Memento Mori: 5

“Tell me what is known,” the Hunter asked the young thief as they sped through the shadows of the guild.

Zanne pulled the snug gray stocking cap from her head and scrubbed a hand through her short blonde hair. “Not much t’ tell,” she said. “Was comin’ outta th’ Seven Veils when we heard a ... scream ain’t the word. Is therra noise worse’n that?” She shuddered.

“Seven Veils. What is this?” the Hunter asked, only listening to Zanne with half an ear. With the greater part of her mind, she was going over the readiness of her gear, mentally rehearsing plans for battle with this mysterious Shattered One that Linvail had set her against.

“It’s an inn. Drinks an’ rumours served up nightly. Anyway, we poked r’nose into th’ sewer grate an’ looked about. Found Jordais lyin’ at th’ platforms, fresh dead. Sam an’ Bevis an’ Scylla, they went up but I,” Zanne shuddered again and put her cap on, pulling it down low almost over her eyes. “Somethin’ cold was in that place. Like darkness given shape. Away I ran quick, and home I came.”

The Hunter nodded. Zanne said nothing more as they exited the guild and hurried into the streets. Full night had fallen onto the city while the Hunter had been within the guild. Most of the street vendors had closed their stalls, but the few that were open were busily traded at by drunken sailors, painted courtesans and shifty-eyed individuals who looked constantly over their shoulders. Down the road to the east was a large tower, a fire blazing from the vast bowl at its top. Instead of dispelling the darkness, the flickering light created more shadows, making the district feel more sinister than it already did.

“Hey lady!” Rakeh’s cry halted the Hunter’s step. She grimaced a bit as he ran up to her, for her trials within the guild had driven him from her mind. A grin stained by a recent and sloppily eaten meal was fixed on his face. “Bout time you came out. You said eat, so I did. You want this? I got it for you.” In his grubby fist was squashed something that could have been a sandwich or a pastry. Or perhaps a cake.

Whatever it had been in its beginning, it was thoroughly unappetizing now, but a small surge of affection welled in the Hunter’s breast at his thoughtfulness. “Er, not at this time,” she said. “There is business to which I must attend. Perhaps later.”

“Oh.” The boy looked crestfallen, then looked at the Hunter thoughtfully. “You know, I bought it for you, so I wasted my money. Maybe you can recon ... recom ... pay me back.”

"Tshoravo," the Hunter tsked and bonked the boy lightly on the head. “That coin you wasted was mine. Should I pay you for what is my own, then?” Rakeh ducked and gave her another large gap-toothed grin that showed no shame. She realized she was grinning back at him and shook the smile off. “Eat the thing yourself, and it will not be wasted. We shall discuss ... payment ... upon my return.”

“Yeah? Where’re you goin?” Rakeh said around a bite of the food. “You need me to show you, right?”

Before the Hunter could answer, Zanne swatted at Rakeh, catching only air as Rakeh again ducked. “Bug off, kid. Git fer home an’ maybe you’ll live long enough t’ shave.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Rakeh growled, darting behind the Hunter to glare at the thief. He clutched at her coat, leaving a streak of crumbs on the leather. “I’m with her, so you bug off.” He gave the Hunter a conspiratorial look, then stuck his tongue out at Zanne.

The Hunter sighed. “Isli chachimos,” she said. “It is truth. But I fear I need not your service now, bar. This one here, she will guide me.”

Rakeh’s face fell into hurt pout. “But you said you wanted me to guide you.”

“I did,” the Hunter said. She frowned at Zanne as the thief rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently. “But where we will go, it is too dangerous for you. I will return in time.”

“Hey, I can do danger. Danger’s my middle name,” Rakeh said smugly.

“Is it?” The Hunter arched an eyebrow at him. “What would your surname be then? Rakeh ‘danger’ what?”

Zanne snorted. “Deadboy if he ain’t careful.”

“Shuttup!” Rakeh crossed his thin arms over his small chest and glared at both women. “You said you wanted me to help you. I don’t have to be here, you know. I’ve got stuff to do other’n this. I’ve got prospeks,” he said, mangling the word. “I can go off and you won’t see me again.”

The Hunter didn’t doubt that he could keep himself from her sight in this vast city. Although she had met him only a few hours before, she found herself strangely attached to this little giogoto boy and was loathe to let him out of her service. He would be safer to go. And he has lived long without me. Surely he would live as well if I left him, she thought. But she straightened the scarf on her head and thought of familia, and she knew she could not leave him to fend for himself once she had found him. That was not the way of the Rom. “I give,” she said, both to Rakeh and the heavens. “Come with us then, bar. But when I tell you to wait, you must wait. There are places I will walk that you may not follow.”

“Waiting costs extra,” Rakeh said solemnly, then snickered at the Hunter’s frown. “Heh, gotcha, no it won’t. So where’re we going?”

The Hunter looked at Zanne, who was shifting from foot to foot, impatient to head away. “Th’ Promenade. Follow quick. Standin’ round’s th’ best way t’ getta knife in th’ belly,” she said. With a quick wave, she hustled away so quickly the Hunter and Rakeh had to trot to follow. Despite her warning and Rakeh’s tales earlier of deaths in the night, the district was far from empty, and the Hunter had to duck around several folks as she trailed Zanne through the shadowed streets.

As they approached a great colosseum structure to the east of the docks, the foot traffic grew heavier and more varied in class so that nobles and commoners mingled together.
Nudging Rakeh, the Hunter pointed to the structure with her chin. “What place is this?”

“This? It’s the Promenade. You know, Waukeen’s Promenade. Where you shop and buy stuff. Betcha you don’t have this where you’re from.”

“Not quite like this, that is true.” As the small group entered the Promenade through its columned gates, the Hunter mentally compared the district to the Trades Ward in Waterdeep. Flames burned low in torches scattered across the grounds, providing dim light for the many folk still shopping at this late hour. At each vendor’s barrow stood throngs of folk haggling so busily and earnestly they could put a Rom chieftain to shame. Even the price of thread was being argued down in miniscule amounts. She shook her head, resisting the urge to put her fists to her ears to muffle the shouts, cries and laughter. While the Trades Ward in Waterdeep had a variety of goods to match the Promenade, it was quieter and more staid and, she decided, could not match the Promenade in scale of business. Faith, she thought as she passed a great gnomish contraption that she guessed was meant to fly, how one scream was heard above this din is an amazement indeed.

In the shadows of the district’s northeastern corner crouched about ten men and women in leathers, seemingly oblivious to the noise and bustle of the crowds. Curiously, they seemed to be unnoticed by the folk who lined up nearby to enter a colorful circus tent. More testament to the power of the guild, the Hunter guessed. Zanne slowed her step and beckoned for the Hunter and Rakeh to catch up. “Th’ grate’s there,” she said, indicating a door fashioned from iron bars, which was hanging open. “Word got out quick, I’d say. Step wary, y’ should.”

As they approached, a man with skittish eyes and a jumpy demeanor hopped up and paced before the door. “Are we going or not?” he demanded of the group. “Whatter we wasting time for talking? They’re waiting for us to come for them!”

“I ain’t,” Zanne said flatly, bring the thieves’ attention to her. “Somethin’s dark in there, Sixx. Won’t get me in shortta Mask himself proddin’ me t’ go.” To the Hunter she murmured, “His lover was th’ first to go missin’. Been worried sick f’r him f’r six rides. Just crazy ‘nough to do somethin’ crazy.”

One of the men stood and patted the nervous thief on the back, then turned his hard glare onto Zanne and the Hunter. “Who’s this, Zanne?” he grunted.

“Linvail sent’r,” Zanne answered. “She’s t’ look round in there steada you. He’s not happy ‘bout y’all bein’ here, Wain. Best t’ turn away.”

Wain spat at the mention of the guildleader’s name. “It’s not him that’s lost friends in there, is it? I haven’t seen him doing anything to get our people back. He just sends us out to disappear.”

“Your enemy is within there, not within your guild,” the Hunter said. With her left hand she pulled the bastard sword from the sheathe on her back. The blade glimmered faintly in the dim light. “Your Linvail, he sends me here to confront this foe.”

“Yeah?” Wain stepped up to the Hunter so that he stood toe-to-toe with her and sneered down into her face. “So that just means you’re expendable to him, like we all are. You think one frail like you can take on a man who’s taken most of us in a month? You’re a fool to trust him.”

The Hunter brought her chin up and looked down her nose at him, even though he stood a full head and shoulders above her. “If I truly am fodder for your guildleader, then it is not your concern, is it? But perhaps I am not, and perhaps I may defeat this foe. We shall see, shall we not? Now. Move aside.”

In his eyes she saw worry and fear and uncertainty, but also there was a stubborn resilience that made him stand his ground before her. It wasn’t until she narrowed her eyes that he involuntarily took a step back. But when the Hunter tried to step around him, he roughly grabbed her right arm. “It’s not your concern, bitch. It’s our people who are in there, not yours.”

The Hunter shook her head and curled her lips back at his touch. Slowly and with meaning, she growled, “Linvail would have you return to the guild. For your health.”

“Screw Linvail and that crap!” Wain snapped. A chorus of similar sentiment came from the other thieves. “You want to make something of this? In case you didn’t notice, there’s more of us than you.”

“You back off her!” Rakeh cried, and suddenly the boy threw himself between the Hunter and the thief. He shoved Wain hard enough to make him take a half-step back and release the Hunter’s arm. “Leave her alone! You don’t tell her what to do! Does he, lady?”

“Rakeh,” the Hunter growled, but when Wain’s hand flew up to strike the boy, she caught it by the wrist with her free right hand before the blow could land. The thief tried to free himself from the Hunter’s grip, but she held him with little effort. When she twisted it slightly, he grimaced and looked up at her with a different fear in his eyes. “We have not the time to debate,” the Hunter hissed. “You would best serve your guild and your miserable life by leaving this place!”

“Listen, c-” Wain began to curse, but stopped and nearly cried out when the Hunter twisted his arm again. The rest of the thieves stood behind him but made no move, awaiting the outcome. Finally, Wain gasped, “Listen, we’re going in! Come in with us then, all right? We’ll go with you!”

The Hunter released Wain with a hard shove. He quickly regained his balance and went for his dagger, then froze as she coolly brought the bastard sword in her left hand up before her. “Very well,” she said. She turned to Zanne. “You will return to the guild directly, yes?”

Zanne laughed, a look of pure relief dancing on her face. “You kiddin’? Can’t leave quick enough, me. Luck t’ ya, miss.” Zanne gave the Hunter an odd salute, then fled into the shadows.

A quick movement just below the Hunter’s peripheral vision caught her eye, and she shot out a hand to catch Rakeh by the collar before he could reach the sewer grate. “What!?” he protested.

“You, stay here,” the Hunter ordered.

“No, you said you’ll need a guide. C’mon, I’m your guide! I can take you! It’ll be great!”

“Can you?” The Hunter released him and nudged him back toward the Promenade. “So you offer guidance through sewers then? A true rat you are.” Rakeh scowled and crossed his arms. The Hunter pointed at the door with the blade of her sword. “This is the danger which I mentioned, bar. Here it is not safe for you.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” he muttered. The Hunter nodded but again prodded him away from the door. “Well what am I supposed to do while I’m waiting for you? I can’t wait around all night, you know! That costs! And you owe me already!!”

The Hunter blew out her breath in frustration and clenched her teeth. She now remembered why she had never desired children, even if it had been possible for a dhampir to have children anyway. When her gaze lighted on the circus tent, she conceived an idea. From her coat she pulled out her limp purse and fished out three gold coins. “Take this,” she said, tossing the coins to Rakeh, who caught them deftly. “Watch the circus. Eat. I will fetch you from there in time.” She looked up and saw a few stars shining through the city’s haze. The night was moving on.

Rakeh looked at the coins, then at the circus tent. “Never been to the circus,” he mused. “All right, lady,” he said reluctantly. But when the Hunter turned toward the grate he had not moved. The thieves began to move into the sewer, and the Hunter stationed herself in the group’s center, trusting the thieves at the front to detect and disarm any traps they might find. Before the blackness of the sewer took them, the Hunter looked over her shoulder and saw Rakeh still standing there, a grim, wary expression on his thin face. He brought up one hand to wave at her, and she automatically returned it, giving him a reassuring smile that she was sure he didn’t see.

The sewer was a foul and dismal place. The Hunter wrinkled her nose at the scent of sewage and rot but did not gag as the other thieves did. She halted them for a few moments so their eyes would adjust to the darkness, then cautioned them to move forward with care. They nodded silently and readied their weapons in expectation of battle.

Platforms built of wooden planks led them into the depths of the sewers, and odd glowing bulbs ensconced in the walls provided them enough dim illumination to see just before them. Odd noises echoed off the sewer’s metal walls, but nothing came from the shadows to threaten them. The seeming calm made the Hunter uneasy, and she gripped the hilt of her bastard sword harder. Something was here, of that she had no doubt. Every sense she had was opened, and she searched her heart to find the reason for the black feelings around it. The suffocating feeling of a thousand prikaza bad omens, weighed upon her, but she held her breath against it and said nothing as the group crept across the planks.

As they approached a metal staircase, a slight movement rippled the water beside the planks. Sixx gasped and caught Wain’s arm, pointing down into the sewage at the floating body of a thief. Before Wain could say anything, Sixx hurried to it and bent to turn it over.

The man’s throat had been torn open. “Bessemer,” Sixx muttered, then looked up at Wain. “He came with about twelve others.”

Wain nudged the body with his toe, sending floating away from the stairs. “Never mind the dead,” he said, “it’s the living we’re after. C’mon.”

The Hunter glared at Wain before darting after the body to examine it more closely. She knelt beside it. “Akana mukav tut le Devlesa,” she murmured in Rom, for lack of any time to give the man a proper rite. When this was over, when this work was done, she would bring Kelemvor’s priests here to find these poor souls and give them proper honor. Now all she could do was regretfully close the man’s eyes, which were wide open in fear. Her hand froze over his face as she caught clear sight of the wound at his neck.

“Bengesko baxt!” she breathed as she shot to her feet and ran up the stairs into a shadow-shrouded upper room. It was not a mere prikaza that I felt in this place. Damn you, Bellock, you did not tell me this! she thought angrily. Most of the thieves had already vanished through the far doorway into the apparent dungeon. Cursing under her breath again, she grabbed the shoulder the thief at the tail end of the group, a boy with flame-red hair. He gasped and whirled about, slashing his short sword at her. The Hunter rocked back on her heels, narrowly avoiding the cut. “Stop that! Calm yourself, chiavala!” she snapped. She grabbed his wrist and held him firm until the crazed terror faded a bit from his eyes. “What are you called?”

“Juh-juh-Jim,” the boy stuttered. “What’re you called?”

The Hunter grinned sardonically at him and released his arm. “Your party, where did they go?”

The boy pointed through the doorway. “They in, they’re in there already. We should go, all r-r-right? I don’t want to, to be here alo-alone.” He backed away from her, stepping toward the stairs.

The Hunter shook her head. “We must take care. There is vampire within this place.” From the sheathe at her left hip she pulled the wooden short sword, and with a mystic blade in each hand cut small circles in the air, testing their weight. She turned and peered through the doorway into the next room. It appeared to be a large, dusty throne room. A vast rug patterned with odd pictures -- a snowflake, a bolt of lightning, the head of a feline, among others -- covered the length of the room. At its head was a large stone statue sitting in a great throne. On the columns on the far wall were brackets for torches, she guessed.

“If vampire are within, then this place is safe for none of you,” she said. Behind her, Jim choked and whimpered, making her frown. Bah! He is too young to be off his mother’s apron, much less on this dire mission. What fools young men are, she thought. “Likely that is the cause of the disappearance of so many. Curse me for a fool, but I should have guessed. Listen, chiavala. Flee this place and return to Linvail. Tell him what I have found. Tell him this task he has set me on must wait until the vampire is taken care of.” Jim’s answer was several labored breaths.

“Can you do this one thing,” she began to say as she turned. Her breath stuck in her throat, even as she automatically brought her blades up. At the edge of a deep shadow, the boy stood rigidly. He was deathly pale, his dark eyes bulging in horror. For behind him holding him in a deathly embrace, its lips fastened on his neck, was a vampire grinning at the Hunter around a mouthful of blood.

---

Glossary:
familia -- family
bar -- brother
Tshoravo -- little thief
Isli chachimos -- It is truth.
chiavala -- boy, lad
Akana mukav tut le Devlesa -- I leave you now to God
Bengesko baxt -- Cursed luck
giogoto -- half Rom
prikaza -- bad omens