Seedra Willowflax - 1. One Night at the Vulgar Unicorn
The door was open as usual, and the warm lamplight from inside illuminated a slice of the filthy alley - the gutter running down the centre filled with refuse, the clumps of garbage along the walls on either side. The sound of revelry came from inside as well, spreading further than the light. Not the raucous sound of uninhibited drunkenness that would be emanating from the taverns in the better parts of the city, but the studious noise of business negotiations taking place over cheap ale. Above it was the sound of a lute being strummed and a young woman’s voice singing an elven folk-song of love under the golden leaves of autumn.
The two cloaked figures crossed the alleyway, carefully avoiding the noisome gutter and the body lying in it - either dead-drunk, or just dead. If the former, then there was a very good chance that he would become the latter before morning unless fortune, or a powerful patron, favoured him.
Just inside the open door was a small cubby that held a very large half-orc. Both figures opened their cloaks to show him that they neither wore heavy armour, nor carried a large sword, and he nodded as they passed. The short swords they carried excited no comment - indeed to have been weaponless would have been more exceptional. Not that Lurgash would have stopped them if they had had no weapons - his job was to make sure that the establishment was protected, not any of the patrons. They could look to themselves. Similarly, the domino masks that both of them wore excited no surprise. Some two-thirds of the patrons in the taproom were also wearing masks of a variety of shapes and sizes.
The older man of the two slid two tarnished coins across the bar, and both him and the younger woman accepted the tankards that were pushed back in return. They raised them, but neither drank as they turned and rested their backs against the bar, scanning the room.
Like most nights, the tap room was well-occupied but not crowded. Small groups sat huddled around tables, talking in low voices. The noise of rolling dice was followed by exclamations of triumph, or the sucking of teeth. Above it all, the sounds of singing continued.
The younger woman leaned in, and spoke to her companion in a low voice. “I see five in hawk masks here. Three together on their own at the table on the right; one with the two rough looking characters on the left, and another at a table with three well-dressed men at the back, in the shadows. Which is Childer?”.
“None of them”, replied the older man, turning back towards the bar. “He’s the broad-shouldered one in the patched red cloak with the simple black mask on the table in the far corner. Can you see who he is talking to, and about what?”
“It’s a young man, and unmasked. I can’t see Childer’s mouth properly, but I can see the young man’s. I can’t work out what he is saying though. It’s like his lips are not moving properly. Either he has some kind of speech impediment or he has some sort of glamour that is covering his speech up.”
“Ghuul’s teeth! I knew there was something funny going on. Damn Wes and his quick jobs. I’d wager that glamour covers more than lips and speech. Young man my arse!”
“Now you mention it, it does seem strange that he is unmasked in here, where any might see him. How did you recognise Childer?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just wanting to learn from the master.”
“Its the way he hunches his shoulders. Plus, he’s the cleverest of Jubal’s men - he’s not going to be wear a stupid hawk mask in here, announcing who he is. Only the rubes wear those. You need to look out for the ones who don’t. Although the hawks are the ones who’ll stab you as soon as look at you, but you have a chance with them - fair fight ain’t it. The senior ones, you never even see the knife coming. Like when they got Sabre. In the john he was. Never stood a chance. What a way to go. Still, ill wind and all that.” He stopped, reminiscing, and absent-minded took a swig of his beer, then grimaced and stared into it. “Ye gods, it’s even worse than normal”.
“So, do we get out of here then, if we can’t work out who is contact is?”
“Don’t be daft. We wouldn’t get ten yards, coming in, having a look around and then leaving. What do you think we are, the blasted watch?”
“Well obviously not, they never come here. Just trying to be efficient and avoid wasting time.”
“Tell you what, we’ll wait for half an hour or so and see if they leave. If they do, you can slip out and follow the young man. Meanwhile, you can cuddle up to me here and we can look like young lovers.”
The woman gave him a look of distaste. “Not so young, in your case. Tell you what, we can do that, and then when he leaves, and I need to leave to follow him, I can give you a good slap and a quick knee in the nethers so that people don’t wonder why I am leaving.”
“Now now, no need to carry the play-acting too far you know. I am sure we can come up with another cover story.”
“How about the one we already agreed on then, rather than one that allows you to get all hot and bothered?”
“You might like me all hot and bothered.”
“It seems unlikely. There’s a table over there that has come free - you can grab that rather than me, and then there will be 3 feet of oak to help you keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’m just saying that another failed mission isn’t going to look good for you, even if you are Wes’ pet. You might want to get on my good side - you might need it at some point. Unless you’re letting Wes tap that booty of yours. Is that the secret?”
“Urrrgg - no, please. Dear gods, why do I have to put up with you?”
“Because I do the rota, and I like working with you…”
They reached the free table, and sat themselves down, Shadow choosing a seat facing towards the table they had been watching earlier, and Serpent facing across her, looking at the stood where a cheaply dressed girl with raven hair and far too much makeup was strumming on a lute and singing another love song.
There was silence for a few minutes, and then Serpent spoke.
“There is something about that girl.”
“Well she looks like your type certainly - cheap tart.”
He laughed. “Not just that. It’s her voice. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place it. Hmmm, no, wait. Do you remember that mission we were on about a year ago? Up at Carrton.”
“The legion camp? The one with that quartermaster who was selling off weaponry on the side?”
“Yes, that one. Tedious bloody business. But on the way back, you remember we stopped at that inn? I am sure it was her singing there. There is a particular tone to her voice on some of the notes, and the way that she fingers the lute - that’s an elven style, or I am no bard.”
“Wasn’t that the one that young Alogard Quarl was killed at the night after we were there? Some sort of bar-brawl. Old-man Quarl had the place burned down and the owner impaled because of it, the bastard.”
“Yeah - but that was no bar-brawl. I read the report on it, because we had been there the night before. It seems young Alogard took a liking to a young girl there who didn’t know her place, and stuck him one, and then escaped in the ensuing mayhem - avoiding all his bodyguards. A young singer, who was performing at the inn.”
“Her? But the girl we saw was blonde, and a half-elf. I remember it.”
“Of course you do. But hair colour can be changed. And notice how she is wearing her hair over her ears. Unusual that, isn’t it.”
“I assumed she just wasn’t following the latest fashion.”
“I think this repays some further investigation. You wait here for our main mark. I’ll see you at the Kettle Street house at two bells, unless you are hot on his tail.”
With that, Serpent got up, and left the bar.
The room was luxuriously furnished, but there was a slightly musty smell that the perfume couldn’t hide and that revealed that it was actually underground. That and the lack of windows. Shadow moved awkwardly in her seat. The Street of Red Lanterns still made her uncomfortable after all these years. Added to that, she wasn’t used to reporting in person like this, and the brown eyes opposite seemed to be piercing into her very soul. Wesloke hadn’t spoken for five minutes now, not since she had been ushered into the room, having received the unusual summons this morning. A red parchment envelope at her lodgings - no words, no address, but she knew what it meant - she was to report at the Golden Lily, in the Street of Red Lanterns. Wesloke cleared his throat. “So… tell me what happened…” Shadow gave a brief rundown of the events in the Vulgar Unicorn the night before. Childer’s contact had left about half an hour after Serpent had. She had left to follow him, and had seen Serpent lurking in the doorway of a ruined tenement opposite the tavern. She had attempted to follow the contact, but after a couple of alleyways, he had just vanished into thin air. Wesloke gave a snort. She had tried to reacquire her quarry at various points that she thought he would have had to cross, but without success. Wesloke harrumphed. “You did well. His disappearance confirms a theory I had as to his identity. The mission was not wholly a failure. But tell me more of Serpent.” “I returned to the house in Kettle Street around first bell. Earlier than I expected. When I go there, I found Serpent, dead, on the bed. He was partially undressed and had been killed by a single knife wound through the heart. There was no sign of a struggle. Just earlier, he had been telling me that the best assassins come for you when you are not expecting it. But, there was also a scent of cheap perfume in the air. And he had only been dead for around 20 minutes when I found him. The body was still warm, and the blood still liquid.” “Well observed. So what is your hypothesis?” “The girl at the tavern. He seemed excited that he had recognised her. She seemed the sort to wear cheap perfume. And I have discovered that she left the Vulgar Unicorn soon after midnight. I think he followed her, and persuaded her to come back to Kettle Street. I’m pretty sure I know what his intentions were.” “Hmmm, and it seems she might not have agreed with his plans. A pity. Serpent was a good agent, but maybe a little too fond of his vices to be better than he was. Very well. I think we should try and track down this girl.” “Her name is Teela. She lodges at 15 Wheel Lane, just west of Processional. Room 4 - first floor, on the left.” Wesloke raised an eyebrow. “Well done - you have anticipated my every need. I will take it from here. Unless you feel some sort of need to avenge Serpent.” “Hah - you won’t find me shedding any tears over his demise. Good riddance.” “Hmm - I hadn’t realised you felt so strongly on the matter. Well, we shall see what we can do in the future. Don’t worry about Childer any more - I shall take care of that as well. Take some days off and have a rest.” Wesloke rose and handed over a leather purse that clinked attractively. Shadow took it, and retired.
Seedra returned from the market with a small pouch of pastries, enough for dinner and breakfast tomorrow, and climbed the narrow creaking stairs of the rundown apartment block, trying to block out the smell of human waste that assailed her from all sides. How had it all ended up here, scrabbling a living in this cesspit of a city, fending off advances from sleazeballs twice her age, and scrabbling for every copper she could. At least, she guessed, she had her musical talent and the smattering of elven magic that she had picked up back home in Trustor, so she wasn’t having to earn a living on her back. At the through of Trsutor though, a wave of sadness ran through her, as she remembered her mother, and the sunlight dappling through the forest canopy. Followed rapidly by anger, as she remembered all the harsh words from her step-siblings - the shunning, the whispers behind her back. It might be home, but she knew that she could never go back there again. The events of last night crowded in as well, and reminded her of that night last year, in the inn on the road, and the young nobleman. She had heard what had happened to the inn, and the old couple who had run it, and it their children, and her anger seethed within her, white hot. One day, she would avenge them, but who was she kidding. She was a nobody, scrabbling to survive at the bottom of society. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had opened the door and placed the basket on the table before she noticed the figure sat in the chair in the shadows on the far side of the room. Cursing her inattention, she whipped out her dagger and lunged towards him. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in her memories like that if she was going to survive in a city like this. The figure in the chair hardly stirred. With a wave of his hand, he diverted her dagger thrust away. He muttered something under his breath, and suddenly the hilt was red-hot in her hand. Cursing, she flung it away. “Now, shall we talk like civilised creatures?” the stranger said, in a deep but pleasantly gentle voice. “Don’t think about running, there is an agent of mine at the foot of the stairs. And another one in the street at the back.” he continued, as he saw her eyes flick towards the window. “Well,” said Seedra, “you seem to have all the bases covered. What do you want from me? If you want to rob me, you’ve picked the wrong person. You’ve already found everything I have, if you have checked the place out.” “Ah, no. I’m not a common thief. I have come here to talk to you. You are Teela, the singer. But you are also Seedra Willowflax.” Seedra started, without meaning to, at the sound of her own name. She hadn’t used that in over a year. If the stranger knew that, then she was in serious trouble. “I know more about you than you realise. I know you killed a man this morning - one of my men.” “He had it coming to him. No regrets on that. And if you are after the same thing, I warn you, I’ll try and kill you as well.” “No no, I have no interest in such matters, I can assure you.” “You’re a man. All men want the same thing.” “Your experience is unfortunately far too limited. I must apologise for my…colleague’s attack on you though. A regrettable weakness of his, and one that ended with an outcome that was, sadly, all too predictable. That said, within the laws of Sanctuary, I would have every right to arrest you and bring you to trial for his murder.” “I’d plead self-defence, but the judge would probably side with the man. But I recognise you now - you’re the prince’s counsellor. I’m sure I’ve seen you at parades. Hell - if you are, then there’s no chance of a fair trial at all.” “The murder of a lowlife brigand is of little concern to me, although he was a useful agent. The murder of the scion of a major noble house, on the other hand. That is a crime that demands justice, surely?” “How would you prove it was me?” “There are several witnesses who I am sire would recognise you if we gave you the right coloured hair. Plus, some magical evidence gathering would I think quickly incriminate you.” Seedra sighed. She had always known that killing that popinjay would be the end of her, but she had hoped, after a year, that she might have been able to get away with it. “That said,” the old man continued “I have little love for the Quarls myself, and don’t feel that I necessarily need to do them a favour, especially to sort something out for them that they obviously have been unable to sort out for themselves. I hear that Vordeck has been trying to track you down for over a year now, although I suspect his heart probably isn’t in it. Still, I find myself lacking an agent now, as a result of your actions. And you have obviously demonstrated that you are a capable young lady. So I have a proposition for you.” “Here it comes,” thought Seedra “it always comes round to this.” “You will work for me as an agent, and in return, I won’t tell the Quarls who and what you are. I’ll tell you what, I’ll even pay you for your work for me.” Seedra blinked. “What sort of an agent?” “Similar to what you are doing at the moment. I need someone who can watch out for people, listen to gossip and conversations in taverns. Maybe tail, or even kill the odd person, although I have other people who can do that better than you.” “What other people?” “Ah, that, you won’t know. I like to run a tight ship, so the fewer people you know the better. Thank you. I’m sure we will enjoy working together.” With that, he rose and crossed to the door. “I haven’t said I’m going to work for you, you arrogant, blackmailing bastard.” He opened the door. “But you will, won’t you. The alternative is too hideous to contemplate, and anyway, I think you will enjoy the excitement.” He started to descend the stairs. “You’ll need a code name though - you can be Sentinel.”
The room was luxuriously furnished, but there was a slightly musty smell that the perfume couldn’t hide and that revealed that it was actually underground. That and the lack of windows. Shadow moved awkwardly in her seat. The Street of Red Lanterns still made her uncomfortable after all these years. Added to that, she wasn’t used to reporting in person like this, and the brown eyes opposite seemed to be piercing into her very soul. Wesloke hadn’t spoken for five minutes now, not since she had been ushered into the room, having received the unusual summons this morning. A red parchment envelope at her lodgings - no words, no address, but she knew what it meant - she was to report at the Golden Lily, in the Street of Red Lanterns. Wesloke cleared his throat. “So… tell me what happened…” Shadow gave a brief rundown of the events in the Vulgar Unicorn the night before. Childer’s contact had left about half an hour after Serpent had. She had left to follow him, and had seen Serpent lurking in the doorway of a ruined tenement opposite the tavern. She had attempted to follow the contact, but after a couple of alleyways, he had just vanished into thin air. Wesloke gave a snort. She had tried to reacquire her quarry at various points that she thought he would have had to cross, but without success. Wesloke harrumphed. “You did well. His disappearance confirms a theory I had as to his identity. The mission was not wholly a failure. But tell me more of Serpent.” “I returned to the house in Kettle Street around first bell. Earlier than I expected. When I go there, I found Serpent, dead, on the bed. He was partially undressed and had been killed by a single knife wound through the heart. There was no sign of a struggle. Just earlier, he had been telling me that the best assassins come for you when you are not expecting it. But, there was also a scent of cheap perfume in the air. And he had only been dead for around 20 minutes when I found him. The body was still warm, and the blood still liquid.” “Well observed. So what is your hypothesis?” “The girl at the tavern. He seemed excited that he had recognised her. She seemed the sort to wear cheap perfume. And I have discovered that she left the Vulgar Unicorn soon after midnight. I think he followed her, and persuaded her to come back to Kettle Street. I’m pretty sure I know what his intentions were.” “Hmmm, and it seems she might not have agreed with his plans. A pity. Serpent was a good agent, but maybe a little too fond of his vices to be better than he was. Very well. I think we should try and track down this girl.” “Her name is Teela. She lodges at 15 Wheel Lane, just west of Processional. Room 4 - first floor, on the left.” Wesloke raised an eyebrow. “Well done - you have anticipated my every need. I will take it from here. Unless you feel some sort of need to avenge Serpent.” “Hah - you won’t find me shedding any tears over his demise. Good riddance.” “Hmm - I hadn’t realised you felt so strongly on the matter. Well, we shall see what we can do in the future. Don’t worry about Childer any more - I shall take care of that as well. Take some days off and have a rest.” Wesloke rose and handed over a leather purse that clinked attractively. Shadow took it, and retired.
Seedra returned from the market with a small pouch of pastries, enough for dinner and breakfast tomorrow, and climbed the narrow creaking stairs of the rundown apartment block, trying to block out the smell of human waste that assailed her from all sides. How had it all ended up here, scrabbling a living in this cesspit of a city, fending off advances from sleazeballs twice her age, and scrabbling for every copper she could. At least, she guessed, she had her musical talent and the smattering of elven magic that she had picked up back home in Trustor, so she wasn’t having to earn a living on her back. At the through of Trsutor though, a wave of sadness ran through her, as she remembered her mother, and the sunlight dappling through the forest canopy. Followed rapidly by anger, as she remembered all the harsh words from her step-siblings - the shunning, the whispers behind her back. It might be home, but she knew that she could never go back there again. The events of last night crowded in as well, and reminded her of that night last year, in the inn on the road, and the young nobleman. She had heard what had happened to the inn, and the old couple who had run it, and it their children, and her anger seethed within her, white hot. One day, she would avenge them, but who was she kidding. She was a nobody, scrabbling to survive at the bottom of society. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had opened the door and placed the basket on the table before she noticed the figure sat in the chair in the shadows on the far side of the room. Cursing her inattention, she whipped out her dagger and lunged towards him. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in her memories like that if she was going to survive in a city like this. The figure in the chair hardly stirred. With a wave of his hand, he diverted her dagger thrust away. He muttered something under his breath, and suddenly the hilt was red-hot in her hand. Cursing, she flung it away. “Now, shall we talk like civilised creatures?” the stranger said, in a deep but pleasantly gentle voice. “Don’t think about running, there is an agent of mine at the foot of the stairs. And another one in the street at the back.” he continued, as he saw her eyes flick towards the window. “Well,” said Seedra, “you seem to have all the bases covered. What do you want from me? If you want to rob me, you’ve picked the wrong person. You’ve already found everything I have, if you have checked the place out.” “Ah, no. I’m not a common thief. I have come here to talk to you. You are Teela, the singer. But you are also Seedra Willowflax.” Seedra started, without meaning to, at the sound of her own name. She hadn’t used that in over a year. If the stranger knew that, then she was in serious trouble. “I know more about you than you realise. I know you killed a man this morning - one of my men.” “He had it coming to him. No regrets on that. And if you are after the same thing, I warn you, I’ll try and kill you as well.” “No no, I have no interest in such matters, I can assure you.” “You’re a man. All men want the same thing.” “Your experience is unfortunately far too limited. I must apologise for my…colleague’s attack on you though. A regrettable weakness of his, and one that ended with an outcome that was, sadly, all too predictable. That said, within the laws of Sanctuary, I would have every right to arrest you and bring you to trial for his murder.” “I’d plead self-defence, but the judge would probably side with the man. But I recognise you now - you’re the prince’s counsellor. I’m sure I’ve seen you at parades. Hell - if you are, then there’s no chance of a fair trial at all.” “The murder of a lowlife brigand is of little concern to me, although he was a useful agent. The murder of the scion of a major noble house, on the other hand. That is a crime that demands justice, surely?” “How would you prove it was me?” “There are several witnesses who I am sire would recognise you if we gave you the right coloured hair. Plus, some magical evidence gathering would I think quickly incriminate you.” Seedra sighed. She had always known that killing that popinjay would be the end of her, but she had hoped, after a year, that she might have been able to get away with it. “That said,” the old man continued “I have little love for the Quarls myself, and don’t feel that I necessarily need to do them a favour, especially to sort something out for them that they obviously have been unable to sort out for themselves. I hear that Vordeck has been trying to track you down for over a year now, although I suspect his heart probably isn’t in it. Still, I find myself lacking an agent now, as a result of your actions. And you have obviously demonstrated that you are a capable young lady. So I have a proposition for you.” “Here it comes,” thought Seedra “it always comes round to this.” “You will work for me as an agent, and in return, I won’t tell the Quarls who and what you are. I’ll tell you what, I’ll even pay you for your work for me.” Seedra blinked. “What sort of an agent?” “Similar to what you are doing at the moment. I need someone who can watch out for people, listen to gossip and conversations in taverns. Maybe tail, or even kill the odd person, although I have other people who can do that better than you.” “What other people?” “Ah, that, you won’t know. I like to run a tight ship, so the fewer people you know the better. Thank you. I’m sure we will enjoy working together.” With that, he rose and crossed to the door. “I haven’t said I’m going to work for you, you arrogant, blackmailing bastard.” He opened the door. “But you will, won’t you. The alternative is too hideous to contemplate, and anyway, I think you will enjoy the excitement.” He started to descend the stairs. “You’ll need a code name though - you can be Sentinel.”
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