Lost in the Light

Wolfe was used to the stares - that leery vigilance towards strangers. Hornsdale was not so far into its successful and raider free year to have grown lax in their suspicion of visitors. As he looked around, he met the scrutinizing gaze of someone that carried himself like a soldier; he gave them a courteous nod. It was immediately returned, and the silent, unspoken brotherhood of men that had defended their homes from the barbaric wilds welcomed a visitor amongst them. It wasn't because of the spear leaning on his shoulder, the beaten travel leathers he wore, or his guarded charge - a robed girl with eyes wilder than a marsh hare on midnight mushrooms; it was because he gave them respect. And no one that did not understand what they fought for and sacrificed for, would know to do that. Out here in the wild lands, far out of the reach of the king's short arms, villages had to fend for themselves.

The market street was full of traders from other villages as well as local town-shed farmers conducting business. Herbs, pitch and tar, livestock, and the occasional handcrafted ware all traded hands to the clinking of copper and silver coins. Wolfe paused and surveyed the busy town square for a moment – there were watchmen walking amongst the crowd with long staffs ready to break up disputes or capture thieves. They watched Wolfe, sizing up his travel attire of rough, leather patched trousers, heavy boots, and dense leather vest, as much as Wolfe measured them in their cotton tunic uniforms – a soft material that was flexible but offered little protection. These men were just the eyes and ears, the heavy hitters of the town guard could not be seen. Wolfe took a second look at some of the locals that lingered their gaze on him too long – heavy, corded muscles, sharp eyes. There they were; the townspeople were the town guards.

The buildings surrounding the square were stone founded, pine framed, and plaster walled. They had lasted long enough for a bit of mold to grow on the founding stones, and the plaster to turn mottled from rains. However none of them were very tall at a modest three stories at most, a sign Wolfe knew to mean the original builders didn't expect them to last long.

"Problems?" His companion asked and nudged him in the ribs, breaking him out of his daydream.

"They've got a good wall." He said without turning to look at her. "Let's sign in." The marketplace inn would be expensive, but the more prosperous traders would be staying there. It was the best place to learn names and goings on. The Father had given him a small treasury for this trip – plenty enough to live and eat like kings for a week, but just barely enough to buy a handful of secrets from tight lips. Wolfe spied the inn in the distance above the heads of the traders. The building itself blending in with all the other's around it, only the sign hanging outside depicting a stein and a bed marked it for what it was. They made their way there.

The Innkeeper was a rotund, bald man with a pleasantly cherubic face and the beginnings of a winter beard. He balked at first when he noticed the two of them enter – something about the spear and the serious look made him unsettled. Yet the moment Wolfe mentioned wanting a room, he thrust a foaming stein into Wolfe's hands and patted him on the back.

"And for the lady?" The host grinned as he clapped his hands together expectantly. His cheerfulness withstood her wide-eyed glare and the wicked grin that curled the ruby lips on her porcelain face. Wolfe handed her his stein.

"She'll enjoy this, I'm on duty." He offered as way of explanation. The Innkeeper blinked a couple times, but didn't let his welcoming smile fade. Yet the combination made the later seem disingenuous.

"And if I may, what business brings you to Hornsdale, and to my fine establishment?" He looked sideways from one to the other. Wolfe noticed a watchman in the corner of the lobby stand up as he watched them.

"We're traders from the Brotherhood of Tranquil Clarity, the monastery to the east." Wolfe relaxed his spear hand, and nudged his companion covertly. "When someone offers you a beer, you drink it. It's rude not to. It means you mistrust their hospitality." He whispered to her, but loud enough so that the innkeeper also heard as means of an explanation.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and drank deeply from the stein. Her white throat bobbed up and down as the foamy liquid poured down her throat. Both men couldn't help but stare transfixed as she finished the whole drink at once. "Ahhhh!" she exclaimed, but suddenly pressed her gloved hand to her chest as it suddenly didn't sit well.

"Mainlander?" The Innkeeper asked as he blinked his eyes at Wolf with that same dualistically disarming, and yet suspicious grin on his face. Wolfe rolled his eyes back and forth, in a manner of agreeing.

"Acolyte." He muttered, and then cleared his throat to get back to business. "The Brothers have harvest goods for sale we're here to take vouchers on, and to purchase general goods."

"Brr-AAACK!" his companion let loose a frothy belch. Both men looked at her incredulously. Some of the patrons farther inside suddenly took an interest in what was going on at the entryway. Merchants looked up from their ledgers and coin counting to stare, while locals enjoying a brew smirked and lifted their steins in salute.

"I didn't know it would do that to me!" she protested.

"'Sposed to sip it." Wolfe grumbled. "It doesn't matter. What's the rate tonight?"

"Forty silver each." The Innkeeper said, maintaining that now irritating grin. Wolfe had to stop the surge of emotion that compelled him to hit the man. Forty silver coins could rent an entire wayside for a year. It was an exuberant amount to charge – either this innkeeper didn't want them here, or Hornsdale was enjoying too much prosperity. Wolfe tilted his neck to one side to pop the vertebrae as he considered it – beginning the fine art of haggling by showing his discomfort.

"Our rates are going to have to go up on this trip." He sighed as he pondered. From under his shirt he pulled out a neck pouch and pulled out two gold coins. The Innkeeper blinked before he suddenly looked away. "I hope Hornsdale can afford us because of this, I'd hate for their market to suffer. The Brothers are not profit mongers, but even we must eat." He saw the watchman scratch his neck nervously and start to eye the innkeeper's back.

"I did not realize the Brothers were so fortuitous at farming." The Innkeeper replied as he eyed the coins suspiciously. "Perhaps you are charging too much for mere potatoes." The watchman was now staring at Wolfe. The stakes were getting higher - their cover story was now in questions. But Wolfe only smirked and chuckled ever so demurely.

"Right..." Wolfe humored him, and dropped one of the coins back into then bag. "I need to remind myself I'm here to buy for thirty to forty men," Wolfe dropped the other into the bag, and pulled out a copper coin. "Here's for your trouble, and the beer." He set it casually on the counter, and turned to leave. "There are other inns, and shady folk tend not to bother us. In fact I would think, being as concerned for your guests as you are, you would want some extra security around here. Professionals... the kind that don't drink while they're on duty, and smart enough to tell a bad deal from a good one." Some of the bar patrons started to look at their cups suspiciously, especially the watchman with the half finished stein in his hands, a few settled up and started to rise to leave.

"Five silver each!" The Innkeeper blurted out. "A discount for your vigilant eyes, mind they stay off my guests and on their guests. I'll even break open one of my reserve barrels, Folkmor Amber, I think. Perhaps some of my patrons might need private guard escorts as well, to help make up for my unfortunate prices." He blurted out, causing all around to stop in their tracks. Wolfe looked around to each man in the room and stared them in the face for a few moments. Fear... fear was everywhere in their eyes. There was something unspoken here, but it wasn't Wolfe and his companion they were afraid of. It was still a high price, but Wolfe could live with that considering the busy day. He looked to the watchman, the only one in this room that could possibly be on his side. A slight nod from him told him it was a fair deal. Wolfe didn't want to get too entangled with the authority here anyways.

"Three silvers a night, for one room, no meals, and any more patrons that happen to come your way while we're here are also under my protective gaze." It was a shrewd move, but it made the watchman chuckle to himself.

"Right this way Sir, and Madam," The Innkeeper said as he turned around and led them down the back hall to the lower rooms. Deep down Wolfe felt bad for manipulating the man out of a fair rate for an honest exchange, but the Innkeeper had tried to gouge them from the beginning. The reputation they had just started today would eventually reach the ears of the more criminal elements in town, and that might make their task more difficult – and therefore a longer stay.

The Father had sent him here to investigate whatever cartel that had thought to spread its hands into the Monastery's business. Mero had dealt with the misbehaving monks running a bootleg liquor business. But the assassination attempt on The Mischievous out of retaliation made it a whole different matter. Wolfe hadn't known The Father to show much emotion other than contempt, or the occasional fatherly concern behind patronizing eyes, but this business had made him very irritable. It was almost as if he took it personally. Wolfe was suddenly thankful to be far away from the Monastery.

Their room was modest at best, but he hadn't specified quality during their bout of bargaining. It had a bed, He handed the innkeeper ten silvers from his pouch as means of a peace offering, and asked him if any other Brothers had stayed here before.

"On occasion I have seen a monk wearing robes like hers, but they never stayed here. I did not know the Brothers now had Sisters. I thought that would cause... problems." He added smugly.

"The Father frowns on such actions." Wolfe reflexively replied as he glanced her way. "A man that can take in murderers and thieves and turn them pious and religious is not one to be crossed."

"No, I would suppose not. Will that be all Sir?" The innkeeper glanced down, slightly chastened.

"Thank you." Wolfe replied and slowly closed the door. He listened to the Innkeepers footsteps as they diminished down the hallway.

"Leave your pack," He grunted to the lady, as he took his cloak off so he could get to the backpack underneath it. He leaned his spear up against the door to barricade the entrance. When he turned around, she was still fumbling with the hasp of her cloak. He grabbed her firmly by the jaw and looked into her blue, dilated eyes one after the other.

"He spiked your beer." He grumbled. "It'll wear off." She pulled the cloak off and let a mess of red curls fall around her neck and shoulders. Wolfe tried not to notice and resumed helping the pack off her shoulders. He didn't think to say more until she stared at him. "It... shouldn't affect your... trick, should it?" She pulled the gloves from her hands and looked at the smooth white skin over them.

"I can't feel my fingertips." She giggled.

"Wonderful," he grumbled as he finished getting her gear off. He grabbed her arms and felt up their length until he found the bulge of hidden steel up her sleeves. "Right, let's leave these too, and go find something to eat." He said as she reached up her sleeves and pulled out two long knives.

"Should we be leaving those?" She questioned as she complied.

"Explaining a bar brawl to the watchmen is easier than a spear in the throat, or a knife in the crotch in your case."

"You people are so weird." She giggled. "I like it... we don't have to worry about them being armed do we?"

"Let us hope not."

The evening's tour of the town hadn't turned up any leads. Wolfe asked around about his Brothers but the local provisioner, the general stores, even clothiers that sold some robes had not done any business with them. But all had seen them around town. The frustration was getting to him, as well as his companion's constant need for supervision lest she get them into trouble. She was especially good at sticking her nose into the business of lecherous men staring at her. In a moment of temper and weakness, he retired them both to the Inn and went to the tavern and ordered a beer.

"And this time no special seasoning," he whispered low to the Innkeeper, and smiled knowingly. The man scurried off respectively to the kitchen, and came back a moment later with a frothy stein. Wolfe sat in the corner with his back to the walls and watched the patrons as he sipped his beverage. The cool, thick headed, slightly bitter taste was a heartwarming comfort. Some of the faces he saw were familiar from the afternoon. They nodded to him respectively when their gazes met, and he lifted his stein in salute. Only a handful of people were still up this late, a couple of pairings were talking at tables, and a few solo drinkers. But there was nothing that seemed to need his attention. A few hours passed and the rest of his beer turned warm before he took another sip.

Peace. That was what was unsettling him he concluded, and he stared into what remained of his beer as the revelation came. His time in the Brotherhood had been long enough for the world to change; and he no longer fit in it. For someone that lived blood and violence since he was old enough to pick up a weapon, peace was eating at his resolve and making him irritated. He had already broken his word, and was drinking when he needed a clear head. At that moment he remembered that The Father told him some lessons he would need to learn on his own – lessons on awareness of self. How to live without the constant guard and need to challenge every face was his next test.

"A weapon must learn to live with its sheath." He surmised to himself and gulped the rest of the beverage. It was time to check on her.

A soft knock on the door came unanswered. Wolfe growled and tried the knob, but something barred the door. With a deep exhale he stilled his own breath and placed an ear to the door. There were no sounds of a person inside, only the gentle breeze of an open window. He knew it; she had left when he told her not to. This one had a problem with temptation, he grumbled to himself.

Wolfe ran out the front, accidentally spooking the patrons still sitting and chatting, some of which immediately settled up their tabs...

All heads turned to regard the fire haired beauty that walked inside the establishment with boldness in her step. A hushed silence greeted her, leaving only the musicians playing on center stage to be heard. A dancing woman in shear silk remnants with long raven hair and brown skin accented the music with twin metal discs she clinked together in her hands as she danced to the beat. The newcomer wore a midnight blue robe with her arms at her sides and a look of naïve bewilderment. It created more mystery about her that kept the stares lingering, as the patrons – already entertaining women of the evening at tables and booths tucked against the walls– waited with baited breath for some revelation about her. She sought out one man in particular, one of the door Jacks, a burly man with thick arms meant for ejecting the disorderly. She approached him fearlessly, and when their gazes met he smirked.

"What kind of work were you eluding to earlier today?" She asked innocently and tilted her head up ever so slightly to look up at him down her nose.

"The kind someone wearing that wouldn't be allowed to do." He grunted with a smug look. "Talk to the boss, through there." He nodded to a doorway behind a beaded curtain. She wasted no more time with this one and walked through the opening. By now the musicians had stopped playing, realizing another form of entertainment was taking place. Even their dancer had disappeared from the stage. The clients - men of varied walks of life with only their large purses in common – started whispering wagers across the room amid burst of chuckles.

When the beaded curtain finally flew open, silence fell. A woman of poise and stature strode out gracefully. She wore a beaded red and black corset with sheer sleeves that started right below the shoulders and ended in hand wraps with a string loop on one finger each. Spiders and webs decorated those sleeves and mimicked the beaded spiders that adorned her scarlet dress that fell straight to the floor. A black pearl choker with a single large amethyst wrapped around her neck. The gemstone matched the single purple plume that strutted from her hair woven into a bun. She radiated authority in both her gaze and her pressed palms, and all eyes gave her their respect as she took center stage.

"Gentlemen," she said in a demur tone weighted with a foreign accent. "We have a rarity tonight for your pleasure. This is a once in a lifetime experience." Her words were slowly spoken and each one weighted with husky seduction. "A flower of great purity has come to learn of carnal sin. In order to further her pious journey she must learn of the evil that plagues a man. A teacher is needed. One that can show this delicate beauty what dark desires tempt a man..." She lifted one delicate arm gracefully and motioned all heads to behold the red haired lady in blue as she walked submissively to stand just before center stage.

"A bargain has been struck," The Mistress announced. "For tonight only, under our watchful eye and protection she will allow herself to learn under your tutelage." The lust in the air was palpable. "We will start the bidding at one gold head..."

Wolfe had lost her. There was no sign of a trail he could detect and very few businesses were open this late to entertain her. Against his better judgment he even asked one of the night watchmen if they had seen, or even detained her, but then hadn't. As he bid a good evening to this last watchmen he turned and looked up to the sky, it was a half moon and cloudy. Not enough light to keep looking much longer once the street lanterns were blown out.

"Beg a pardon, sir," The watchmen said. Wolfe turned back around, the man looked a bit embarrassed as he looked to his feet and leaned on his staff. "I'm not sure what your order thinks on these things, and it's hard to think it because she's a woman after all, but there is a place that entertains men at night. It's relatively new. A wealthy lady from foreign lands moved in and set up a tavern of sorts. Only they serve more than spirits..." Wolfe stared blank faced as the man went on, not cutting in until he had heard it all. "Well, it's just a possibility that she was lured in somehow. If it was against her will, we'll have the lot tossed out of town, but so far they've kept it clean and paid their taxes so we leave them be. Anyways, I'm rambling... it was just a thought. Good luck to you."

"Wait," Wolfe interjected. "Have you ever heard of other Brothers, men of my order wearing blue robes, going there?"

"Eh, maybe once or twice. But it was just rumored." The night watchman rubbed his mustache and turned to go about his way.

"Thank you, I'll take a look."

"Don't cause trouble, call us instead. But I doubt she's there." The man waved him by and went on his patrol.

"She's there..." Wolfe growled once he was out of earshot.

"Well it seems that gentleman was not enough to sate this eager girl." The Mistress announced as she returned from the upper floor. "She is still eager to learn more. Freshly bathed, and still unsoiled, the Flower awaits her Master." She spanned the crowd, meeting the gaze of all the patrons gathered. The Madam lifted a graceful arm, and all heads turned to the red haired, pale skinned vision of beauty that gently strode forth. Dressed in an ivory silk robe with pink petals embroidered into the fabric, low cut in the back to show off the porcelain skin between her shoulder blades, but high in the front to retain feminine mystery, the woman turned her head to the side and lowered herself in a demur bow before the mistress. She stood with her hands together before her under the large sleeves that hid them. It was a custom of the Mistress's foreign lands, but this Sister performed it beautifully. Her wet scarlet hair was wrapped around her head in a bun like the Mistress's, exposing the unblemished skin of her neck. The perfumed scent of lilacs wafted around her, adding to the alluring nature. The Mistress certainly knew how to dress her merchandise as evident by the sudden anxious shifting of the men waiting to bid.