Chapter 5 - Part 3

Pienna watched through a thick pane of glass. It was a one-way mirror, so that the one she observed would not know she was observing. She fancied that he knew she was there anyway. Or she hoped that he did.

The glass was specially hardened by Cannith artificers, should the training exercises in the other room go awry. In her room it was dark, so that she would not be seen through the mirror. In the other room the ceiling contained a tile mosiac in the shape of the Cannith symbol that gave off plenty of light. And plenty was needed. They were again underground.

Cannith has built enough under the dirt to rival the chieftains of Mror, she thought sarcastically, sipping her tea. It was still warm, even after nearly an hour of observing the Orphan. The saucer apparently had one of the tiniest fire elementals ever drawn across a planar gate bound to it.

On the other side of the glass a short man with shoulders thick enough to be mistaken for a dwarf had the Iron Orphan balancing weights while sprinting across mat, dodging blows from a quarterstaff. The man’s name had never been told to her, but he was purportedly one of the finest weapon trainers in Cannith.

She sipped her tea again. It was very fine mint. She had cast a detect poison on it when the midget warforged – the scout model – had brought it to her. She was taking no chances.

The Iron Orphan continued his acrobatics. His trainer alternated between words of harsh criticism and lavish praise, but the Orphan did not respond. She suspected that he saw right through the psychological technique. Most others of his kind would not, possessing a machine’s distance from the living, even as they were partially alive themselves.

It was mid-morning on the twelfth of Olarune. She had teleported into Eston a week ago today, and was no closer to solving the riddle of the warforged. She frowned.

Across the glass the Orphan was thrown two daggers, and the instructor was trying to show him how to throw another circular blade that looked like a small star.

The Iron Orphan suddenly stared right at her, through the glass.

He knows I’m here, she realized. She hoped that gave him comfort. The warforged who had been so open and friendly when they met, as free of deception and guile as a small child, was now suspicious and angry. If indeed he was a living creature, and she felt he was, even if she could not yet prove it, a great loss to the world would be had should the Orphan never learn to trust again.

Not like you helped any, Bray, she grumbled silently, putting her cup down. Her cousin had been rude and paranoid, alternately shouting at the warforged and then ignoring him, discussing the Orphan as if he was not in the room. She knew that her cousin had been treating humans in Cannith like that as well, but the Orphan did not. He was sensitive, easily hurt emotionally. And it was obvious that he was merely property in Du’Bray’s mind.

“I’d dissect him here and now,” Du’Bray had told De’Breeves, gesturing to the table. “But they likely left no clues within him. It would be a waste of money.”

She had felt the Orphan tense. “Bray!” she hissed.

Her cousin had ignored her and rounded on the warforged. “I tell you what, little investment,” he had said bluntly. “We’re going to train you to be what you were designed to be. An infiltrator. A killer. Quick and dangerous, slipping in and past, over and under! That’ll shake loose some more memories, I bet. And if it doesn’t, well you’ll work for me.” He barked a laugh and turned back to De’Breeves. “I bet he can snap quite a few necks for me, after what he did to the guys that came after him.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” the Orphan had said.

Du’Bray had produced a wand that glowed, making the Orphan cry out and collapse in pain. “I don’t care what it wants,” Du’Bray had said coldly, looking at Pienna. “I don’t know who put this disobedient garbage into its head, either. Enough of those books it likes, battle training only from now on.”

She had argued but he had overridden her. She saw his eyes darting about and she wondered if he was still rational. He had twice ordered her to leave, and twice she had refused, saying that he still needed her advice on the warforged.

The truth was, she didn’t want to leave the Orphan. It felt like abandoning a child.

The Orphan was doing backflips now, moving through a series of dummies with bells attached to them. The dummies were positioned like rushing attackers, and the Orphan didn’t rattle a single chime.

She had bartered another day with her cousin by offering her spells in Cannith’s service, and by pointing out that if he dismissed her so quickly if would look like he was afraid. He had finally given up, more due to her doggedness than anything else. He had even let her accompany the Iron Orphan to this, his private training facility under his personal quarters. The bed and bathing area made it clear that no warforged had ever been trained here before.

The door opened, and the same warforged scout model that had brought her the tea came bearing a sealed scroll. It offered it to her wordlessly, and then gathered up her empty cup and saucer. She waited until the midget warforged walked out and shut the door before examining the scroll.

It was the finest vellum, from the stores in her cousin’s private office. It was sealed with the Cannith seal and Du’Bray’s own signet ring. Frowning, she cracked it open. One piece of parchment pulled away from the stick, with a ticket for the lightning rail express to Starilaskur and House Cannith traveling papers wrapped within it.

She read the scroll. It was short and to the point. The writing was block-print, no doubt typed up by some machine. “Dear Cousin,” it began. “You came as we asked, and for that I am grateful. Do not think I ignored your counsel. But you must go now. Your purpose in being here is gone, the cause of unit 4311XD’s behavior is now known, and there are those here who sadly wish you harm. I have purchased first-class tickets on the lightning rail ride number 475-W080 to Starilaskur in Breland. These traveling papers will get you past the border, they are good for today and tomorrow. Once in Starilaskur bring this scroll to the Cannith enclave there and they will pay for an airship ride to Varna.”

It bore Du’Bray’s signature, but no ‘Yours Truly’ or even ‘Sincerely.’

“Obviously I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she murmured. She considered throwing the letter away and traveling by tree, but with the war raging it was not a given that she would find a succession of standing oaks large enough to use.

Fine, the lightning rail to Starilaskur it is, but then I’ll make my own way. Although it has as many dead soldiers as anyone else, Breland was mostly untouched physically at this point in the war, so her journey should not be too unpleasant. She tucked the scroll, ticket, and papers into her pouch, and walked out the door.

She turned left down the short hallway to walk into the training room, but two Cannith guards stationed there raised halberds to bar her way. “Ma’am, no one is allowed to disturb –” one of them began.

A single word accompanying a curled finger and the wooden staves that made up their weapons’ shafts bent and twisted like limp noodles. The guards’ mouths fell open silently.

“I’ll do the same to your bones if you don’t get out of my way,” she bluffed. They stepped aside.

She opened the door to the training room, smelling the old sweat of many long-ago workouts. The dummies had been moved aside, and the trainer was sparring staves with Iron Orphan, telling him to watch out, to be aware at all times.

“I need to speak with you,” she said simply.

The instructor took a step back and turned to glare at her. “Lady, we’re in the middle of –”

Whump! Iron Orphan’s staff caught the human trainer under his ribs, cutting off the man’s air. Whack! The backspin from the first blow took the man’s ankles off of the mat, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.

“Be aware at all times,” Iron Orphan said flatly. The trainer’s mouth worked, trying to find enough air to swear at the warforged.

“You learned cruelty very quickly,” she observed.

He hefted his weapon and did not approach her. “All I am is what they forge me to be, apparently,” he remarked with a slight hurt tone. “You think he would have had any mercy on me?”

“The wolf has no mercy on the rabbit, for the wolf is only a wolf,” she told him. “It cannot be anything else. If your are alive as you say, if you have a soul as you think you do, if you are as sentient as you seem to be, then you are in charge of what you can be. It does not matter how they treat you. If you wish to be kind, you will. If you wish to be selfish, you will.” She walked up to him and stared up into his passive, metal face. “If their actions toward you must make you cruel, if they have that much ability to control your personality, then perhaps you are property.”

He did not respond, but she knew he was listening to her.

One of the guards poked his head in the doorway nervously. “Master Brumin, we couldn’t stop her from coming in, sir,” the man said. Pienna turned around to look at him and he quickly moved back out of sight into the hallway.

“You’d better get out of here,” coughed Brumin as he stood up, leaning on his staff. “If you weren’t a lady, I’d take you down myself. As it is, there’s got to be a squad on their way. You’ve worn out your welcome, you know.”

Pienna gave a wry smile, and turned to address Master Brumin. “I want you to treat my friend here better, is that understood?”

“You don’t give me orders,” he snapped. Then his brow wrinkled. “Friend? This machine?”

The warforged pivoted, bringing his staff down sharply. Brumin stepped back and raised his own, blocking the attack.

“You only get the one free one,” Brumin snarled, spinning around for a counter-attack.

Crushed holly leaves were sprinkled through the air, and Pienna funneled the words of nature through her lips. Brumin’s body shimmered, then folded, then shrank.

The staff dropped to the floor, right next to the extremely confused goat that stood where Brumin had been. The goat bleated in confusion.

“What did you do?” Orphan asked her, bewildered.

“I connected his spirit with the root of all living things, and brought him to the thread of life that binds together all four-legged herbivores,” she said. “Now wait a moment.” They stood watching the goat, and the animal bleated, turning around, looking for a sky in the slate ceiling. Finally she cast the holly again, and spoke the words that she had spoken before, only this time in reverse. The goat shimmered and unfolded, gradually becoming Brumin.

“What just happened?” Brumin asked, staggering away from them. “How did you do that?” His face was white with fear.

“Will you speak to Iron Orphan in a more respectful fashion?” she asked.

“Yes!” he shouted. He backed up against the wall, eyeing her wildly. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll treat him like my own granny!”

“Good,” she said. She turned back to the warforged. “I did him no pain, you see? There are options other than naked anger and passive slavery.”

“You have an interesting way of making a point,” Iron Orphan said, slightly amused. She smiled at the warforged, pleased to see some of his old personality back.

“Luck and good be with you, Iron Orphan,” she said gently. “I am afraid I have to go.”

“Yes, I hear them coming,” he told her. “I understand.” He cocked his head. “Is there any hope of seeing you again?”

“Count on it,” she promised. “But for now, fare you well.”

“And you,” he said.

She turned from him and gripped some mistletoe. A word and a gesture and she melded into the stone wall and disappeared.