Isand Katri’an slipped through the streets of the Merchant’s Quarter, as dark and silent as the shadows through which she glided. The quarter was quiet, the residents abed to prepare for their early morning rising. This part of Chandreskahr belonged to the Shadehands, the guild over which Isand held sway, and the city watch and residents fully knew it. The Shadehands protected their territory with quiet yet ruthless efficiency. Nothing went on there that had not first been approved by the guild
Isand, known as ‘Kat’ to her friends and enemies alike, was quite aware that she was under watchful, protective eyes. The members of her guild would protect her to the death. She’d founded the organization alone, and in the ensuing sixteen years they had destroyed or absorbed all competition in the city. It had grown from herself and a handful of apprentice members to the single most powerful guild in the city. Covertly pulling strings behind numerous facades, the eyes and ears of the Shadehands were everywhere.
She turned off the main thoroughfare onto a narrow side street. Passing by darkened shop windows and narrow, winding alleyways she stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door that opened into a three story building with boarded up windows. The door opened at her touch and she nodded a greeting at the two black-clad figures standing watch to either side in the dark corridor. A third stood above the door in an alcove, watching the street through a small window. She stopped to give quiet instructions to one of the guards. A few minutes later she stepped into her office and, taking a bottle and two crystal wine glasses from a cupboard, sat down behind the small writing table that served as her desk.
Gioshoki, her bodyguard and lieutenant, had risen from his chair in front of the fireplace at her entrance. The look of disapproval in his black eyes brought a smile to her face which she quickly stifled. She poured a glass of amber wine and took a sip before she spoke.
”Yes, I’m quite aware that I went out for a midnight stroll without telling you. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, Gioshoki, and have been doing so for the better part of two centuries.” She lifted the glass in his direction. “Wine?”
He shook his head. “No. Mistress, I am aware that you are capable of taking care of yourself. However, there are many in Chandreskahr who would like nothing more than to see your head on a pike above the city gates.”
She sat the glass down on the table. “A fact of which I am also aware. Gioshoki, I do not take unnecessary risks, if that helps put your mind at ease. I did not alert you as to my whereabouts because I knew you would not have returned before I left. Rest assured, I took the necessary precautions.” She winked and smiled at him. “Did you make the necessary arrangements?”
”Of course.”
She took another sip of wine. “Good. If all went well, she should be arriving shortly. I left word with Alain that he should send her up immediately when she arrives.”
Gioshoki’s jet-black hair and the epicanthic folds at the outer corners of his eyes belied his eastern heritage. He was a kensai, a swordmaster from the country of Bakuni-Hue, and his skill with the curved two-handed sword tucked into the left side of his wide belt was unequalled. His mouth curved into a lopsided grin, which he quelled immediately. “In that case, I will be ready for her.”
Maneira beni Azir’s night had not improved. After her long swim from the Sea Crow to shore, she’d managed to slip undetected into her room at the Hanging Grapes Inn and change into dry clothes. She’d also retrieved her swordbelt with Sea Wind, the long, gracefully curved shamsir, hanging at the ready on her left hip. Isand would be expecting her. Her long brown hair was still damp from her dunk in the harbor and she nursed a cut on her left arm from a stray arrow fired from the Sea Crow’s crew. Reynald’s dogs would likely be on her trail, and she wished to complete her business here and get back to her own ship as quickly as possible.
Maneira was more than a little suspicious of Isand’s motives concerning the night’s events. She had taken a few brief moments in her room at the inn to scrutinize the log book she had taken from Reynald. It had survived the water, having been tucked in her waxed bag, but it was still wet in places and the ink had bled through some pages. To her, it was a simple log book, boring in its simplicity, detailing coastal voyages and containing lists of cargo such as rope, lumber, fabrics, and trade tools. Also, the lack of resistance Reynald had demonstrated when he found out what she was after made her wonder at its value.
She wended her way through the dark and quiet streets, doubling back on her trail several times to ensure she had not been followed, and finally found herself standing in front of the Shadehands’ guildhouse. She had been here before, and had long ago stopped being surprised by the building’s plain appearance. On the outside it was run down and unmarked, apparently undefended. Inside, however, was a different matter entirely. At any given time the house was guarded by dozens of Shadehands. She opened the door and went in. One of the guards gestured her on with a thin smile, and a few moments later she knocked on the door of Isand’s suite. The door opened, revealing Gioshoki standing at the ready. He bowed his head slightly and stepped to one side to allow her to enter.
Isand was sprawled languidly in an overstuffed chair, her fingers delicately wrapped around a crystal goblet of amber wine. Her eyes danced with their customary mischievous glint and a wry smile curled one corner of her full lips. “Took a bit of a dip, I see.” Her voice was warm honey with a sarcastic undertone and it immediately set Maneira’s nerves on edge.
”I thought I needed it. The harbor’s water can be so refreshing at this time of the night, especially when one is swimming over a mile with thugs firing arrows at one’s back.” Isand’s smile widened slightly at the remark. Maneira glanced at Gioshoki, who still stood at her side. “I see you brought your keeper.” She reached out and tinged a fingernail against the hilt of his katana.
Gioshoki’s eyes widened and his hand blurred as he swept the katana out of its scabbard. Sea Wind appeared in Maneira’s hand and the two swords met in a shower of silver sparks. Isand was on her feet in a flash. “Enough!” The pair froze, swords poised and ready. “Gioshoki, sheathe it.” Her voice was low and tight, and he hesitated. Finally he drew himself up straight and slid the katana back into its scabbard as he spoke. “My sincerest apologies, mistress.” He gave Maneira a glance filled with barely controlled rage. “I have told you once before not to touch my katana. Do it once more and it will taste your blood. Isand will not save you again.” Maneira sneered defiantly as she sheathed Sea Wind. “Oh I don’t need Isand to save me.”
Isand’s voice slashed through the tension like a whip. “Stop. I will hear no more on it.” She sat back down and reached for the bottle on the table. “Have some wine, sister. It will warm you.” Gioshoki bowed his head again and resumed his place beside the door, black eyes once again impassive. Maneira hesitated, her flash of anger dissipating into weary resignation. She dug the damp logbook out of her satchel and tossed it on the table, then sat with a sigh. Isand picked up the book and leafed through it. She nodded slowly. “Very good.”
Maneira took a sip of wine. “So are you going to tell me what I risked my life for? Reynald and his crew will be after me. I’d like to know why when I’m fighting for my life against them.” Isand looked slowly up at her. “I told you. It’s a logbook from a merchant ship Reynald sunk down the coast.”
”Yes, I can see that. What I don’t see is what’s so valuable about it.” Maneira sipped from her goblet again and raised her chin. “When I told Reynald what I was after he looked at me like I was a fool.”
Isand shrugged and pursed her lips. “He apparently didn’t know its value.”
Maneira’s temper, shortened by the night’s events, flared again. “Fine.” She said through gritted teeth as she stood, knocking her chair backward with a clatter. “Have it your way.”
Isand put her hand out. “I sent you after the logbook, and you’ve returned with it. You have my thanks, sister.”
”Half sister.” Maneira spat the words. “And I wish I’d said no. The fact that the same blood runs through both our veins means nothing to you.” She turned and strode toward the door. Gioshoki opened the door for her but she stopped when she heard Isand’s voice.
”Wait.” The mistress of thieves stood and gestured at the chair lying on its back on the floor. “Come sit down and I’ll tell you. I guess I owe you that much. Gioshoki, please close the door.” Maneira turned and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll stand.”
Isand shrugged. “Very well.” She snapped a downward kick at the chair lying on the floor and caught it nimbly when it flipped into the air. “As usual, sister, your finely honed senses are correct. The logbook is useless. In fact, I’m surprised that Reynald had even kept it. I sent you to the Sea Crow for an entirely different reason, but I knew that if you knew the truth you would have said no.”
She stepped to the small desk and extracted an ivory scroll tube. Popping the cork stopper from the end with a long fingernail, she carefully pulled out a single sheet of vellum. Unrolling it, she laid the crumbling paper out on the desk.
”For many years now I have been searching for the history of our people. A few months ago, this came into my possession. I now have the key to the story of the Bahrani.”
Maneira sucked in a breath. She and Isand were brown elves, or Bahrani in the elven tongue. The Bahrani were a dying race, extinct but for a handful scattered around the world. Their ancestry was lost to the mists of time, save for a few legends still told around campfires and in taverns by those bards who knew them. She and Isand had grown up separately, the children of the same father but different mothers. Were it not but for a quirk of fate, they would have never been united, in fact, would have never known of the other’s existence.
”So you found an old scroll. That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Isand’s eyes flashed. “It’s much more than an old scroll. Be patient.”
”Patience isn’t one of my virtues.”
The Shadehands’ mistress smiled wryly. “I’m aware.” She retrieved her wine from the table and sat down with a sigh. “Ah, sister, have you never wondered why you are different from other elves? You lack patience, you live day to day with no thought of what lies either behind or before you. But I’ll get to that in a moment.” She drained the goblet and poured another. “Reynald is in possession of something that I need to complete the puzzle. I must recover it, but I must have time to do so while he and most of his crew are ashore. He raided for slaves on the Broken Islands a year ago and took it. I had just discovered its location but, by chance, he got it before I could send a group to find it.” She smiled mirthlessly. “I know the two of you are not exactly on good terms. If you boarded his ship and took something I knew he would pursue you into the city accompanied by the bulk of his crew, giving us time to ransack his ship.”
Maneira shook her head in disgust. “What is it, this ‘thing’ that he has.”
”It’s a stone. A stone carved with runes. A key, if you will, that will enable me to decipher the rest of the scroll.
Maneira’s anger was apparent in her voice. “So you decided to use me as bait. No, let me put it a different way. You decided to risk sacrificing my life so you could learn to read something on that scroll.” She shook her head again. “I’m glad you have such concern for me.”
Isand was across the room quicker than the eye could follow, her own anger boiling up as she came eye to eye with her sister. “Yes! Yes, I would sacrifice you! I would sacrifice Gioshoki, all the Shadehands, all the people in this city, and even myself to have this knowledge!” She turned and walked back to the scroll. “It’s all here. The Bahrani’s enslavement, their war with the Manni, and the curse that haunts us until we become a forgotten race.” She slowly turned, her anger fading. “We have no patron, sister. That is why we are dwindling. That is why we are not like other elves. We have no known history, nothing to hold us together. The one that was supposed to rise to godhood from our number is trapped in the Calling Stone in the northern mountains and I intend to do whatever it takes to free her. And this” she tapped a finger against the scroll “Will tell me how.”
Maneira’s eyes were wide in amazement. “You’re mad, Kat. You are truly insane.”
Isand shook her head and bent over the scroll. “There were two Bahrani and a dwarf who led the revolt against the Manni and imprisoned the Stonereaver in his crypt. The Bahrani were sisters, Jahalaira and Jahaira. Jahalaira was a warmage who, with the help of a dwarf named Fenix, created four items that would enable them to destroy their oppressors. The first two were weapons, a bow and a mace. The bow enchants arrows as they are fired from it, attuning them to the Manni’s blood. It was given to Jahaira. The mace affected the Manni in the same manner.” She looked up, the firelight reflected in her eyes making her excitement seem more intese. “Those two have been recovered.”
Maneira was skeptical. “Recovered by who?”
”By a group of adventurers from Highfork Village. They found the entrance to the Stonereaver’s crypt months ago and have been seeking a way in ever since. I intend to help them.” She hesitated. “Though I must do so indirectly.”
”So once again, you are having others do your dirty work.” Maneira snorted. “I am quickly losing what respect for you I had.”
Isand shrugged. “Think of me what you will. From my research I have found that if a living Bahrani were to enter the crypt, something terrible would happen. However, if that is necessary, I will accompany them or go by myself. I intend to exhaust all other options first.”
”So what are the other two pieces, and how does one go about using them?”
”One is a breastplate that I believe provides protection from the Calling magick of the Manni. The other is called the Astral Prison. I believe it to be some sort of medallion or gem designed to imprison the Stonereaver’s essence. Jahalaira was killed before it could be used, so I’m not entirely sure how it is activated, or even what it looks like.” She paused before continuing. “I believe both are still in the underground complex leading to the crypt. The Bahrani turned the Calling Stone against the Manni; those who died were taken into it and their souls provide the power to keep the Stonereaver imprisoned in the crypt, though for how long I can’t guess.”
Maneira stared into the fire for a moment. Her mind was numb, overcume by all that she had just been told. Isand was mad, of that she had no doubt. Finally she looked back at her sister with weary sadness on her face. “Perhaps I do live day to day, Isand. Perhaps my life isn’t like that of other elves. But it is my life, and I happen to enjoy it.” She hooked a stray lock of hair back from her eyes with a forefinger. “I’m going back to my ship, and my life. Next time you need someone expendable, look elsewhere. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding pawns for your games from the ranks of those who worship you.” She spun on her heel and walked to the door. Throwing it open she stalked down the hallway and out to the street.
Gioshoki looked a question at Isand, who shook her head in answer. “Don’t stop her. Give her a moment, then follow her. Make sure she gets back to her ship unharmed.” He bowed his head. “Yes mistress. I will give my life to save hers if you command it.”
Isand chuckled mirthlessly. “Let’s hope that’s not necessary. I don’t consider you one of my ‘pawns’, nor is this a game.”
A few hours later, Maneira beni Azir sighed heavily and leaned her forearms against the weathered stone of the wall that marked the uppermost defensive position overlooking Chandreskahr. The city spread out below her until it was cut off by the path of the river. This was the highest point in the city; the hilltop was ringed by an ancient wall and had been the site of a battle by the founders of the city against marauding giants. The first rays of morning light were just beginning to blossom over the eastern horizen and far below, she could hear the sounds of the city coming to life.
Her ears caught the faint sound of leather scraping stone followed by slow footsteps. Someone had climbed over the wall behind her. The footsteps slowed, then stopped.
”Are you here to kill me?”
Gioshoki grinned wryly in a rare display of mirth as she turned to face him. “No. I don’t try to surprise those I am about to kill.”
She sighed and sank to a stone bench. Her long hair, bleached into pale streaks by the sun, hung around her face as she propped her chin in her hand. “My sister betrayed me tonight, Gioshoki. She lied to me. I risked my life for a lie.”
The kensai stepped to the other end of the bench and sat, taking care not to scrape the scabbard of his katana on the wall behind him. “I cannot excuse the lie, nor am I here to apologize to you. She sent me to follow you and make sure you got back to your ship safely.”
”I’ve been to your homeland, Gioshoki. I know something of your people’s beliefs on honor, especially the few kensai I’ve met. I don’t understand how you can serve the mistress of a rogue’s guild.”
Gioshoki nodded thoughtfully. “By serving her I am serving my own sense of honor. Isand saved my life long ago; by doing so, my life became hers to do with what she wishes.” He paused. “I perform every task I am given as well as I can, but in a way that does not compromise my own morals.” He turned on the bench to face her. “Isand believes in what she is doing. For the past few years she has devoted her life to this cause. Every waking moment has been spent thinking about it. Your sister is not mad, Maneira. Obsessed, yes, but not mad. If the cause is one that follows your heart, then you should be willing to risk all to see it achieved.”
”I’ve been thinking about that.” Maneira sat up and stretched her arms up, rotating her head to loosen the muscles in her neck. “But I prefer to take only the risks that I choose.”
The kensai shook his head. “The thread of our lives was measured and cut long before we were born. Once you begin thinking of risk, you have already begun thinking of failure.” He stood and bowed his head to her. “If you will allow me, I will escort you to your ship.”
”If I say no, will you leave me alone?”
He shook his head, the hint of a smile reflecting back at her in his eyes. “No. I was just being polite.”
She snorted and stood, tossing her hair back with her hands and straightening her shoulders. “So, how did she save your life?”
He vaulted to the top of the wall and leaned down, offering her his hand. “It was in my homeland far away. I have not returned there since.”
She took his hand and leapt nimbly up to stand beside him. “What happened?”
He gave her a sly wink before leaping down. “That’s a story for another time.”
She looked out over the city for a moment. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, reflecting off the surface of the river in motes of sparkling light. The city was beautiful from here, she realized. She gathered herself and leapt high off the wall, somersaulted in midair, and landed like a cat on her feet. Gioshoki lifted an eyebrow, and she laughed out loud at his expression as they started down the hill toward the city.
