Side A – Yasgrid
Somehow being stabbed four times by Marianne had not been enough to convince the assassin that she was the one he needed to the most concerned about. That honor also did not go to Yasgrid, despite the backdrop of shadows she wove around them as a veil against any wayward scrying attempts. It was neither magic nor blades which broke the assassin. It was simple words.
“I already know what you’re going to tell us,” Kyra said after she waved the other two back. “Shall I tell you what will happen after that?”
Yasgrid wasn’t quite sure why the assassin went pale as milk at Kyra’s question but the reaction suggested that while Kyra claimed she wasn’t a Fate Dancer anymore, she hadn’t specifically said that she was powerless either and the distinction between those two things might be somewhat important.
“No. Do not speak.” It was more than the assassin had said to either Marianne or Yasgrid, neither of whom he was paying the slightest attention to any longer.
“But we have so much to talk about,” Kyra said, crouching down beside the wounded man. “And one of us needs to fill the silence, don’t you think?”
“No. No, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to still be…” The assassin glanced over to Yasgrid. The silent plea for mercy was one Yasgrid had every intention of granting, right after Kyra was done with him.
She could have stepped in.
She could have used her magics to charm out the assassin’s words and been certain they were true.
Probably.
She’d never tried that but it felt like something within her reach.
She could have spared him whatever crisis he was having, if only she didn’t remember how the Fate Dancers had treated her, and, far more importantly, how the Fate Dancers had treated Kyra.
“Still be what?” Kyra asked. “Go ahead. I have no secrets to keep anymore. You know what I know, and what bonds no longer hold me.”
The assassin looked to Yasgrid and began to say “She’s a…” but Yasgrid cut him off.
“If you finish that with ‘monster’, we are going to leave you with her,” Yasgrid said, making it perfectly clear that she would condone literally anything Kyra chose to do without oversight.
“We didn’t come to kill you,” the assassin said.
“You had a bow drawn on her. I find that an odd choice for a non-lethal greeting,” Marianne said.
“The arrows were soaked in Night’s Chill oil,” the assassin said.
“And the ones meant for us?” Marianne asked.
Yasgrid tried to remember if she’d run across Night’s Chill oil in the last few months.
It’s a sleeping poison, Nia said, aware of Yasgrid’s need for info she held. A strong one if I remember right. I didn’t think it worked as a coating for an arrow though?
“Night’s Chill for you as well,” the assassin said. “We were supposed to take hostages if we could.”
“Hostages for what?” Yasgrid asked.
“To undo what you’ve done before it’s too late!”
Side B – Nia
Nia’s world was upside down. The three elves off on a quiet meditation retreat in the forest were having a raucous and violent time of things while the Roadies’ party was sedate enough that Nia felt bad for not bringing Naosha’s best tea set along with her.
“This isn’t right,” Gossma said as they walked past a bonfire with a dozen or so Roadies huddled in small conversations of twos and threes.
“Is it one of those ‘it’s real quiet up until someone throws the first punch or spills the first beer’ sort of things?” Belhelen asked.
“They don’t usually wait for someone else to throw a punch and nobody spills the beer from what I’ve seen,” Nia said, catching site of Horgi and Grash’s wagon at last.
“They’re struggling,” Margrada said. “They didn’t expect the concert this morning.”
“Heh, no one did,” Gossma said.
“No, I mean they didn’t expect the drums to speak like that. Ever. I think it was even more surprising for them than it was for us. I don’t think they know how to handle it.” Margrada looked as though she was itching to play again as well, though given that she was probably wiser than Nia, she wasn’t reaching for any of the drums they passed either.
“Should we help them somehow?” Belhelen asked.
“No,” Nia said, sure of that from the few interactions she’d with the greater body of Roadies. “Not directly anyways. I think being here, all of us, may be what they need. Or not. We’ll know if they’re able to throw us out.”
“Aww, you know we’d never throw you out,” Grash said as they reached the outskirt of the bonfire beyond his wagon.
“Only two ways out of a good party…” Horgi said as he began to pour something resembling a drink into mugs that might possibly have been cleaned..
“Walking out on your own two feet…” Grash said.
“Or crawling out on your knees!” Horgi said and presented the first of the mugs to Nia.
She knew what was coming.
She was not looking forward to what was coming.
She downed the drink in a long pull regardless because she also knew the entertainment which awaited beyond the horror of Roadies’ brew.
Her lips, tongue, throat and most especially her stomach were not as interested in entertainment and lodged increasingly fierce protests as she poured more and more of what the Elves would have categorized as a biological weapon out of the mug and into herself.
And all the while she was smiling.
“Good as always!” she said, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve. It wasn’t a lie. The Roadies Rotgut was just as horrible as it always was, it’s misery somehow never fading no matter how many inoculations of it Nia took.
The others had been watching her warily, but after her performance, Belhelen stepped up to take the next mug Horgi had to offer. Nia suppressed a giggle at the thought of Belhelen discovering just how shockingly bad alcohol could be.
“Winter Wheat Beer for you I believe?” he said, passing Belhelen a mug which smelled entirely different than what he’d given to Nia!