Right Hand

Right Hand

                Tadyel and Dot had a bit of a conversation on the way back to the shop.

                "Almost everything owned by a few hundred people just went up in flames," said Tadyel. "How could you even think of making that pun?"

                Dot shrugged. "Enemies," she replied. "This was a victory - a flawless one, at that. Not quite a knockout, but a perfect opening round."

                "Thrath are the enemy," said Tadyel. "These were... normal people. Misled. We shouldn't ... revel? No, we shouldn't take their suffering lightly." On second thought, Tadyel realised 'revel' was actually accurate.

                "I don't have quite the soft spot you do," said Dot. "Misled they might be, but they'd do worse to us without qualms."

                "This is the start of a particular long moral discussion I've had a couple of times," said Vanna. "Given the secrecy of our operations, it would be wise to have it in private." She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Also, I could use some sleep before I deal with the fallout from this. Dot, can you handle updating Eden?"

                "Sure," said Dot.

                With that conversation avoided, they walked the rest of the way mostly in silence. Tadyel half expected a group of Followers to appear from nowhere to take revenge but nothing happened. The Followers were too busy relocating.

                Things were almost normal for the next few days. The ordinary refugees remained relatively close to town despite some objections, and cut the few ties they had with the Followers. As a gesture of trust some even began turning Followers away, in or worse. A handful of Follower agents were found dead; though by whose hands - refugee or townsfolk - was always unclear. In many cases ordinary refugees would be found dead the next day.

                The Followers had already found themselves a new camp site further away from town. Half a day's walk was not enough for many in town, who began calls for another 'eviction'.

                How the Followers had managed to build a new camp when all their stuff had been burnt mystified many of the townspeople; although Vanna explained to Tadyel that numerous shipments of goods the Followers had brought were never accounted for. Vanna suspected they had been stashed for use in a situation like this.

                For Tadyel, the main difference was the tension. A reprisal from the Followers was inevitable according to Vanna. Waiting for it - expecting it at any moment - was very stressful. Sleeping was difficult; what if they attacked while she slept? The only reason she could sleep at all was Vanna's assurance that someone was always keeping an eye on the shop - who or how she would not say.

                Four days after the Follower camp was burnt Dot joined Tadyel for lunch, mostly to complain about having nothing to do. "We're burying our fists with our backsides instead of striking," she complained.

                "Striking what?" asked Tadyel.

                "Anything! We should be cutting off their supplies at least," grumbled Dot.

                "Well, you and Vanna are the ones who talk to Eden," said Tadyel.

                "I suppose you don't mind this ... waiting," said Dot. "No killing, only waiting for the bastards to show up and do us in."

                "Not really - I mean, I do mind it. I'm scared and stressed too, Dot," said Tadyel. "But I know it's not going to be over for a while."

                Dot groaned. "I'm just... Being ready for a fight this long takes a lot out of me," she said. "And it's boring. You and Vanna work, but I've got nothing to do all day. I can't go out and work or anything or I'll get nabbed. I'm going 'stir crazy', I think it's called."

                "It can't be quiet for much longer," said Tadyel. "Vanna said the Followers' new camp is complete, more or less. I don't will or even can 'bury their fists with their backsides'. They'll do something big soon."

                The sound of a door closing made Tadyel look towards Vanna's room - Vanna had just exited. "No customers to handle?" she asked, coming through to the kitchen.

                "No," said Tadyel.

                "We've had a bit of a gab over lunch," said Dot. "Has Eden got any orders for us yet?"

                Vanna smiled in amusement. "Yes, actually," she said. "We've got an assassination order. I don't know how, but a high ranking Follower believes they are going to meet someone in the burnt out brewery late tonight. We'll be there instead."

                "Any more details on the target?" asked Dot.

                "Male, average height, bulky muscular build, shoulder length grey hair, should be dressed in a singlet and pants, likely to be armed with a dagger only, late fifties, noticeable scar on right forearm, chubby yet long face, nose bridge is thick, eyebrows black despite greying of hair," said Vanna.

                "You could have just said 'Yes'," said Dot. Vanna stuck her tongue out.

                "I'm in a good mood. My request for a break to marry Donovan after the Followers are dealt with was approved!" said Vanna, with barely contained joy. "And he'll play at being a wandering tinker so he can visit."

                Tadyel resisted the urge to say something morbid, and Vanna's demeanour became serious again. "We'll head out three hours after tea," she said. "No training, but there is some work for you to catch up on, Gel."

                "Baaah," groaned Dot, "More empty time."

                "Well, you could always make tea. Or my lunch?" suggested Vanna.

                "... No," replied Dot.

                It was strange to Tadyel that despite recent events business was as usual. A charitable soul was even paying for repairs to the clothes of the refugees still camped near town. The burning of the camp, and fear of the Followers, seemed unable to stop everyday business. Well, there had been a handful of fire damaged items brought in, but nothing more than that.

                While working into the evening her thoughts happened upon a strange comparison - her approach to life, to possessions, was almost the same even so far removed from the Thrath. Enjoy luxuries when you can, and work hard otherwise. Having any possessions at all had taken a while and only been at Vanna's insistence. Maybe the day to day lives of the townspeople would change if the situation continued for a long time; or maybe they only would when it was unavoidable.

                Though it was an interesting thought Tadyel did not share it. Vanna was busy catching up on a wide variety of complicated tasks and Dot had decided to train alone rather than lurk. Even if they hadn't been otherwise occupied Tadyel probably wouldn't have mentioned it.

                Vanna approached Tadyel while she was walking around, stretching her legs after sitting down for hours. "It's time," Vanna said. "Go get ready."

                Tadyel nodded silently. She stashed the piece of cloth she would use to hide her face and a robe into a small pack she slung over her shoulder. Around her waist she sheathed her sword - something many were wearing for protection any way. They left through the back of the shop, Vanna and Dot both carrying similar packs.

                Getting to the brewery without being was easy despite the size of their group - Vanna knew the routes of the guards better than Tadyel did by far. It made Tadyel wonder if Vanna snuck out at night to do missions unbeknownst to Tadyel. Or perhaps Vanna just had a good memory.

                The night was overcast, hiding the brewery almost completely from sight. From the look of it the front door had been torn out and replaced with a simple gate that was held in place with a padlocked chain.

                "Masks and smocks on," said Vanna as she unslung her pack.

                Tadyel complied, retrieving both items from her pack and putting them on. Wrapping the piece of cloth around her face so that she could breath and see while completely concealing her identity had seemed esoteric when she first learnt how to, yet it had proven very useful.

                Once all three had concealed themselves Vanna motioned the forwards. She produced a key from her pockets and unlocked the chain, unwinding it and leaving the gate hanging open.

                After they had made their way inside Tadyel asked, "How do we have the key?"

                "We sold the padlocks the guard are using," said Vanna. "Although it was really in case someone was imprisoned."

                "Shouldn't we be quiet?" asked Dot. Suddenly the burnt floorboard she was standing on creaked and snapped. "Ow!"

                Tadyel chuckled softly. "Careful," she said.

                "We should have about half an hour," said Vanna. "Hide behind the pillars that flank the door. I'll be at the far end."

                "Got it," whispered Tadyel. Dot gave her affirmative through a short nod.

                Unlike Dot, Tadyel managed to make her way across the floor - and even to the pillar - without incident. Still smiling about it she concealed herself, and got ready to wait for their target to arrive.

                She wasn't waiting long - ten minutes later she heard the gate slam into the wall of the building. Light from the entrance formed stark shadows around the column, and a male voice called out, "Are you here?"

                he voice sounded oddly refined - Tadyel realised that it was an accent she had only ever heard put on for jokes or tales. It was the way those from the eastern end of the peninsula spoke, or at least those in a major city state found there. The 'here' almost sounded like 'he-arrr'.

                "Yes," replied Vanna from the far end of the room.

                "Good, good," said the voice. Tadyel could hear the source moving into the brewery floor, and the man's footsteps. "It's good that not all you townsfolk are deaf to our pleas. We just want to save those coming through the desert from the Magi! Is that truly such an ask?"

                There was silence for a moment, although Tadyel could hear the man continuing his walk. "It might just be," said Vanna. "Who the heck are you expecting to meet, anyway?"

                "Huh?" said the man. Tadyel supposed that was her cue to step to step out from behind the pillar; as she did so she saw Dot doing the same. "Well, I came out here to meet one of our occasional benefactors. Are you not her?"

                Tadyel saw Vanna coming around the side of the charred still she had been hidden behind with a crossbow in hand. "No," she said, unfortunately just as Dot managed to find another weakened floorboard to crack noisily. This time Dot managed to fall forwards with a thud instead of just slipping.

                "What was - oh dear," said the man, whirling around and spotting both Dot and Tadyel. He also managed to completely ruin Vanna's emergence - between that and Dot falling on her face things had taken an eerie turn for the comical.

                "Now listen," he said, taking a step backwards towards Vanna.

                Just as he was about to continue speaking Tadyel heard the twang of Vanna's crossbow and a short, wet, ripping noise. The man gasped and clutched at the blot that had just emerged from his left lung. "Wha - what," he said, falling to his knees.

                He continued to gasp and cough as Tadyel rushed at him, hoping to end his suffering quickly. He turned at her as she approached - light-footed, but still noisy. His face bore a confused look, which it kept as Tadyel unsheathed her sword into a slash through his skull. Only the strike, as he fell backwards, did she remember to check whether he was their target. Thankfully, the man she had just killed looked exactly as Vanna had described.

                "Rushing like that was unnecessary," said Vanna, coming alongside Tadyel. Dot joined them, limping. "You could've wound up worse off than Dot."

                "I didn't want him to suffer," said Tadyel. "Sorry."

                "Gah," groaned Dot. "That side's far less burnt. Piss and shit and -"

                "Check your leg over and let's get out of here," cut in Vanna. "I don't know whether or not the person he was expecting is going to show."

                "Arright," said Dot. Her voice was somewhat pained.

                Tadyel wiped her blade off on the dead man's clothes as Dot gingerly checked her injury. "Seems alright," she said. "Twisted ankle or some shit."

                "Good," said Vanna. "Back to street clothes and let's go."

                Less than two minutes later they were changed and back outside. Vanna supported Dot as they walked, helping her hobble along at a reasonable pace. "So," said Dot. "Donovan, hey?"

                "Yes, Donovan," said Vanna. "Who I know you haven't met."

                "Well, since it'll keep my mind off my damn leg," said Dot, "How about you tell us about him?"

                "Alright," said Vanna. "He's nice."

                "Ha," said Dot.

                "No, he's a good man," said Vanna. Tadyel zoned out as Vanna kept talking - romance wasn't a particularly interesting subject for her. Maybe one day... But not until her work was over. Or maybe after a few years - perhaps she'd get used to living under constant threat enough to do that sort of thing despite the worries.

                They did reach the shop safe and sound despite Tadyel's worries, at least.