Notes: 1) If you see
this
version of the story anywhere other than Literotica it isn't supposed to be there. 2) Because of shorter chapters, this is being posted in chunks.
*****
*Sixty-one*
The elf with unsettlingly large eyes of bizarrely indeterminate color stared back at her and tilted its head slightly. Syreilla nearly jumped when she realized he was imitating her.
"Get to know each other later." Odos had a hand over his face as she glanced at him. "Little Rook, this is Finwion. If you've heard any of the old elven stories of the clever boy, this is who they were talking about."
"I've never heard any."
The elf made a peculiar gasping sound and even Odos looked surprised.
"You never told any elvish stories, old man, and the only story I heard as a small child was how I was a horrible hideous wretch for not being a boy and that it was my fault the elf wanted nothing to do with my mother." She gave the appalled elf creature an apologetic glance, "I'm not fond of elves. They've always either shunned me, mistreated me, or left me to those who would." Exhaling, she added, "I'll make the effort to get along with you as long as you don't act like the rest of them."
Finwion frowned and started wagging his finger at Odos.
"My uncle scolded me as well." The old man's hazy grey eyes narrowed, but he still looked vaguely amused, "I've been trying my best to repair the damage, haven't I?"
She shrugged slightly, borrowing her face and upsetting those she loved didn't feel like he was trying to repair anything but Hammersworn whispered pointedly that up until then, there had been moments it had seemed like he might have been trying. "Repairing a thing doesn't unbreak it and people aren't things. Forgiveness doesn't come easily to me, but I do love you, old man, and I'm trying. Hammersworn may have gotten the softer parts."
"Motherhood helped her to forgive a great deal." His face softened into a sad smile. "We all have our tasks. Go with Finwion, listen to his advice, and don't be rude."
He vanished as she sighed and glanced at the elf, "You realize he could have asked me not to get into mischief and it would be just as easy as not being rude, yes?"
The elf grinned and beckoned to her, offering a hand and holding open a doorway. Taking it, she held onto it with a firm grip and followed him through. They came out on the other side at the thinning edge of a forest near what looked like a palace. Balconies on the outer walls and what looked like silken banners hung from the sides.
The elf tugged his hand away and rubbed it giving her a reproachful look. She mouthed 'sorry' at him and began assessing the wall. Smooth, but with those long banners and the slope of it... apparently the elf wanted to start with the easiest of the temples.
Finwion tugged at her sleeve and pointed deeper into the trees. Syr followed curiously. Perhaps he wanted to wait until it was dark. With a place this easy to get into she was certain she didn't need to but... He led her to a falling down gate around a spring and mimed diving in.
Keeping her voice low, she shook her head and argued, "Those walls would be so easy to get up I could rob this place with one eye and both hands tied behind my back, going in that way would be tricky and dangerous."
The elf put on a sour face and began acting as if he were arguing bitterly with someone, arms flailing.
"Fine, fine. Your rules." She grinned at him as he looked at her dubiously. "I need to shake the dust off of my feathers anyway."
Eying the water, she took off her outer layers and most of her kit, tucking them into her bag. The gem she looped around her neck the way that Kyrilla had shown her. Before she could jump the fence, Finwion shook his finger and mimed taking all of her clothes off. Syreilla stared at him.
He pointed to the palatial temple, according to his gestures, inside would be pretty women in nothing or nearly nothing. The gist of his idea dawned on her.
"You want me to go in through the baths, naked."
Tapping her jewel, he seemed to think she could keep that on.
Syr had to take a moment to compose herself, opening her mouth to speak and then closing it, taking a few steps away. Being naked around elves was the stuff of nightmares. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to break the fingers of the first person who tried to lay a hand on her. She wasn't helpless, not anymore. Exhaling, she stretched and focused on the task at hand. Get in, get the gem, get out. There was more at stake than just the stones.
Finwion was looking at her with concern when she turned back around. She gestured for him to back up and finished taking off her clothes and kit. Going in with nothing but the gem felt too wrong but the memory of Hammersworn's pouch tied to her leg popped into Syreilla's mind. She took a few of the smaller tools, stowing them in a thin cloth pouch used mostly for quieting things slipped into pockets and tucked it all into her mouth. In moments, she was over the gate and in the frigid water.
With the chained gem, her way was lit as if she had a guide, the most difficult part was holding her breath and keeping moving for so long. Her lungs burned and stars were bursting in her vision by the time she came up gasping in the palace's cistern.
Taking a moment to wring her hair out after she'd heaved herself from the water, Syr followed the path that illuminated in front of her. She found herself in a chamber holding pipes and an oven that seemed to heat the water that must go into the baths. Her path led to the oven but she tested the door regardless, finding it locked. Putting out the fire might lure someone in.
It went out easily with a trick Orefinder had shown her, a less heavy-handed version of the spell she'd used to extinguish the flames on the burning dwarf. Syreilla placed a holding ward where she expected someone would need to stand to either inspect or relight it.
She found an unobtrusive spot to wait and remained still and patient. At the point she began to consider picking the lock, she was rewarded with the sound of a key turning. An elvish woman came in muttering to herself and fetching something from the other corner of the room before finally getting caught in the ward.
Syr cautiously stepped out of hiding and, realizing there was only one person, she stripped the woman and put on the loose, wispy garment, coiling her hair and pinning it with the gold pin in an approximation of the way the woman wore hers as well. It was practically the same as being naked. As an afterthought, she relit the fire with the supplies in the woman's hands. If the water stayed cold, someone would come looking to see why.
Slipping out of the room, she made it a point to walk calmly, to carry herself as if she belonged. Anyone seeing her at a distance would see just another elf because that was what they expected to see, hopefully. Her path lit in front of her again and she followed it out into a courtyard, past laughing, embracing elves, into a vine-covered arbor that led to a white door. She made her way inside as if it were the door to her own chamber.
Syreilla glanced around at the extravagant furnishings as she headed for the stairs. Everything she could see had been gilded or draped in silk. The next chambers along the open stone stair were filled with paintings of elvish women. Many of them were naked or wearing something as wispy as the garment she'd stolen from the woman in the room near the cistern. Some of the paintings were pornographic enough for the Magpie's brothel.
The sound of a woman's laughter and a low male groan made her hesitate as she made her way further up. The staircase was exposed and whoever was here she could only hope they were occupied enough with each other not to notice her. She kept her movements slow and deliberate. Unhurried. The bed was in full view as she silently proceeded up the stairs. Luck was with her, the golden-haired woman was on top of whoever was in the bed and speaking something that sounded indecent to him in elvish, facing away from the stair. The man's view was blocked by the elf.
It was impossible not to risk a glance. Syr came to a stop on the stair as she did. For a moment she nearly left the stair to rip the woman from the bed. The hands moving up the whore's back were unmistakably Vezar's, and the voice, she'd never heard him speak elvish but it was him, she was certain. A voice inside her told her to keep moving, do the job. She forced herself back into motion, risking another glance from above at an angle she could see their faces before she passed by completely. It was Vezar, Vezar and some delicate-looking elf woman, either a priestess or the goddess herself.
The job. You can rely on a Rook
. Fighting back the fury, and the agony of betrayal that made her want to weep and go back down there casting every horrible spell and ward she knew, Syreilla found the lavender gem in the next room, grabbed it, and chose to leave through the window rather than pass by
them
again. Vines made climbing down, even with the stone in her hand the work of moments.
As she touched the ground she held the stone in both hands as she willed every thread and cord that connected her to Vezar to be severed and heard an agonized scream from above. Syr palmed the stone as she made her way toward the walls, stopping and pointing with a concerned look on her face as people rushed past her toward the wailing.
Checking the anchor of a silken banner first, she took hold of it and slid down, dropping effortlessly the rest of the way and landing on her feet. Finwion beckoned almost frantically from the edge of the trees and she darted over letting him take hold of her arm and pull her to another place. The trees here were large, thick, and dark. They might have been daunting or ominous if they didn't suit her mood.
The elf, however, was ecstatic, he was dancing around gleefully and turned to her as if he expected her to be celebrating as well. With her free hand, she pulled the sodden pouch of tools out of her mouth.
"I need to take this to Uncle, but I'd like my clothes back first, please."
Nodding, he picked up her bag that she was almost certain hadn't been there a moment before and brought it to her, holding out his hand expectantly. She put the pouch in his hand and popped the gem into her mouth. The scandalized look on his face made her feel better.
Finwion sucked his cheeks in and started wagging his finger at her and she couldn't help but laugh, spitting the gem back out. She looked at the milky lavender gem for a moment before wiping it on the wispy garment and trading it for the pouch, "One of the few people I trusted absolutely has broken my trust. I found out while I was getting this stone."
