Chapter 16 - Part 1

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – BECAUSE HE SAID SO
The 11th of Sypheros, 993 Y.K., shortly after sundown, the Tharashk cottage

“Did you hear something?” Quinn asked.

Blessing shrugged, focusing on the game before them. Blessing was not his real name, but it was the closest humans were usually able to get to his elvish birth name, so he’d picked it up as a nickname decades ago when he had been bonded to the House. “I hear nothing but that weirdo in the other room pacing,” the elf said, pausing to consider his move. They were playing Conquerer, and Quinn was the better player, so the elf tended to be cautious.

“When are you going to drop that?” Quinn asked, looking back at the board. He was trying to suppress his excitement, and failing. Blessing could tell that the human was going to beat him again.

“Drop what?” Blessing asked, finally moving his piece. His sharp elven ears picked up the footfalls outside the window, but he said nothing.

“Delegado’s guest, the Thomas guy,” Quinn said, his hand quickly moving and taking Blessing’s piece. “You’ve got like five moves left before you’re done, by the way,” he chortled.

“Delegado has the right to bring in whoever he wants,” Blessing said, frowning at the board. “And I have the right to gripe about it, privately of course, to you.”

“Yep, House business stays in the House,” Quinn said.

“I was working for Tharashk before you were born,” Blessing reminded the human. “You don’t need to lecture me just because I wasn’t born into it.” No small amount of irritation was in his voice.

“Sorry, Blessing,” Quinn said. The elf could tell the human meant it. “I didn’t mean that I thought – I just, well…”

“Forget it,” Blessing said, suddenly moving a piece. Quinn was too distracted to hear the door that Blessing had secretly unlocked open slowly.

“Heh, that’s suicide!” laughed Quinn, looking at the board. “I don’t know why you –” He paused, suddenly aware of a draft on the back of his neck, but before he could turn his head the large shifter crashed a sap down across his skull. Quinn fell forward, knocking the board over. The shifter hit him again, and then Blessing hauled the human to his feet and punched him in the jaw. Quinn fell to the floor unconscious.

“Forgive me old friend,” Blessing said. “But suicide is letting that abomination that took over Delegado’s mind do to Greenheart what it did to Merylsward.”

The eldest druid came in with his black bear at his side. “Who else is here?” he asked Blessing.

“Our housemaid is tied up, gagged, and blindfolded in the root cellar,” the elf said. “Brode the half-orc finally succumbed to the elixir that I slipped in his drink and he will not awaken for at least four hours. Delegado and the warforged are out. Greoche is in her office, and the abomination is in the guest room.”

“Very well,” the eldest said. He gestured outside and three humans with longswords in light armor joined him. “You and Boarsworn join the others outside. Let no one come in, by the authority of your House.”

“Aye,” Blessing said. He affixed a Tharashk badge to his shirt and walked outside. Another human in leather was lurking in the shadows, and the stout Gatekeeper sat on his horse, casually holding a longspear. Boarsworn the shifter holstered his battleaxe and joined Blessing outside, closing the door behind him. Another Gatekeeper with a snake draped around his shoulders was watching the street.

“You did not do wrong,” the druid on the horse told Blessing. “You kept your oaths, both to us and to Tharashk.”

“Aye, do not feel ashamed,” said the druid with the snake. He turned to his fellow on horseback. “I’ll start going around the streets, a little fog will do a lot to give us privacy.” The stout druid nodded, and the one with the snake then turned and walked off.

Blessing sighed, feeling the hilt of his rapier.

“You had to do it,” grunted the shifter, in agreement with the druids, of course.

“If you did anything permanent to Quinn I’ll cut your hands off,” Blessing snapped. The shifter’s eyes narrowed at that, but the druid on the horse waved at him to stand down.

Blessing bit his lip. He had done what he had to do, but it tasted wrong to him.