2.25 In Which the Dark Lord Comes to Dinner

2.25 In Which the Dark Lord Comes to Dinner

Heres the thing, though, Biribo continued, weaving back and forth in the air as if slightly worked up, these are gwynnek feathers.

These are our gwynnek feathers! Mimi exclaimed in outrage, pointing. Look, Naz! Melon blonde with red striations and black tips, those are from Blanci!

Wait, are you saying dark elves plucked one of your gwynneks? I demanded.

No, no, said Nazralind, frowning up at the totem. She also looked unhappy, though less agitated than Mimi. Its molting season. Their winter undercoats are coming in and theyre losing some of the bigger wing and tail feathers, those come in annually. Weve been really careful to pick them up so we dont leave obvious trails everywhere, butI guess we missed some.

Some, yeah, but youve done a better job than this, Biribo chimed in. Ive taken notice, boss, theyve grabbed most of the dropped feathers. Someone could probably make one totem from what they missed, but not enough from one single bird to match this way, and definitely not enough to make totems to encircle the whole fortress.

What are you saying? I asked.

Whoever made and hung this thing has been inside North Watch, Biribo said gravely. Theyve been in the gwynnek pen itself. This person picked up dropped feathers from around the birds, without being seen, heard, or smelled, at a time when the birds in question are tense and uneasy about being in a new home. Naz or any of the girls can explain how freakin difficult that would be.

Id frankly scoff at the idea if this thing werent hanging right in front of me, Nazralind agreed. Sneaking up on nervous roosting gwynneks is a terrible idea. We should have found the half-stripped skeleton of anyone who tried it.

Which fits the evidence, said Biribo. A Savindar shadow scout could do that; presumably a Shylverrael equivalent is just as good. Lady Grey couldnt have pulled it off even with that dagger of hers. And theyve done all this since yesterday morning, when we moved the birds in.

Ever since getting home to North Watch from our last triumphantly disastrous trip to Gwyllthean, Id lived with a constant prickling on the back of my neck that came from the knowledge that an invisible assassin might spring out at me at any moment. That had suddenly intensified tenfold.

Excellent, I muttered. This is precisely what I dont fucking need.

I told you, Sato muttered back.

Boss, I havent explained the important part yet, Biribo said, zipping back and forth in agitation. This thing is incorrect. These totems are supposed to be made with harpy and naga feathers!

Wait, naga have feathers? Aster exclaimed. It was a relief not to be the dummy asking ignorant questions for once. Finally, someone elses turn over the isekai barrel.

Instead of hair, yeah. But thats the point, its a declaration of power. The beast tribes make decorative and communicative art like this using shells and feathers and whatnot from animals they hunt, so the dark elves make them from the sapient races they control just to flex on em. It does the trick, the local tribes do not fuck with the dark elves.

Nobody does, Sato agreed, nodding fervently.

I squinted up at the hanging totem. Thenwhats the significance of making this with junk scavenged from the fortress? Doesnt that undermine their point? Or are they making a statement about how they can get in there?

It wouldnt have the same import, there are gwynneks all over Dlemathlys, said Sakin. Even wild ones, on Dount. I dunno if there are any flocks close to here, but beast tribes can undoubtedly get feathers like this from hunting.Read latest chapters at novelhall.com Only

I turned to look thoughtfully at Sato, who immediately flattened his ears.

I didnt know that, he said defensively. I didnt! I only know a little bit abouttribe stuff. The important things. My mom warned me about totems like this, to stay away from anything guarded by them. You dont take risks with dark elves.

I believe you, I said. The question is whether the cat tribe will recognize the difference, and what theyll make of it.

I He seemed to shrink in on himself. Maybe? Idont knowwhat the cats know. Probably their shaman would

They can tell, said Biribo. We know this was made by a real shadow scout, because we know where those feathers came from, but they might think theyre fake. Its hard to say what theyll do in that case. Speaking of which, boss, two important points about the dark elves: first, Shylverrael has been developing in total isolation for a century and a half, so nobody knows what theyre actually like, and second, the Savin culture theyre descended from was prone to elaborate intrigues and scheming. So literally the only thing we can assume about the Shylver is they plot in complicated patterns. I think itd be a big mistake to make any assumptions about their plans or mindset.

Lets put that on hold for a second, I said. All right, Sato, a deals a deal. Were square. You sure youre not interested in joining us?

He backed up a step, eyes flicking up to the totem, and shook his head. I dont Maybe if you, uhmake some kind ofarrangement with the dark elves, we can talk. Im not gonna be in there when they storm the fortress. You dont even have your gates up.

Fair enough, I agreed. My offer still stands, though. Find me anything interesting or useful and Ill trade fairly for it. And I dont mind putting a hot meal in you in the process, if youre willing to visit long enough. So dont be a stranger.

Sato glanced rapidly around, at the armed people surrounding him and the dark forest beyond. I can go?

I wont stop you, I said, nodding. Just keep in mind what I said.

He carefully slipped away, Adelly and Mimi making room for him, and paused at the edge of the circle to look back at us and self-consciously run his hands over his new coat.

thanks.

Then he was gone, bounding away into the night.

Bye, cutie! Keffin hollered after him, waving. Kastrin groaned and rolled her eyes.

Biribo? I murmured.

Boys making tracks, boss, my familiar reported. Hes a lot more interested in getting far from us than snooping, clearly.

Sakin coughed. So, no offense, Lord Seiji, but what was the point of all that? We know these have only been here a couple days at the most. Kassers cutting teams wouldve found em, theyre not far from the fortress. And now that kids out there loose, knowing who and where we are.

Well, its not as if we could have imprisoned or killed him just for knowing that, Nazralind said belligerently.

He gave her an exceedingly bland smile. It is, in fact, precisely like that, my lady.

Button it, I ordered, seeing Naz swelling up and Sakin beginning to grin more widely. Neither of you are qualified to be my conscience. That was a calculated risk, Sakin, and it was worth paying him off with a coat. Our entire strategy hinges on our willingness to offer people a better deal than theyll get under the Clans. Im not going to abuse anyone just because I have the power to, that would undermine the whole campaign. I turned to face him directly. Or do you feel I have been insufficiently ruthless toward my enemies?

I dont think anyone would make that claim, said Aster.

Sakin folded down his hands at me, grinning hugely now. Quite right, Lord Seiji, that makes sense. I do feel the need to mentionalternativesbut if your strategy is proceeding as planned, thats what matters.

Good. All right then: analysis. What can we conclude about this?

Well, it seems the dark elves arent hostile, Sakin said, still grinning as if this were all a delightful puzzle for us to solve. Whether or not they know who you are, Lord Seiji, assassinating you and your whole inner circle while we all slept wouldve been a lot easier and less risky than this business.

Thats reassuring, Aster said sourly.

Sarcasm aside, yeah it is, said Biribo. Up to a point, at least. Just cos the dark elves dont want us dead doesnt mean this isnt going to be serious trouble, boss. It would be very much in character for Savin and presumably Shylver elves to watch carefully and gain an understanding of you before they make whatever move theyre going tounless they wanted you dead, in which case theydve just done that. Right away the main issue I see is that the elf or elves who did this clearly dont have access to the official resources theyd need to make the totems properly. Which suggests

A renegade, I finished, turning back to frown up at the totem.

Again, dark elves are prone to complicated schemes and we dont know what theyre thinking, so assumptions are dangerous. With that said Yeah, I think the likeliest explanation is that this is the work of a rogue individual or faction not authorized by Shyverrael itself.

If theyre renegades, that could be why theyre out here in the forest when dark elves love to keep to themselves, Adelly suggested. Shyverrael might still not know were here, Lord Seiji.

Assumptions, Biribo warned.

That made me wince. Well, at least she hadnt hit his eye. Id have felt obligated to Heal that, and then wed have to re-dart him. Guy could live with a swollen cheek.

Nice work, Adelly, I said in passing. I needed to push straight through into the grounds, just because there wasnt room in the dinky little tower for the whole team.

Thanks, Lord Seiji! Adelly had already shrugged out of the Featherweight Tunic so she could walk normally again, and now collected the Lightning Staff from Nazralind.

The grounds were pleasantly landscaped, complete with well-trimmed grass and some of the ground-hugging Ephemeral bushes which lacked woody parts that crawns would devour. Feathery vines climbed the walls and there were some statues, but apparently small decorative khora werent a thing. Made sense; I thought I remembered someone telling me they spread from underground root systems, which was why the plantations could only exist on an island that already had wild khora.

Biribo?

Were still clear, boss. There are seven men in the front gatehouse, all but one asleepthats gotta be most of the Clansguard. The shrine with the Spirit is over there by the other tower. Eleven people in the manor house, the biggest concentrations are six in what I think is a dining room and three the kitchen where the rear entrance is. One individual upstairs and one over by the front door.

Kitchens where the servants will be, I said aloud for the benefit of my followers spilling out of the tower behind me. We need to subdue them and get information. Everybody remember to pull your punches, were not here to spill blood and we definitely dont want to harm working class folks just surviving in this place. Aster, take the rear and watch for any guards. Kastrin, Ismreth, youre on point. Dont let anyone raise an alarm but dont fire if you dont have to.

Right!

Understood, Lord Seiji.

Kastrin and Lady Ismreth were our best shots with the little stingers, and also were both cool-headed enough that I trusted them to act appropriately and not do unnecessary harm. Kastrin was a tad trigger-happy but not malicious.

We hustled across the grounds to the kitchen door under Biribos direction, the three of us in the lead. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, stepping aside to make room for Kastrin and Ismreth to insert themselves into the kitchen doorway, weapons first.

From within there came one half-shriek, aborted by the twang of a stinger firing. I rushed in after them, the rest of the crew on my heels.

Three servants were in the kitchen: a middle-aged woman in a splattered apron, looking shocked and furious as she backed against the counter, a visibly terrified young man already cowering in the corner, and an unfortunate maid unconscious on the floor with a sleeping dart protruding from her chest. Ismreth was the one with a dart still loaded, and she had wisely trained it on the woman whom I took to be the cook. I suspected that was the only thing keeping the woman under control; she looked mad enough to charge us, though her eyes were on the miniature crossbow in Ismreths hands.

Where is Rhaem Fladdurd? I demanded.

Flaerdwyd, Nazralind corrected from behind me.

I just said that!

Oh, no you dont, the cook snarled, snatching up a rolling pin and brandishing it at me. I dont care who you are, you plundering bastard, you leave that boy alone! Hes been through enough withoutwhatever in the Goddesss name this is!

Protective of the young, I mused, stepping fully into the kitchen and letting the rest of my followers crowd in behind, weapons up. Defiant in the face of overwhelming force. I very much approve. Madam, you have my sincere respect.

I slowly turned to face the corner, where the poor lad huddled there flinched at my mere gaze.

You, though, I said thoughtfully. Something tells me Ill respect youless. Kastrin, aim for his nuts.

She had just finished slotting a new dart into her weapon and now turned on command, leveling it at his midsection.

The dining room! the unfortunate young servant blurted, hunching forward and protectively covering his crotch with both hands. Hes eating with the family!

Oh, Kesper, the cook said in clear disgust.

Dont judge the boy too harshly, I said. I have that effect on people. So, Clan Yviredh inspires loyalty in their servants and invites indentured lowborn to their table. Im beginning to like them just a little bit.

Theyre not terrible people, as aristocrats go, said Nazralind.

They had indentured farm laborers until very recently, Aster snorted. This guy Flaerdwyd still is.

Yes, thats among the things I will now discuss with them, I said. Four of you, secure this room and keep the

The cook roared in sheer fury and charged at me with the rolling pin upraised, making it all of two steps before Ismreth shot her and she went down like a sack of potatoes.

You know, I like her, I said. A house just doesnt feel like a home without an irascible cook. Anyway. Four of you secure the room. Make sure that kid doesnt do anything particularly stupid, keep these two poor ladies comfortable, and hold the entrances. The rest, with me. Biribo?

This way, boss! My familiar buzzed ahead and I followed, my fellow invaders close behind.

It was extremely considerate of the Yviredhs to keep my secondary target with them. Id been expecting to have to trawl all over the mansion, tranquilizing servants and guards, to retrieve a recalcitrant Blessed and have to bring him to the rest of them. This was going to save me a lot of time and aggravation.

In a hushed voice, Biribo directed us to the dining room, which was sensibly right near the kitchen. It had no less than three entrances, one serving door from the kitchen corridor and two from the front areas of the house from which the highborn would enter. I diverted our forces, stationing three under Nazralinds command at the servants entrance with orders to move in as soon as they heard the rest of us do so. We navigated as quietly as possible to the public halls under Biribos directions, dividing the remaining group in half with Aster taking one door and me the other.

I wasted no more time; the very second both were in place, I yanked open the door and the four crossbow-wielding women surrounding me streamed through, followed immediately by those posted at the other entrances.

It must have been a terrifying experience, to have your dinner interrupted by an entire gang of masked women in black cloaks. Going for dramatic effect rather than stealth, we had borrowed the cloak gimmick from Nazs group, augmented with long strips of black fabric wrapped around everything but the eyes. This made an impressive showing, if I said so myself, and served the additional purpose of concealing the identities of the highborn among us.

There were shouts, two female screams, and a mans angry demands as the women took positions around the perimeter of the dining room with weapons up. I unhurriedly followed suit only when the stomping of feet ceased. Calm and collected, moving only when I was good and ready, emphasizing my control of the situation.

Because it was showtime, and every little touch mattered.

My troops had positioned themselves carefully around only two thirds of the perimeter, forming an inescapable killbox without risking hitting each other in a crossfire. I was explicitly not planning on there being any killing and they knew that, but I was still pleased that Sakins drills had borne fruit.

One lowborn man in servants livery was pressed back in a corner, holding a serving tray in front of his chest as a makeshift shield, while the four living members of Clan Yviredh were seated around the dining table, along with Rhaem Flaerdwyd. Yep, that was him. I had only seen him from a distance, previously, but I recognized his face nonetheless. You dont quickly forget the man responsible for dunking you in a shit river with a brand new collection of crossbow bolts.

Even though Id glazed over during Nazralinds detailed rundown, I could see Clan Yviredhs situation just by looking at them. The Highlord was a blonde human, his wife brown-haired; they had a brunet son in his mid-teens and a dirty blonde daughter a few years younger than that. Their gambit to leverage Flaerdwyd for riches and status wasnt so much greedy as desperate. Under the absurd laws of Fflyr Dlemathlys, if their Clan didnt have a blond male able to take over as Highlord and continue the name, the lack of yellow hair would be taken as a sign of insufficient elven blood and thus, the loss of the Goddesss favor. Noble status would then be stripped from them, along with any hereditary fiefdom, which would probably include this estate and the Spirit. That had happened to the Auldmaer family and, I suspected, the Norovenas.

It was hard to be sympathetic to the highborn, the way they acted, but it had to be said that this countrys stupid, crooked and broken situation wasnt even good for them.

Its him! blurted Flaerdwyd, rising from his chair. My lord, run! Ill hold him off! Null!

He held out both hands toward me, invoking the spell that stifled all my powers. This close in a well-lit room, I could see that Null caused a visible distortion effect in the air which had not been apparent during the nocturnal kerfuffle in the Gutters.

Silence hung in the dining room for three beats, the power of that spell shimmering in the space between us, and then there came a muffled snort as one of my armed followers snickered.

The Rapier of Mastery whispered hungrily as I drew it from the sheath, taking two measured steps forward and raising the weapon. I calmly extended the blade right between Flaerdwyds outstretched hands, bringing the point to rest against his clavicle, and invoked my counterspell.

Sword.

Highlord Yviredh covered his eyes with a hand and his young daughter closed hers, groaning; at least three more of my bandits began to giggle behind their masks. Flaerdwyds expression was a treasure for the eyes which I happily memorized. That sight would bring me comfort in whatever dark days lay ahead.

Sit down, boy, I said, not unkindly.

And now, finally, I got to have some proper fun. I did so love playing to a captive audience.