Chapter Nine
One evening Hemlock and Safreon sat at the top of a chapel tower looking down on the Warrens. Hemlock was young, having only recently taken to working with Safreon.
"What can you tell me of the City, Safreon?" Hemlock asked with the suddenness that often accompanies youthful inquiry.
Safreon regarded her warmly and began to speak.
"Our City, San Cyra, is old but not ancient. We know that it was built some ten generations ago by a great Wizard and a group of outcasts who arrived here from various places."
"From beyond the veil?" Hemlock asked with a tone of reverence.
"Yes, indeed. At that time, people must have begun to appreciate the properties of the City: how the lands surrounding it constantly change. Those who stayed here either did so to escape their previous circumstances and start a new life, or they wandered into this land in ignorance and became stranded here when the lands shifted," responded Safreon.
"It is easy to get stranded here, isn’t it?" asked Hemlock.
"Yes, because tradition holds that our City is unique in its property of shifting through different lands. Although who can say for sure?" Safreon mused.
Hemlock looked at the streets below their vantage point, over toward an open square where several neighborhoods met. In that spot stood the largest marketplace in the Warrens. It consisted of acres of makeshift stalls where vendors peddled wares as commonplace as the foodstuffs grown on the farms which surrounded the City, and as exotic as a number of hairless felines that had arrived yesterday with some Merchants.
Hemlock and Safreon monitored the busy market, keeping an eye out for criminal activity, which was all too commonplace.
"To the East, in the mountains, the delvers mine Ore and gems from the earth. This area has remained near the City for our entire history, and these materials were used to build our City. The areas beyond the Mountains are ever changing, marked by a hazy veil that exists at the border between our lands and the outside, changing lands. It is said that if you look eastward through the veil from the mountain tops, that you cannot help but daydream. And when you take notice of the view, after a time, you'll see that it has changed; but you will never see the change occurring. It is a very strange phenomenon, and is under study by the Wizard Guild."
Safreon pointed north toward a great desert plain. "That Desert has bordered the Mountains for as long as we can recall as well. Yet people disappear in it if they venture too far. Stay away from it, Hemlock. There is no reason to go there."
"To the south lie the fertile plains where most of our food is grown and tended. It is said that these lands are safe out to a distance that can be seen from the top of the Wizard’s Guild Tower, but no further. Beyond that the lands change with time," Safreon continued.
"To the west lie the Witch Crags. This region, alone, extends for many miles beyond the horizon, yet does not change. This is the source of the Oberon powder that fuels our magical powers in the City. Despite this region’s stability, it is a dangerous area, populated by monstrous creatures. Fortunately these creatures seem to be confined to the Witch Crags and do not attack the City," Safreon explained with a cautionary tone.
"How are they confined?" Hemlock queried.
Safreon mused for a moment and then answered, "It seems that these creatures are bound to the Witch Crags. There are evil forces that hold sway there, and the creatures are bound to these forces."
"What of these forces?" Hemlock asked, turning to him.
"I’ll say no more now. Suffice it to say that we are lucky that their power seems to be held in check. I suspect that the wizards are involved. But none seem to know for sure," Safreon answered, making it clear that he had no intention to elaborate.
Hemlock glanced at him and he did not meet her glance. She could see that his jaw was set as he looked down into the Marketplace.
"What happens to people that travel beyond the veil and cannot return to the City?" Hemlock asked.
"None can say for sure," Safreon responded, "but judging by the accounts of those who make the journey out of the City and return, these people enter lands where the surroundings do not change."
"Don't you want to find out? You know, what lies beyond?" asked Hemlock.
"I am curious, as are many here, I think. But would you give up your life here and everything you know to find out? Most are unwilling to do that–as am I."
"I'm not willing to do it now, but I feel like there may come a time when I am ready to make the journey–perhaps even to try and find my home again," Hemlock responded slowly, her eyes downcast as she appraised herself.
Safreon responded with a casual grunt that seemed to Hemlock to belie the gravity with which he seemed to regard that remark.
Hemlock decided to press her luck and continue her questions. It wasn’t often that Safreon obliged her questioning this freely, and she intended to take full advantage of it.
"Tell me of the Elite part of the City. Why do they look down on us?" she asked.
Safreon again considered her question for a time before responding. "Throughout history, people have organized themselves into functional groups in order to allow them to act in concert. The Elites to the east of the Wizard Tower lead lives of contemplation and ease. They have time for drafting laws and holding courts of justice–things that are hard to do when you have to break your back in the fields every day. Yet they are important for our society."
He paused again and then he continued.
"The Elites manage the economy and implement the laws and policies set forth by the Senate. This structure is something of an amalgamation of the ways of our collective forbears from across the veil."
"The other two thirds of the City, our Warrens, are where the workers live. I believe that we have lost something along the way, or that part of the philosophy of our civic traditions has been lost. I believe that in an ideal society that the higher tiers recognize that they exist to serve the lower. Therefore, the Elites should really be the servants of the Workers and not the other way around. That concept of selfless service has been lost," Safreon concluded, shaking his head mildly in disapproval.
Hemlock looked up into the afternoon sky and gazed at the clouds, as her mind consumed the information that Safreon had told her. She wasn't sure what it meant to her or whether it really meant anything to her at all. She was consumed by a restless energy and scanned the street below.
A motion caught her eye. It stood out and was incongruent with the rest of the scene below. A woman who Hemlock assumed was an Elite Citizen, judging by the cleanliness and color in her garb, had been boldly walking alone in the market. Hemlock had seen the Citizen bolt upright suddenly and a black robed figure had fallen in smoothly behind her. Hemlock recognized the gait of the robed figure as the swift and smooth motion of a practiced thief at work.
Safreon let out a soft whistle of surprise. He had seen it too.
The woman began to move listlessly to the north with the robed figure staying close behind her.
Hemlock tensed as she prepared to descend to street level in pursuit. She felt Safreon's grasp on her arm, restraining her.
"Wait. I want to follow this one back to his hideout. This one is experienced; did you see how subtle the take was? An average person wouldn't have noticed that thief do anything unusual even if they'd been standing right alongside," Safreon intoned in a low voice filled with some measure of respect. He then motioned to an adjacent roof which she leapt to and he then gained more clumsily by rolling over a ledge, a few moments after her.
Together, they watched the woman and the man moving north toward a shanty section of the Warrens. The Thief moved slowly and blended well with the crowd, managing to stay close to her without looking suspicious. The Elite drew the normal attention that a Citizen usually did in the Warrens. Hemlock and Safreon had no trouble identifying her as she moved.
As Hem
lock and Safreon shuffled along the rooftop in a relaxed pursuit, Safreon glanced at Hemlock.
"So why did you do it? Why did you agree to work with me?" he asked with a casual air.
Hemlock glanced back at him.
She considered her answer carefully.
"I want to change things," she said.
"What do you want to change?" He motioned her toward a wooden ladder that protruded above the roof line to the north. They had reached the end of the roof on this block and their targets continued to move north. They would have to continue the pursuit at ground level.
As they climbed down, Hemlock responded, "I want my sister to be able to afford the potions and spells she needs for her digestive condition. I want people to be able to live and work and not have to do so in fear of crime or the Wizard Guild," she concluded.
"A noble answer," he responded with an exhale as he landed solidly on the ground and began to move into the crowd with Hemlock. It was a harder pursuit now, but their practiced eyes were still able to track their quarry. "An idealistic answer, too," Safreon added.
"Meaning what?" Hemlock asked with a sidelong glance toward him as she slipped between two farmers.
"Meaning that you should remember these ideals once you gain the power that you seek," Safreon responded with undisguised gravity.
"Of course I will," she responded.
"Of course, indeed," he replied. "It’s sometimes harder to do that than you would think."
Hemlock chose not to respond. He was right, in a sense. She did seek power and made no pretense with Safreon to pretend otherwise.
Ahead, the Thief darted into an alleyway; the Elite followed in short order.
Safreon and Hemlock knew the area well. The Badger Guild, a Thieves Guild of some notoriety, operated from here. They were mostly common cutpurses, but their numbers and their control of the marketplace district made them powerful. It was rare that one saw such a high level of ability as they had seen from this man that they now tracked. That he was apparently a Badger was a surprise to both of them.
"He must be high in their Guild," whispered Safreon as they approached the alley. "He’ll be bold and careless at first, but beware, Hemlock. Once he recognizes us, he’ll be very dangerous."
Safreon walked past the alley discreetly and cast a glance down its length. When he passed the alley he quickly stopped and hugged the wall. Hemlock did the same on her side of the alley.
They both knew that a Badger lookout would have spotted them by now. Now it was a matter of time and communication.
"How quickly will they get word to their people and respond in force?" Hemlock wondered.
Hemlock and Safreon had moved against Badger members before, but in those instances they had been more junior members, and the Guild had decided to look the other way rather than confront Safreon. Hemlock was concerned that this time might be different.
Without warning, Hemlock had a vision. She imagined a great Black Dragon rising from inside a Mountain, its wings beating strongly and lifting it up into the heavens. The vision passed as quickly as it had come.
Safreon hissed at her to get her attention.
Still surprised and bemused by the vision, Hemlock followed him into the alley at a relaxed pace.
The alley was well traveled with layer upon layer of footprints in the sandy ground. Old barrels, bottles, furniture fragments and other debris were strewn about, giving it an unkempt appearance. Makeshift sheds rose one and sometimes two stories toward the three story rooftops above.
Safreon stopped at a doorway and without warning, kicked it in.
Both of them flowed into the building, entering a medium-sized chamber with once fine wood wainscoting, which was now faded and chipped from wear and tear.
"What, now just you wait! This is Badger territory!" exclaimed a young and dirty cutpurse. He had evidently had been aware of their approach because his saber was drawn as they entered the room. He was dressed in a dirty tan cloak with gray pants and wore a dark hood over his head which shadowed his features. The youth took two steps forward and his footfalls resulted in dull creaks from the old wooden floor beneath the faded carpet.
Safreon made a gesture of caution and grunted more than spoke a query in response, "The woman?"
The youth just smiled and then charged with what he intended to be a bold attack.
Safreon parried the boy’s downward thrust with his quickly drawn short sword and then stabbed the thief in the solar plexus as he embraced him and took the boy’s charge.
Safreon threw the body down onto the carpet and muttered an epithet under his breath as Hemlock moved to a door across the room.
She listened and heard guttural and reveling voices within. She nodded to Safreon, who was watching for her reaction. He approached behind her and kicked the door in.
Hemlock was through the opening first and burst into another fine, but similarly decayed room. It was a three story entry hall with a marble floor and a broken sweeping staircase. Rope ladders hung from an upper banister to compensate for the stair. Burn marks were in evidence on the stairs, walls and floor. Evidently some conflict had occurred here at one time or another.
The female citizen whom Hemlock and Safreon had been seeking was bound at the wrists from a chain that hung from the ceiling three floors above. She was partially unclothed and still did not struggle.
Three men surrounded her, wearing opulent clothes. One stepped forward, looking familiar in a black robe, although the hood was down now and the robe worn open.
Evidently, this was the man that they had followed. The open robe revealed that the man wore an ostentatious outfit underneath: he had a gray jacket on with burgundy lapels which were accented with golden buttons. The jacket and the fine white shirt underneath were unbuttoned almost down to the man’s midsection, showing his chiseled abdomen. The abdominal muscles were tinged with a light gray hair, however; he was clearly advanced well into middle age. His face had the look of nobility, but was marred by several scars. He wore a flamboyant, waxed mustache which was turned up at the tips. Thigh-high leather boots and a blue sash buckled with a gold accent completed his appearance, which displayed all of the braggadocio that Hemlock would have expected from a Thieves Guild member.
"Safreon, is that you?" the mustachioed man in the robe said with a swagger. The scent of rum was in the air.
Before Safreon could answer, the man noticed the body of the young cutpurse that Safreon had slain in the adjacent room. His features hardened.
The man glanced back at Safreon. "Why, you’ve killed my nephew. He was a fine boy – but headstrong. I can see his foolishness cost him dearly in the end. Still, it was not a just end for him, for he was defending Badger territory." He stressed the word Badger with spittle flying out of his mouth in anger.
Hemlock fanned out into the room. The other two men eyed her with a mixture of carnal lust and bloodlust.
Safreon spoke, "Greybreech, you just openly kidnapped a Citizen in the market. I had to intervene."
The man had regained a calm composure, but Safreon’s statement enraged him again. "This …wench is the daughter of a man that owes me and refuses to pay. Thus I am taking my payment in other ways." At this the other two men laughed harshly.
Safreon responded, "Release her into my custody. I’ll return her to the man and I’ll see that you get your money."
"Oh no, it’s gone beyond that here already," the man responded. "You’ve killed Herbert and that must be answered for. Aye, answered in blood."
"Graybreech, I will lay gold down against his life. It is all I can do now. He charged me foolishly. Listen to reason," pleaded Safreon.
Hemlock noticed that a large chest lay open behind the two ruffians. Inside it she saw the glint of gold.
"I think she’s seen our baubles," said one of the ruffians, noticing Hemlock’s stare.
"Do you see that, Safreon?" replied Graybreech angrily, po
inting at the chest. "Does it look like I need your gold against Herbert’s life?" Graybreech drew his rapier and the ruffians followed suit.
"Don’t be a fool, Graybreech!" hissed Safreon.
"What is this?" screeched Graybreech. "Does the mighty Safreon and his girl think they can best me and my two best men? Has your head finally gotten too big? You’ve been a thorn in my side for years now. I’ll be glad to finally be rid of ya."
Graybreech began to circle Safreon and the two men fanned out and approached Hemlock.
"That’s no ordinary girl," warned Safreon.
"We’ll see," replied Graybreech, with a thrust of his rapier.
Safreon grunted and dodged the attack and then another, seeming somewhat overmatched against the quick Graybreech and his thrusting rapier.
Hemlock dodged two thrusts from her assailants and then parried another with her saber. These thieves, too, were accomplished fighters–among the best that Hemlock had ever faced.
As they fought her, she began to feel something growing within her. She struggled against it at first, trying to keep her mind focused on the nuances of the combat. She recalled her vision and she let her mind relax just for a moment, to see what this force or rhythm was that seemed to be overcoming her.
The two men were recovering from savage thrusts that had left them unbalanced. Hemlock instinctively began to draw her saber into her torso in a spinning motion, but her mind became alarmed at the exotic move, and she cut the motion short.
One of the men thrust in return and she ducked a split second too late and took a flesh wound on her back as a result. She cried out in pain.
"Hemlock!" cried Safreon as he fought on the defensive against Graybreech.
Hemlock recovered her composure as the men circled her again, making catcalls. Again she attempted to rest her mind and let her instincts take over.
The two men thrust again in unison and this time she didn’t hesitate when the strange sensation overcame her and her reflexes took over. Her body tensed and jumped to the side while her arm swung in a wide arc and her saber crashed into the forehead of one of her attackers, rendering his features inhuman and reducing him to a gurgling pile on the floor.
As the other man reacted with a moment of shock, Hemlock threw herself along the floor and sliced the man’s thigh, sending him heavily to the floor where she dispatched him without hesitation.
Graybreech seemed to be tiring as Hemlock saw him take stock of the situation.
"Seems like your whelp has bested my men and now I am bested," Graybreech stated while pressing his attack with a wild vigor.
"Aye," responded Safreon as he leapt a low thrust by Graybreech and delivered a heavy blow directly to the Thief’s face.
Graybreech crumpled to the floor and was motionless. He appeared to still live, however.
"What should we do with him?" asked Hemlock as she looked around the room for signs of reinforcements.
"He won’t trouble us for several hours," said Safreon. "It’s best to leave him alive. He’s more sensible than most Thieves and likely better to deal with than his replacement would be, despite this altercation."
"What of the gold?" Hemlock asked boldly.
"Aye, what of the gold?" responded Safreon. "We have to have money to survive–I recognize that. This is an opportunity to fill our coffers and we should probably take advantage."
They approached the chest. Hemlock drew in a sharp breath, there had to be thousands of gold pieces in there!
"This is more money than an Elite would have!" cried Hemlock.
Safreon shushed her as the Elite Woman who had been kidnapped began to stir and struggle against the chains.
"Fill your purses while I tend to her," Safreon instructed.
Hemlock began to greedily do just that as Safreon picked the lock on the shackles that held the Woman. She was in shock, but seemed coherent enough to move to safety.
There was an attempt to open the front door of the House then, followed by cries and a pounding at the door when the lock held.
"Quickly, we’ll exit the way we came," cried Safreon, guiding the Woman through the door.
Once they got inside, Safreon dragged a desk in front of the door to the entry hall to bar it. He motioned for Hemlock to guard the outside door.
"Stay here!" commanded Safreon and the dazed Citizen seemed to understand.
Hemlock and Safreon stepped out into the alley, tensed and expecting an ambush.
The entire alley was full of thieves. Easily two score of them.
Knives and swords were drawn then, and the afternoon Sun caught their many reflections. The menace in the air was palpable. These wretched souls, now assembled, seemed to exist in some union of malice and harmful intent. They closed in on the pair slowly, with some taking to nearby rooftops, some climbing walls, some retreating to the shadows, and some moving forward in small, agile motions.
Hemlock retreated a step into the doorway and the aggressors seemed to become emboldened at that movement. But in a flash she returned, and her purpose became clear. She had retrieved the saber from the fallen youth and now held it in her right hand in addition to her own in her left. The lesser among the thieves snickered and jeered in response. The greater and wiser took pause, but the advance continued nonetheless.
And then the attack started, furiously, like the crash of a wave against the rocks. First, many daggers were thrown. Hemlock deflected them all with her sabers while Safreon deflected several, dodged several more, but took one dagger in his left arm.
Next came a wave of thrusting rapiers from all heights and angles. Safreon bore this assault first, and seemed to move like a tiger from victim to victim as he parried attacks, clove limbs and still managed to grapple and throw with his wounded left arm.
When Hemlock entered the fray next, it was like a shockwave hit the thieves. Letting her mind rest like she had in the house fight, she tore through their ranks in a perfectly orchestrated ballet of twin steel-wielding death.
Her strikes were precisely timed and each motion was effortlessly predetermined. Throats, shoulders, eye sockets, groins–all were rent in equal measure by her twin blades, which moved at a speed that was almost indiscernible. Soon the cheap Thieves' saber had broken at a point halfway down the blade, but it slowed Hemlock little. The alley soon resembled some twisted and macabre fountain show as arterial wounds filled the thoroughfare with crimson sprays.
After a time, the remaining thieves had the good sense to run away. Judging from the dead, Hemlock concluded the survivors were reduced to one tenth of their original numbers.
Safreon spit a piece of flesh out of his mouth onto the sandy ground as he and Hemlock stood wiping the carnage of the fight from their bodies and clothes. Hemlock had to move carefully among the hewn limbs and pools of blood that surrounded her.
The Citizen who had been rescued emerged from the house, fresh vomit in the corners of her mouth. The scene was apparently too much for her and once she cleared the alley, she stumbled into the crowd in shock as many around her marked her bloody footprints and pointed to the alley.
"We must be gone now," Safreon said.
Hemlock did not answer but leapt up onto the low roof of a shed nearby. Safreon joined her and soon they regained the rooftops and made their way away from the carnage with shouts and voices behind them marking the discovery of the battlefield.
They found an old barrel filled with rain water on one of the roofs and cleansed themselves. Sometime later, they regained their original perch on the old Church roof.
They divided the gold and jewels that Hemlock had been able to carry between them. Hemlock was giddy but she tried to contain herself for Safreon's sake.
She knew that she had never been tested against that many foes. Now she knew more about herself, and the revelation seemed to be that she had no equal in the Warrens except for Safreon. In fact, some twenty had stood against her and she had bested them all with mi
nimal effort. And now she had money: more money than she had ever seen.
Safreon began a toneless explanation. "This will have to hold you over for quite a while. Our paydays do not come often. Be judicious. Give alms to the poor. Get yourself a secluded flat. Your comings and goings should be your own business and no other’s. Do not indulge in finery–the people will not respect that. All will know what you have done but you must never acknowledge it. Mark these words or our association will end."
Hemlock turned to make some small merriment, but Safreon was leaving. She watched him move away across the adjacent roof for a time and considered his words, but the gold in her pocket excited her mind with many times the force with which it weighed down her pockets.
With an air of barely contained jubilation, she descended to the market to buy food for her and her sister. Tonight they would eat well. Safreon would have to understand that small gesture for the sake of her family.