The Tattooed Woman

THE TATTOOED WOMAN - Chapter 53

The Tattooed Woman Volume 3 - Chapter 53: Blood Will Out

The tavern was awash with all manner of characters, ranging from those garbed in the most outlandish and extravagant of costume to others of a more sombre demeanor, who chose instead to conceal their features beneath murky cloaks that probably hid more than mere daggers.

Bearded Dwarves, proud in their iron, raised tankards and bellowed their songs; drunken gladiators and inebriated sellswords mixed with rogues and ruffians as they contested for the eye of some comely wench or likely lad. Half-Orc bodyguards played at 'dice and daggers' with Elfish scouts, as, from the rafters above their heads, the beady eyes of summoned familiars and conjured imps kept watch over their masters.

The common room was of significant size, lit by flickering witchfire lanterns set in engraved brass sconces that somehow, and doubtless by careful and deliberate design, only partially illuminated the many nooks and crannies.

Some folks sat by the fire, enjoying its warmth and light, others preferred to lurk in the shadowy pews set further back. The whole place seemed awash with sounds and movement, with talking, singing and cursing in a truly bewildering myriad of languages. The air was pungent with the smell of wood and tobacco smoke, as it competed with the aroma of roasting meats, rich spices and strong spirits.

Here and there, dancing girls whirled atop a table, spinning in enticing displays of silk and skin as they weaved with beguiling grace, or leapt from one tabletop to another, attracted like magpies to the glitter of gold coins tossed at their nimble feet by clapping and cheering patrons.

Figures in chain shirts, and studded leather hauberks called out to serving wenches for wine and ale, or perhaps one of the pies baking on the skillet over the fire, while at another table, off to one side, hooded figures hunched close, deep in murmured conversation as they pored over the maps and unrolled parchments that lay between them.

At yet another table, a cluster of urchins or potboys watched with child-like delight as a wizard of some kind conjured a tiny figure of bright flame from a candle and set it to dancing and playing atop the table for their entertainment. The magi chuckled at their laughter as he showed off. That the sprite left tiny burning footprints in its wake did not seem to discourage his amusement in the slightest. Though his expression changed somewhat, as without direction it paused in its capering, and in a most eerie movement deliberately turned to peer towards the door. It was a motion copied and unseen by the handful of familiars lurking in the rafters above.

Cassie felt her mouth drop open, for though she had worked in a tavern during much of her young life, she had never experienced such a place as this. Nor anything like such a company.

They were of so many different shapes and forms; all engaged in their own business, or their own merrymaking. Yet, as she looked about with wide eyed astonishment, she could not help but sense there was something of a similarity about them. That they were all armed was not so strange these days, but many had a certain predatory quickness of eye and hand that spoke volumes.

For this was an establishment where so-called "adventurers" were known to frequent. And though other sell-swords, ruffians, rogues, or indeed anyone with coin enough in their pocket, was certainly welcome, and while there was bravado enough to be had in any quantity, there was surprisingly little of the thievery or thuggery one might expect to find in a place filled with such fatal and disreputable creatures.

The Dark Elves were a prideful folk, intolerant of strangers, quick to take offence and long to forgive, if ever. But they were crafty, and even they recognised that sometimes there was more to be gained by not paying overmuch attention to the comings and goings of such folk. After all, it was well known that adventurers, by their very nature, were both demented and perilously unpredictable. Besides, more than one House had, at times, made use of, or profited from their reckless insanity, so, unless provoked, they left them be.

The tavern was somewhat hard to find; it being situated deep in the warren-like sprawl of the Shambles. It was ensconced at one darkened corner of a small and dimly lit square that was itself situated off the furthest end of a particularly well-hidden and secluded lane.

There was rumour that a glamour had been laid upon the taproom, that its door could not be found by aimless tipplers, and that secret passwords needs must be spoken before entry could be gained, but glamours and other such petty enchantments were common enough in the city of the dark elves, so the story was probably just bunkum... probably.

But even so, it did not appear to be a place easily found, or casually frequented for that matter, certainly not by well-bred ladies of refinement and the like. Such august and delicate personages would surely be horrified and set to swooning if compelled to endure such raucous company.

Apparently not; for this was Emain, the city of the Dark Elves, and swooning was distinctly not in their wicked natures. Which was probably why Leita apparently was most familiar with the place, and thus, after their night of theatre and spectacle, she happily led Cassie there, unerringly finding her way to the door, skipping, and giggling with a merry lack of concern as she guided the increasingly nervous girl through the maze of narrow alleys and cobbled lanes that made up the thieves' quarter.

One would have thought, perhaps, that the sight of two young women, wandering at night seemingly without escort or care, in such nefarious environs would attract a certain level of unfriendly attention. But it seemed that if Leita knew these avenues intimately, then so too did they know her; and thus, the wolves that lurked and watched from the shadows wisely turned away, deciding to try their luck elsewhere, and perhaps with less

hazardous

prey.

Leita muttered a few words and tossed a gold crown to the burly ostarius warding the door. He was a bald, lumpy fellow of significant size, clad in a sturdy leather garb that left his muscular arms bare. His face was a battlefield of old scars and his grin at being so well-paid revealed teeth like lonely tombstones as he bit the coin.

Beady eyes gleamed with happy avarice as the gold proved true, and his fingers moved to tug an imaginary forelock. Hefting his cudgel, he heaved himself from his stool and led the two women through the throng and into the depths of the tavern proper, using his bulk, or the stout hickory in his hand to plow a path for them to follow.

Upon reaching an empty table situated in a comfortable nook, he gestured, "This should do ye, though if it's privacy yer after, we have a few rooms in back," he grinned, "the divans are padded and comfortable, and there are houris to be had for a few coins if it's bedplay yer after."

Seeing Cassie's aghast look, he sniffed and lifted his chin to growl, "Both are clean, I'll have ye know, for 'tis a respectable place we run here."

Fetching him a cheerful smile, Leita did not seem even slightly intimidated by his gruff demeanor, "Maybe later."

With a mortified gasp Cassie turned to stare at her in shock, but the insouciant dark elf merely shrugged, "You never know."

The younger woman couldn't help but cast a furtive glance at the scantily clad dancing girls, and much to the obvious delight of the still grinning elf, she reddened spectacularly, "I bloody do know. Lady Shalidar would clip my ears back if I indulged in such illicit -

hanky-panky

, and deservedly so."

Leita's chuckle was as musical as the laughter of all Elves, but to Cassie's ears it held a distinctly mischievous note. She watched as the lithe and graceful Dökkálfar motioned towards a serving wench, beckoning her to their table with a languid gesture, and the promise of the shining coin now held betwixt outstretched fingers.

The girl wove between tables and stools with her tray held aloft, nimbly dodging one groping hand and playfully slapping away another, until she stood before them, eyes fixed brightly upon the enticing lure of the gold piece that Leita deliberately placed down upon the table before sliding it towards her, "What say you fetch my companion and I a measure of good wine, a couple of clean goblets and perhaps a brace of those fine pies that I see warming by the fire? If you are swift enough, I see no reason to trouble yourself by bringing back any change left over, and should you keep an eye on our further needs as we take our repast then I shall ensure that another coin is left for your troubles before we leave."

The girl gave them both a dainty curtsy, "'Tis no trouble, milady, I am pleased to serve," and with a smile she hurried off on her errand.

Cassie watched her go, and the dark elf could see the pensive expression on her face as she did, "A copper for your thoughts, Princess."

There was a snort, "Don't call me that, my life is absurd enough as it is," she gave a wry chuckle and pointed after the girl, "I was just thinking how not so very long ago that was me. Oh, not in so fine a place as this, nothing like it in fact. We had no music, or dancing girls, and the only houris I can think of are those buxom dairy maids who took such delight in mocking me when they shoved their overside tits into the faces of any travelling vagabond or witless farmhand who spared them the time of day and the price of an ale. And if anyone ever tossed about a gold coin to pay for a simple pastie, we would think them entirely demented," she sighed, "but... that was my life back then, such as it was."

The dark elf nodded as she regarded her, inhuman eyes as brilliant and unblinking as a cat's, "Until we stole you?"

"Aye, until you stole me."

Leita's teeth were white and sharp-looking, as she smiled her predatory smile, "But you are a Princess, are you not? I was told so this very afternoon by my aunt no less, and she is not one to make such a mistake. Oh no, most definitely not."

"If I am it is only by fluke and happenstance."

This time it was Leita's turn to snort dismissively, "I very much doubt that."

"Huh?"

The dark elf continued to chuckle, pausing only when the serving wench returned to spread their victuals down upon a clean tablecloth, "There ye go, ma'am, a flagon of our bestest red, and two meat pies fresh from the oven."

With a nod of thanks and a wave of her hand the slender dark elf dismissed her, before filling the goblets and pushing one in front of the human girl sitting opposite, "Does it matter, Cassie? You've gone from orphan pot-scrubber in some backwater Borderlands tavern, to being enslaved by the Sidhe and carried off into the Fae as chattel, and now? See? Here am I, a daughter of dark elves swearing fealty to your House and serving you with my own hand."

She chuckled again, "in truth, if the tale were any more heroic, the Bards would be making up songs about it, and you."

Fetching the girl a distinctly impish smirk, she turned to her pie and hefting her beltknife used the hilt to break open the flaky crust, allowing a delicious waft of aromatic steam to escape. Taking a sniff of the flavoursome scent, she deftly flipped the blade and cut herself a slice.

Across the table, Cassie's complexion had darkened as she blushed again in embarrassment and she snorted, "Fat chance. Ain't nobody in their right mind making up no songs about me. All I've done is stumble and stagger from one mad calamity to another, and it's naught but blind luck that's saved me."

Leita shrugged, and gestured to the throng around her, "Maybe so, but I've heard it said by some right here in this tavern no less, that luck will often enough save you, but only if your courage holds."

The girl's disgruntled reply only caused the dark elf's smile to broaden, and she refilled both goblets, "Here, what say we forget about such things for a while and enjoy our supper? The pies here are particularly fine. The cook is Dwarven, for all that he uses Gnomish spices, and he knows his way around a stove."

They ate for a while, and Cassie had to admit both pie and company were enjoyable. Though she was mindful to but sip from the goblet, for she had not forgotten the warnings of enchanted elvish draughts.

After a spell, she glanced back at her companion, "Why?"

The dark elf seemed distracted by her thoughts, for she was sitting there, spoon in hand, looking up into the rafters with a strangely curious expression on her face. And it was a moment before her eyes flicked back to the girl, "Huh?"

Cassie took another sip of her wine and leaned closer, "Why would you swear yourself to me?"

Leita was once again casting her eyes upward. She shifted slightly in her seat and her reply was offhand, "Oh, my aunt asked me to..."

"Again, why?"

"Hmm? Oh," she blinked, "I'm told your guardian approached her, offering favours if she would find a suitable companion for you."

Cassie frowned, "Companion?"

The dark elf nodded, "Aye, from what I gather, Lady Shalidar felt you were growing somewhat discontented by your current situation," she shrugged, "and who could blame you? Cast adrift in this land of strangers, while your friends have gone off into likely danger? From what my aunt says, your guardian may not be entirely familiar with such concerns of the heart, whatever that means, but she seems to know boredom and loneliness when she sees it."

Cassie considered, "So, why you?"

Leita pursed her lips, "Why, you ask? Well, 'tis true my aunt is a most devious creature, and her choice would have been anything but random. But I presume she felt we would be a good match."

Seeing Cassie's look of dawning horror, the dark elf burst out laughing, "Nooo, not like that! Or," she frowned, "at least I think not, you can never tell with dark elves and our schemes. But I am an assassin, trained and blooded, so I can serve as your watchdog and protector at need. I am also young among my kind, thus not so ancient that you would find me completely alien and unrelatable."

She sighed and her fingers played with the stem of her goblet, "Then, of course, there is my background; for I am also not entirely of this realm, for as you have a smidgeon of elvish blood in your veins, so too have I human blood in mine, just a little anyway."

Cassie was fascinated, "You do?"

"Indeed so. My father was half elven, for he was the son of a human woman and an elf from the sunlit lands, both taken captive in border skirmishes long ago. They were kept as a breeding pair, and he was the result."

"D-did you know him?"

"No, he was a gladiator in the arena," with a wry grin she looked up at the human girl, "I'm told he was quite the handsome devil, and well knew it. His company was much sought after by ladies and maidens alike, for his skills were not restricted only to the sands, but also to a hotter cockpit altogether."

"What happened to him?"

Leita grimaced slightly, "My mother says she offered to buy the man, for she was well taken with him. Had he been willing he could have lived with her in pampered luxury for the rest of his days, but he demurred, wanting to win his freedom in the arena instead. He died during a bout. It was in a championship match they say, for by all accounts he was a skilled fighter," she shrugged, "I suppose he just met a better blade that day - it happens. I was born not long after his passing."

"I'm sorry."

With a wry chuckle, Leita drained her goblet, "Don't be, for I never met the man, and besides, I am dark elven and dark elves have no use for pity."

Cassie gave a snort, but decided not to argue, "If you say so. Still, no doubt your aunt calculates the tale will engender feelings of sympathy in the mush-headed little human child."

"Won't it?"

With a grumbling mutter, Cassie looked away, causing Leita to chuckle.

She reached out to the girl, patting the back of her hand in an amiable gesture as she spoke, "'Tis true my kind oft view compassion as a weakness that is most easily exploited, but even so, it still does not go entirely unappreciated, Cassie. Besides, I doubt my aunt thinks you mush-minded. She is far too canny and cunning a creature to so grievously underestime you. Even if she did, there are far too many secrets and hazards surrounding you to take lightly."

Cassie almost burst out laughing. For anyone to describe her so was almost too comedic for words, "Hazardous? Me? Oh yes, I'm terrifying, to be sure. Anyone seeing me fight would be more at risk of dying of laughter, than at my hands. I think your aunt is safe enough from any dread secrets I may have."

The dark elf made a face, "Are you jesting?"

"Huh?"

Glancing about, Leita leaned close, her voice low, "Cassie, ever since you appeared in House Varro, sitting at Lady Aventine's side, there are those in other Houses, unfriendly Houses, who have bent their will to discerning who and what you are. My aunt says there have been myriad attempts to scry upon you and all manner of incantations have been directed against your person. Yet all have failed, and, from what our spies tell us, in some cases catastrophically so."

Cassie goggled, "What?"

The dark elf nodded, "Oh yes, the magical defences of House Varro are not insignificant, nor are they gentle, so doubtless they have played their part. But from all accounts, even outwith that, you are entirely shrouded from magical sight, and more than one enemy sorceress has suffered a fatal mishap by attempting to pierce whatever enchantment it is that wards you."

Almost unconsciously, Cassie's fingers drifted to the old black shawl she habitually wore around her shoulders these days. The wool was worn and well used, but it was not threadbare yet, for it had been exceedingly well crafted. Instead, it was soft and warm, almost smugly so.

Doubtless the dark elf noted the gesture, but if she had any thoughts on the matter, she wisely kept them to herself.

Instead, her fingers lightly drummed a little tune upon the tabletop for a moment, before she changed the subject, "Um, Cassie, is that normal?"

"Huh?"

Leita's eyes flicked upwards, and Cassie felt her gaze following.

On the smoke-stained rafters above them a small throng of ravens, cats, rats, and even an owl or two had mustered, and bright little eyes of gold and red peered down at her, watching her every move with avid intent.

The familiars had quietly gathered, but they were not still. Here a cat lazily licked its paws, while two rats jostled for space on the beam right next to it. A proud raven showed off its glossy black feathers as it preened. Only the imps were missing, and of them there was no sign whatsoever.

"Uhhh, what's going on?"

The dark elf shrugged, "Why are you asking me?"

Eyes wide, the girl swallowed, "D-do you think they're after a bit of the pie?"

Leita stared at her.

Cassie floundered, "I mean, there's scraps enough to share..."

...

The realm of Otherworld was not a place for stray mortals to go carelessly a-wandering. Its forests and fens were vast, and beyond trackless, while the gloaming beneath the trees was dark enough to confound the keenest senses and haunted by all manner of fel beast.

Yet, for those lucky enough to be warded by some potent sorcery, or perhaps fortunate enough to have found the favour of some benevolent entity, then, perhaps they might find themselves set upon a path true enough to lead them in safety from here to there without them becoming hopelessly lost, or haplessly devoured.

For this place was neither empty, nor uninhabited, and it was not to be tread lightly, or without cost...