything like that. I’ve hardly ever been outside Duilhac. Not that I haven’t learned other skills, but pretty much all of them are based on profiting from others through duplicity or violence. I’m not too bothered stealing from people who can obviously miss it, but the guild steals from anyone they can bully or kill. Everyone is fair game. I never liked that and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

“How did you suddenly develop this noble outlook?” asked Ala.

“It’s not like that. It’s just… us lowlifes should be looking out for each other, not cutting each other’s throats. But the skill I’ve developed is the only trade I have. I’m going to need to hang out with people who may have a use for someone with my… expertise.”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve been waiting for the arrival of a fire elf as your ticket out of the city?”

“No priestess, of course not. Lady Alagariel’s story came up when those two yokels bought a contract to have her killed. I decided this was an opportunity when I saw her kick that asshole Caerel in the nuts. That was priceless.”

Matt was silent for a moment as if he was gathering courage to pose a question, “what about you priestess? What’s your excuse? Why are you with her?”

“I’m on Sojourn and she’s interesting to be around. There’s a sense of… destiny…”

“Wait,” said Ala, “you were watching us in the courtyard? long have you been following us around?”

“I was watching the castle, I figured you’d show up there. I saw the spar with Caerel, but I couldn’t hang around in the yard for too long without being noticed. I caught up to you at the dress shop. You lost me again after that.”

Alagariel had been paying careful attention to the conversation. He did seem to be earnest, but she just couldn’t tell for sure.

She turned to Myrthe, “is there any way of knowing if we can trust him?”

“I don’t think there is.”

“So it’s a judgement call. Have you told us everything there is to know?”

“One more thing, before I came here, one of those yokels turned up at the tea house and wanted to use the money they had already deposited to rent some disposable toughs and the Guild’s permission to kill the two of you. I made them offer the other two hundred gold they should still be holding. That’s what they’ll have with them tomorrow morning.”

“What are the two men’s names?” Ala asked.

“Abe is the dumbest of the two. The other guy is bigger, tougher and smarter. His name is Magnus. He was the one who came this afternoon.”

That was the Constable’s son himself.

Myrthe spoke, “so, say we go to this meeting tomorrow, where Magnus and his two hundred gold coins will be. Say Ala manages to subdue Magnus and Abe and anyone else there. Will you speak at the Duke’s Court and accept his mercy?”

“You guys are not the watch you know. What makes you think a pitched battle like that won’t put you two in the dungeon?”

“Well, I would make sure someone of importance at the keep was informed,” Ala said.

“Do I really need to do that? The Duke doesn’t like thieves.”

“It’s the only way I can think of that would prove your intent. I think you have a better than fair chance of coming out of it with your skin intact. No guarantees though,” said Myrthe.

Matt sagged a bit. The prospect of handing himself in was understandably troubling. The Duke’s justice was not gentle. Matt was silent for a time, before speaking.

“I’ll do it. I hope Guanshiyin is as compassionate as they say.”

“That settles it then. Where is the exchange tomorrow?”

“At the tea-house. It’s a front for the guild.”

“So, we all agree to take a risk then,” Ala said.

It hadn’t been all that easy to convince the watch to let them talk to Gladiuth several hours after dark. Eventually, they convinced the watchmen to get a hold of Sergeant-Major Brugor. They seemed to be less concerned about waking him up. He quickly let them in and brought them to Gladiuth, who had, by then, clearly already been woken by a guardsman.

“Come in, come in ladies, Brugor please hang around for a moment… what could possibly lead the two of you to seek me out in the middle of the night?”

Ala explained the events leading up to their visit though she carefully skirted around the more salacious details.

“Do you trust this Matt?” Gladiuth asked.

“It could be an elaborate trap in some way I suppose. It doesn’t feel that way, but as Myr pointed out, Matt’s probably good at sounding trustworthy. If he is truthful though… well, it’s a chance for a big blow against the guild quite apart from the fact that he can testify at the Duke’s Court in support of my case.”

“Fair enough. Brugor, your opinion?”

“Master, I don’t know about this Matt fellow. He sounds shifty. We should make sure we have enough men there though. I don’t see what we have to lose. If he cooperates, fine, if he doesn’t, well all we will have done is cost some guardsmen their Seventh morning. The men were getting a little soft anyway. It’s a bit more dangerous for the Ladies here, but well, it is their idea and we’ve seen that Lady Alagariel can take care of herself.”

“Alright, it’s settled then. Put together a squad for duty tomorrow morning. I’ll clear it with the Captain. We’ll form up here at first light. We’ll hide in some citizen’s hallways, if we’re early enough it ought to be alright.”

Brugor snapped his heels together, turned and left. Gladiuth looked at the two women.

“Do you have any mail, Myrthe? Ever wielded a weapon?”

“Mail? No. Of course not. And no, never wielded a weapon, unless you count a butter knife.”

“Hmm… I can find you some mail. I would feel better if you were to carry a weapon, too.”

“I would have no idea what to do with it.”

“Nonetheless…”

He rummaged around one of the chests in is office and found what he was looking for. He gave Myrthe a short, short-sleeved, mail hauberk. Ala looked at it, it looked like it was good quality, with quite small riveted flat rings.

“What do you think Alagariel? A sword?”

“Perhaps a light riding sword?”

“Yes that might be best.” He strode along his collection. “Here, this will do nicely.” It was an ornate riding sword, with a scabbard. It was quite nice and not too heavy. Myrthe took it uncertainly. Ala looked at it closely, and drew it. It was a handsome and well made blade. Not an Ulfberht, but far better quality than what many a guardsmen had to work with.

“I’ll return these as soon as I can,” Myrthe said.

“I insist that you keep them. I would be distraught if they could ever make the difference and you didn’t have them,” said Gladiuth.

“What of your collection?” Asked Ala, puzzled.

“I really see it as more of… a managed redistribution effort. I give weapons away when I feel the occasion warrants it.”

“In that case, thank you, Master Gladiuth,” said Myrthe.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Spar

They went back out to the practice yard where the afternoon’s matches were still in full swing. Myrthe was chatting merrily with Caerel, laughing infectiously even though Caerel was clearly still recovering from his exertions. Caerel glared at Ala when he noticed her approach. To his credit he was obviously trying not to, swiftly turning his attention back to Myrthe. Ala wondered if she had used Guanshiyin’s magic to heal him as an excuse to touch his private parts. She shook the thought off. What was wrong with her today? She needed to concentrate on swordplay, she was about to spar with the Weapon Master of Taladaria, it was going to require her undivided attention. Ala was learning that Myrthe was rather more devious and clever behind those happy brown eyes than anyone gave her credit for. She had gotten to know Myrthe pretty well during the trip. There was an immense depth, warmth and intelligence below the bubbly, happy veneer, compared to that warmth, the devious cunning underlying it was all the more lovable.

All the men practising in the courtyard were very deferential to Gladiuth. Gladiuth stopped by an unused practice circle and they were almost immediately attended by the big bearded man.

“Brugor, may we have two wasters and bucklers, please?”

“Right away, Master.”

Brugor glared at a young guardsman without saying a word, who rushed off to get them. She left her sword and scabbard, cloak and bag with Myrthe again, and stepped into the ring. Brugor stood ready to call points. Once the word got round that Gladiuth was sparring, all the other activity in the yard tapered off and they all came to watch. That probably meant that no one here could best him, Ala realised. She was pretty sure there was some betting going on as well. Without much ceremony, the bout started with a small salute. It was the first time she had fought someone who was better than her in a very long time. She scored points as well, but Gladiuth scored more, and won more bouts. She managed to win one bout out of five, but she scored points in all four others, being only one point from a win in two. They were both exhausted and sweating profusely by the end of it. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch them.

“Thank you, Master Gladiuth,” she said in between gasps.

“He-he, that was the best workout I’ve had in years,” he said, panting.

They talked more about their shared practice and Gladiuth showed her a few technical points she could work on by herself.

“I wonder if I will still win the next time we spar,” he said.

“I don’t understand? It’s almost impossible to surpass a master who keeps practising, Bernard told me.”

Gladiuth looked at her with a thoughtful expression.

“It is clear to me that you were born for this. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s in all the old stories about Fire Elves. They are the elven warriors, unmatched masters of the blade. It’s in their bones, in their souls even and you are still very young, by elven standards.”

“I feel I will need to read these stories.”

“I do recommend you do, there may even be clues to your heritage in them. The reason I wonder if I will be able to win spars with you goes further however. Bernard was a good swordsman. Very good, but not nearly as good as me and that was before I ever left to study with the elves.”

“You’ve studied with elven sword masters? I envy you. I hope I will one day be able to do the same.”

“I am sure you will. You are already much better than Bernard ever was and unless there is some other teacher you haven’t told me about, that means you must have improved your techniques yourself, even developed new applications of principle, things that I never knew Bernard to do. Things that I have never seen done in two centuries. Things that surprised me. That is truly rare.”

“I did study the Liechtenauer Fechtbuch.”

“I know, obviously. So did I. Bernard got it from me. You have surpassed that too. Let me point out that you were only two points from beating me – and that without the benefit of all the practice that the Duke’s regiment, visiting warriors and elven sword masters can offer. I am at the end of my journey of learning, you are at the beginning. It is a little humbling, to be honest. Good though, we all need reminding that there is more to learn, from time to time.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered.”

“Just don’t stop learning. I dare say you owe it to those of us who are afflicted with such a fascination for swordplay. I already yearn to see what you will be able to achieve with more study. Perhaps then, I will even be able to learn something from you.”

“I have every intention of continuing to learn, Master Gladiuth. As you said, I was just feeling like I was beginning. Maybe you’re right, it is a kind of affliction.”

“We will spar again soon.”

Gladiuth called an end to the Fifth afternoon sparring. The muster was called and the troops not on guard duty were dismissed. Most of them went in to town to amuse themselves. Fifth was payday and it would be busy in Duilhac that night. Myrthe was chatting heartily with a group of guardsmen, lavishing her attention on Caerel who was the centre of the group. She wasn’t the prettiest girl Ala had ever seen, but she more than made up for it with charisma and the warmth of her personality. Ala waited for her to finish which required a substantial amount of patience which Ala knew was not her best quality. Myrthe skipped over afterwards, looking a little smug, Ala thought.

“What?” asked Ala, doing her best to suppress her annoyance that things had taken so long.

“Oh… I have a date tonight…”

“With Caerel?” asked Ala, suddenly interested.

“Yes, of course. I think he needs some compassion. Someone kicked him rather hard you know. Most thoughtless.”

Ala wasn’t sure what to make of all this.

“What shall I do? If I go with you, I’ll make us all a target…”

“I’ll be fine. Guanshiyin will take care of you while I’m gone. Caerel will be surrounded by his little court of admirers and guardsmen. While they might not be a match for you, I think they’ll manage between them.”

“You’re a very strange priestess.”

“Is that so?”

“Sorry. I guess you’re just… different that I expect from priestesses.”

“Thetwick has a temple to Ceres doesn’t it? They’re very boring, like the cattle they tend. Of course you don’t expect much excitement from those docile cows. Guanshiyin is a little more interesting.”

“So I’m learning.”

Ala pulled her hood up, to hide her pointed ears and red-golden hair. They started back down into the city to the temple.

“One thing to organise,” said Myrthe, “we need to make a stop.”

They walked down into Duilhac and Myrthe found what she was looking for near the Green Duck guest house. It was a dress shop, a tailor really. They were there for almost two hours before Myrthe had what she had in mind, which included a long, form fitting dress which showed enough cleavage to create a major scandal in Thetwick. The loose priestess robes Myrthe normally wore hid just how voluptuous she was. A pair of boots with higher heels and a red cloak were purchased. The shop boy was sent out to a nearby shoemaker to fetch an assortment of boots several times before a pair to Myrthe’s liking arrived. To top it all off, Myrthe purchased a bottle of a perfume which smelt a little of vanilla. It was all paid for with a letter of credit that the proprietress could apparently exchange for coin at the Easthall’s factor in the city. Ala watched the proceedings with interest and wondered if Baron Easthall wouldn’t mind that one of his daughters had just spent several months wages for a day-worker in a single sitting. Myrthe seemed oblivious to the cost. Ala just shook her head and watched everything being put together. The dress and accessories were bundled up in a nice package for them, secured with a gaudy pink cloth ribbon. The proprietress then asked if nothing should be done about Ala’s clothes. Myrthe looked surprised for a moment, then smiled evilly. Before she knew it Ala was being helped out of her mail and was having a dress fitted too. She protested to Myrthe that she couldn’t afford to spend so much on a dress.

“Don’t worry, the Baron is paying. He’s had an easy time of it since I joined the priesthood anyway, these habits cost nothing. Me and my sisters used to visit a tailor every week in Easthall, I’ve saved him a fortune already by being ordained.”

It had never really been brought into focus for Ala just how large the difference in wealth between nobles and commoners was. Several sisters doing this every week… it might be an exaggeration, but even then, they were spending what day workers made in a year between them every few weeks. The casual display of wealth was shocking.
Ala’s dress was more difficult. Quite a lot of things had to be changed, and some new bits made. They agreed to pick it up on First afternoon, after the Duke’s Court.

Myrthe suddenly realised that it was approaching time for the evening meal, and switched from behaving as if she hadn’t a care in the world to being in a terrible hurry for her date. She wanted to rush out the shop’s front door.

“Maybe we should go out the back, Myr?” Ala cautioned.

“Hmm… yes… I suppose you’re right, may we, mistress?”

The mistress of the establishment evidently couldn’t fathom why they would want to go out the back, but as far as she was concerned, they were excellent customers and if they wanted to leave out the back, that was just fine with her.

Ala looked carefully out the back door. There were some small curtained windows across from them, not all completely drawn. She didn’t see any movement, but then she wouldn’t if there was a smart crossbowman hiding in there. She stepped outside with Myrthe behind her. She wasn’t sure what she reacted to, but she pushed Myrthe roughly to the side of the door, using the momentum to push herself to the other side. The crossbow bolt passed between them and buried itself most of the way through the door they had just come out of. Ala rushed across the doorway, grabbing Myrthe’s hand and running on to the next corner. Myrthe wanted to start towards the main thoroughfare, but Ala pulled her the other way.

“If they were watching the back, they’re watching the front too!”

Myrthe nodded and they ran the other way into a maze of back alleys. That wasn’t good either. There were dirty children, chickens, pigs and goats all over the place as well as unidentifiable muck on the mud tracks in between the buildings. Myrthe stopped Ala for a moment, and walked up to one of the larger dirty children. “Can you show us the quickest way to the Royal Square?”

The boy eyed her suspiciously.

“Look, I’ll pay you a full silver coin, as soon as you show us the way, alright?”

That lit the boy’s eyes up.

“This wa’ay thun Priesess,” and he ran off. Keeping up was tricky, the route led through several courtyards, over and under some fences and walls, through a few vegetable gardens and over roofs. The boy had to wait for them a few times while they caught up. It got them to the Royal Square though, without effective pursuit, or at least they hadn’t seen anyone following. Myrthe gave the boy his silver piece, which was obviously a lot of money for him. Ala hoped he was smart enough not to brag about it.

They made their way from the Royal Square to the Temple of Guanshiyin, which wasn’t far. They kept a careful eye on the road behind them, but couldn’t spot anyone who they could really call suspicious. Not that that was all that much help, a priestess and an elf-girl in mail drew attention all the time. There was no way of knowing if any of the many people watching them had more than just idle curiosity motivating them. Inside the temple, Myrthe made Ala help her bathe. Then she made Ala bathe as well, which was wonderful and refreshing. She also hadn’t had a proper bath since one of her nightly swims in the lake in Thetwick quite a long time ago. She did spot Myrthe running an appraising glance over her body.

“Well, everything they say about elven beauty is true,” Myrthe said, mostly to herself.

Ala didn’t know what to say. She was more or less aware of what she looked like and the attention it drew. Ala couldn’t really blame Myrthe for looking, she had done the same and wondered what it might be like to be curved so magnificently. Ala wasn’t completely certain Myrthe’s interest wasn’t just a little more than purely aesthetic. The girl radiated a sort of all encompassing sensuality, or was it just her imagination? She assumed it must be her elven ancestry that she wasn’t shocked by the thought. Certainly no one in Thetwick would have approved of anything other than a traditional relationship between a man and a woman. She decided to try and think nothing more of it. Ala was then instructed how to help Myrthe dress, tightening her corset and straightening her dress. Eventually she was ready and Myrthe was suddenly a dashing noble lady rather than a priestess in a grey robe. She even sported the tiny dagger that all noble women wore to denote their rank. Common women weren’t allowed to be armed, after all.

“You’ll be alright out there, on your own?”

“They’re trying to kill you, not me. Though I suppose they may change their mind once they realise how annoying I can be.”

Ala laughed. “Unimaginable. Be safe,” she said, and kissed her goodbye for some reason. They had been more or less joined at the hip for several weeks. Myrthe smiled and bounced off into the evening, calling a horse carriage to take her to the Green Duck. She had kept up that part of the deception, telling Caerel that that was where they were staying.

Myrthe didn’t come back until several hours after sunrise the following day. Ala had a hell of a time getting into her meditative state. She spent most of the night nervously practising sword forms. Myrthe looked a little dishevelled, with locks of hair having escaped and smelled a bit of wine, but was none the worse for wear. She looked tired but happy.

“Where have you been?” Ala almost yelled when Myrthe came in. She looked at Ala coyly.

“A Lady doesn’t tell…”

“With Caerel? Oh my…”

Myrthe smiled.

“He’s as good as he looks.”

It occurred to Ala that there was still a lot to Myrthe she hadn’t yet understood.

“I was worried. You might have told me it could take all night.”

“Well, it wasn’t completely planned. It just sort of happened.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting pregnant?”

“I’m a priestess Ala. We are free to decide if we want to have children. It’s a gift from Guanshiyin.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because sometimes the necessary compassion is physical. Guanshiyin does not then afflict her priestesses with random children in return.”

“I see.” Ala thought about it for a moment before continuing. “How incredibly practical… and compassionate I guess. That makes an astounding amount of sense. Guanshiyin is pretty cool. I take it Caerel was in need of a lot of physical compassion?”

“More than you might think. Not that I didn’t enjoy giving it to him,” Myrthe said with a sultry look, “but you were pretty brutal on him in front of his peers. I think he may be a better man with that wound properly salved.”

“You keep surprising me Myrthe.”

“Good. I did something else useful too. I’ll tell you about it after I get some sleep.”

Ala sighed and decided to rest herself for a few more hours after she had had some breakfast. She had had a restless night too, if not quite so enjoyable. Myrthe was still asleep when she had had enough. Not being able to think of what else to do, she went out and did more sword work, repeating and repeating, integrating Gladiuth’s advice into what she already knew. A still dishevelled Myrthe made her appearance around midday, in priestesses’ robes again. They went together for another meal, which they took into the garden so they could speak quietly.

“Will you please tell me what else you did?”

“Oh yes. I think I’ve made contact with someone from the thieves’ guild.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I don’t know. I said I wanted to have someone assassinated.”

“I see. The idea being that that will put us in contact with whoever is in charge of the contract to assassinate me?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Or at least someone who knows what goes on in the city when it comes to the business of contracted killing.”

“You think they’ll tell us where the person who put out the contract is?”

“Hmm… maybe. I suppose it depends on the money and how likely it is to damage their reputation for reliability, or their operation. It’s always a matter of figuring out how to sweeten the deal.”

“I don’t have much money. I can afford to travel around like this for a while, but I probably can’t afford an assassination. I’m not sure I can afford to ‘sweeten the deal’ even. That leaves their reputation for reliability, which they have no reason to endanger, since I can’t afford to overbid and make it worth damaging their operations.”

“You are such a negative Nellie sometimes, Ala.”

“I suppose I could run around the city running through suspected thieves until they come begging for mercy. Somehow I think that might not be as effective as I’d like to think it would be. Also, the guard probably won’t approve.”

“You’re really being very negative. Let me play this angle for a bit. We’ll see what comes out. You never know how a cow catches a hare. I made a bit of a killing yesterday when they were all wagering on you, so perhaps I have enough coin for a contract.”

“You bet on me?” Ala asked, a little coldly.

“Of course. Seemed like a good investment after what happened at Hightower.”

Ala shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you for all this, it’s a lot more than I’ve managed here.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Peyrepertuse

The horses were safe and comfortable in Guanshiyin’s stables, so they decided to walk up to the castle. It was a stiff walk up the hill along a winding trail, most of it with high walls to either side. Ala couldn’t help but think of Bernard’s countless explanations on how to build defences. The masons who had built the approach to Peyrepertuse had certainly shared his philosophy. The guards at the gate were clearly bored and waved them through without challenge. Ala and Myrthe didn’t look like marauding orcks or Oakharrowers, so they just grunted and pointed when Myrthe asked where the Dukes’ Regiment was quartered.

The courtyard was enormous and it was busy. Competitions were being held, ranging from spear and javelin throwing, archery, pike and lance accuracy trials as well as numerous bouts of swordplay. Ala gravitated over to those out of interest and was relieved she didn’t see anyone doing anything she didn’t think she could manage. She spotted a big, muscular bearded man. He had the same sort of bearing as Bernard had had though he was obviously much younger. He looked like he had some authority over the proceedings and Ala walked over to him.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The man turned towards her, regarding her with an expression of mild distrust.

“I’m looking for a half-elf named Gladiuth. I think he’s a weapons master? Could you tell me where I might find him?”

The big man expression became a bit of a glare now. Ala wondered what she’d done wrong.

“Why should I let you bother him girl? Who are you?”

“My name is Alagariel. I have something for him.”

“Well, whatever it is, you can give it to me. I’ll make sure it’s passed on.”

“I’m sorry. I can only entrust it to his direct care.”

“You saying I can’t be trusted girl?” He growled.

Ala was losing patience rapidly. She had long learned that someone’s size wasn’t something she was going to let affect her.

“You may interpret it however you wish. As long as you direct me to him.”

It belatedly occurred to Ala that she would have been better off formulating her last remark in a slightly less antagonistic way.

“You had better know how to use that blade at your waist, girl.”

She could feel Myrthe stiffening beside her. Another voice spoke behind her.

“She’s an elf or something, Brugor. See the hair? Haven’t you heard of Alagariel? She rides patrols out of Thetwick I think… for that really old militia Captain. You know? That ancient bloke in the Westmarch. Bernard… uhm… Alanson? I think so. An able fighter and patrol leader of his, or so he reports. You are Alagariel aren’t you?”

The big man was no longer interested in Ala’s slight.

“Sorry milord, didn’t make the connection,” his eyes didn’t leave her though.

He was respectful to the speaker, but not at all deferential. Ala decided the bearded man wasn’t going to try and hit her unannounced. She looked round. A young, fair, well built man in his early twenties stood about twenty paces behind her. He was wearing a regimental officer’s surcoat over his mail and looked rather dashing, even to Ala. The surcoat must have been tailored, she decided. She could see he affected Myrthe too, the priestess was gaping at him. His eyes met hers.

“I’ll tell you what, Alagariel, we spar. If you win, I’ll take you to Gladiuth myself.”

“Agreed,” she said, without the slightest hesitation.

She removed the the long tied bundle that she had slung across her back and passed it to Myrthe. It contained Bernard’s hand and a half Ulfberht sword and scabbard. Next, she unbuckled her sword and took down her hood, then handed both cloak and sword belt to the priestess as well. This caused a bit of a flutter among the gathered men, who now all realised that she was a young elven woman. The bearded man, Brugor, had obviously forgotten the disagreement he was having with her and gleefully handed her a wooden sparring sword and a buckler, smiling broadly now. He was evidently keen to see the bout.

The nearest practice ring was cleared and the two of them stepped in. She felt the weight of the sparring blade, testing its balance. It had been years since she had bothered with a wooden practice sword. She was quite capable of sparring safely with live weapons, even her own elfblade. The young man attacked her with a diagonal sweep. She met it with her own blade and slipped her blade off it, tapped his sword out of the way and used the return energy to place the blade on his neck. Brugor, the bearded man called a point for her. The young officer tried a straight attack, she took the centre line back from him with a twist of her practice sword and placed the tip of the blade on the man’s neck yet again. Another point was called for her. A murmur started among the men. Her opponents’ next attack became a little wilder. He was becoming angry, she sensed. That suited her just fine.

After she had scored six points to nil, he lost his temper and came after her as she was walking back towards her starting marker. She had been waiting for that too, whirled on the spot and parried the attack aimed at her rearmost leg and then dropped her practice sword as she stepped in, moving until she was all the way behind him, then kicked up in between his legs, and put her hand over his head with her fingers in his eye sockets. She pulled his head backwards just as he wanted to crumple forwards, dropping him violently onto his back into the sand. She dropped one knee onto his neck and the other in between the muscles on his upper sword arm, and then disarmed him and threw the sword away.

“I don’t believe that’s in the sparring rules, you know,” she said quietly.

He couldn’t quite formulate words with her knee on his neck, he was gasping for breath. The men standing around were now dead silent.

“I trust that was a valuable lesson, Lord Caerel. I’ve told you to watch your temper often enough.”

It was a new voice, commanding yet melodic. It had an aspect of her own voice, but was clearly masculine. Perhaps this was Gladiuth? Ala wondered who this Lord Caerel that she had just kicked in the nuts was and whether she was going to regret it. Ala got up, moving backwards, rolling to a standing position over the balls of her feet and backing away from Caerel, though he didn’t yet seem to be able to try and attack her again. Once she felt she was at a safe distance, she turned towards the voice. The man was brown haired, with tanned, earthy skin and brown eyes. He was tall, with finely toned muscles and a blade at his belt. He was wearing very fine mail, probably the nicest she had ever seen. His ears were slightly pointed. He nodded his head towards her when she met his eyes.

“You must be Gladiuth.”

“Indeed. I understand your name is Alagariel. It explains where you learned to fight. I once knew your teacher.”

“He remembered you well, sir. He passed away two weeks ago. I have come with something he wanted you to have, as well as to ask your advice on a matter concerning his estate to be brought before the Duke’s court.”

She looked round. Brugor was throwing a bucket of water over the young lord, laughing. Myrthe came up to her and passed her her sword and scabbard. Ala buckled them on and then relieved Myrthe of the bundle with Bernard’s sword. Myrthe whispered into her ear.

“You just kicked the Duke’s grandson in the nuts.”

A flash of worry went through Ala’s mind, before it ebbed away.

“Wish I’d known that a few minutes ago,” she whispered back.

“Only just figured it out. Sorry.”

“Hope I didn’t just mess up the line of succession,” she whispered.

She turned back to Gladiuth with the bundle.

“I expect you will know what this is.”

“Yes, I can guess. I am very honoured. He wanted me to have it?”

“Bernard asked me to bring it to you.”

“This is a fine weapon, an Ulfberht. It is very valuable. Many great nobles would trade their heirs for such a sword. The blade alone would constitute a fine inheritance.”

“I know.”

“It speaks to how highly Bernard thought of you that he would ask you to do this. Will you and your friend join me for a refreshment? I would like to speak of Bernard a little, and perhaps raise a drink in his memory, if you have the time. He was dear to me, as I think he was also to you.”

“I would like that.”

Ala glanced over at Myrthe who didn’t seem to mind and was paying more attention to what was going on with Lord Caerel than to Ala’s conversation with Gladiuth.

“Perhaps afterwards we can practice a little? Your spar with Lord Caerel has left me curious.”

“I’d love to, sir.”

He led them into a building next to what must be the main barracks hall. The room they entered was decorated as an office or study. The walls were covered in weapons of all kinds, including many very exotic and beautiful ones. There were rows upon rows of swords, spears, axes, maces and halberds, weapons of every imaginable sort and many things Ala had never seen before. She marvelled at the display.

“Might I ask what your position is at Peyrepertuse, Master Gladiuth? You don’t appear to be serving with the Duke’s Regiment any longer, unless perhaps you are its commander?”

“I am only a member of the Duke’s Regiment in name. I am the Duke’s Weapons Master. The fighting skills of the soldiers are my responsibility, as well as those of others in the Ducal household and a few other matters.”

“I apologise for humiliating Lord Caerel. I didn’t know who he was. He’s your student. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

Gladiuth smiled.

“It’s good for him. He has been much too cocky lately. He is actually quite good, he routinely bests most of his peers. It’s become difficult to challenge him, which is actually something of a problem. In fact he really ought to have been able to make life more difficult for you than he did. He let the assumption that he could easily win from a girl cloud his judgement. Then he let emotion rule him, leading to that inevitable result.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t doubt it. Bernard was always a solid teacher.”

Myrthe had kept aside, looking around the endless weapon racks in the room.

She said, “Perhaps I should go see how Caerel is doing, I don’t appear to be much use here and I am a priestess after all. You two are going to spar later? I’ll see you on the practice field, then.”

“Of course, as you wish, priestess,” said Gladiuth.

Myrthe curtsied with practised ease and Gladiuth gave a small bow. She then slipped out the door. Ala thought she was looking mischievous, like she was going to execute some scheme.

When Ala turned back Gladiuth was unpacking Bernard’s sword. He took off his own weapon, which looked exquisite also and hung it on the wall with the others.

“I think, I will wear Bernard’s blade from now on. I was always most impressed by it. You know it is dwarf-work? The very best, by Clan Ulfberht. It is hundreds of years old. The fittings have been renewed and the scabbard of course, probably several times. It is truly a fine weapon. It is valuable beyond belief.”

“Bernard told me about Ulfberht blades. I had appreciated the craftsmanship and I saw the word ‘Ulfberht’ inlaid on the blade, but I have never seen other dwarven work to compare it to. Can I show you something else? I would prefer the details of it not get around however.”

“I swear that I will not speak of it, unless it is in some way vital to the safety of my Lord’s realm.”

“That will be fine.”

She drew her sword and offered it to him to inspect. She kept it a bit out of reach, thinking of the incident in the Thetwick meeting hall. She rotated a little so he could see the pattern. He lifted his hands as if to accept it… then thought better of it as he saw the swirls in the steel. He breathed in sharply.

“Ah… that is special. A true elf blade. Some of the fittings are not in style. Later additions?”

“It was damaged when it came to me.”

“You made the new fittings yourself?”

“Yes I did, with some assistance from the Thetwick blacksmith at the time.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the blade. “Where did it come from?”

“I was told it was found near me when I was a child by one of the Duke’s soldiers. It was left with me in Thetwick. The blade had been in a fire or something equally destructive and appeared to be worthless, except for its value as an heirloom.”

“A fire? That is curious. It will have belonged to someone travelling with you, I imagine?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t really have any coherent memories from that time. It’s not unlikely, I suppose.”

“I see. Well, I will tell you what I know of these swords. What you have there is an elf blade. You knew that already, of course. Bernard will have recognised it for what it is?”

“He did, though he did no know many details about them.”

“They are weapons of legend, purported to each be made by a group of five elven smiths and craftsmen, a master blade smith from each of the five elven elements. Cooperation between them produces these blades. The earth elves are responsible for the ore, finding it and treating of it. The fire elves have perfect control over the flames of the forge and the ovens. The water elves manage the cooling and tempering of the blades, the wood elves make the grips and scabbards. The metal elves shape the blade and assist in the making of the ingots. I’m not completely certain of much else, but it’s likely that if you could find a wood elven master craftsman he could restore the grip to the way it should be. Not that there is anything wrong with the fittings, they are very well made, but they are obviously not original.”

“That’s a lot more than anyone has been able to tell me so far. Do all elves have swords like this?”

“No, only the leaders of great and ancient elven families possess them, as far as I know. They’re rare, even among elves.”

It made Ala shiver a bit. A blade like this must be known to someone! It gave her a spark of hope that she might one day solver her own mystery.

Gladiuth continued his explanation as he poured drinks for them from a slender glass bottle, “now, about this specific blade. You see the pattern? They say the swirls increase with age, with the battles its wielders have fought. This is vastly denser than any other elf blade I have seen, and I was allowed to inspect a few in Amahle. The legends say that the pattern grows with every swing the sword makes in anger, the swirls describing every stroke ever made with the blade.”

“The swirls are growing every time I use it?”

“I don’t know if that’s actually true or whether it’s just poetic license. I do have an elf blade in my collection here, it was given to me in safe keeping by an earth elf. It is obviously much younger than this one though. A lot less pattern. To some extent, age or use does appear to have an effect on the pattern if the comparison between that blade and this one is anything to go by. I wouldn’t dare make any claims beyond that observation.”

“Why won’t you handle it?” She asked.

“Elfblades have a reputation about being picky about who wields them unsheathed, or even about who attempts to unsheathe them. It’s just a precaution, but there are stories of enemies of elves being struck down by some sort of discharge of power when they take up their vanquished foe’s blade, or attempt to take it from its rightful wielder. I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve handled the other one in my collection, but it hasn’t been wielded in over a century and the rightful owner conducted a ritual entrusting it to me. He did that even though he said he doesn’t believe in such ‘mythical nonsense’. That was literally how he described it. I have a healthy respect for such legends, there’s usually something behind them, even though it’s often not what you expect it to be.. I wouldn’t dare touch your weapon. That pattern… It must be… thousands of years old.”

“I think it hurt someone trying to take it from me a short while ago in Thetwick.”

“Truly? What happened? I’m most interested to hear the tale,” he said as he passed her a glass.

“Someone tried to take the sword from me. He fell down, clutching his breast… I don’t have any way of explaining what happened unless the man became unwell at the exact moment he attempted to disarm me.”

“That is certainly odd, to say the least. It doesn’t conflict with some of the elven sagas I’ve studied though. What of the man? The one who meant to disarm you?”

“I don’t know. I had to flee. I do not know what became of him… but I’ve seen men die before…”

Gladiuth nodded, “you think it killed him?”

“Yes. But it’s hard to understand why it didn’t it hurt Bernard or me when we handled it?”

Gladiuth looked thoughtful, “I’m mostly guessing now. It hadn’t been wielded for a while then and it wasn’t a complete blade. Bernard was also a man of pure heart, if I ever met one and I’d say very sympathetic to you. Perhaps he was even something of a father figure to you, I’m guessing based on my correspondence with him?”

“That’s a fair description, I suppose.”

“I’d guess that all those things play in to how a blade like this might react. I’m no magician, but I know enough about magic that it is as complex as the people who employ it.”

“But why would the blade accept me?”

“I don’t know you very well, but if your sword is strong enough to kill someone, I am assuming the blade judged you and decided you were acceptable to it. You are an elf, that must make a difference, perhaps even fire elves are somehow preferable to elf blades as the hereditary leaders of elven kind.”

“You think my being a fire elf could make a difference?”

“It’s mostly guesswork, but my guess is that’s what’s important to the elves is important to their blades. It’s even quite possible you are even its rightful wielder by whatever measure the weapons’ magic would make such a judgement. I suppose it would depend on the relationship between you and whoever was wielding it last. I know it may be uneasy, but they may have died wielding it to protect you and… well they may have been related to you. The way the elves do their magic is very… emotional, I’d almost say. If this blade feels it belongs to you, it would make sense for it to be harmless to anyone you care about.”

Ala took it all in, looking at the blade in her hands. Could it really be true? Was this blade wielded by her father or mother who died protecting her? She really couldn’t remember anything about it. She pushed the thought aside and considered the hilt she had so painstakingly made for it.

“You say it should be repaired?”

“It’s all a bit of a guess, cobbled together from pieces of legends and stories. The earth elf who gave me the elf blade I have here, didn’t believe anything of the power I just suggested your blade might have. But then we don’t call them the ‘down-to-earth-elves’ for nothing. There is magic in the world and his view might be just a little too mundane for my taste. Perhaps it was misguided bravado? I will ask him one day, if he still feels the same way. Despite his claims, I must note that he did observe the transferal ritual. He did this even though he claimed not to believe the weapon was more than a lump of steel. Do you have any pieces from the old scabbard and fittings?”

She did, she sort of kept them as a memento. There wasn’t all that much left. She took the small pouch out of her bag.

“Here,” she opened the pouch, and spread the pieces over the table.

Gladiuth didn’t touch these pieces directly either. He grabbed a glass object the like of which she had never seen in Thetwick. She knew it was a magnifying glass though, somehow. He looked over the pieces.

“Ah yes. I thought fire would have been strange. Legend has it that fire elves are friends with fire. We are surely looking at a blade of legend. The fittings and scabbard were destroyed by acid of some sort.”

Ala decided she would keep her talents with fire to herself.

“It’s not impossible that the blade was wielded by a different kind of elf though, mind you. I suppose you know that elves breed true. One of your parents may not have been a Fire Elf.”

“Myrthe explained to me that it worked that way. Would I be prying terribly if I were to ask about your heritage? I used to think I was a half-elf.”

“Did you? How did that happen?”

“I had no elves compare myself to. The first half elf I ever met was about fifty years ago and she was still very young. She never even met her elven father. It was only through collecting stories about half-elves and elves that I realised one day that the rate I aged at was much too slow for me to be a half elf.”

“Bernard didn’t tell you? He must have known.”

“He did know, but never realised that I didn’t. He even sort of forgot about it for several decades. Both he and the woman who took me in over a century ago thought I would be safer if I was thought to be at least half-human by the people of Thetwick.”

“There is some merit to that thought.”

“So, that’s what I was told too. I suppose it never occurred to either one that I might not know myself. Luckily farmers are not too well travelled. They never seemed to figure it out. If anyone else in Thetwick ever knew they kept it to themselves.”

She could see that Gladiuth had been listening intently to everything she had said.

“Well, about me, there’s not all that much to tell. I suppose I must share some of your experiences in growing up, though it will have been much more extreme in your case. The human children reached adulthood a little more than twice or thrice as fast as me. For you, it would be around a factor ten. My mother is an earth-elf, she lives down in Peyrepertuse actually, the alchemist’s quarter. I see her regularly. She says she is four and half centuries old. I am the product of a fling with a dashing officer of the Duke’s Regiment, or so she says. She still speaks of him fondly. I don’t remember him very well, though she claims I met him several times.”

“It sounds wonderful to me.”

“I suppose it would. It wasn’t all great, a half-elf among humans, but generally speaking, it wasn’t all that bad either. My mother has respect here at least and fulfils an important role in Duilhac. She herself was around and her sister came to live with us at one point too, so I had elves in my life. I wasn’t bullied or anything, but my mother did try to keep me among slightly smaller children. The ageing difference was not so great as it was for you, of course.”

“I’ve never actually spoken to another elf. I saw one or two on the street when we entered the city, but I was scared someone was out to plant a crossbow bolt in me, so I didn’t think it was the time to stop and chat. I know a half-elf who lives at the Ford Inn.”

“I’m sure my mother will be happy receive you. It’s possible it’s her you saw on the way in. She runs a shop in the Alchemist’s Quarter together with her older sister, who is a water elf. The sign says \textit{‘Ye Olde Potions Shoppe’}, which she thinks is very funny. It’s some sort of joke that I still don’t completely understand. Her name is Yesme, just tell her you talked to me. I’d be happy to take you there too of course, if you prefer.”

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“Now what was that about someone wanting to put a crossbow bolt into you?”

“I don’t really wish to burden you with it, Master.”

“Look, I want you to tell me. I have a duty to the Duke and if there’s people planning assassinations, I must learn what I can about it and report it to the Constable, even if that usually comes to nothing. If it’s serious enough, I can tell the Duke himself.”

“It involves the matter that I need to take to the Duke’s court.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“I’m here because Travis Marchmain, Constable of Thetwick forged Bernard’s will or had it done. I should add that it’s not the man’s first act of corruption. The Marchmains have a long history of subterfuge and I’m certain Bernard will have reported it to the Duke in his missives regularly. I brought the matter before the village council after Bernard’s interment. That didn’t go terribly well, but I think I managed to get them to defer judgement until I returned…”

“What do you mean, that it didn’t go terribly well?”

“Travis attempted to invalidate my right to bear arms – that’s when the incident with the man who attempted to disarm me occurred.”

“I see, it explains why you had to flee.”

“Yes. Well, I will now petition the Duke’s Court to check Bernard’s signature on the Ducal warrant against the signature on my copy of the will and on the Scribe’s. I promised Bernard I would handle his estate and make certain it was well cared for.”

“That seems a sensible course,” his mouth curled into a snarl, “I must say, it makes me angry that Bernard’s memory is defiled with this dishonesty.”

“As it does me.”

“Please continue your tale.”

“The Constable, his son and those in league with them have a lot to lose. If their corruption is proven in the Duke’s court, Myrthe tells me the Duke will want to do something about it. That something might put them on the gallows.”

“I am certain it will, if it can be proved well enough. The Duke is very firm when it comes to anything that might undermine his authority. Trying to undermine rightful succession would not sit well with him and if there is a history of corruption, well, I’d be willing to place a wager on the outcome.”

“The Constable’s men also tried to kill me on the way here.”

“If their case is not good, they have a lot to lose. They must be quite desperate to stop you. More so, now that they’ve failed once.”

“Myrthe and I thought they might have ridden ahead of the caravan we were travelling with. She said that they might have put an assassination contract on me with the criminals of Duilhac.”

“I can see why you are worried. I am ashamed to say there are too many people in Duilhac who would do such a thing for money.”

“Myrthe seems to have an idea of what to do. I’m not sure what it is though, she won’t tell me. She’s a crafty one.”

“That young priestess? Really? More to her than meets the eye, is there?”

Ala nodded as Gladiuth continued.

“I’m afraid I can’t really think of much that would help. I have access to the Duke of course, if I need it. It’s going to have to be handled by the Duke’s Court, just like everything else, for the same reason that the Duke will be angry that it happened – the law must be seen to be served. The sessions can’t be moved forward for some reason. It is a matter of the agreement of lordship between the Duke’s ancestors and the burghers of the city.”

“Why exactly is that?”

“It has something to do with fairness, but to be honest, how that was originally envisaged isn’t clear to me. In any event, it was important enough to be included in the city charter. The court dates are immutable.”

“I’m just going to have to wait. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Sessions are cancelled from time to time if it is important for the Duke to be elsewhere and he doesn’t feel he has a suitable replacement available, but never moved forward. The next one is on First. Other than that, I’d lay low, certainly until the court. Do you have a secure place to stay?”

“I think so.”

“Well. Use it until the court and be on your guard. I will speak to the Duke so that he already knows what is going on. Hopefully he will decide to move the matter forward on the day’s schedule otherwise you’re very likely to have to wait days, sometimes weeks before it’s your turn. Don’t worry though, I’ll bring this to the Duke’s attention. I can’t imagine he won’t find it important.”

“Thank you very much for all your help and explanations, Master Gladiuth.”

“It is my pleasure and honour to be able to help Bernard’s adopted daughter, especially under these circumstances. I owe that man my life at least as many times as he owed his to me.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.”

“You are most welcome. Let us then raise glasses, in memory of my friend and your mentor.”

She nodded and raised the glass, whispering “to Bernard,” as she took a big sip of the liquid. She noticed that her eyes reddened as she did so. The loss was still raw.

“To Bernard indeed!” Gladiuth drank it all in one swallow.

She took her second sip, finishing her drink. She didn’t know what it was but it was clearly potent, as well as delightful.

“What is this?”

“An elven beverage, from the Kingdom of Earth. My mother sometimes manages to acquire it. Bernard was rather partial to it too.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Now, I would still like to spar, if you would consent?”

“I would like that very much.”

She decided she liked Gladiuth a lot. He wasn’t completely the first male she had ever found herself quite actively evaluating as a possibility to bed, but it was a rarity. She didn’t think anyone had ever affected her so. Even with Gabriel it hadn’t been something she was so actively considering. She was a little shocked by herself.

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