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. . . do all you can to quietly resist her. -Delia Violet
Asp’s pen rasped across what seemed to her to be the last piece of paper that could possibly exist in the wide world, sweeping the final “t” down and around in an elegant if simple flourish. She blew on the ink to dry it and set it aside on a large stack of functionally identical ones and looked to the side, where she saw yet another piece of paper.
I really hope that the boys over at The Four Hammers deliver on that press. Otherwise, my hand is gonna fall off and shrivel up.
She set her jaw and began again:
Lo’Torrin citizens! A tale too common: . . .
She took a bite of elven pastry and tried to ignore the fact that it was so airy it scarcely made her feel full, scribbling away with diligence and now-practiced expertise.
If I live to be a thousand, I’ll still be able to recite this thing. And nothing makes you doubt your choice of words more than having to read it a million billion times. “But she is not a common thug”? Hot garbage.
She rolled her eyes at herself from the night before.
But it will get the job done. I hope, anyway.
A dozen more pamphlets and the last few bites of the pastry later, the stack of blank paper ran out, and she cradled her sore left wrist.
Showtime, I suppose.
Asp gathered the finished pamphlets, which seemed woefully small given the amount of time she’d spent toiling over them, and placed them delicately into her bag. She checked herself in her mirror–that’s Delia, alright–and swept downstairs through the bustle of the main room of the inn. It was busier than it had been in previous days, so instead of checking in with the innkeeper, Madge, she hurried outside and into the heart of the slums.
Not far from the inn, there was a curious intersection where three sizable roads and a minor causeway met. For a merchant’s purposes, it was useless–too chaotic to allow a passerby comfortable space and time for the duration of a sale. But for Delia, it was perfect; she had no transaction to complete. She simply needed to stuff the pamphlets into hands as people walked past, and her job was done. She stood as close to the center of this massive intersection as foot traffic would allow and began to cry out.
“Special edition! Breaking news! Come here the tale of the scourge of the slums!”
A few curious young elves made their way over, seeming to expect Asp to stop and explain her news to them, and they grew even more curious when she jammed pamphlets into their hands, nodding to them, and kept shouting. Shrugging, they allowed themselves to be carried away in the current of the foot traffic, their eyes glued to the papers she’d given them. Seeing their example, more people approached her for pamphlets of their own. In the space of a few minutes, she had dispensed several dozen of her carefully-scribed messages.
This is going better than I thought. I could be done in the space of an hour.
She kept up her call and gave out more of the pamphlets, as fast as her hands could move. All sorts of people–elven tailors, dwarven trappers, newtkin tinkers, youths of all walks of life–took her pamphlets and were swept away. Asp was doing an elaborate dance: a few steps this way to avoid the east-west traffic, a little scurry backwards as the northwest-southeast current pushed on, a twirl to the side as the northeast-southwest tide came in. She felt graceful in form and clever of mind as people stared more at the message on the pamphlets than where they were going, and she took a special pride when absorbed readers bumped into one another as they walked.
I’m at the top of my game, she thought as she performed her little jig around the intersection. No one can stop me now. Not even Madris.
A new push of travelers swept in from the road to her left. She grabbed another stack of pamphlets and prepared to hand them to the approaching pair of dwarves headed right toward her. But something suddenly stopped her short.
They look unhappy. Is this their territory or something? Her gaze scanned downward, and her throat tightened. The dwarves both held pamphlets in their hands, crunched tightly in broad fists.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded one of the dwarves, tugging angrily on his beard.
Asp smiled weakly. “Just spreading word.”
The other dwarf adjusted her spiked helmet and frowned. “And what word is that?”
“The word of, um . . .” Asp glanced down for just long enough to be jostled by passersby. She righted her footing and met their gaze. “What’s going on around here.”
“I’ve read your news a half dozen times,” said the bearded dwarf. “I see no message here. Just a bunch of vague insinuations.”
“Exactly,” said his companion. “If we were to understand this, we would need to already know what you’re talking about.”
Asp swallowed hard and tried to smile. “You mean you don’t know about her?”
The dwarven man scowled and looked at the road beneath them. The people walking through the intersection parted around him, and Asp found herself envious of his imposing stature even as it menaced her. She was small enough that she’d had to continue dancing around people as the dwarves lectured her.
“About who?” he demanded.
Asp dodged a newtkin barreling through the intersection. “Madris,” she half-whispered, trying to only be heard by the dwarves.
The dwarven woman slapped her forehead, and the man let out a low moan, clutching his copy of the pamphlet between them. “And you think this is how to go about things?”
The other dwarf shook her head. “Direct. You need to be direct, kid. Indirect is for politicians and con artists.”
“But of course you repeat yourself,” growled the bearded dwarf.
“Direct,” repeated Asp. “I’ll be direct next time. Sorry about that.”
The dwarves glanced at each other and shrugged in unison. “Where are you from, anyway? Fresh off the boat, by the looks of it,” said the helmeted dwarf.
“Um, originally or most recently?” asked Asp politely.
“Originally,” said the man.
“Most recently,” said the woman at the same time.
Asp laughed lightly. “Eunax originally,” she said, inclining her head towards the man. “Thistlewade. But the Myriad most recently,” she said, turning to the woman. “Despair.”
Both dwarves nodded, the bearded one’s lip slightly upturned. “Watch yourself around here,” he said. “The law is more flexible around the elven parts of Afira. Something like what you’re doing could backfire pretty badly.”
Asp withheld a smile. “That’s why I was being indirect.”
The dwarves rolled their eyes. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” said the woman. They turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Damn. I expected pushback from the guards, but not average people. I guess I do have a lot to learn.
Asp half-heartedly distributed a few more pamphlets, but the fire in her belly had been put out.
I’ll finish this stack and head back to the inn for now, she decided. Then I can regroup and figure out something new.
A few more people took pamphlets–a tall elven teenager, a few slightkin men still dressed for a hunting expedition, a newtkin with a long cape–and Asp held only one more pamphlet in her hand. A hearty newtkin woman dressed in tatters approached and spotted Asp, altered her course, and stood before her. Asp handed the woman her final pamphlet for the morning.
“Thanks,” said the woman in a heavy newtkin accent. She planted her feet and read through the text Asp had written so many copies of. Asp lifted a foot to leave the intersection, but the light in the woman’s eyes which scanned back and forth kept her from moving. A moment later, the newtkin woman looked at her, her eyes tinged by a fierceness that frightened Asp.
Great. I’m gonna get yelled at again. Yet another outstanding failure, and it’s not even noon. Here it comes.
“You mean Madris,” said the woman. “Right?”
Asp blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah.”
The newtkin nodded knowingly. “She got me evicted a few weeks ago. Now all I have to my name are the clothes on my back, which as you can see aren’t much.”
Asp’s shoulders fell. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”
“You hear about the Hammer’s Promise?” The fierceness hadn’t left the woman’s eyes–in fact, it burned brighter.
“Can’t say I have.” Asp corrected her body language to be more easy.
“It’s a little shop on the edge of the slums. They’re gonna be holding a meeting soon. I’m headed there myself in a bit. Sort of a community organization thing.” The newtkin gestured down the east road. “You might meet some like-minded folks there if you go.”
“Well thanks,” said Asp, no effort required to sound genuine. “Could you, um–could you use some help?”
The newtkin looked curious. “Help?”
Asp reached into her coinpurse and withdrew a handful of caps and helms. “You know, help? I don’t mean to offend.”
The newtkin laughed gently. “I’ll be okay, but thanks.” She held up the pamphlet. “This is good. It’s gonna piss her off something fierce when she hears about it, but it’s very good. Putting your name on it is bolder than a sunset at sea. You must be braver than you look.”
Asp laughed, a touch of nervousness sharpening its edge. “Or dumber than a rock in a bog.”
The newtkin woman laughed back, much harder than Asp had. “Not much difference between the two. Good luck out there.”
“You too,” said Asp. “I’m Delia.” She held out a hand.
The newtkin smiled and shook Asp’s hand gently, as a noble does in court. “Gabriella. Hope to see you at the meeting.” Gabriella moved back into the intersection’s current and glided away towards the southeast.
The Hammer’s Promise. Sounds like a plan. Especially since I don’t have any other plans in the slightest.
Asp nodded to herself and allowed the intersection’s tide to push her eastward.
—
The road east grew wider and wider until the thoroughfare was broad enough to allow for a bit of breathing room, and Asp studied the signs over the buildings carefully. A Clipped Vine. The Rising Star. Glancing Rain. Her slow pace was meant to allow her time to see each name clearly, and travelers squeezed past her.
They know where they’re going. I don’t. Don’t rush. Don’t wanna miss it.
The faces of passing people occasionally lingered on her as though she were a puzzle, but most people seemed to regard her as unimportant. That suited her fine. She knew that a strangely-dressed slightkin was an odd sight in even the diverse port city, but then, she’d noticed plenty of other slightkin in her few days here in town. Like them, she was as far from home as could be, but unlike them, she hadn’t adopted elven-style clothing to try to blend in.
Maybe I should pick up a new outfit for when I need to be just a face in the crowd. Being recognized after that article could be a major drawback.
“Delia!”
Asp’s eyes darted around to find the source of her name. They settled on a strong elf carrying a massive shield just behind her.
“Celeon!” she cried.
He chuckled. “How are ya?”
“Oh, you know, causing trouble.”
He nodded, eyebrows raised. “I saw the pamphlet. Thanks to you, I’m famous now.”
She smiled back devilishly. “You weren’t already?”
He laughed heartily. “Well, before I was a nameless elf. Now, I’m ‘an elven man who shall remain unnamed.’ It’s a big step up.”
They laughed together, and Asp patted her bag. “You happen to know where The Hammer’s Promise is?”
“Headed there myself, actually,” he said, readjusting his shield. “One more block up on the right.”
“Thanks,” said Asp. “I didn’t want to miss it.”
“What business do you have there?”
“I was told there’s a community meeting there. I was hoping to find a new story.”
He sighed. “Nasty business today, I fear. But fear lives in the mind, and I try to live in the real world.”
She nodded, shoulders tense. “The real world is plenty fearsome. No reason to add to it.”
Celeon slowed in front of a wide brick building. Inside was a crowd of people of all stripes with a space in the middle. He bowed and gestured inside. “After you, Miss Violet.”
Asp smiled and offered a courtly curtsy before sweeping under the large sign overhead: The Hammer’s Promise. Celeon followed behind her.
Asp stood at the edge of the crowd and surveyed the faces. Tension. Irritation. Contempt. These were concerned citizens if ever she had seen them.
This is the perfect place for the pamphlets. Once the meeting is over, I’ll get as many passed out as I can.
Asp turned to Celeon. “Does this group have a name?” she asked.
Before he could answer, a muscular elven man stepped to the center of the room. “Welcome, everyone,” he said in a voice much quieter than she had expected. But then, the room had been quiet before he appeared, and it was silent by the time he spoke. Every eye was turned to him.
“As many of you know, we have plenty of things to talk about today,” he said, his voice tired.
“As fucking usual,” muttered someone at the back of the room.
“Yes, as usual,” repeated the man. “But before we get into the full list, we have something I think needs immediate attention. In the last two months, we’ve been getting a lot of similar reports. It’s the kind of thing that hurts my heart to hear about once, but we’re talking about more than half a dozen cases at this point.” He glanced around the room as if to ensure everyone was paying attention. “Missing kids. At first, it was hard to tell if they were connected or just kids not coming home when expected. But at this point, I’m willing to make the call. We have a rash of disappearances on our hands, and I need some help investigating. I have a bit of information–not enough to really do much with, so this is about gathering information right now. I won’t lie to you. You know that in this neighborhood, asking questions can be dangerous. But we have to do something. Would anybody be willing to look around, talk to some people?”
The room was even more silent now.
“Anybody?” repeated the man.
“I’ll do it,” said a small voice.
Asp looked around to see the source of the voice, and she was surprised when she saw dozens of pairs of eyes looking at her curiously. She realized in that moment that the voice was hers.
The man smiled weakly. “Thank you, uh, miss . . . ?”
“Violet,” she said quickly. “Delia Violet.”
A few whispers shot across the room, too quietly to make out but loudly enough to be distinguishable as whispers.
“The writer, I presume?” asked the man, a real smile on his face now.
Asp smiled back nervously and nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “Anybody else?”
“I will help.” An ornately-armored elf raised a hand firmly into the air.
Asp had thought disbelief had accompanied her volunteering, but it had been nothing compared to what came with the elf’s statement.
“Who’s he?” Asp whispered nearly silently to Celeon.
“Sasharaan,” whispered Celeon. There was something heavy in his tone, something like respect mingled with confusion.
Asp waited for clarification, but none came. Everyone simply stared at Sasharaan as though they were a deity among mortals.
“Thank you, Honorable Sasharaan,” said the man running the meeting, his eyes on the floor.
Sasharaan nodded silently, eyes closed in a placid look that recalled a still sea.
“Before we move on, is there anyone else who’d be willing to look around? I don’t know how necessary they’ll be,” he said, half-bowing in Sasharaan’s direction, “but I don’t want to count anyone out.”
The room was again silent, and Asp noted that all eyes were on the mysterious armored elf.
The sound of shuffling on floorboards came from the back of the room, and people parted to allow an odd-looking dwarf with a complicated set of goggles and a massive clanking leather bag to join the man at the center of the room. A metal machine of sorts, shaped like a person with cartoonish features, shuffled behind him.
“Is there more need,” half-asked the dwarf in a deep, rumbling monotone.
“Well,” muttered the man before him, “for a task like this, it’s hard to say, but–”
“The children need more people than this,” said the dwarf, unclear whether this was a question or a statement.
“It certainly can’t hurt,” said the man running the meeting.
“Does Steel-Eyes’ effort help,” said the dwarf, a question’s tone still hiding somewhere in his words.
The man at the center of the room paused for a moment, then shrugged slightly to himself. “Yes, please, if you would be willing to help, then yes.”
The dwarf eyed the man closely as though he were diagnosing a problem. An uncomfortably long moment passed. The dwarf turned and looked to the mechanical figure beside him, squinted his eyes, and turned back to the man.
“Steel-Eyes will help.”
“Uh, thank you, Mr. Steel-Eyes . . . ?” stammered the man at the center of the room. He appeared to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a moment.
The dwarf appeared to nod, though the gesture was so faint and vague that Asp wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t simply fidgeting. But on second thought, he did not seem like the type to fidget.
The man at the center nodded back uncertainly. “Why don’t you three step over here and talk to Delethir. She’ll fill you in on what we know.”
An elderly elven woman waved and stepped into a back room, and Asp followed her as quickly as possible. Sasharaan and Steel-Eyes soon joined them.
From the other room, the man continued: “I believe we also must discuss the rash of thefts targeted at healing clinics. There have been a number . . .”
“Thank you,” said Delethir, pushing a strand of wispy white hair from her face. “Let’s get down to business.”
“Yes, business,” repeated Steel-Eyes.
Delethir looked back at the dwarf for a moment, then nodded to herself. “Yes, business indeed. There have been seven children reported missing. First was Shelby Hogpen, a little slightkin girl. She’s ten. This was five weeks ago, give or take. She’s the only one who we know for sure was abducted–a hooded figure snatched her and ran off. Happened in broad daylight. She had–has–long chestnut hair, and she was carrying a little blue cloth bag at the time.”
Asp pulled out a notebook and began scribbling down Delethir’s words. Shelby Hogpen, chestnut hair, five weeks, hooded figure.
Delethir continued. “Then Mondrier Merrytenk, a dwarf lad about a month back. He has black hair and an early goatee, even by dwarven standards. Fifteen years old. After that, it gets fuzzier. A newtkin named Hudbit Gearstone, ten, almost greenish blond hair. Big mole on his forehead. He was playing with some friends the last time he was seen.”
Sasharaan nodded sadly. Steel-Eyes simply stared at Delethir as though she was discussing a record of her most recent breakfasts.
“Carly Erdgen, little human girl. Her parents say she just turned ten. She went to the bodega to get some food for her siblings–she’s the oldest of seven–and she never came back. Cute little pixie cut, very spunky. There’s another human boy went missing around the same time, Harrison Rosencrantz, only seven years old. Bright red hair, kind of shy. He was playing with friends and ran off towards the market last anyone saw him.”
Asp kept writing, glancing up at Delethir every so often as if to say that she was still listening. Delethir, though, seemed to be almost in a trance. There was a pained look on her face that said she was hurting to go back through the details.
“There’s also a slightkin, Olivia Button, raven black hair down just past her shoulders. We’re not entirely sure how long she’s been missing, unfortunately. She’s only five.” She paused and collected herself. “And last night, a newtkin couple reported their son missing. Parcel Drivernut, eight years old. He’s got sandy blond hair, wears big round glasses. He was confirmed to be on his way home from school, but he never got home.” Delethir stopped and sighed.
“That’s seven,” said Asp, looking up from her pad. “What about Malek? Little elven boy? Maybe four or five?”
Delethir shrugged and looked down. “I know the information is woefully incomplete. As you see, we probably don’t even know the full extent of it. But the families of the children I told you about are here at the meeting. You can ask them more questions. Just be gentle with them.” She glanced at Steel-Eyes, then at Asp. “Please find them. Our community can’t take much more of this.”
“Of course,” replied Sasharaan. “We will find them if we can.”
“Thank you, Sasharaan,” said Delethir with a bow. “We are indebted to you.”
Who is this person? Asp thought. How did I get treatment like them?
Delethir stepped toward the front room with the crowd. “I need to go check in. The meeting is wrapping up in a second. I’m sure you need to plan, and you can interview the families in a moment.” She nodded toward Sasharaan again and returned to the other room.
“Who are you,” said Steel-Eyes. He was staring at Asp.
“I’m a reporter,” she said, trying to not be unnerved by the strange dwarf.
“What reports do you make,” he half-asked.
“I spread news of social issues,” she said, reaching into her bag and producing a pamphlet. She held it out to him. “Like this.”
Steel-Eyes didn’t budge. He didn’t speak. Eventually, she lowered the pamphlet and replaced it in her bag.
“The disappearance with a witness sounds promising,” said Sasharaan quietly. “At least, the most promising of the available options.”
“Agreed,” said Asp. “I mean, that girl’s been missing the longest, so there’s drawbacks too, but a witness is the closest thing we have to an actual lead.”
“We speak to the witness,” said Steel-Eyes, and he headed back into the main room.
Asp turned to Sasharaan, prepared to smile and shrug at Steel-Eyes’ demeanor, but Sasharaan simply followed Steel-Eyes. So Asp shrugged to herself and followed behind the two of them.
“. . . and I thank you all for coming. I know progress is slow, and your patience is appreciated. Be watchful, and remember there’s power in numbers.” The man leading the meeting half-bowed and stepped away to speak in hushed tones with Delethir. Steel-Eyes, Sasharaan, and Asp walked into the center of the room where the man had just been speaking, and he approached them with a half smiling, half placid look. “Thank you again,” he said, once more bowing to Sasharaan. “How can I help?”
“The parents of Shelby Hogpen,” said Sasharaan. “May we speak to them?”
“Certainly,” said the man. He scanned the room and spotted something, then led the group of would-be detectives to a tired-looking pair of slightkin. “Mr. and Mrs. Hogpen, would you be willing to answer some questions?”
Mrs. Hogpen nodded and fixed her gaze on Asp. Mr. Hogpen sighed. “What can we tell you?” he asked.
“You witnessed this yourself?” asked Sasharaan, their voice quiet.
“Not personally,” said Mr. Hogpen. “An elven woman saw it. It took us a week to find out anyone had seen it at all.”
“We have a description of Shelby,” said Asp as gently as she could manage. “Ten years old, long chestnut hair, had a bag with her. Taken on her way to school. What else can you tell us?”
The slightkin couple looked at each other. “I’m not sure what else to say that would matter,” said Mr. Hogpen.
“She has big green eyes,” Mrs. Hogpen said quietly. “She likes to play hopscotch. She’s a quiet girl–not a lot of friends, really. She’s always been happier in her imagination than with people.”
A lot like me as a kid, thought Asp. And somehow worse luck. At least her parents seem to care about her.
“That’s all very helpful,” said Asp, nodding sweetly at Mrs. Hogpen.
“How is it helpful,” monotoned Steel-Eyes.
Asp turned and glared at the dwarf, then smiled warmly at the couple. “It is, don’t worry. We’ll find her.”
“Perhaps we can speak to the witness,” said Sasharaan, looking around.
“Of course,” mumbled the man who’d led the meeting. “Follow me.” He turned and cut through the crowd towards the back of the building near the rear room. Sasharaan and Steel-Eyes followed.
“Thank you for your help,” said Asp, putting a small smile on her face as though to pass it to the couple. They nodded.
“Good luck,” said Mrs. Hogpen. “Please find our girl.”
“I promise,” said Asp. She allowed her eyes to meet the couples’ for a long moment, then nodded and scurried after her new companions.
When she caught up to them, the man who’d run the meeting was introducing Sasharaan and Steel-Eyes to an adolescent elven woman.
“This is Maylin Elvyre, your witness,” he said. “Maylin, please answer any questions you can.”
“Of course,” said Maylin as the man stepped away. “What can I do for you?”
“The abduction,” muttered Steel-Eyes.
Maylin looked unsure of herself but nodded. “Yes, of course. What do you wish to know?”
“What did the kidnapper look like?” asked Sasharaan.
“They were wearing a cloak with a hood on it,” she replied. “I couldn’t really identify them at all.”
Asp raised her inkpen over her notebook and met Maylin’s eyes. “Were they tall, short, average? Did they look muscular or frail? Did they move quickly or slowly?”
Maylin looked excited for a moment. “Kinda average build,” she said, “and fairly quick. It all happened so quick. But they were tall. Very tall. Like, taller than human tall.”
Asp scribbled in her notebook a bit. “What was Shelby doing when she was grabbed?” she asked.
“Just kinda walking,” explained Maylin. “Like, just walking down the road. Nothing special.”
“What did you think at the time?” asked Sasharaan.
Maylin looked up, thinking back. “Uh, I mean, like, we were at the spot where the slightkin neighborhood becomes the dwarven neighborhood, and there were a lot of people around, and the hooded person–they just came out of nowhere and scooped up Shelby and ran like mad. It happened so fast that no one there really knew what to do. It was over before anyone could react. I kinda assumed it was a robbery.”
“You thought they were robbing a child,” stated Steel-Eyes.
Maylin flinched as it struck. “I mean, kinda? Like, she had that nice bag.”
Sasharaan furrowed their brow and tilted their head to the side. “Tell us more about this bag.”
“It was nice, but not like ‘kidnap a child’ nice,” said Maylin. “I mean, it was uncharacteristically nice for that neighborhood, for sure. It looked like it was nice canvas, and it had a really nice lily design embroidered onto it. Like, I’ve thought a lot about it since, and it seemed like it was probably a family heirloom or something. But kidnap a kid for it? You’d have to be so hard up for money to try to fence a bag, nice or no.”
“Do you remember what direction they ran off in?” asked Asp as she doodled a drawing of the bag in her notepad.
“North,” said Maylin. “Not on the northeast road, I don’t mean. I mean, north. Right off the road. They had to be headed for the north docks. You know, like a shortcut.”
“The north docks,” repeated Sasharaan, an even more faraway look in their eyes than normal.
“Anything else,” said Steel-Eyes.
Maylin stared at the floor for a moment. “Not really, no. It happened so fast I really can’t remember anything else. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Thank you, Maylin,” said Asp. “We appreciate your help. This is going to make a difference.”
“I hope so,” said Maylin. She bowed to Sasharaan and melted into the crowd.
“North we go?” suggested Asp.
“I suppose we do,” said Sasharaan.
“Why did you say that will make a difference,” said Steel-Eyes, his eyes on Asp.
“It might,” she replied.
“You said ‘will,’” he shot back.
Asp began formulating a reply, then simply shrugged. “She needed to hear that it will.”
Steel-Eyes grunted but said nothing else.
“I know the way north,” said Sasharaan, stepping towards the exit.
Steel-Eyes, his metal companion, and Asp followed behind. On their way out, Asp turned and looked back into the room at the collected people there.
These are desperate people. So desperate they’re trusting me to save their kids. I can’t let them down.
Celeon caught her eye. He smiled at her, a smile that said he trusted her too. She returned his smile, though she didn’t quite feel she had earned his, and followed her strange new companions out into the city.
—
The three unlikely companions headed toward the place where the slightkin slums and the dwarven slums met. Along the way, people eyed Steel-Eyes and his equally strange assistant warily–not with fear, but with uncertainty–and looked on Sasharaan with wonder. There was something about the elf that confused her. They seemed so . . . modest. Humble. Unremarkable, almost, but still deeply special in some hard to place way. Occasionally, people bowed to them, and others simply averted their eyes.
“So, um, Sasharaan,” started Asp.
“I suppose you need not call me by my full title,” said the elf quietly. “Sash will do.”
“Okay then, Sash,” continued Asp. “What is it you do?”
Sash let out a small laugh that surprised her. It was gentle and soothing. “I’m the steward of an archipelago past the docks.”
“Oh,” said Asp. “You’re important here, then.”
“I suppose,” they replied. “I do something that matters a great deal to some people.”
“Does it matter to you,” muttered Steel-Eyes.
Sash blinked a few times and smiled. “I would say it does.” They pointed down a barely-beaten dirt path off the main road.
Asp glanced at the sun and oriented herself. Late morning, so that’s north. Here we go.
The trio walked quietly down the path, the mechanical figure clanking between steps and causing a slight sound of earth compressing underfoot. They walked without speaking.
Not the most talkative companions I’ve had. But not the hardest to be around, either.
The sounds of the city and of people calling out slowly materialized ahead of them. A moment later, the dirt path led into a wide alleyway between two three-story buildings. Just as they were about to draw even with the cobblestone road ahead, five dwarves stepped from the road into their path. They looked to be young, judging from the development of beards at their throats. Each was armed with a weighted club or a mid-length blade.
“Mornin’,” said the apparently oldest dwarf, a threatening grin on his face.
Steel-Eyes didn’t seem to register the group of dwarves any more than he registered the buildings they stood between, and Sash simply stared back at the dwarf who had spoken with a placid look on their face.
“Morning!” chirped Asp. “Fine day, isn’t it?”
The dwarves didn’t seem to hear her, or at least, didn’t seem interested in answering her.
“We’re looking for a person, very tall, who goes about in a big hooded cloak,” continued Asp as if nothing were wrong. “You happen to know who I’m talking about?”
The three oldest dwarves donned the same expression: choosing to have nothing to say, no reaction, but slightly betraying that they in fact did have something to say. The oldest one adopted a half-snarl for a moment, but then the three of them turned wordlessly and walked down the road.
“About seven feet tall, more specifically,” said Asp cheerfully. “They were seen with a girl with a pretty blue bag, a lovely lily on it?”
The two remaining dwarves looked at each other, then back to Asp. They seemed to be formulating a response. Their eyes fell, almost at the same time, on Sash.
“We ain’t seen the one with the hood,” said the larger of the pair of dwarves. “But we seen the bag.”
“Where did you see the bag,” rumbled Steel-Eyes.
“Depends,” said the smaller dwarf, her voice deep and true. “What you got?”
Asp smiled broadly. “A genuine newtkin gadget,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out the last of the decoy gadgets she’d obtained on her way from Despair. “Mysterious and complicated, but it’s probably more valuable than the bag.”
Steel-Eyes perked up at the mention of the gadget and trained his eyes on the device in her hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but Asp glared at him so hard that her eyes nearly popped out of her head. He closed his mouth and frowned.
“More valuable than the bag means we get a good deal,” said the larger dwarf, rubbing his hands together. “Give it.” He reached out to take the gadget and waited.
“Deal first,” chided Asp. “Gadget after.”
The dwarves looked at each other silently; the smaller one shrugged. “Deal. This way,” she rasped.
The two dwarves turned and headed down the road into the north dock district. They hurried along, and Asp had to take three quick steps for every one they took in order to keep up. After a few blocks, they turned to the door of a ramshackle building with its windows boarded up. “Inside,” said the larger dwarf, holding the door open.
The three investigators and Steel-Eyes's metal man hurried inside, where a musty odor met them. It took a minute for Asp’s eyes to adjust to the low light. A few damaged chairs were scattered about the room, but it was otherwise empty.
“Gadget,” said the larger dwarf, again reaching out for the device.
“Where’s the bag?” asked Asp sweetly.
The smaller dwarf crossed the room and lifted a floorboard in the corner before reaching down and withdrawing a relatively plain canvas bag. In the low light, it looked like it could be blue, but it was hard to tell. The smaller dwarf walked back towards them and held out the bag. A finely-wrought white lily was embroidered into the lower right corner of the bag.
“Where did you get it,” said Steel-Eyes, a sharpness in his usually flat tone.
“Gadget first,” spat back the larger dwarf, his pale eyes glinting in the light.
Asp nodded and tossed the gadget to him. He caught it effortlessly and nodded to the smaller dwarf, who tossed the bag to Asp. She caught it with some difficulty–it was more unwieldy than the more compact gadget.
“It was by the market,” said the larger dwarf, turning the gadget over in his hands. “By the square.”
“It was on the ground,” added the smaller dwarf. “In the grass just off the square.”
“Where the dwarven and slightkin neighborhoods meet?” inquired Sash.
“Yeah,” said the larger dwarf. “How does it work?”
“Beats me,” said Asp cheerfully. She slung the embroidered bag over her shoulder, placing it under her own satchel so that it was no more than a simple blue outline behind her bag.
“What the fuck?” seethed the smaller dwarf, making fists. “Bad deal.”
“Kidding!” said Asp quickly, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “You twist the knob on the top, and then it does something. I think you need to put water or something in it to get it to work completely. I dunno, I’m not an engineer or anything.”
“Fine.” The larger dwarf shrugged. “Now get out.”
“Happy to oblige,” replied Asp. She hurried to the door and held it for her associates.
But Sash and Steel-Eyes remained for a moment.
“You didn’t see the hooded figure at all?” asked Sash gently.
“No,” said the larger dwarf. “Now get out.”
Sash and Steel-Eyes remained still.
“C’mon, you two,” coaxed Asp. “We have work to do.”
Steel-Eyes grunted, but he turned and went out the door, his metal assistant following on his heels. A moment later, Sash nodded and did the same.
“Thanks for your help,” said Asp, and she darted out the door, letting it slam shut behind them.
“What was the gadget,” said Steel-Eyes.
“Uh, it was . . .” Asp hesitated. How much can I admit here? She looked Steel-Eyes over. He was covered in devices of one sort or another. She had to acknowledge that she wasn’t sure what his actual eyes looked like; the thick, colored goggles that covered them distorted them–or at least, she imagined that they did, as his eyes looked magnified and tinted blue. The metal guy is probably something he made. I can’t bullshit him. Here goes nothing. “It was a fake. I like to have bargaining chips,” she explained half-truthfully. “And you have to admit: it worked.”
Steel-Eyes grunted. The mechanical assistant behind him dawdled on, slight clanking sounds on every other step.
“What do you call your . . . metal . . . person?” Asp managed to ask with some difficulty. It’s not the kind of thing you see every day, so I definitely don’t know what to call it.
“Guy,” said Steel-Eyes.
“Guy?” repeated Sash curiously.
“He’s a metal guy that Steel-Eyes made,” explained Steel-Eyes. “So Guy.”
Asp watched Guy continue to clank along. “Riiiiiiight,” she said. “Was he hard to make?”
“Very hard,” replied Steel-Eyes. “But not too hard for Steel-Eyes.”
“Impressive,” said Sash lightly.
“Yeah, very cool,” added Asp. “So, back to the market?”
“Seems our best bet,” said Sash, their voice as empty of feeling as Steel-Eyes’s.
It’s just my luck that little con artist me would get stuck with the two impossible-to-read allies, thought Asp. But maybe more time will make it easier.
The three walked back to the dirt path that returned to the market in silence, and Asp found herself patting the blue embroidered bag every few steps to assure herself that they really had found it.
—
They arrived at the market just as the lunch rush was in full swing. People jostled in front of food vendors, trying to get the choicest of meals before having to return to their own work for the afternoon. Asp was familiar with navigating markets at times like this–if one can avoid the food vendors specifically, it’s scarcely a challenge to avoid being swept up. But Sash and Steel-Eyes, let alone Guy, were less familiar with this strategy. It didn’t help that they were all fairly large and couldn’t move between people the same way. Asp kept having to double back and wait for her companions before they finally made it to the market square.
The square itself was fairly calm. The vendors here sold luxury goods and common staples, while foodstuffs tended to be at the edges of the square. Asp, Sash, Steel-Eyes, and Guy stood at the point where the slums and the market square met and glanced around.
“A good search would be beneficial,” said Sash as though to themself, but their eyes were on Asp and Steel-Eyes.
“Absolutely,” said Asp. “Shall we split up and rejoin here in five minutes?”
“Is splitting up a good idea,” said Steel-Eyes.
“We will cover more ground that way, and we are in the market in broad daylight,” replied Sash.
“The child was taken in the same conditions,” said Steel-Eyes.
“Even I don’t look enough like a child to be in danger, I think,” chirped Asp. “Five minutes, right back here. Good luck!”
Sash nodded, and Steel-Eyes grunted; they both set off in opposite directions, their eyes roving over their surroundings. Asp smiled and chuckled to herself. This is the most interesting day I’ve had in a while, and that’s saying something.
She struck off in a direction perpendicular to the ones her companions had set off in. Before she had made it fifty feet, a booming voice called out to her.
“Little one!” the raspy voice cried. “Have I got a deal for you! Step on up and see for yourself the incredible steals I have to offer! You won’t believe your eyes! Come on over, I won’t bite!”
Asp looked at the source of the voice. It was a very large figure, gnarled horns erupting from his head, a thick black goatee around his dangerously grinning mouth. His skin was deep red, and his flaming yellow eyes stared back at her with a warmth that almost frightened her. A hornkin, she thought, half-dazed. Even after meeting Brokk, who said he was part hornkin on the boat here, I wasn’t sure they were real. Damn. She studied his face, trying to look past his exotic appearance. His clothes were fine but still looked shabby on him. His grin was fixed in a way she recognized. He’s a con too. Maybe not a con con, but he’s a fast talker for sure.
“Hey there,” she said sweetly, trying to sound as naïve as possible. “I’m Delia! Who are you?”
“Me?” The hornkin placed a palm over his heart, or at least, where she assumed his heart would be, as if to suggest he was honored by the question. “Why, I’m trader extraordinaire Terrence Tartarrion Tartarus!” He looked around conspiratorially and lowered his voice. “My friends call me Triple T, so I suppose you can too.” He stood up to his full, towering height and resumed his booming tone. “In the market for anything today in this market?” He smiled as though this wordplay had just come to him.
“Information, actually,” said Asp, avoiding looking at his wares and staring instead directly at him. “You know the best place for gossip about this area?”
Tartarus adopted a mock frown. “I got to town not that long ago, so I’m afraid your old friend Triple T can’t be the most helpful with that.” He once again looked around to confirm no one was listening in. “But I do know who knows the gossip. And what’s more, I’ll give it to you for only a small favor, one traveler to another.”
Asp eyed him carefully. She ran some mental calculations and sighed. “How about this, Mr. Triple T,” she began slowly, then smiled. “You tell me where to find the gossip, and you throw in your own wisdom about town, one traveler to another, and I’ll give you your favor.”
Tartarus furrowed his brow, at once surprised and intrigued by her sudden change in tone. “Fair enough, Delia. For the gossip, you want Tenilla. She’s an older elven woman who runs an inn just down the road–it’s called The Moon Sliver Inn. If something’s afoot in town, she’ll know about it–I can promise you that. Bring her moonpetal, and she’ll tell you pretty much anything.” He pointed down the west road, then bent his finger slightly to the north to indicate which way to go at the bend. “As for me . . .” He appeared to think hard about it, but Asp suspected he was putting on a show as he had been since the moment he’d called out to her. “Well, as for me, I’d say look out for a hornkin, all red like me, but much scarier. His name is Osk-Ox, or that’s what he tells people to call him anyway. The guy’s huge–at least seven feet tall, and he’s got more muscles than a whole crew of miners. I keep hearing his name, warnings about the guy. I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him yet, but I count that a blessing. Be careful, Delia–he’s worse news than a drought in a famine from what I hear.” His voice had changed the longer he’d spoken about Osk-Ox; it became more and more genuine–the performance had fallen away gradually until a very real tone of discomfort had crept in. He’s either actually afraid of this hornkin, or he’s a better liar than me. Tartarus seemed to catch himself and adopted a charming smile again. “And you said you’d give me my favor?”
Asp smiled back, but opted for faux sincerity rather than charm. “I did, didn’t I? I'll do you your favor, Triple T.” She chuckled to herself and smiled at the hornkin. “And I’ll give you this for free: there’s a guard here in town, Madris. Tall, slender elven woman. Don’t get on her bad side. She’s like a stubborn dog–once she gets your scent, she doesn’t let up.”
Tartarus furrowed his brow, then cackled. He reached into the back pocket of his pants and withdrew one of Asp’s pamphlets. “You’re Delia! I’m afraid you already told me about her, my little friend. But I appreciate putting a face to the name. I'll trade in my favor soon. Be careful out there!”
“You too,” said Asp with a real smile.
She waved to Tartarus and turned back towards where she’d departed from her companions. In a moment, she was there. In another moment, Steel-Eyes, Guy, and Sash were there too. They arrived at the same time, disappointed looks on their faces–at least, traces of disappointment in their staid expressions.
“Nothing,” said Steel-Eyes.
“I found nothing of value either,” uttered Sash.
Asp grinned. “I didn’t find the information exactly, but I know where we might find it.” She paused theatrically. “There’s an inn just down the way,” she said, gesturing in the direction Tartarus had. “The Moon Sliver Inn. It’s run by a woman named Tenilla. If we can bring her moonpetal, she’ll cooperate.”
Steel-Eyes grunted, apparently in satisfaction, and Sash’s eyes glittered. “That’s good information,” said the elf in their normal quiet tone. “I know where we can get moonpetal. We should go.”
Sash immediately turned and half-dashedly down the road, pausing only to make a quick deal at an alchemist’s booth and depositing a fine silk bag into their robes. And again, Sash sped down the road, Asp, Steel-Eyes, and Guy hurrying behind. The marketplace went by in a blur, and Asp focused only on Sash’s moving form, trying to ensure she didn’t fall behind. She almost slammed into Sash a moment later when Sash stopped suddenly in the street. They were looking up at a wide brick two-story, a sign hanging over the door that read “The Moon Sliver Inn.” A thin crescent moon was painted around the word “Inn.”
“This seems to be the place,” said Sash. They stepped inside before Asp or Steel-Eyes could say anything.
Sash stepped up to the counter just inside the door, where a middle-aged elven woman sat writing in a small ledger. She raised her eyes to the odd group before her. Sash opened their mouth to talk but thought better of it and turned to Asp expectantly.
“Hi!” said Asp quickly, trying to keep the moment from seeming awkward. “We’re looking for the innkeeper–are you Tenilla?”
“Who wants to know?” asked the woman.
“Uh, we’re representatives of a community organization,” explained Asp. “We’re investigating a disappearance–a rash of disappearances, really–and we hear you know what’s going on in town better than anyone. Could you maybe help us?”
“What’s in it for me?” replied the woman.
“Helping the investigation,” said Steel-Eyes flatly.
The woman rolled her eyes.
“We have this moonpetal,” said Sash, placing the silk bag on the counter before the woman.
“You have my attention,” she replied. “I’m Tenilla. What do you want to know?”
Asp took a breath. “There was a little slightkin girl. Her name is Shelby Hogpen. She was snatched by a hooded figure not far from here–just down the road where the market meets the slums. She was carrying a bag.” Asp pulled the embroidered bag from her shoulder and held it up for Tenilla to see. “This bag. Do you know anything beyond what I’ve just said?”
Tenilla frowned. “Delicate stuff, that.” She glanced down at her ledger as if to indicate her disinterest in getting involved. “I’m not sure I can help.”
“Please,” said Asp. “If you know something, it might help us to find Shelby. It may help us to find other missing children.”
Tenilla shook her head. “I’m not sure I can help,” she said again.
Asp studied Tenilla’s face. It had softened after the moonpetal had been offered, but it was still firmly displeased. She wants something else.
“If you can help us, I can see to it that the community organization knows you were instrumental in recovering their missing children.” Asp tried to sound as sweet as she knew how. “They would be very grateful.”
“They live here in town,” muttered Tenilla. “They have no need for an inn.”
Asp frowned. She’s not going to tell me what she wants. Time for a gamble. “We could raise a donation fund for your inn. I’m sure the parents of the children would be willing to contribute when we find out something that would help.”
Tenilla looked up from the ledger. “Perhaps an advance on this fund would help to jar my memory.”
Asp smiled. She fished around in her coinpurse and placed two crowns directly on the ledger. “And more later.”
Tenilla grinned wickedly. “They were very large. The hooded one, I mean,” she said, gesturing with her hands high above her head to indicate the height of the kidnapper. “I suspect from their shape that they were a hornkin. Their movement suggested it, too.” She jogged in place for a moment, swinging her arms and legs out wide in a crude imitation of hornkin movement. “I have heard, and may have perhaps even seen myself, that it happened fast. A few people around the area tried to give chase, but no one could keep up. This hornkin was very quick, you understand. Very quick.” She looked the investigators in the eyes one at a time deliberately. “They passed towards the north docks–they were spotted there not long after. I hear that they disappeared from sight around the impound at the docks, right next to the dockmaster’s headquarters.” She picked up the crowns and looked at them carefully, as though verifying they were real. Satisfied, she placed them behind the counter. “If you’re fool enough to go looking around over there, beware of the big red hornkin who hangs out there. Osk-Ox, he’s called. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.” She resumed studying her ledger.
“Do you think that this Osk-Ox was the hooded figure?” asked Sash.
“I can’t rule him out,” said Tenilla without looking up from her ledger. “But I can’t say yes either.” She looked up at Sash. “If I had to guess, and of course I don’t, I would say he was involved in one way or another.”
“If you know all of this,” said Steel-Eyes, “why you not tell someone?”
Tenilla looked venomously at the dwarf. “I’m telling you now, aren’t I? And who am I supposed to tell? The guards?” She rolled her eyes.
Steel-Eyes grunted but said nothing further.
“Thank you, Tenilla,” said Asp. “Is there anything else we should know?”
“Perhaps,” said Tenilla. “But that’s all I know to tell you.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Sash quietly. They nodded to their companions and headed out the door back onto the street. Steel-Eyes and Guy followed, but Asp hesitated.
“We’re going to find them,” she said firmly. “And whether you care or not, you helped. So I appreciate it.”
Tenilla studied Asp for a moment, then shrugged. “It is what it is,” she said.
Asp sighed and rejoined her companions outside.
“I suppose we should go to the north docks and investigate the impound,” suggested Sash.
Steel-Eyes grunted in agreement.
“Let’s do it,” said Asp. “Remember to stick together. Even I know the docks are a dangerous place.”
The dwarf, his assistant, the elf, and the slightkin walked towards the north docks once more, and Asp tried to convince herself that something good would come of this.
—
As they entered the northern docks proper, Sash seemed very much in their element. They quietly announced the identities of the buildings they passed as though a nervous tour guide.
“Main dock,” they mumbled as the group passed a wide stone pathway out over the water. “Auxiliary dock,” Sash said as a smaller pathway cut out into the sea. “Customs house,” announced at a fine wooden building by the water’s edge. “And that’s the impound,” they added, pointing to an unassuming structure just beyond.
“How do we get in,” said Steel-Eyes, pointing to the impound, which seemed to have no door.
“The door is around the other side,” explained Sash. “We have to go out on the gangway to get to it.”
“Then let’s go,” muttered the dwarf, setting off down the wooden-planked walkway toward the far side of the impound. Guy clanked behind him, and Sash and Asp followed a moment later.
They arrived at the point where the gangway turned and spotted a heavy door just at the end of the walkway. Crossing the distance, they paused at the door and exchanged glances. Steel-Eyes tried the knob, but it didn’t turn.
“Locked,” he said flatly.
“We could try knocking,” suggested Sash.
Asp was preparing to speak when voices rose from inside the impound–angry, arguing voices by the sound of it. A loud clattering cut through the voices, and then the voices grew louder.
“You get the kids for me, and you get paid,” yelled one voice. “It’s that fucking simple. We’re not renegotiating the deal.”
“It’s getting more dangerous,” shouted the other voice, this one much deeper. “Extra danger means extra pay.”
“We should go in,” said Sash, worry in their voice.
Asp reached into her bag to withdraw her lockpicking tools, but before she could get them, Steel-Eyes pointed to the door, and Guy charged, crashing directly through it. The voices inside stopped short. Sash, Steel-Eyes, and Asp stepped into the dark room and looked for the source of the argument.
Before them were two people, both staring furiously at the investigators. One was a massive, red-skinned hornkin whose horns glinted in the light from outside the impound. He wore the simple clothes that sailors and thieves wear, and his face was a terrifying mixture of surprise and hatred, his pointed teeth bared and gleaming along with his crimson scales. Beside him stood a familiar tall, slender elven woman in the garb of the city guards–Madris. Asp swallowed hard. This is bad. We crashed the wrong party.
“What the fuck is this?” spat the hornkin. He pointed at the intruders with a massive hand.
“Who the fuck you think you are?” demanded Madris. She studies Steel-Eyes and Guy for a moment as though genuinely confused who or what they might be. When her eyes focused on Sash, she seemed equal parts embarrassed and outraged. But when she saw Asp, she was all fury. “You dumb pieces of shit have made a big mistake.” She turned to the hornkin. “Osk-Ox, get the little one.”
Osk-Ox grinned viciously and took a few steps towards Asp before she regained her wits.
“This is an honest mistake!” Asp cried. “We heard sounds of distress and came to help! We can just leave! Nothing’s wrong here anyway, right?”
Madris scowled at her. “I saw your little article, you dumb bitch. Honest mistake, my ass. You’re done.”
Osk-Ox took another few steps, emboldened by Madris’s words.
“No really!” Asp nearly shouted. “We didn’t mean to disturb you! We were just going, in fact!” She backed towards the door and noticed that Steel-Eyes and Guy were doing the same.
But Sash stood firmly in the middle of the room. “What were you arguing about?” they inquired innocently.
Asp, Steel-Eyes, and Guy had made it to just outside the door, and they watched anxiously as Osk-Ox and Madris stared menacingly at them all.
“Do you have business here in the impound?” asked Sash.
Fuck. They’re not going anywhere, are they? Asp frowned. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. She stepped back into the room and crept up toward Sash.
“I have no business with you, Sasharaan,” seethed Madris. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
“Shall I?” asked Osk-Ox, drawing a huge scimitar from his belt.
“Let’s go!” shrieked Asp, tugging hard on Sash’s right hand.
Sash looked at their hand and the white knuckles with which Asp grasped it. They looked up at Madris and the deadly fire in her eyes. They considered the heft of Osk-Ox’s blade. A cold calculus ran through the elf’s mind, and as Osk-Ox took another massive step toward them, Sash seemed to come to the same conclusion that Asp and Steel-Eyes had already come to. They turned and dashed for the door, Asp scrambling beside them to get outside.
The investigators ran. They raced back down the gangway towards dry land, and then along the coastline. Madris emerged behind them, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Get them!” she yelled. “Arrest these fools!”
Guards who they had not seen a moment before heard Madris’s cry and turned to face the group from their scattered positions around the docks. These guards gave chase. Asp’s short legs could barely keep pace with Sash and Guy, and Steel-Eyes's thick frame seemed no better suited to sustained running, and the guards gained steadily on them. Steel-Eyes muttered something to Guy, and Guy’s metal plates that made up his frame shifted and rearranged, making the metal man larger and larger. In a moment’s time, Guy was nearly ten feet tall. He scooped up Steel-Eyes, Asp, and a wriggling Sash, who seemed intent on continuing to run with their own two legs. In Guy’s huge arms, they were carried on and began to outpace the guards.
But the sight of a massive metal man carrying three strange figures away from a small crowd of guards through a busy part of town only attracted more guards. Within a minute, nearly twenty uniformed guards followed the unlikely group through the streets, shouting threats in the name of Lo’Torrin’s government.
“Halt, criminals!”
“Face the law!”
“If you stop now, we’ll only arrest you!”
Guy dashed around a corner and had to veer quickly to the side to avoid barreling into more guards. Asp sweated and held her breath. Oh no. This is how it ends. I’m gonna be executed by a crowd of guards for trying to do the right fucking thing for once. Oh gods, no. Guy took another turn, pursued closely by an especially fast pair of guards, and–
Crash!
The metal of Guy’s frame collided hard with the steel of armor. Guy bowled down three armored guards with fancy insignias on their armor, and a dozen more stood around them, weapons braced uncertainly at the group. Cornered. Fuck. This is it.
The guards from behind caught up, and Madris, panting but smiling, came to the front of her pack of lackeys. But when she caught sight of the armored guards, her smile faded. A moment later, the armored guards parted, and a finely-dressed elf with a regal air and a handsome face surveyed the scene.
“Who can explain this mess?” he demanded, though his tone was more gentle than seemed appropriate for the situation.
“I can try,” said Sash.
Guy lowered the group to the ground, and Sash stepped nimbly out of his arms and up to the noble elf.
“Sasharaan,” said the elven man before them.
“Lord Arokosiel,” said Sash, bowing.
Lord? Someone who fucking Sash bows to? Oh shit. We are so fucked.
“We were investigating the disappearance of several children from the foreign quarter,” explained Sash matter-of-factly. “Our investigation led us to the impound at the north docks. There, we discovered Madris and a hornkin we believe to be called Osk-Ox in an argument. Madris ordered Osk-Ox to seize my associate, Delia,” they said, gesturing to Asp, “and the hornkin moved to attack us. We fled, and Madris ordered these guards to arrest us.”
Arokosiel nodded along intently, and he stared blankly for a moment, expecting Sash to continue speaking. When they didn’t, he looked to Asp–she flinched–and then Madris. “Madris, is this true?” His tone indicated that his question was a formality, more an opportunity to confess than to contradict Sash.
“I–I–Lord Arokosiel,” she began. “I–nothing of the sort is–” She looked at Sash and lowered her head. “I was with Osk-Ox, yes.”
“And this is all related to the missing children?” Arokosiel looked at Madris like a disappointed father.
Madris sputtered helplessly for a moment, then shrugged.
“I suppose execution is the most appropriate response,” said Arokosiel. “For a crime of this magnitude–conspiracy, mass kidnapping, something approaching treason.”
“No,” came a voice from the back of the armored guards.
“No?” repeated Arokosiel curiously.
The armored guards parted, and Celeon stepped forward to join Arokosiel. “She has orchestrated mass violence and oppression in your city for too long. She has created a cycle of violence that we cannot perpetuate. To execute her would simply do as she has done.” He kneeled before Arokosiel. “Respectfully, my Lord, imprisonment would be what is right.”
“He is right, my Lord,” said Sash. “I defer to his judgment.”
Arokosiel considered for a long moment, then nodded. “You are right. She shall be imprisoned.” He looked harshly at her. “For life.”
“But my Lord,” gasped Madris. “I’ll be killed in prison, surely. The people I’ve put in there . . .”
“Alone,” said Arokosiel. “You shall be imprisoned alone. There will be no mercy afforded you by your past deeds.”
The realization that she would spend centuries in a cell alone seemed to dawn on Madris, and it seemed for a moment that she would break into tears. But she steeled herself and bowed her head. A pair of armored guards, which Asp now noticed bore the official insignia of the city of Lo’Torrin, stepped forward and placed manacles around Madris’s wrists before hauling her away.
“Your investigation is not complete, correct?” asked Arokosiel.
“Not yet, my Lord,” responded Sash.
“Godspeed, then,” replied Arokosiel, “and good luck.” He turned to the guards who had followed Madris. “Report to the palace guard headquarters for retraining or consider yourselves terminated,” he said. “I believe you will find this arrangement more than generous.”
A series of whispers spread through the guards, and they quickly dispersed. Arokosiel led the palace guards away, Celeon with them, and soon Asp stood in the street with only Sash, Steel-Eyes, and Guy, whose plates once again shifted until he was the size of an average man.
“We should get back to work, I believe,” said Sash as though nothing had happened at all.
“What– how– why–” stammered Asp. “That was, like, the leader of all of Lo’Torrin?”
“Lord Arokosiel,” said Sash plainly. “Not of Lo’Torrin, though. Of all the river elves. Why?”
Asp smacked her hand against her face and breathed deeply. “Oh, no reason,” she sighed.
“Back to the docks,” Steel-Eyes half-asked.
They hurried back to the impound, but found it empty. Completely empty. Sash muttered something about pilfered goods, but Asp was still in shock. The Lord of the River Elves looked right at me, running from a fucking platoon of guards, and I’m not locked up? What the fuck is happening?
“We should try the dockmaster’s,” said Sash. “We may have better luck there.”
They led the way back to the next building down the way and twisted the knob at the door. It turned silently, and the door swung open. They crept inside to find Osk-Ox, his back turned, shoving something into a cloth sack. Steel-Eyes cleared his throat loudly, and Osk-Ox wheeled, a handful of documents in his hand held over the bag, which was brimming with more documents.
“I’ll give you a key to where the kids are if you let me go,” he said quickly.
He knows where the kids are. He’s not protected by the guards. There’s three of us and one of him. Fuck this guy. Asp smiled. “You’ll give us the key regardless, you fucking monster.”
Osk-Ox reached for his belted scimitar once more, but Sash shook their head, and Steel-Eyes tsk-tsked. Osk-Ox hung his head. “Here,” he moaned, setting a large brass key on the counter where he’d just been stealing documents. He moved to the edge of the room.
The investigators rushed to the counter to grab the key. As they did so, Osk-Ox made a break for the door. He was fast–very fast.
He took Shelby, Asp thought as he bolted from the building, too fast to be followed. He better pray he never meets me again, or I’ll–
Thoughts of the violence Asp had already exacted made her head swim. She forced herself to focus.
“Search for a lock this might go to,” said Sash, jarring her back to reality. “Anywhere in the area might have a secured room.”
Steel-Eyes and Guy began surveying the walls of the room while Sash looked along the floor for a potential trapdoor. Asp went to the counter and traced her hand along it. She followed it to behind the counter, where an official might stand during business. In the middle of this back area of the counter, she found a seam in the wood. She slid it to the side. Behind the false panel was a large lock set into the counter.
“Found something,” she called.
Sash and Steel-Eyes, followed closely by Guy, joined her behind the counter. Sash placed the key into the lock. It fit perfectly. They turned it, and the counter swung open to reveal a floorboard set lower into the floor than those around it. Steel-Eyes slid it away from them, and the board disappeared under the floor of the main room. Before them was a long, dark tunnel with steps leading down into it. They descended the steps and followed the tunnel. After a minute’s time walking down twisting and turning hallways, they found another door with an identical lock. Sash opened this one too, and as light spilled into the small room beyond, they all heard a scurrying and several moans of fear. At the perimeter of the dim room were eight small people–all children, all terrified.
“More light,” muttered Steel-Eyes.
Guy lifted a hand, and it slowly shifted panels until it looked like a small lantern. A clicking sound in Guy’s wrist came forth, and a moment later, the lantern was illuminated. Before them were two newtkin, two humans, a dwarf, two slightkin, and an elf–Malek. Asp beamed and let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Don’t worry, kids,” she said in her gentlest voice. “We’re here to save you.”
“Save us?” repeated one of the slightkin. She had long brown hair and looked to be about ten or twelve years old. She seemed terrified, disbelieving that this nightmare was over.
“Shelby?” asked Asp, kneeling down. “Is that you?”
The slightkin began to cry. “Yeah,” she choked out between sobs. “I’m Shelby. Do you know my mom and dad?”
“We do,” cooed Asp. “We talked to them this morning. We’re gonna take you back to them if you’ll let us.”
Shelby began to cry even harder.
“My parents too?” asked the dwarf.
Asp referred to her notepad. “Mondrier, right?”
“Yeah,” said the wispy-goateed young dwarf.
“They’re waiting for you, too,” said Asp sweetly. “All your parents are waiting for you. Are you all ready?”
A chorus of impatient “yes”es and tears answered her.
“Let’s go,” said Steel-Eyes, obviously uncomfortable with the amount of crying occurring in the small room.
The next half hour was a blur. The group led the eight children back out of the tunnels, into the dockmaster’s headquarters, out of the north docks, back into the slums, and to The Hammer’s Promise. Asp could barely count the amount of frail-voiced “thank you”s and wiped tears that punctuated the journey. Occasionally, she would notice an onlooker staring in wonder at the crowd of recovered kids with the odd assortment of adults among them, but those looks would barely register. All she really saw were the children–the way they blinked in the afternoon sun, some as though they hadn’t seen it for too long, the way the tears gave way to giggles as the realization dawned that they were really free and safe, the way that the kids looked at her between marveling at the city streets they weren’t sure they’d ever see again.
Is this what being good feels like? she thought. Because this is godsdamn magical. I could get used to this.
The unlikely party arrived at The Hammer’s Promise, and cheers went up that seemed deafening. If the children’s tears at being saved had been a lot to handle, the tears of their parents on being reunited were something else entirely. Mr. and Mrs. Hopgen could barely choke out their thanks between racking sobs; the parents of the Harrison Rosencrantz chided their son for half a moment for running off before erupting into mirthful tears that he’d returned to them; Parcel Drivernut, who had only been missing for half a day, was greeted by his parents as though he’d disappeared into thin air a decade ago. Asp spotted Malek, whose absence hadn’t been reported, looking around for his parents. He seemed heartbroken to be the only child whose parents weren’t here to see him. Asp excused herself from yet another grateful parent and approached Malek.
“Hey, Malek,” she said gently.
“Hi, Delia,” he said glumly.
“I have something for you,” she said, smiling.
He stared back, confused. “What?”
She reached into her bag, closed something in her fist, and held it out to him. “Open your hand,” she instructed.
Curious, he did as she told him to. She dropped his jacks into his palm.
“No way!” cried the boy.
“I thought you’d miss them,” she said.
“Aww, thanks!” Malek cried.
Asp looked up to the door of the building. An uncertain young elven man crept inside and began quietly speaking to people, moving from person to person with an increasingly desperate look on his face. A moment later, Arokosiel stepped quietly into the room, closely followed by an elf in official garb. Within seconds, people recognized him, and the room went silent. Almost silent, actually–the young elven man who’d entered just a moment before hadn’t noticed the leader of the city come in, and in a dead silent room said, “Have you seen my son Malek? I heard a bunch of missing kids were just found and brought back here.”
“Daddy!” shouted Malek, turning and running to his father. The two hugged tightly, and Asp shed a few joyful tears in the eerie silence.
“Families of Lo’Torrin,” said Arokosiel quietly. “A most grievous thing has happened to you. A corrupt guard, who I fear you know all too well, was responsible for the kidnapping of your children. The fact that it occurred at all is unforgivable, and the fact that a city official perpetrated it, make that wound deeper, I understand. I cannot give you back the time you lost with your children, but I would like to offer you the city’s most sincere condolences. Please allow me to compensate you for your heartache in the shallow way I’m capable.” He turned to the man with him, who produced eight bags the size of melons which let out the sound of metallic clinks, and took one of the bags. “Mr. and Mr. Hogpen?” he called. “Are you here?”
The slightkin couple, together with their recovered daughter, stepped forward uncertainly.
“Please let this communicate how much I am truly sorry for what has happened to your family,” said Arokosiel softly.
The couple accepted the bag with wordless nods and retreated to the crowd. Asp watched as they opened the bag and peered inside; their wide eyes told her that Arokosiel had been generous.
The other families received payments of their own, and when the bags had been dispersed, Arokosiel smiled. “One last thing,” he said with a touch of theatricality. “Will the rescuers please step forward?”
Sash, Steel-Eyes, and Asp gathered in the center of the room before Arokosiel. The crowd around them cheered fiercely, and without delaying to discover what business Arokosiel had with them, the crowd commenced with a grand and raucous party.
Arokosiel smiled at the chaos around them. “You’ve all done something very good today,” he said. “I’d like to give you the honor you each deserve.”
Asp looked hungrily at the man who had carried the bags of coin. How much do the rescuers get, I wonder?
“We will be officially recognizing your names in a public decree,” said Arokosiel. “To that end, I need your names.” He smiled almost playfully at Sash. “Aside of course from you, Sasharaan. You are known.”
Sash looked placidly back, unclear whether they were honored or disappointed by this.
“Steel-Eyes,” said the dwarf to identify himself.
“Steel-Eyes?” repeated Arokosiel. “As in the metal and the way we see?”
Steel-Eyes grunted in the affirmative.
Arokosiel smiled diplomatically, then turned to Asp. “And you, miss?”
“Delia Violet,” she replied quickly. Wait–I need to establish Penelope here. Shit, how can I turn this? She smiled. “But I’d prefer credit go to my patron, Lady Penelope Jasmine.”
Arokosiel nodded. “Delia Violet, the heroine, in the name of Lady Penelope Jasmine. This can be done.”
“I thank you,” said Asp, curtsying, “and my patron thanks you.”
Arokosiel smiled, and Asp was certain it was sincere. “Oh no, Ms. Violet–on behalf of our city, it is I who thanks you.”
The Lord of the River Elves owes me gratitude? Holy shit. Things are looking up.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said Arokosiel gently. “Please enjoy your party. You’ve earned it.” Without a further moment’s hesitation, he slipped out the door, followed closely by his attendant.
“To the heroes!” shouted someone in the crowd.
“To the heroes!” screamed everyone else.
In the party that ensued, Asp found that there was no amount of ale that could make her feel quite as good as she felt knowing that she’d become a heroine, and the fact that recognition made up for not being paid in coin was a surprise that loomed bigger than the strangest day in her entire life.
You can read the next chapter here!
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