E07-Ch 32: Don't Need To

Aravena was only a middle-sized town, but it was better than Celindrin. Smaller, but better. No beggar boys hassled her for arcas, and the taverns looked like she could have a good time without catching something.

Sylvara found an inn called the Tattered Princess. Strange name for an inn, but it was nicer than most, yet not so nice that it would be boring. There was a fiddle player stringing some lively music when she entered, and most of the inn's meal tables were full.

She had changed her cloak to something less eye-catching, but the innkeeper still gave her a bow when he met her. She was given a large room that had water piping for its basin and a balcony that overlooked the main street below. After giving her the key, the innkeeper promptly headed downstairs to pump water to her room.

Her arm was still stiff from healing, and she soaked it for half a chant. The shoulder wound from which she had drawn blood from for the summoning had not healed, and it still leaked from time to time, turning the water softly pink. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was one of the costs of making a bond with the demonsphere.

The fiddler was still playing when she returned downstairs to have her meal. She kept her cloak on, but she caught his eye. He was a handsome lad in that lean way that musicians often had. He smiled at her when their gazes met. She didn't return it. If he wanted her affections, he'd have to work for it.

Sylvara ordered a simple meal of roasted lamb with root vegetables and flat bread. The lamb arrived flecked with thyme and garlic, its meat falling easily from the bone. The innkeeper gifted her a bottle of dark wine, which she had expected him to do. She ate methodically, cutting precise pieces and chewing without hurry, her eyes scanning the room between bites. The wine she drank quickly, and she soon ordered a second bottle.

The fiddler had taken two breaks by the time she finished that second bottle, and still, he had not come to talk to her despite his clear interest in her corner of the inn. During that time, he’d ordered several glasses of wine himself. She’d already lost interest and considered finding another tavern with more courage.

Just as she was contemplating what to do next, the wine only just starting to dull her slightly as it would to any true arcanist, the fiddler rose from his seat and headed her way.

But then he stopped as someone else took the seat beside her table.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the man said as if he’d just realized there was someone else sitting at the table. “Is this seat spoken for?”

Sylvara eyed the man. His knowing eyes were like ice, and his hair was as black as moonless night. His skin was auburn-tinged, and he had the complexion and physique of a Crownbled or Ascendant. The fiddler was already sitting back in his seat, gulping down the rest of his wineglass.

“It is,” Sylvara said, her face a mask.

The man let out a sigh and shook his head. “That is a tragedy. A woman as beautiful as yourself should not be made to wait.”

Sylvara gave a snort.

“Allow me to keep you company while your tablemate is away.”

“I prefer my own company.”

“Ah…” the man said knowingly. “Then the seat is spoken for by you and not another.”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

The man smiled then. It was a conspiratorial but warm smile. “We both know that’s not true.”

Sylvara wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she found herself smiling in return. The innkeeper arrived presently and bowed to the man the same way he’d bowed to Sylvara.

“How may I be of service, High One?”

The man slapped the innkeeper on the shoulder. “Come, come, none of that here. A bottle of your finest wine.”

The innkeeper bowed once and left the table.

The man returned his smile to her. “So, does the mysterious woman have a name?”

“Syl.”

“And what brings you to Arvena, Syl?”

“It’s rude not to introduce yourself.”

“My humblest apologies, my name is Elas, and I thank you for your interest.”

“I’m interested in your story, Elas. Shouldn’t a man of your bearing stay in a finer establishment?”

Elas shrugged as if embarrassed. "I am staying in a finer establishment. But this is the finest establishment for a drink in Arvena."

"And your story?"

"Hmm, yes… and which story shall I tell?"

"If you're going to lie, I'd prefer it to be memorable."

The wine arrived then, and Elas took over for the innkeeper, filling their glasses. "You strike me as the discerning type, Syl. I shall opt for honesty rather than risk an attempt to compose a grand tale. I am on my way to the south to visit my estates for the winter."

"Family?"

"A wife and two children."

"They aren't with you?"

"They aren't fond of travel, and my estates in the south, albeit warmer in winter, lack some of the comforts of my home in Elduros."

"Your wife does not mind you charming other women while on your journeys?"

Elas swirled his wine. "Knowledge is power, Syl. But it is also pain. And what one does not know cannot hurt them." He raised his glass toward her. "To knowledge and the lack of it."

“Spoken like a true gentleman.” Sylvara clinked her glass with his. "To your family."

* * *

Sylvara's back pressed against the door of her room as Elas kissed her. They were still in the hall when he pressed his lips to hers. His hands roamed down her sides and onto her hips, and she responded in kind, her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers pressing into his hair.

The additional three bottles of wine they'd shared had left her feeling warm, and she prayed to Heleric that Elas knew his business in the bedroom. His gift for kissing suggested he did.

He withdrew from her and put a palm on her cheek. "You truly are beautiful."

"You talk too much," she said and dug into her cloak pocket for the room key. Just as she did, her kingstone nudged her hard and upward against her left breast. Adrenaline shot into her as it always did when the kingstone moved so strongly, and her eyes found the direction it had judged her in. She saw it then, the small wound beneath his thumbnail. A sliver of blood still there, not fully healed. The most common place a Nyx mage would wound themselves to summon a demon.

Elas noticed her tension and pulled back. But before he could react, Sylvara had already drawn on every measure of strength and arcana at her immediate disposal and pressed it into the fist that she slammed into his jaw.

The impact sent him through the opposing door, flying like a cannonball, bursting through the room's window and into the night air.

Sylvara wasted no time. She raced after him, her arcana pushing her forward as she leaped through the broken window after his thrown body like a shadow. She hit him again midair, just as hard, in the same spot on his jaw, ensuring he did not have time to incant a spell. The blow sent him hurling faster through the air, roofs of houses flying by below, his body shooting past the last line of houses in the town and through a tree.

Sylvara kept pace, with no time for a spell; arcana blasted out from behind her, meeting him at the next tree before he struck it, but the third blow he caught with his bare hand. The impact sent him hard against the tree, shattering it behind him, but there he held his ground, arcana pressing out from him in bright waves of light.

He was laughing, her fist still in his hand. His jaw was only slightly swollen as he looked at her. "I heard you were good, Sylvara. Few have ever landed a blow on me."

Rage fueled every fiber of Sylvara's being. It was the second time in the week that a member of the Nyx had approached her under false pretenses. She had killed those villagers and murdered that hunter before his son. She had done her duty. And the Mother had sent her spies to goad her again and again? How dare she?

She swung her second fist with everything she had, but he caught it in that same iron grip. His arcana veil was even stronger than hers. Neither of them had cast a spell.

"Be at peace, Sylvara. I had only wished to test y—"

She slammed her forehead into his nose. He hadn't seen it coming. Veil or no veil, a nose was no match for a skull.

He stumbled backward, blood spraying as he went, but he recovered quickly, wiping at his face with a sleeve.

Elas stared down at his bloodied garment with more surprise than anger. "Now that really is rare. It's no wonder the Mother likes you."

Fury boiled in Sylvara's veins. She had not a thread of patience for this irreverent spy. Spirals of arcana gathered into both her hands. "You'd better speak your piece fast. If you think I give a demon's ass that the Mother sent you, think again."

Elas smiled again, and it was the same as the one he'd given her when they first met. "I do not belong to the Tongue, Sylvara."

Sylvara scowled. The Tongue was the most elite organization within the Nyx. Besides the Mother, who else dared to approach her under false pretenses?

"Then who are you?"

Elas snapped his fingers, and arcana twisted from the ground, spinning around her torso and arms, locking her in place.

She stared at him in disbelief. He molded the arcana with his mind alone, and yet the arcana was stitched together as strongly as a spell would have been.

"My name is Elas, as I've told you. And I am on my way to visit my southern estates. However, I am also a Talon."

A Talon. Sylvara couldn't believe it. There were only four Talons in the Nyx, and each was said to be as strong as any other segment of the Nyx alone. They were the greatest arcanists in the cult. There was no way the Mother had sent this one. The Talons, like the heads of the other segments, answered only to the Horn himself.

"The Mother will hear of this, Talon," Sylvara spat. "You have no right to come after me."

Elas laughed. "It's not you that I'm interested in, although I do say I am intrigued by your beauty and capabilities for one so young. But I think we can set that aside for a time, as another has captured my heart—the Mother. Oh yes, that dark maiden has caught my eye for some time. She is a mystery, is she not? What she does in that darkest cell of hers, I wonder? My lightest probes have all gone quiet, so I thought it was time to take a different approach."

"What the devil are you on about, freak?"

"I want you to find out what the Mother is up to when she is not presiding over her duties as the head of the Tongue, particularly if she has been doing anything that might be considered… unfaithful."

Sylvara laughed. "You've lost your mind. You think you can spy on the spymaster?"

Elas blinked. "I clearly cannot, and so you must do it."

"Go eat a demon's ass."

Elas looked unperturbed as ever. "I know why you joined the Nyx, Sylvara."

Sylvara's heart skipped a beat, and her throat turned dry.

"I know what the Horn did to your family. Do this task for me, Sylvara, and all will be forgiven. Fail me, and suffer the consequences."

The arcana holding her place began to loosen, and she fell to her knees.

"So your threat is that you'll tell the Horn if I don't obey you?"

Elas tilted his head, his ice-like eyes staring at her wide and open. "I don't need to. I'll just kill you."

Then, in a flash, he was gone.