Chapter 16 - Part 4

Marlal casually walked to the corner and surveyed the scene. There were plenty of lights for the humans, and his elven heritage let him pick out details with even the smallest amount of light. The half-elf was not in his armor, preferring a cloak made out of darkweave.

The largest group had already left, and from the comments of the Wardens still at the scene, it seemed that Marlal had missed the warforged and the man called Thomas – who was some sort of daelkyr-bred thing after all – being taken away. He found that regrettable, but he had been forced to move slowly when coming to the Tharashk cottage to see if the Gatekeepers had taken the bait.

Apparently they had. Greoche was refusing to come out of the cottage, something about a House sanctuary that they could not take her from – Marlal was not up on the finer points of Reaches law, but the Wardens seemed to be buying it – and dead bodies were being brought out on stretchers. An elf and a shifter were being led away in manacles, and four humans, three of them clearly druids, were having an angry exchange with the Warden known as Ryan.

A fiercely strong hand grabbed Marlal by the hood of his cloak, and slammed his head into a wall. Reeling, the half-elf from Deneith turned, trying to draw a dagger. He halted his motion when the point of an adamantine longsword rested against the hollow of his throat.

“You know,” the half-orc said with the deliberate tone of voice used by a man who is wondering if he should bother controlling his temper. “Here I am wondering what happened at my House’s cottage, and here I spot you hiding and watching. So now here I am thinking that you’re going to tell me what the f’test happened here, or I’m going to kill you.” The sword point poked at Marlal’s throat, forcing him to put his back against the wall of the building that he had been lurking by.

“What happened is that somehow the Gatekeepers found out what you were hiding here,” Marlal said. “And they got in. And there was a standoff.”

“More detail,” Delegado said, leaning in. The swordpoint broke Marlal’s skin, and blood trickled down his breastbone.

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” Marlal said quickly. “Thomas and the warforged have been taken away, apparently willingly. The black bear that was the companion of the oldest druid is dead. Brode is dead, as are three swordsmen sworn to the Gatekeepers. The elf called Blessing has been taken away with the shifter known as Boarsworn.”

“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” Delegado asked.

“Because I did nothing except share a theory with some Gatekeepers,” Marlal said. “A theory that apparently was true.”

“How good for you,” sneered Delegado. “You have clean hands.”

“Cleaner than yours,” Marlal said. “Are you going to kill me now?”

Delegado thought, but then put his sword away. “Go back to Brogan, half-elf,” Delegado said. “Tell him that this is a strike at my House, and at my friends, and he will regret this.”

Marlal touched his throat, then looked at his blood. “Certainly,” he said, fishing a clean cloth out and pressing it against the shallow cut. “But I do not see how this is a strike against your friends.”

“The warforged and the daelkyr-bred, you idiot,” Delegado snapped. Marlal smelled uncertainty.

“Oh, they’re your friends, are they?” the half-elf asked. “I suppose that’s why you were with them, fighting those that had invaded your House’s cottage.”

Delegado stared hate, and Marlal decided not to press his luck. The half-elf quickly walked back to the training grounds that Deneith had rented.