Trick of the Light - Legacy Content

It found her.  It found her cowering in the only lit corner of even this safe place, warm and dry – out of the rain that had followed her into town.   Even the wards of magic she had forced herself to learn to keep her safe from it, from him.  All of it seemingly for nothing, the monster had found her.

Hers was not a power born of ancient word or rhyme, not the mixing of exotic components.  Hers was the rarest of all magics, true inborn sorcery – fueld by her very essence.  The most powerful and most dangerous form the magic of Erith could take in a mortal form.  Cassandra’s eyes cautiously, fearfully peered up from behind her knees, as she cowered in the corner tucked into a ball, arms wrapped around her legs.  Somewhere in the swimming darkness beyond her, she could see it, the monster dwelled just out of the light cast by the candles in a semi circle around her, the only sanctuary she could provide when her magics failed her.  The spell weren’t enough, in truth – they were never enough.

Here accomidations in the farming towns only hostel creaked and graoned its age old death kneel.  Most things in Areeott had been dying from their birth – the hostel she cowered in was no exception.  The inky blackness around her a proper frame for the Huanted Nation.

Dozens of candles formed a semi circle around the young woamn, a pathetic barrier against what lay beyond.  Her skin tanned, almost bronze, her hair as black as the darkness.  Darkness clung to the walls just out of the specs of firelight.  For no earthly reason fire bowed in fear before the young woman, who in turn, cowered before rthe shadows.  Not because of what thwey were but rather what they brought – sleep.

Cassandra lived in terror of her dreams, at least she prayed they were dreams.  An all too real nightmare from which there was no escape. She would fight it off for days at a time but eventaully as it did tonight, the nightmare found her and with it the monster.  And with every fear soaked morning came a new view from the room window.  Everytime she was released from her slumber she without fail found herself if a different town with the overwhelming sensation that she had done something terrible.

A sound, low and growling stirred in the unforgiving darkness.  The growel grew louder, as an unseen rage swelled and shook the room, coallessing into a roar of anger and hatred in the darkness looking down on Cassandra, piercing and paralysing.  She held her head in her hands and cried as one by one the candles burned out.

“Please help me….” She whimpered between sobs.

Then the monster found her.

Magical darkness clung to the walls within the hidden monastery.  Its expansive interior had been forced from the mountain its face rested on.  The hallways were adorned in elaborate fineries from all over the world, but laid out in such a way that every direction looked the same.  If one were somehow able to breech the gates and enter the unassuming fortress, they would almost instantly become lost.

  An unseen and unnamed dread permeated the ancient structure.  Despite the stunning decoration and the scents of lilac and jasmine that came from no discernable source.  Something was there, waiting, lurking – watching from the shadowed corners.  Something breathing, waiting, hunting.  Pungent swirls of incense spun through the air in thin grey ribbons before vanishing in the darkness.  Pearsilk leaves littered the floor, scattered with rose petals.  A simple yet elegant decoration, but with a deadly purpose pearsilk and rose combined to form a deadly poison.  Nothing could simply be here.  Everything had to have a duel purpose.  Two faces, double meanings.  Life and death, grace and cunning, the beauty of life and its vulgar destruction.  

Cassandra hated this place, were it not for the life debt she owed the Lady of Shadows, she would have happily seen the monastery burn to the ground long ago.  Petals crunched underfoot, audible only in the otherworldly silence of the monasteries interior.  Fire – plumes of black poisoned smoke drifting into the surrounding villages, sinking still more innocents into eternal night.  Either way there would be death.  There was always death.  

Cassandra paused and looked out a narrow arrow slit window at the forested valley far below.  The white light of the shattered moon Argentiss painted a glow on the darkness of the so called haunted nation as the living slept and the dead walked with earthly feet.

With a discontent sigh she continued through the twisting interior of Pendark Keep.  The house guard of the Seinrill Family and the secret police of the lord of the land, the Baron Seinrill.  As if the iron fist he ruled the nation of Areeott with wasn’t bad enough, suppression was the law of the land.  Specifically when it came to matters of the arcane.  Magic – the practice, sale or teaching was strictly forbidden.  Cassandra could feel the pulse of arcane power course through her with every embittered heart beat.  Forbidden? It was the Lady of Shadows herself that taught Cassandra to use her powers.  Within the walls of the monastery were treasures and knowledge that the University of the Unseen Path would kill to poses.  Since the loss of Bastion at the end of the War of the Talon, the secrets of magic – their flame in the world slowly began to flicker and die.  In an attempt to save the arts and revive them, sages, wizards and other powerful wielders of arcane power pooled their resources and knowledge.  On the grounds of the Temple Academy the new center of magic instruction took root.  And with it the greatest blight on the face of the arcane - the Traditions.  The methods for spellcasting needed to be rethought as lists of components, sigils and incantation were lost in the floating mountain stronghold of Bastion.  From that need came the new disciplines for magic and the Sacrifice.  The cost of melding such power to your will.  Cassandra was lucky in a grim sort of way.  Through some ill twist of fate, she could wield magic innately, and more importantly without the Sacrifice.  Her body stayed whole, her mind sharp, her spirit strong as the raw power of the universe bowed before her.

Lucky.  She shut her eyes tight, silently cursing her fate.  Magic was what stole her away, and put her in the clutches of the Baron Seinrill, and by his word into the cruel tutelage of the Lady of Shadows.  What kind of luck was that?  Cassandra tried to imagine what a life without such power could mean.  While alone on the road, doing the bidding of her dark masters, she would stop and observe the common folk as they lived their lives, seemingly oblivious to the powers at work around them.  Powers that unfairly shaped their lives and set their destiny in stone.  She adored children, and delighted watching them at play, often wondering what she would be like now if fate had afforded her the opportunity to grow up as a normal little girl.  Happy, with a loving family.  The rapier at her side hung heavy at her hip and she stifled a tear.  She never saw any small girl with a dagger in her hand.  There was never one seen in her travels being instructed in the way of cutting a throat so her mark could not scream.  Mostly they had dolls and smiles.  Cassandra never had a doll, and she hadn’t smiled – at least not smiled and meant it, in a very long time.

At long last she came to a dead end in the monastery.  Shadows twisted and writhed at impossible angles.  She stopped before the inky void, watching her own shadow flicker and wrath in an umbral pain that reflected the own torment she was forced to live with.

“Come now, aren’t we being a tad melodramatic?” a voice, crept through her mind from the deep recesses of her own thoughts.  It filled her head with a fog of condescending guilt.  She lowered her head in submission as the shadow of an owl appeared, peached on the shoulder of her spectral self.

Cassandra glared up at the shadow.  “Leave me alone.”

“If only I could child, but our betters see fit to have us serve them so for now, I suggest you purge such loathsome thoughts and remember your purpose.”  With that he clawed at her shoulder and dug into the gloom and candlelight painted silhouette of herself on the cold stone wall.  Cassandra winced in pain, her teeth gritted to avoid the humiliation of crying out.

Summoning what resolve she had left.  She stood upright and ignored the pain, physical and mental that Sin delighted in inflicting.  Sin was a gift, as the Lady of Shadows had said.  Bound to her, to assist in her dark task of collecting the soul debts owed to the Baron Seinrill.  But Cassandra knew Sin was there to watch her.  She knew he was able to take control of her.  Many a night she would awake in a strange bed, in a strange town.  He was good, she never saw the blood on her hands, but with Sin waiting in the night shrouded corners of her mind, she was forever reminded of it.  Sometimes rewarded after outbursts of opinion and thought with images of the lives she’d siphoned away.  Bodies, twisted at her feet.  The faces of the dead.  Men, women and of course children.  So many children – Sin made certain of that.

“The Lady of the house requests our presence.”

Cassandra looked away not bothering to hide her indifference.  “So it seems.”

Sin bobbed his head, and she could somehow feel a smile creep across the twisted creatures face.  The same kind that haunted her mind after seeing the flashes of the fruits of her trade.  Cassandra held her breath and walked into the gloom at the end of the corridor.  The darkness was cold, but only if you focused on it.  Cassandra was long since used to its unnatural chill.  Walking the bridge between light and dark had come as naturally to her has breathing and she was happy it was easy to do, it was someplace to hide, however briefly from the crushing darkness and the terror that lurked behind her, just out of sight.  Cassandra hated the dark.  Nothing on all of Erith choaked her with as much fear as the pure dark.

She felt Sin take a solid shape on her shoulder.  His actual weight unfamiliar and uncomfortable.  They exited from a mass of shadows similar to the ones they entered.  Emerging from the umbral passage into the audience hall of the Lady of Shadows herself.  The chamber was a sealed away from the world.  No doors or windows.  Only marble of the purest white, polished to a high mirror finish.  Statues of men and women, heroes and gods formed two columns that lead to a dias where a white silk curtain box obscured an ornate chaise lounge on which the mistress of Pendark Keep lay.  Her silhouette projected from behind the curtain.  No living soul, save the Baron himself had ever laid eyes on her.  Even her instruction to Cassandra was done from behind her gossamer veil.  The light from stones, enchanted with arcane power reflected off dozens of mirrors placed around the room, filling it with brilliant white light and more importantly deep, dark shadows.

Cassandra walked to the dais and knelt obediently.  “You called for me M’lady?”

The form on the lounge sat up, arching her back like a cat.  “Ah, welcome my child.” The voice from behind the curtain bid her a soft, throaty welcome.   “I’m so pleased to see you again.  Tell me, were you successful in collecting from the mage Artimus?”

“I was.” She kept her head lowered, but reached into a pouch on her belt and removed a delicate silver locket.  As she did the shadows from one of the statues nearby shuddered and freed it’s limbs from their marble confinements.  It took hold, on the ground and pulled itself up from the floor.  Hesitantly it hobbled across the floor to Cassandra.  She wordlessly dangled the locket on its chain.  The tiny silver heart spun and shimmered in the radiant white light.  Cassandra dropped it in the creatures palm and it skuttled away with its prize.

“Wonderful.”  The Lady of Shadows purred.

“I should say, my lady…” and Cassandra again forced back tears at the horror of what she’d seen Sin, acting as herself do.  “The power given to Artimus by our lord, the bargain the struck… his sacrifice for his powers was time.  Each spell he cast aged him.  When I finally came upon him, he looked a man almost a full century old, yet he was only 30 when the deal was made.”

A bemused chortle erupted from behind the curtain.  “Why Cassandra, you sound surprised.”

Cassandra was taken back by her callousness, but she remained silent despite Sin’s claws digging into her flesh.  “His soul was drained, almost completely.  I… “ she turned away for a moment in disgust she disguised as contempt for a failed task.  “… I was forced to take what was left to settle his debt.”

The Lady of Shadows calmed her uproar.  “So he lives no more?”

Cassandra nodded.  “Unless his powers gave him insight enough to escape the grasp of our lord.  Yes, he lives no more.”

“A pity.  Were it not for his silly mortal ambitions he could have proved useful.  But no matter.  There are more pressing matters at hand.  In truth, it’s why I called you here.”

“I remain, as always, a servant of the Baron.” The words tasted like ash in Cassandra’s mouth.

“Good.  Good.”

Cassandra could feel the unseen smile of the Lady of Shadows, much as she could sense Sin’s own perverse pleasure in their grim task.

“Our lord has requested our services again.  A debtor has spit in the face of our glorious master time and again. “

Cassandra shut her eyes.  There was only one way such an insult would be delt with, and as always it was her hands that must be mired in reconciliation of such a dark pact.  She wondered if selling ones soul to some demon or devil of the pitts of hell came with such a weighty risk.  Probably not.  In her time as a minion of the Baron she had seen such horrors from the worlds beyond.  Even they bowed to her master.  “Who is the mark?”

“Rand Deepsea - A sea elf scoundrel of the worst sort; honorless, and loathsome.  Our lord tells us he makes his way to Alaecia's capitol of Azura.  His soul is by right property of the Baron Seinrill.  Collect him.”

“Then it will be so.” Cassandra stood and the Lady of Shadows again rested herself on the chaise.  Sin shuffled restlessly on her shoulders.  She walked out of the blinding white light of the audience hall and back through the corridor of shadows.  The weight of Sin slowly dissipated into the void he dwelled in, vanishing completely as she emerged back in the dark corridors of the monastery proper.  Without a sound she walked through its hallways and out into the central courtyard where the garden was hidden.  What point was there to beauty if its only purpose was to bring death?  It seemed like such a mockery.  But in this place – in this accursed country there was some devilish sense of rightness.  It wasn’t evil that hung over Areeott though there were some in the Cathedral of Light that begged to the contrary.  There was just the blanket of foreboding, and gloom that shrouded her mind and clung to her heart - a deep, almost tangible despair.  Above her, loomed Castle Seinrill, resting atop the black stone peaks of the Agriss Mountains.  The symbol for the despair of Areeotts people brought a strange sense of comfort to Cassandra, though a part of her was repulsed by the idea.  Its sight made her feel safe.

Her thoughts drifted back to the only time she had seen the Baron Seinrill.  All initiates of the Blind Sun are taken to the castle and inspected by the lord.  He kept himself partially obscured in the darkness that filled the castle’s throne room.  His voice is what she remembered the most.  Deep and commanding, yet touched with something she could only think to describe as heart.  The sound wrapped itself around her, and touched her heart.  Bringing her back to a time and a place she could neither name nor remember but that she wanted to tear away from the rest of times flow and dwell in forever.  There was something about the castle, and its dark master.  She wanted him, not for any carnal pleasures, just to simply hear that voice, and for a brief moment feel that same wonderful comfort again.

As if sensing her mood lightening, Sin appeared on her shoulder, a pulsing mass of writing shadow.  “Enough of your foolishness girl - we have work to do.”  He took his owl form and raised his wings, his shadow massive in the torch light, the darkness gathered like some bleak wind, filling his penumbral form, until all there was around them was darkness.  Cassandra could only hold herself and shake, too afraid of the darkness and too afraid of what it would do.

Cassandra passed through the massive open doors of solid alabaster upon which, carved in grand relief, was an equally dominating crest of the Seinrill family and she was at once met with the oppressive stillness of the castle’s main audience chamber. Beneath the buttressed, vaulted stone ceilings that stretched beyond the flickering fire light, generations of the Seinrill family had lived and died in the castle’s cavernous insides, each one leaving their heir a birthright of lonesome serenity.

Even as she walked slowly down the long crimson carpet which ran down the center of the room, the air did not stir nor did her footfalls betray the fragile silence.  Few things stirred in Castle Seinrill and she had always felt uneasy at the chilling lack of sound that was the hallmark of the myriad rooms in the ancient fortress.  A foreboding vastness eternally permeated the castle, forcing whoever laid eyes on it to marvel at the architectural achievement birthed by ancient arcane power, while at the same time reminding one at every turn just how small they really were.

As she approached the raised dais upon which sat a throne of carved cherry wood, adorned with delicate silk embroidery she stopped at the end of the carpet pulling back the hood of her midnight black cloak.  To her surprise the seat of Areeott’s barony was empty.

“My lord?” she said calmly despite her growing apprehension.  The words echoed through the hall then faded into silence, once more leaving Cassandra alone in the stillness.

A voice slowly resonated around her, deep and placid.  “Cassandra...”  it said, the sound trailing off into an echo.  “I see your mistress wasted no time in dispatching you.  Join me, please.”

Cassandra drew in a nervous breath and stepped behind the dais where the audience hall continued for a short distance before opening into an immense semi-circular chamber adorned with a series of massive stained glass windows depicting a phoenix emerging from a pool of fire, its wings stretched out to the heavens.  The shards of colored glass pulled the very brilliance from the light of the sun and cast a vibrant shadow of false flame to the floor.  At the center of the spectral inferno the Baron Seinrill stood, coolly resplendent in the amber light of the phantasmal fire, staring intently at the ornate glass effigy.

Hesitantly, Cassandra stepped forward.  With each step she felt her heart flutter and she silently reveled in the rush of blood that flushed her cheeks as the warm light from the windows touched her ivory skin.  The Baron turned to her and extended a hand.

His eyes, hollow, cold spheres of milky white silently beckoned her but with each step she took the warmth she had felt moments before slipped away as a chill shiver crept its way across her body.  A cold knot of fright and elation squeezed her heart, her steps grew heavy and for a moment she paused as the Baron watched her approach.  

Cassandra shut her orchid eyes and took a slow, deep breath.  He wanted her to be afraid.  He wanted her to be weak.  A spark of anger lit a fire in her heart but she remained calm, quieting her mind.  As her eyes opened she starred back at the Baron Seinrill, meeting his icy gaze.  She continued her stride and knelt before the Baron kissing the signet ring he offered.

“Rise, Cassandra.”  He said calmly.

Cassandra stood and was again met with the steady gaze of the Baron.  He studied her for a long moment and there was something unsettling about the way he looked at her but she was still too stunned to speak.  Seemingly satisfied, he turned his attention back to the marvelous windows.  

Cassandra calmed herself, focusing her mind despite her apprehension.  “My Lady informed me that you had requested my presence.  What is your bidding my lord?”  

The Baron breathed a heavy sigh, not taking his eyes off the grand image before him.  “The Lady of Pendark Keep has told me much about your talents.”  He smiled to himself and for a moment Cassandra felt an alien warmth in his words.  “No other member of my House Guard excels in the magic of the ancient Traditions as you do.”

Cassandra bowed her head.  “Thank you my lord.  But there are many others who’s skill...”

“You mean to tell me that there are others among the House Guard who are just as...  gifted.” He said, nodding thoughtfully.  He turned and held her chin, brushing his thumb across her cheek.  “But that’s not true now, is it?”  He leaned in and whispered in her ear.  “I know the truth about you Cassandra.”  He stepped back and circled around her with a chilling smile; stalking some hidden truth; A dark secret, unknown to her.  “I know you...  I know what you fear...”

The Baron stepped back from her and with him retreated the brilliant light from the windows.  The fire light of brazier and candelabra snuffed out into delicate ribbons of white smoke and the audience hall sank into abyssal darkness.  Shadows deepened, stretching into icy fingers of night that clawed and scratched at the last slivers of light as they crept closer and closer to Cassandra until she was alone with only the soulless white orbs of the Baron’s eyes starting mutely back at her through the darkness.  His voice echoed around her, hissing with perverse delight.  “...and I know what you’re capable of.”

Cassandra lowered her gaze, squeezing her eyes shut trying to fight back against her rising terror.  The arcane powers within her churned but fear choked her mind and broke her concentration.  The living darkness clung to her, threatening to drown her in a sea of night.  All the while the Baron’s eyes watched her succumb to fear and illusion.  Then, from somewhere deep within her, beyond the discipline of her training, beyond even the primal source of her magical gifts, Cassandra felt something; a tiny flame flaring to life.  With nothing else to grasp, her mind clung to it and the flame began to grow.

The Baron’s eyes narrowed.  “Do not fight this Cassandra.”

Her body trembled and her fists clenched.  She had been trained not to succome to such primal fear but the dread darkness enveloped her, threatening to sacrifice her to the unseen terrors of her own psyche and the horrors that surely dwealt in the haunted fortress.  Only the growing flame in the center of her mind offered any respite.  With no other means of escaping the choking darkness Cassandra held the flame fast in her mind, focusing her mind and energies on to the one means of combating her terror.

The suffocating darkness shrouded her mind and the brilliance of the tiny flame began to dwindle.  Cassandra tried to fight the terror but the all consuming darkness had captured her, paralyzing her mind and body with an unnatural, primal fear.  Her mind screamed but the instinct to resist had fallen into darkness.  Cassandra saw the tiny flame in her minds eye begin to die.

The Baron’s eyes narrowed and his words shook the room like the distant thunder of a gathering storm.  “Don’t dissapoint me.”

Cassandra, helpless against the onslaught of fear watched as the darkness surrounded the tiny flame in her heart.  At the threshold of the undeniable abyss Cassandra felt a distant voice call to her from the core of the tiny flame.  Cassandra surrendered herself to the fear and focused her weary mind on the voice calling to her from the fire.  Her heart began to slow and steady itself as the dying flame began to flicker and grow.  The darkness that had penetrated her soul retreated suddenly, banished by the intensity that now burned within her.  Her orchid eyes snapped open and split the unnatural night.  The darkness began to retreat as Cassandra’s hands became consumed within a pair of intense spheres of rippling flames.  An unseen force lifted her off the ground as she raised her hands, casting off the shadows that surrounded her.  The flame in her heart grew to an all consuming inferno.  

“No!” Cassandra screamed in a booming voice that shook the room.  A pulse of fire ripped from Cassandra and instantly traveled across the chamber, banishing the remaining darkness into the shadow of the Baron.  Candles and braziers errupted to life as sunlight once more poured through the stained glass windows.  The fire surrounding her retreated and she dropped gently to the floor, her breathing deep and steady as she stared at the Baron.

A slight smile curled the Baron’s lips.  “Outstanding.” He said, amused over her display of power.  “Your abilities are impressive indeed.”  The Baron glided across the floor and stood before her.

Cassandra, still overwhelmed by the power she had unleashed lowered her head.  “What... what was that?”  she gasped between breaths.

“A mere glimpse of a power long dormant in you Cassandra.”  The baron gazed down at her with hollow eyes that schemed amidst the stillness.  “The enemies of this house command vast powers and in the days to come their desperation will only grow.”

A ripple of some strange, unseen energy coursed through her body and into her right hand.  Tiny arcs of fire errupted from her fingertips, caolescing into a small blade of fire.  Cassandra’s almond eyes glinted violet in the firelight as she stared, transfixed by the weapon she had conjured.  “How do I know how to do this?” she whispered, awed by the latent power she posessed.

The Baron Seinrill grinned.  “You have always known dear child.  You have always known.”

“Your fear of the darkness called it forth from deep within you, the fire that burns in your soul fuels your abilities.  I can teach you to harness that power; to channel it; to shape it to your will.”

“Just as I once taught your mother…”

“My mother was a member of the House Guard?”

“The finest among my guard.”

“Then sleep...”

The Baron’s words drifted over Cassandra like a gentle breeze.  Her eyes fluttered for a moment then closed.  Her body slumped yet she remained standing.  For a long while the Baron simply stood before her in the familiar silence and stillness of the castle.

“Rise, Sin.”

Cassandra’s body shuddered for a moment, pitching her slightly forward.  From her back, a being of darkness emerged like a dark cloud, twisting and churning into the form of a giant fiendish raven with soulless crimson eyes burning with malice.  The creature flapped its umbral wings furiously as it freed itself before finally settling above Cassandra.  It lowered it’s head before the Baron as a hollow voice emerged from the silence.  “What is your desire my Baron?”

“A flaw has revealed itself in my plans Sin.”  The Baron said flatly, barely able to containt his contempt.

The spectral raven’s eyes narrowed.  “A flaw my master?”

“The Black Sparrows, a guild of cunning thieves, is meeting in secret in Alaecia.  They have invited some of the wealthiest and most powerful underworld bosses in the world to an auction.  There they mean to sell off a book I have great interest in.”

“It shall be yours master.”

The Baron nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.  “Cassandra will travel to the city of Azura as a member of my entourage, once there she will infiltrate the auction and purchase the book.  Once she has it, Sin, make certain she returns to Areeott safely.”

The Raven beat it’s shadowy wings and let out a shrill squawk.  “I will not fail you.”

“Be wary Sin, if I know of this book and what it contains, then I suspect the Azar Emperor knows as well.”

“The Primal Dragons?”

“Emperor Kelladin may be a pitiful puppet but he’s not a fool.  He has no doubt informed his master of this discovery which means the Hate Dragon, Thaldiris, will stop at nothing to acquire that book.  He will not hesitate to dispatch the Szraga or one of his dragons to obtain it.”

“I have tasted the bitter souls of the Szraga my master, they will fall easily enough should they dare oppose your will.  A lone dragon should be no match for...”

“Do not under estimate the power of the Primal Dragons, Sin.  Though the Edict binds them in their hated human forms, they are devious and unspeakably powerful.  Even their stunted Dragon Magic is a force you cannot possibly comprehend.”

“How can such a beast be defeated master?”

The Baron shook his head.  “Your powers are formidable indeed Sin but even you could not conquer such a foe...”  He starred at Cassandra for a moment.  His eyes lingered on her, studying her sleeping form before turning his gaze back to Sin.  “...But she has a chance.”

Late spring in Alaecia always brought crowds of ships from the far corners of Erith, welcoming them to the cradle of the civilized world with the scents of gardenia, and lilac nestled seamlessly among the lush emerald hills and quiet vineyards that dotted the eastern coast, culminating in a nest of shimmering stone and marble towers that stretched out of the surrounding verdant hills, reaching into a sky as rich and blue as the sea below.  No matter where one came from, Alaecia always felt like home.

Tall ships from even the most distant parts of Erith waited in the harbor, sometimes for days on end to unload cargo and passengers into the city of Azura. Their fluttering sails and banners rippled with color, mimicking the churning sea beneath them.  They gathered in tight clumps connected with planks and rope bridges, forming what  any seasoned sailor knew as Bridgetown.  A constant celebration more then an actual town, ships that wished to participate moored alongside other vessels so the passengers and crew could mingle, share food and drink or just exchange stories as they waited to dock.  

The Stormrider bobbed lazily on the gentle current, away from the revelry of Bridgetown and even farther away from the docks.  A strange though elegant vessel, the Stormrider had the lean and graceful lines of an elven made ship, built for speed and agility coupled with the human attention to dependability, particularly in battle, built into the hard woods and steel bracing that held the hull together.  The sails and rigging always earned the ship equal measures of admiration and confusion.  It’s masts were set at a steep pitch, leaning back over the quarter deck and forecastle.  From them, ultra light sails of layered silk were pulled taught, forming a canopy over the masts and rigging and giving the entire ship the appearance of a diving bird of prey.  From the stern rose two smaller sails, spread open like a noble woman’s fan, allowing for tighter turning even under the most severe conditions.

Peering into an outstretched spyglass, Dartimen Silvernight sat hidden in the ship’s rigging as he carefully scanned the harbor.  He paused only to swat the errant strands of antique gold hair that the wind had picked up and set down again in his face.  He scowled from under the brim of his hat and rubbed his chin.

“Still at it eh?” Brimstone Steelhammer trudged across the deck watching Dartimen study the shoreline.  Brimstone was something of an oddity among his dwarven kinsmen.  Lean and lanky, at least by dwarf standards, he could easily have been mistaken for an average looking - though short human.  Unlike other dwarves who took great pride in their beards long, Brimstone kept a rough, short cropped beard and sideburns that hardened the lines of his square cut face and constantly furrowed brow.  What clothes he wore that weren’t covered in dirt or grease, had holes worn or torn into them.  He pulled a short cigar from the center pocket of the leather apron that hung folded over itself around his waist, struck a match on the railing and puffed away.  Dartimen had been acting funny all morning and it was finally starting to grate on his nerves.  

“You don’t even know what I’m looking at.”  Dartimen lowered the spyglass, and pulled the hat from off his head, fussing with the brilliant blue plumes that extended from the pinned-up brim.  His  lean build and slender pointed ears belied his lineage.  Half-elves were certainly not unheard of but more often than not half breeds were looked upon with disdain, particularly when their elven blood ran to Iorill – the kingdom of the Wood Elves.  But the old prejudice never seemed to bother him, Dartimen took the idea in stride.  He was what he was and that was good enough for him.

“You’re staring through that contraption hoping against hope that this is the first Carnivale, where the Royal Guard neglects to check things like shipping manifests, or that they’ve stopped spot checking crates all together.”  Brimstone blew a thick white plume of rich cherry scented smoke over Dartimen’s field of vision.  “You’re sittin’ there watching the same unloading process you watched yesterday, and the day before that.  Nothing’s changed, and in a matter of days we’ll have to explain away our little problem down in the cargo hold to the Custom’s officer where we’ll fail and ultimately be hung the following dawn.  How’s that? Am I close?”

Dartimen stood up, and stepped carefully through the web of ropes.  Again he peered through the spyglass without giving Brimstone a second glance.  “Why would I be worried about that?”

“Why? Oh, no reason we just happen to have a cargo hold filled with stolen antiques and an ugly painting that’s somehow worth more money then you or I will see if we live three lifetimes.  If we run, we’ll have every privateer sailing under the flag of Avindor chasing us from one sea to the next.  So, we have cut throats to our back, and the hangman’s noose in front of us.  Fine work, captain – fine work.”  Brimstone rolled his eyes and tipped his ash into the sea below.  

Dartimen smirked, his sapphire almond eyes sparkled in the sun and hinted at the impending mischief that for now he thought was best kept to himself. “…and in a few hours that’ll all be Rand’s problem.”

Dartimen and Brimstone were not brave.  Nor did they really need the money; this particular job was just bad luck.  A last minute proposition to avoid the penalty for winning one too many games of King’s Gambit against an unsavory crime boss from Avindor.  Normally they liked to keep clear of lesser scoundrels, but when the cards called, it was hard for them not to answer.  Stealing from the Stratforde Museum of Natural History had been easier then they suspected, but as they both knew stealing something was only half the challenge.  The biggest headaches always seemed to come in unloading the merchandise.

With a heavy sigh Brimstone closed his eyes and craned his head skyward, enjoying some sun on his face.  “How long ya think?”

Dartimen snapped the spyglass shut with a frustrated clack.  He rapped his thumb against the brass tube as he made some mental calculations.  “Any other time of year I’d say two days, but with the loads they’re trying to move – five easy.”

Brimstone huffed and picked at a nick in the wood.  “Good, good – five days should be plenty of time for you to come up with a forged manifest or a reason why the cargo hold is filled with museum property.”

“I’ll think of something.” Dartimen grinned and flipped the spyglass end over end in his hand.  “Opportunity has a way of turning up when you need it the most, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Brimstone shook his head and turned away.  “Great!” he began with a nod.  “I’ll be below deck coming up with an alibi.  Let me know if you figure out how to explain to all those customs agents why it’s perfectly alright that our ship is full of stolen antiques.”

“They don’t know they’re stolen, at least not yet.   Stratforde is four weeks behind us and that’s assuming favorable wind.  We have plenty of time before word gets all the way out here.”

The dwarf sniffed the rising smoke.  “Whatever you say.  But all the fast talking in the world isn’t going to work on those customs officers.  They know you, and more over, they know anything you’re hauling isn’t well…” Brimstone chuckled to himself.  “Isn’t always yours now is it?”

Dartimen smiled as he focused the spyglass “I’m not saying it wont be fun.”  But the smile quickly faded from his face.

“So why are you still watching them unload?” Brimstone barked over his shoulder.

“Something’s… .” Dartimen’s voice crept out slowly as he tried to decode what he was seeing.  He adjusted the view and focused in on one of the ancient carved stone piers.  At the midway point in the harbor were slips reserved for the sloops of larger vessels that risked grounding themselves in the shallows of the docks and had to remain anchored in the deeper water of the harbor.  One slip stood out from the rest.  Unused, during the peak docking hours.

“What’s wrong?” The dwarf opened a single curious eye, but Dartimen waved off his concerns.

“It’s probably nothing.”

Brimstone glared at the elf.  “Don’t give me that, what is it?”

“Something’s not right.” He muttered as he slowly shook his head.  Dartimen lowered the spyglass, tapping it thoughtfully against his open palm.  He felt a flutter in his stomach and his head itched - there was definitely something wrong.

“What is it?” Brimstone leaned over the railing of the Stormrider, squinting for a moment, straining to see the shore.  He dismissed his friend’s surveillance with a wave, tired of looking for something he couldn’t see.

Dartimen handed him the spyglass. “Take a look at the docks and tell me if you see anything unusual.”

The dwarf glanced at his friend curiously but opened the spyglass and scoured the distant shore.

The harbor was alive with the movement of merchants, shoppers and travelers.  Brilliantly colored tents dotted the city's shoreline as flags, banners and pennants wavered in the sweet, gentle breeze of the coming summer, ascending up the heights of gleaming marble towers and castles high above the city marking the homes of nobility and the exceedingly wealthy.  At their base, the piers stretched into the harbor like bleached, boney fingers.  There was the usual hustle and bustle of a busy seaport except for an obvious spot of inactivity.  Where Brimstone expected to see a laden merchant ship crawling with longshoremen and grumpy customs officers there was nothing.  Nothing at all.    

“There’s an empty slip!” Brimstone’s jaw dropped and for a moment all he could do was stare.  “There’s no way…” Again he raised the spyglass to his eye, peering frantically across the scope of the docks.

Dartimen grabbed and steadied the end, and pushed the lens to the center of the docks, pointing him directly at the end of the empty slip.  Twelve formally adorned and armored Vassian Royal Guardsmen stood at attention.  Before them Brimstone could see a   thin elderly man adorned with long, flowing robes of midnight blue and silver, the ceremonial vestments of a Chaplain of the Cathedral of Light standing beside a tall, beautiful woman wearing elegantly fitted, blood-red plate armor and shimmering gossamer chainmail as she held poised in her hand a long spear ornamented with roping ivory cast in bronze, a Maiden of the Sisters of the Thorn.     

“They’re just standing there.”  Dartimen couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.  The lack of space for docking and unloading was the whole reason ships had to wait out in Bridgetown.  

Dartimen hopped onto the deck and leaned against the rail, taking in the panorama.  “Somebody’s still expected.”  He said matter-of-factly.  “The Council of Saints is still set to meet in a day or two right?”

Brimstone lowered the spyglass, and nodded at Dartimen.  “Aye, but any Cathedral Ambassador would have been in the city for at least two weeks already.  Nobody ever comes the day before.  Not to a Council meeting.  I mean sure it’s all a big act, but it’s a private audience with the Hierophant.  No noble in their right mind would pass that up.”

Dartimen stared at the open ocean and though he couldn’t say why for certain, he was starting to get a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Nothing about today had felt right, and for a moment he considered taking his chances against privateers from Avindor.  He glanced over at Brimstone who must have begun to share his apprehension as he was now the one searching through the spyglass, looking in vain for the solution to their predicament.

“Boss, let’s get out of here.” Brimstone said quietly.  “I don’t like this.”  But Dartimen sighed and shook his head.

“I’d like nothing more.  I don't want to stay here for this fiasco any longer than we have to.  Once we dock, I'm dropping off the stone to Rand and then we're gone.”

“When’s Jessa getting back?” Brimstone muttered impatiently.

Dartimen sat down on the railing and folded his arms across his chest.  “She went to Bridgetown to do some shopping.  Should be back soon.”  He paused a moment, catching a ship approaching out of the corner of his eye.

Brimstone suddenly felt Dartimen gently push the spyglass to his right landing his focus on the far end of Bridge Town.  An elven style clipper lulled and rolled lazily on the churning sea.  “Ahhh… The Hammershark. That’s Rand’s boat isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.  And he's already in the city.” A voice, softly gilded with a melodic Louve accent interrupted them.

Jessa Andis climbed up the rope ladder that dangled off the side of the ship and onto the deck.  She was tall, pretty and no more then 25 summers old, her dark auburn tresses swayed in the sea breeze partially hiding her smiling face behind a sea of curls.  She wore a hand stitched pair of leather pants that stopped at her knees where a pair of well worn thigh high boots with exposed heels and toes covered her legs.  A pair of steel plated pads covered her elbows and matched her form fitted cuirass adorned with scraps of plate armor and chain mail.  On her back was slung an old but well loved broadsword adorned with the colorful feathers of exotic birds.  

Behind her a young sea elf girl, no more than 50 years old, but barely a teenager by human standards leapt onto the deck holding a drawstring sack of provisions and curious odds and ends from Bridgetown.  Her hair, bleached blonde by the sun, was held in a dizzying array of buns and looped braids adorned with shells, beads, feathers and other tiny gifts of the sea.  She wore just as eclectic a collection of clothes as Jessa.  Leather leggings stitched up the length of her legs, an oversized silk shirt, tied off at the bottom and proudly revealing a gold belly ring.  Her coat was nothing more than an old captains jacket with the sleeves unceremoniously torn off.  She trotted across the deck, coldly glancing over her shoulder at Dartimen.

“Rilian – you said you’d be reading in your bunk.” He momentarily ignored Jessa and fixed his attention on the young girl.

She responded by sticking her tongue out at him.  “At least somebody is teaching me something useful.” Rilian beamed at Jessa before turning defiantly to Dartimen. “Thanks Jessa!” she said venomously as she disappeared below deck.

Jessa smiled, shaking her head.  Dartimen could only stare in disbelief.

“Anyway, Rand’s been in Azura for at least…”

Dartimen cut her off.  “Teach her what?”

Jessa huffed and stepped past him. “How to stay out of trouble.  Something you should try from time to time.”

Dartimen rolled his eyes.  “Stay out of trouble? Rilian is too fast with a knife and too eager to use it to be a damsel in distress.”

“Rilian can't keep sitting things out.  She's too much like her father.”  Jessa rested the sack on the deck, shaking her head, knowing he wouldn't listen.          

Dartimen looked away, his heart suddenly heavy.  “If Rhiven knew I’m letting her tag along he’d never forgive me.”  Rilian emerged again, making a production of ignoring him.  She climbed high into the rigging, found a comfortable spot and began to read.

“I know Rhiven wanted you to keep her safe, but you can’t expect her not to get interested in this life, not aboard this ship.”  

“…a few pointers here and there won’t make a difference I suppose.  Guess I owe them both that much.” Dartimen nodded and walked to the ship's railing, staring out into the placid expanse of the Illusion Sea.  “So Rand is already here?”

Jessa gestured towards the Hammershark.  “While we were in Bridgetown, I ran into Caele Fessar, we got to talking and he mentioned that he’d heard a rumor that Rand was going to be hosting some high stakes game of King’s Gambit tonight, which I guess isn’t strange in and of itself.”

“He’s a card player, a bad one but he likes it.” Dartimen glanced over his shoulder, casually regarding the ship of his former comrade before turning his attention back to the sea.  “There’s something else isn’t there?”

Jessa noticed Dartimen’s distant focus, and knew he was only half listening.  She sighed and continued anyway.  “Word is there’s a lot of Black Sparrow guildsmen gathering in the city - have been all week.”

Brimstone wandered over to them rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  The words groaning painfully from his mouth.  “I seem to recall the last time you crossed paths with the good Captain Deepsea… I remember Rand screaming something about cutting off your hands if you ever set foot on his ship again.”

The bay shimmered in the mid morning sunlight, rolling and bobbing on the late spring currents and sending splashes of sea water into the crisp, fragrant ocean breeze.  Gulls called to one another as they swooped and circled in the winds blowing off the Illusion Sea.  Their squawks and calls echoed across the open ocean. Then just as suddenly as they began they stopped, and for a brief moment there was nothing but silence.

Dartimen felt the wind change, unnaturally so.    The air temperature dropped and the once warm refreshing sea breeze grew cold and chilled.  There was a deck mage at work nearby.

“Jessa.” Dartimen said cautiously.

“I know.” Jessa’s eyes narrowed sensing the disturbance to the otherwise placid sea.

Brimstone frowned as he scrambled up to the aftcastle to scan the seas behind the ship.  Dartimen grabbed the rigging and jumped up on the ships railing trying to get an idea where the change in the wind was coming from as Jessa closed her eyes, concentrating on the unnatural change in the air around them.  Steel gray clouds gathered, eclipsing the sun, Rilian managed to climb down before the last shreds of light slipped from an increasingly angry sky.

“What’s going on?!” She cried above the wind.

Dartimen scanned the horizon but with the once abundant sunlight now gone, he could see nothing.  “I don’t know yet – get below deck!”  The ship dipped and bobbed suddenly and his grip on the rope nearly slipped.  “Jessa…!” he called out.

Jessa heard nothing, the world around her had vanished, replaced by the void she had carefully crafted in her mind, allowing her to feel the presence of the arcane power that caused the sudden storm.  Swirling tendrils of pulsing blue energy animated the otherwise invisible path of the wind as it spilled across the sky spinning and churning, the pulse of magical energy growing brighter and thicker with every passing moment.

“Whoever or whatever is doing this is getting closer!” Jessa yelled over the screaming wind as loud as she could.  Her eyes opened to the stormy gray false night, now vacant of the wondrous colors of magic she saw behind her eyes.

Dartimen leapt off the railing and wrapped an arm around Rilian, pushing her back towards the door to the rear cabin.  “Stay here until I…”

“Boss!”  Brimstone’s cry somehow managed to cut through the storm’s fury.

Rilian pulled from Dartimen's grip, dashing up the stairs to the aftcastle as Dartimen scrambled up behind her followed closely by Jessa.  They met Brimstone at the very rear of the ship where he stood motionless, pointing into the temptest.

From out of the darkened sea a large galleon glided effortlessly through the churning white caps, pulled by sails of deep, rich crimson.  The wood of the phoenix shaped figurehead as well as the ship’s hull was dark and matted black. From a distance it looked as if the entire vessel had been deliberately charred.

Dartimen squinted against the wind as he traced the lines of the mast up the ship, past the mainsail and the crow’s nest.  Then he saw it.  A simple banner bearing a family crest - the seal of a nation.  A brilliant gold phoenix adorned the ship’s flag, it’s head staring coldly to its right through a narrow suspicious eye, four thorny black roses were held fast in it’s talons.

“I don’t believe it…” Dartimen said, nearly too stunned to speak.

Jessa winced as her fists clenched.  Only Rilian dared speak up.

“Who is it? Who is that?” she hid behind Dartimen, gripping his shoulder in fear.

“The Baron…” Jessa choked.

Rilian felt Dartimen tense and her fear doubled.

“Areeott…” Dartimen’s eyes widened as the ship slipped silently past them.  “That ship is from Areeott.”

Dartimen walked down the gangplank of the Stormrider and disappeared into the dockside crowd. Most sailors on shore leave make for the nearest watering hole and Dartimen was certainly no exception although he wasn’t immediately interested in a drink. He reached into his pocket, making certain the amulet was still there. It was a curious piece, with precious few clues to an origin he couldn’t completely piece together. That could mean only one thing; it predated the War of the Talon. That meant it was old, two millennium, perhaps older still and if it was old it was expensive. It also had sisters, at least four that Dartimen knew about although he suspected there may have been more. He had personally recovered three of them and would go on to steal back each one a handful of times over the years for a short list of clients offering reasonably steady salaries for stealing it back from one another; a bizarre game among nobles with more gold than good sense.  The other stones, if they existed at all, were long since lost to history.

Rand’s message wasn’t clear about this little arrangement.  He had asked about this particular piece as a favor, claiming he had found a desperate buyer in a jam willing to make an even trade for a handful of fathom diamonds of all things. The take was high, too high for Rand’s circle of street thugs and unremarkable riff-raff. It seemed he was trying to impress someone, an odd habit of his that usually ended badly for all concerned. Still, it was a generous offer that would finance a year’s worth of new jobs as well as a few months of relaxation in friendlier ports. All for an inert amber stone he’d see again, sooner or later.

A quick visit with Rand then he’d be off again. Speed was the key; there was no need to waste any more time in this dreadful city then necessary. The crowd was already thick and grew denser as he approached the line of taverns running the length of the great sea road that led from the docks into the city proper. It was still early but the raucous revelry of men with too much coin and too much strong drink was already pouring into the afternoon air. With each step the sweet scents of the sea faded, only to be replaced with the stench of stale beer and sour wine.

The Chuckling Parrot wasn’t at all unique among seaside taverns. The exterior was in a poor state. The salty sea air had cracked and chipped the paint and the exposed wood was gray and crumbling. Dartimen smirked, it looked sturdy enough to stand while he made his exchange. The front door was propped open with a small lobster trap which was kicked aside as a drunken longshoreman staggered outside, the front of his coveralls fresh with his own sick. A chipped flagon of some foul smelling drink sloshed clumsily in his shaking hand. Dartimen casually side stepped him and slipped into the tavern.

Inside he was met with a purgatory only alcohol can bring. Too many men were gathered tightly around too few tables slamming down mugs of cheap ale and watered down liquor as fast as they could be poured. Several revelers, already having imbibed too much fun were laid out face down on a floor strewn with puddles of beer and heaps of peanut shells. Dartimen scanned the crowd but found no sign of Rand. He grumbled to himself and rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to spend a minute longer here then he had to. Rand, of course, rarely showed up on time and his choice for a meeting place was a dive, even by his lowly standards.

From above him, Dartimen suddenly heard his old friend’s familiar voice calling his name. “Dart! Hey Dartimen! Up here!” The excitement in his Rand’s voice struck him as odd but decided he was simply anxious for his merchandise. Dartimen looked up and spotted the sea elf waving to him from the second floor balcony wearing the remnants of what was once a fine silk shirt  now weathered and missing a sleeve and a half, above it he wore a vest of leather with a low back that hung down to his ankles like a cloak, a style of armor favored among the Iorian Elves. He waved his own hand in acknowledgment and made for the stairs. Rand Deepsea stood over a beaten, splintering bar table nearest the balcony rail, with him were two men Dartimen didn’t recognize. Both of them were human and dressed far too nicely to be regular patrons of this sort of watering hole. One was a slight man, older, but with a still formidable build, his salt and pepper hair was unkempt and wild. One of his eyes was hidden behind an eye patch but Dartimen was immediately drawn to the bitter scowl on his face. The other man was tall and thin, almost gaunt. His long copper colored hair dangled in front of his intense brown eyes. Around his chest was a bandoleer fitted with dozens of sheaths that each held a slender, deadly looking knife. Rand crossed the balcony to meet him, smiling the familiar smile that told Dartimen Rand already had a plan for helping him reinvest his payment for the amulet. Dartimen forced a smile and extended his hand.

“There you are old man! I was wondering when you were gonna show up.” Rand grasped Dartimen’s hand and shook it like he hadn’t seen him in years.

“Hi Rand, I hope I didn’t keep you and your...” He quickly glanced over Rand’s shoulder at the two men at his table who had yet to move a muscle. “... you and your friends waiting too long.”

Rand chuckled. “No, no not at all. You uh, you don’t recognize them do you?”

Dartimen rolled his eyes, shaking his head irritably. He peered past Rand, his patience diminishing. “Should I?...” Dartimen’s words trailed off into stunned silence as he focused on Rand’s ‘buyers.’

“That’s Ferrik and Loos.” Rand said proudly with a sly smile.

Dartimen couldn’t stop the tremor of fear that ran down his spine. With a flick of his wrist he slid a hidden dagger into his hand and held the tip of it to Rand’s gut. He forced his rage into a low whisper. “They’re the Black Sparrow’s top assassins! And you’re having a drink with them? What in the hell are you trying to pull? If the guild catches us they’ll kill us!”

Rand held his breath as the tip of the blade pressed hard against his stomach. “Calm down! I made a deal! That’s why I needed the amulet alright! Relax.”

“Relax?! I’m standing ten feet away from two guys who’d have no problem killing everyone in this pit just to get their hands on the two of us! So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill the guy that stood me in front of them!”

“I’m telling you! They’re not after us, they’re just here to take possession of the amulet! I worked this out already we’re square with the guild now!  We give them the stone, you take the guild’s diamonds and we walk!  It’ll all be over.  In fact...” Rand took another more cautious look over his shoulder. Ferrik and Loos still hadn’t moved. “... I found out where the Sparrow’s auction is.”

Dartimen relaxed the knife, barely. “What do you mean the auction? The Sparrows are holding their ball here in Azura? When?”

Rand smiled mischievously “Tonight” he whispered.

The Black Sparrows were a cabal of Erith’s finest burglars, con-artists and mercenary fortune hunters. Members spent each year pilfering treasures and antiquities from across the known world then auctioned them off at an invitation only grand ball of notorious decadence held in strict secrecy. Getting inside, unnoticed of course, presented him a unique opportunity to covertly mingle with some of the most powerful people in the  world and, if he was lucky, find himself close enough to something valuable to perhaps turn a profit from his ‘favor.’

Dartimen slowly withdrew the dagger, a few more hours unpleasantness was worth the potential reward. Still, something didn’t sit right. He glanced past Rand at Ferrik and Loos, both remained unnervingly poised. Rand wasn’t smart enough to be dealing with Ferrik and Loos on his own but if Rand was right and the Black Sparrows were willing to purchase the amulet and spare their lives he wasn’t going to argue, clients seeking these stones frequently offered high sums and few questions. Reluctantly he tucked the knife back up his sleeve.

Satisfied he was not about to be stabbed, Rand relaxed and cautiously led Dartimen to the table. He spun a chair around and leaned expectantly over the back.

Dartimen sat down warily across the table from the monsters he had been successfully avoiding for five years. Perhaps Brimstone and Jessa should have come along after all.

Ferrik’s single cold eye stalked Dartimen as he slid into his chair. “Dartimen Silvernight… The Black Cat, himself” he hissed shaking his head in disbelief.  He shook his head in disgust as his jaw clenched.  “I hate this. That I must meet you this way. I was supposed to kill you.”
Dartimen raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Try not to take it too hard.”
“You mock me?” Ferrik’s lip curled in a defiant sneer “Yes, of course you do.”

“Rand has no doubt told you the terms of this exchange?  You’re lackey likes to talk, yes? Talks too much, yes?” Ferrik slowly turned his head, grinning maniacally at Rand, who recoiled beneath the assassin’s shadow.
Dartimen however kept his eyes on Loos who sat motionless, his breathing steady and even, his eyes remaining hidden yet Dartimen could sense their fury.  “Rand left out a detail... or two.”
Rand winced and scratched the back of his head forcing a laugh. “Hey! What difference does it make? It’s just like any other job? An even exchange, no questions, no names, right Dart?”
“I’d call this a special occasion” Dartimen mused grimly.
“So... you got it?” Rand tapped his fingers on the table, his sea green eyes shimmering with anticipation.

Reaching into his pocket, Dartimen kept his eyes fixed on Rand though he cast a quick glance at the notorious cut throats across the worn, pine table. They sat ominously still. “Only if you’ve got my diamonds.”

Ferrik produced a small, inky-black, velvet pouch from beneath the table, setting it down and sliding it to the middle in front of Dartimen. He withdrew his hand barely holding back a scowl. Dartimen scooped up the pouch, loosened the drawstrings and emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. Six spheres of frosty vibrant blue and white crystal glowed with a pale aura, Illusion Sea fathom diamonds, each one worth a staggering fortune. He plucked one from his palm and held it to his eye. It was sheer perfection. Without a word he returned the diamonds to the pouch and slipped it into the breast pocket of his overcoat.

Ferrik raised an eyebrow “The amulet...” he growled. Dartimen met Ferrik’s empty stare but found no immediate treachery. He held his hand over the table and slowly released the amulet, allowing it to dangle on its thin silver chain. A perfect pear-shaped drop of amber hung cradled in a lacework of delicate silver wire as fine as silk. A haunting inner foxfire glowed in the steady candlelight.

Rand reached for the small treasure, his hand trembling. He tugged on the amulet but Dartimen held it fast starring at Rand for a moment before releasing the amulet. A relieved Rand smiled and brushed his thumb across the surface of the amber stone. He held it out to Ferrik, presenting him with the prize.
Ferrik ran a hand through his stormy hair and his eye narrowed into an icy slit remaining focused on Dartimen. His hand gripped the amulet so tightly the leather of his fingerless gloves creaked. He smiled wryly and opened his hand finally looking down to study the small treasure in detail.

“Tell me, Master Silvernight, how is it you came to poses such a rare and exquisite piece?” Ferrik hissed coolly.

Dartimen glared at Rand. Entertaining the client wasn’t part of the plan especially when that client turned out to be a pair of the world’s most feared assassins. Assassins who, for reasons he could scarcely imagine, hadn’t yet killed the both of them. For a moment he considered trying to stab Rand again.

“I took it in trade.” Dartimen tossed out the half-truth hoping it would be enough to assuage Ferrik.

A slight sneer cracked across Ferrik’s face. “Not the sort of thing one would barter with, but Rand tells me you travel in circles where such commodities are traded quite freely.”

“I have friends in strange places. Sometimes they’re willing to make a deal.”

“Strange places indeed Dartimen. But I am not talking about swapping trinkets with amateur fortune hunters or pilfering antiquities for lazy University wizards.  Not this game of yours, this tiresome charade of larceny.”

“You going somewhere with this?”  Dartimen huffed.
Ferrik scratched his jaw. “I seem to remember hearing stories that you had taken up the rebel cause at the siege of Saint Juliet.”

“That’s no secret.” Dartimen said with a crooked smile.

Ferrik nodded, steepling his fingers before him.  “And that it was the Stormrider that lead the Phantom Fleet against the Estanian armada?”

Dartimen frowned “That, is just a story.”

Ferrik smirked wickedly. “So, you must have had powerful allies among the rebellion.  Why did you do it?  Why did you sail against your patron?”

“It wasn’t a political statement. Brimstone and I were well paid for our defection.” Dartimen gazed into Ferrik’s single eye. “But we didn’t lead the Phantom Fleet. I don’t know who did, nobody does.”

Ferrik chuckled grimly “No, no of course not.” He cocked his head, considering Dartimen for a moment.

“So, you steal for money, you fight for money...” A wry smile slowly bled across Ferrik’s face. “...and you will betray for money.”

Dartimen clenched his teeth. “Don’t lecture me about who does what for money.”

Loos let out demented chuckle. Ferrik turned to his partner and smiled with demonic mirth. “You don’t approve of the business we do?”
“We’ve both earned our renown the same way, taking things that don’t belong to us.”  Dartimen shrugged.

“There, you see? We’re not so different.” A smug grin crept across Ferrik’s face as he studied the gemstone against the candle light.

“Wrong.  The things I take from people are of no loss, not to them. There’s no replacing what you take.” Dartimen smirked. “Besides, you need skill to do what I do…” He glanced at Loos who trembled with rage. ”…Any idiot can stick a knife in your back.”

Loos’ eyes widened and with the speed and precision of an angry viper his hand grasped a knife from his bandoleer but merciless glare from Ferrik froze Loos who released the blade sheepishly like a scolded animal.

“What kind of fool provokes his killer?!” Ferrik hissed, stunned. “Your bravado is embarrassing! You call out death when it sits before you? Well, do not fear, I want to kill you Dartimen Silvernight, it would be my great pleasure. I already know how I will do it, yes. I want to watch you and that buffoon next to you die. But not yet, not yet. We have a contract with the Black Sparrows…” Ferrik paused and turned, scowling fiercely at Loos. “…and we will honor it” he growled. Ferrik then turned his eye back to Dartimen. “I assure you, next time you call out death, you will find it.”

For a moment Dartimen stared blankly back at the assassin when suddenly he began chuckling, nodding at Ferrik’s side of the old table. Loos looked into his lap and found a serrated blade attached to the side of Dartimen’s boot inches away from his lower abdomen. Loos trembled, seething with a blood lust that colored his flesh in clouds of crimson yet he remained motionless.
Dartimen rapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “And let me assure you, that the next time death sits down in front of me, I’m going to stab it in the stomach. Now, how about we go back to talking like gentlemen?”

A wicked smirk forced its way across Ferrik’s face. “Interesting…” His single eye peered skeptically at Dartimen. “Why not kill him, eh?”
“I’d love nothing more…” Dartimen slowly, pressed the tip of the blade into Loos’ flesh holding it there, pausing for a moment to consider his would be killer. Finally, he shook his head “But I make it a rule not to kick someone else's dog.”

“Then you are a fool.” Ferrik chuckled with sinister amusement.
Dartimen smirked. “So I’m told.”

Rand suddenly burst to life “Hey! Hey! Guys, relax!” he held up his open hands, smiling stiffly. “We all have what we came for!”
Ferrik smiled wryly. “Of course.” He opened his palm and revealed the amber amulet, chuckling darkly. “Do you know what this is?”
“I’ve been paid already, I don’t care what it is.” Dartimen lowered his foot, sliding the knife up his boot.

“Rand has told us that even you were never able to discover its origin.”
Dartimen frowned. “Rand talks too much.” He looked over at his old comrade who was still shaking. “I had fragments of leads, they fell through. I was content to keep it up until I heard an old friend needed it for something important.” Again he gave Rand a quick, angry glance but he was looking away at the door again, distracted.
“You have no idea how much trouble this little stone has caused.”  Ferrik wrapped his hand around the amulet.  Loos suddenly chuckled maniacally.

Dartimen held up his palm, waving it at Ferrik.  “I’m not interested in why the guild wants it! Look, I don’t know what sort of deal Rand made with you but if that stone is all the guild wants to settle this, then take it. And you can tell your bosses that we’re even now.”   

A sinister grin slid across Ferrik’s face as his clutched the amber amulet tightly. “Your debt to the Black Sparrows is ended Dartimen Silvernight. You were luckier than most. Pray we never find you again.” His voice trailing off in a low stormy growl.

Dartimen stood up and calmly began walking backwards. “I’ll be keeping an eye out.” As he passed Rand he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of his chair. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he growled, dragging Rand behind him.

Rand quickened his pace as Dartimen shoved him from behind.  They marched down the stairs, through the throngs of drunken flotsam and out of the Chuckling Parrot.  Dartimen took a deep breath of fresh sea air to rid the stench from his lungs.  He released Rand and led him a short distance from the tavern.  As the crowd ebbed and surged around them Dartimen could only stare at Rand, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You obviously think I’m stupid or something. Why didn’t you tell me who was after that amulet?” Dartimen suddenly barked.  

“Because you wouldn’t have given it to me!” Rand countered in frustration.

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have given it to you!” closed his eyes, firmly rubbing his forehead.  
“Dart, C’mon what are you so mad about? We’re even with the Black Sparrows! We’re free now, don’t ya get it?

Dartimen waved his hand at Rand.  “Why is it every time we meet you manage to shove me in front of a disaster?!”  

“I had no choice! They caught up with me in the Black Shore Islands. I thought they were going to kill me right there but the only thing they were interested in was that little stone.”

“And you told them I had it.” Dartimen said flatly, his eyes narrowing.

Rand shook his head. “No, they knew you had it.”

Dartimen’s fists clenched. “Nobody else could have known I had this! What did you tell them?”

“Dartimen I’m telling you Ferrik knew!  I couldn’t have told them anything, I didn’t even know you had it!  Look, you’ve been there for me every time! For once I wanted to help you out - help us both out! I saw my chance, so I took it. I know I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” Rand shrugged meekly. “But now the guild doesn’t care about us anymore! The only thing the Black Sparrows wanted was the amulet.”

Dartimen slid off his hat and scratched his scalp; his mind drawn and quartered between Rand’s foolishness and the whimsy of chance. At least it was over.

Rand batted his thumbs against the collection of chains, beads and crude twine around his neck. Suddenly he began laugh.

“And hey! It’s not a total loss, I found out about the guild auction didn’t I?” he forced a smile, struggling for something positive to say.

“We just pulled our heads out of a noose and you’re thinking about robbing the Black Sparrows again?” Dartimen looked at him, stunned.

“You’re not?” Rand raised a knowing eyebrow.

Dartimen shook his head in denial but his eyes drifted up along the glorious white towers of the city, with the great radiant spire of the Cathedral of Light dominating the sky above them.

Rand smiled mischievously. “Midnight tonight at some old theater in the temple district called the ‘Glass Manor.’ And I know, you remember the guild’s auction ball. You know the kind of things they’re going to sell off there and more importantly, to who.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dartimen smiled fondly. In his time as a member of the Black Sparrows, he had only attended one of these infamously grand affairs; the one he later robbed. However, it was a night of such exotic indulgence and garish spectacle that he occasionally regretted double-crossing them.
Rand ran his fingers through his hair.  “You could slip in and out.  It’s an easy score.”

Dartimen rubbed his jaw, smiling. “There’s no such thing.” He looked Rand over skeptically. “What about you?”

Rand balked. “Me? Oh no, no way, I’m not getting anywhere near the Black Sparrows, not anymore. I’m taking the Hammershark and catching the first stiff breeze out of here.” Rand stared nervously out to sea. “You, Brimstone and Rilian staying for the Carnivale?”

“No, we have this, thing, we have to do in Aranoc.” Dartimen muttered, suddenly distracted.

Rand winced, hesitating for a moment. “Is Jessa with you?”

Dartimen sighed, tired of the same questions. “Leave her alone Rand.”

Rand’s lip curled into a sneer. “Big brother to the rescue.”

Dartimen stood to one side and pointed towards the far end of the harbor.  “If you have something to say to Jessa you’re welcome to come aboard. I should warn you though, Brimstone may end up shooting at you for fun, and I can’t promise Rilian won’t kill you outright.”

Rand turned away scowling.

“No? Guess not.” Dartimen nodded knowingly.

“Get out of here Rand, and for your own good stay away from people like Ferrik and Loos. It’s eventually going to get you…” Dartimen sighed. “…and probably me, killed.”
Rand smirked. “Not today anyway.”
Dartimen slipped off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling to himself. “Not today.”
Rand scratched the back of his head nervously. “Dart, tell Jessa… Tell Jessa I’m sorry.”
Dartimen surrendered a relenting nod. “I will.” They stood in silence a moment, both enjoying the release of their shared burden. Dartimen slowly turned away and started down the long harbor road.

Rand called out to him. “Hey Dart! Have fun at the party!”

Dartimen simply raised his hand as he slipped into the churning harbor crowd. Azura had just become a little more bearable and much more profitable. A cool, salty breeze blew in from the bay and Dartimen shut his eyes enjoying the air as it blew across his skin. Towering above him the grandeur of the seaside capitol stood radiant in the light of the Spring sun and the brilliance of the azure waters of the Illusion Sea that gave the city its name. Tonight, the streets would surge with revelers for the first night of Carnivale and dignitaries from across the known world would gather in secret to indulge in nameless pleasures and vices.

Dartimen smiled to himself. It had been far too long since he’d had a proper night on the town. He and the crew had been working nonstop for months and had certainly earned some time to relax. One day in port wouldn’t set them too far back. He strolled through the crowd back to the Stormrider to tell his friends and ready himself for what would no doubt be an enchanting and profitable evening.