Silverfall: Stories of the Seven Sisters

The old woman gave her a smile bereft of warmth and humor, and said, 'All of us in this city obey Sarltan. Among other things, he strictly forbids us to reveal our true natures. I advise you to at least put up your cowl on your way to see him. I know not if he'll apply his dic shy;tates to outside traders. So far as I am aware, you are the first such to come here.'

' 'On my way to see him'?' Iylinvyx echoed, reaching for her cowl.

The old woman nodded, her smile now a trifle more approving, and said, 'Ask my doorswords to direct you to a private club called Blackmanacles, and there seek a man known as Daeraude. Tell him Yamaerthe sent you before you ask him how to find Sarltan-and keep your cowl up and those knives of yours out of sight. You might say those from below are cautious in Scornubel, and embrace cautious ways.'

Iylinvyx Nrel'tabra nodded and let her cloak fall away to her elbows to let the four daggers slide down into waiting scabbards. She did not try to hide the dazzle of gems at her throat as she replied softly, 'I had begun to notice that-and had also begun to wonder how far a people can stray from their true natures before they become that which they dis shy;dain.'

The old woman stiffened behind her desk. She let out a hiss from between clenched teeth before she replied, 'A pleasant night outside, is it not? I wish you every success in the conduct of your business in our fair city.'

And with those words, the owner of Chasper's Trad shy;ing Tower rose and let herself out through another door at the back of the room as fast as any charging warrior, but with considerably more grace than most.

Her visitor heard a heavy bolt clack into place an instant after the door closed, and acquired a thoughtful half smile as she gathered her cloak about herself and left the room, her cowl up.

Iylinvyx Nrel'tabra was unsurprised to discover that she'd acquired a stealthy escort that increased in number by one pair of soft-booted feet for every person she was sent to after Daeraude: a corner lantern and candle seller, a lock storage keeper, and a master of 'discretion guaranteed' hireswords, thus far.

'Well,' she told the night air lightly, 'at least I'm get shy;ting to see the glories of Scornubel.'

According to her latest directions, the cobbled lane she was now traversing was Delsart's Drive, named for a long-ago wagon maker whose habit, when in his cups, was to race his latest creations along the winding lane at breakneck speed-with the inevitable consequences. Delsart's descendants owned the coach yard ahead on her right, and somewhere in the darkness to her left was Pelmuth's Draw, a narrow alley that would take her to a little lamp-lit courtyard, where among the busi shy;nesses and their loitering doorswords she'd find a cer shy;tain blue door. . and somewhere beyond it (she didn't doubt complications awaited) was the elusive Sarltan.

The Draw, the lamp-lit court beyond, and the bored guardsmen were all as they'd been described to her. If her escort disliked her pauses in the alley to cast two spells, that was just too bad.

A mountain of a man was leaning against the blue door as she approached. He lowered the dagger he was using to clean his nails and rumbled, 'Closed. Try else shy;where.'

'I've been sent,' the dark figure before him replied calmly, from within its cowl, 'and would fain pass within- unless you can tell me another way to find Sarltan.'

'Uh,' the gigantic guard replied, in tones devoid of emotion, and extended one hand as he drew steel-a fearsome, much-scarred cleaver whose blade was thrice as broad as most swords-with the other. 'I'll have yer sword-hilt first, mind.'

'And if not?'

The guard shrugged. 'Turn about and leave, or die. No exceptions.'

The figure before him slowly opened its cloak and let it fall away. A shapely female drow stood before him, jewels glittering at her throat. Below their fire she wore a tight black leather tunic that left her shoulders bare, and thigh-high spike heeled boots.

'Not even for the likes of me?' she asked softly.

There was a stirring around the courtyard as guards at other doors shifted their positions to get a better look at this newcomer. The guard hefted his weapon as he let his eyes travel slowly from the crown of her head to her toes, then back again.

'I'll be having the sword and all of those daggers I see,' he rumbled flatly. 'Toss yer cloak down, and lay all yer steel in it-and I mean all yer steel. Now.'

Their eyes met-black flames flaring into two chips of stone-and held in a long silence that was broken only by the softest of sounds from behind Iylinvyx Nrel'tabra. The various folk who'd been following her drifted out of the Draw and into the courtyard, one by one, and the doorswords turned alertly to face them. Silence had fallen again before the slender dark elf slowly cast down her cloak, laid her needle-slim short sword atop it, then followed it with a pair of daggers from her belt, another pair from her boot tops, and one from each wrist.

She paused then, buckling sheath straps, and the mountainous guard gestured with his drawn blade at the sheaths sewn into her tunic. 'Them, too,' he said. 'Especially them-all four of them.'

He'd never moved to see the two knives that rode below her shoulder blades, so tongues must have trav shy;eled across Scornubel faster than the route she'd been sent on. After holding his eyes for another long, cold time, the drow trader plucked out the black bladed quar shy;tet of daggers and casually let them fall onto the heap of edged steel. They landed without making a sound.

'Turn around,' the guard rumbled, 'and stand still.' After Iylinvyx had-slowly-complied, he added, 'Bend over forward and cast yer hair down. I need to see the back of yer neck.'

The drow trader complied. As she stood bent over in the lamplight, her magesight awake, she felt the quiver she'd been expecting. Someone had cast a dispel upon her, stripping away the shielding spell she'd thoughtfully added. Most mages would now be defenseless, but her Shield of Azuth-a spell of her own creation-had nulli shy;fied the dispel with its own death-leaving her aroused protective spells untouched beneath it. She straightened up after two long breaths and turned to face the guard with a challenge in her eyes.

'See enough of my behind?' she asked lightly.

The guard said nothing, and kept his face impassive and his eyes hard and cold. He wordlessly threw back a bolt in the top of the doorframe, too high for Iylinvyx or most humans to reach, and swung the door wide to let her pass within.

The drow trader strolled past him as if he wasn't there, and did not break stride when she heard the door close solidly behind her and the bolt slide back into place. She was in a lightless passage between two high rows of crates in a dank, lofty-ceilinged warehouse. The passage came to a dead end entirely walled in with stacked crates.

Iylinvyx Nrel'tabra looked calmly around, before asking the empty air, 'And now, Sarltan?'

A voice that held a dry chuckle answered from some shy;where atop the crates above her, 'Not quite yet. That large crate to your right with the dragon's head label has a front that can be swung open.'

Iylinvyx let silence fall, but her unseen informant did not seem inclined to be more talkative, so she did as she was asked. The crate proved to have no back. She looked through the little room it shaped, into an open, dark area beyond. On the floor of the crate was a snake. It hissed at her as she stepped unhesitatingly over it and out into what lay beyond: the back of the warehouse, in which two hard-eyed men stood, drawn swords in their hands. Their arms and shoulders bulged with the corded muscles built by hefting crates, kegs, and heavy coffers for years. They stepped for shy;ward in practiced unison as she emerged from the crate, so that she came to an abrupt halt with one sword point at her throat and the other almost touch shy;ing her breast.

The drow trader looked coolly along each blade in turn. The one with his steel at her throat snarled, 'Who sent you?'

'I think,' Iylinvyx Nrel’tabra replied calmly, 'you already know that. I also think that the fresh mush shy;rooms I want to trade will have withered to dust before I even get to speak to Sarltan, if you delay me much longer. I did not come to Scornubel for a tour, or to play passwords-and-daggers-in-the-dark games. Conduct me to Sarltan, or let me return below-to dispense full descriptions of your attentive hospitality.'

Her voice had remained soft and mild, but the two guards stiffened as if she'd snarled her words. They exchanged swift glances, and the one with his steel to the trader's breast jerked his head back over his shoul shy;der in a clear signal.

In unison again, they stepped back from Iylinvyx, and waved with their swords at another door.

She nodded pleasant thanks and farewell to them, walked across dark and echoing emptiness, and opened the door wide.