Tailo had reveled in his journey through the desert. He embraced the involuntary fasting, the meditative rhythm of scorching heat waves, healing under the starlit sky, only to be tested by the sun's relentless fire once more. It was like a pilgrimage, though Tailo didn't consider himself a religious elf. But then again, perhaps he didn't need to be. Piety permeated the air he once breathed, especially for elves of noble lineage from the far-off lands of... well, it no longer mattered. It would never matter again. Tailo was miles away from his family and the suffocating weight of his surname. Where once he had been the black sheep, the bruised mark upon the family tree, now he was free. When he stumbled upon the mouth of the riverway leading to Khare, he knew he would rest no more—not until he reached the city of dreams, the place where he could be reborn in anonymity.
The riverway called to him in the language of salvation. It was his guide to freedom. He would follow its winding path, leaving behind the shadows of his past, drawn inexorably toward the promise of a new beginning.
Tailo couldn't fathom how he had ended up here. He had traveled a long way on foot and alone, his destination the bustling, ever-awake markets of Khare. That had been the plan, after all. What hadn't been part of the plan, however, was the brutal blow he'd taken to the head mere hours before awakening in what appeared to be a dusty alleyway. The sun was beginning to set behind Khare's towering walls, its rays winding into the narrow passage like serpents of molten gold. He must have been unconscious for… two hours? Unacceptable. Tailo was seldom caught off guard. He had fallen victim to a simple con while trying to save an old woman from having her wares stolen by thieves. He should have known better. The thieves in Khare were far from petty. In fact, he knew they answered to a single, dangerous syndicate: the Crowhoods. More infuriating was the fact that he had only been in town for less than a day. He was tired, still hungry, and not yet accustomed to the throngs of people. Fortunately, Tailo never kept his whip tethered to his waist. Instead, he kept it wrapped around the supple brown leather of his boot, secured snugly up to his thigh, comfortably tied and invisible to the untrained eye. He flexed his leg to check that it was still there. It was. The thief before him was draped in black cloth and leather. Their frame was slender and short, like that of a young woman's. Her voice confirmed it.
"Welcome to Khare, ya idiot." Her voice was like soft ambrosia, laced with the sharp bite of too much alcohol. It was sweet, but with a dangerous edge that made his head spin ever so slightly, like the first sip of a strong, intoxicating elixir.
"I'm not interested in talking to pawns today—" The young woman struck him with a swift and brutal backhand before he could finish the sentence. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth.
"You don't seem to understand how things work here, Va'as." Tailo bristled at the sound of his surname on her lips. The thief had left him bound, his arms twisted uncomfortably around a barrel in the desolate alleyway. He was forced to his knees, while she loomed over him, her posture radiating authority. The position was deliberately torturous, but Tailo had been an acrobat for over a century. Flexibility was one of his most formidable—and often underestimated—strengths.
The woman continued, her voice laced with a cruel satisfaction: "We've known you were coming long before your muddy boots touched the riverway that brought you to our city. You've not made a single move we haven't been watching."
"And why, pray tell, are you so interested in me?" he replied. Any trace of charm or good will Tailo might have conjured vanished the moment she uttered his family name. Even now, he was silently contemplating the many ways she would meet her end in this alley once he slipped his wrists free from their bonds.
"Do you really think the Crowhoods are foolish enough to let the high families enter our city without the proper... attention and accommodation?"
"So the Crowhoods are border patrol?" Tailo raised an eyebrow, only to be rewarded with another sharp backhand. He quickly made a mental note: finding the leader of the guild would be imperative. He was no stranger to navigating the tangled webs of criminal underworlds, and it was evident that a direct assault on the organization would be suicidal. No, he would need to negotiate a deal—one that would ensure the secret of his lineage remained just that, a secret, and that his family's name stayed out of the mouths of lesser fools…
The riverway called to him in the language of salvation. It was his guide to freedom. He would follow its winding path, leaving behind the shadows of his past, drawn inexorably toward the promise of a new beginning.
Tailo couldn't fathom how he had ended up here. He had traveled a long way on foot and alone, his destination the bustling, ever-awake markets of Khare. That had been the plan, after all. What hadn't been part of the plan, however, was the brutal blow he'd taken to the head mere hours before awakening in what appeared to be a dusty alleyway. The sun was beginning to set behind Khare's towering walls, its rays winding into the narrow passage like serpents of molten gold. He must have been unconscious for… two hours? Unacceptable. Tailo was seldom caught off guard. He had fallen victim to a simple con while trying to save an old woman from having her wares stolen by thieves. He should have known better. The thieves in Khare were far from petty. In fact, he knew they answered to a single, dangerous syndicate: the Crowhoods. More infuriating was the fact that he had only been in town for less than a day. He was tired, still hungry, and not yet accustomed to the throngs of people. Fortunately, Tailo never kept his whip tethered to his waist. Instead, he kept it wrapped around the supple brown leather of his boot, secured snugly up to his thigh, comfortably tied and invisible to the untrained eye. He flexed his leg to check that it was still there. It was. The thief before him was draped in black cloth and leather. Their frame was slender and short, like that of a young woman's. Her voice confirmed it.
"Welcome to Khare, ya idiot." Her voice was like soft ambrosia, laced with the sharp bite of too much alcohol. It was sweet, but with a dangerous edge that made his head spin ever so slightly, like the first sip of a strong, intoxicating elixir.
"I'm not interested in talking to pawns today—" The young woman struck him with a swift and brutal backhand before he could finish the sentence. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth.
"You don't seem to understand how things work here, Va'as." Tailo bristled at the sound of his surname on her lips. The thief had left him bound, his arms twisted uncomfortably around a barrel in the desolate alleyway. He was forced to his knees, while she loomed over him, her posture radiating authority. The position was deliberately torturous, but Tailo had been an acrobat for over a century. Flexibility was one of his most formidable—and often underestimated—strengths.
The woman continued, her voice laced with a cruel satisfaction: "We've known you were coming long before your muddy boots touched the riverway that brought you to our city. You've not made a single move we haven't been watching."
"And why, pray tell, are you so interested in me?" he replied. Any trace of charm or good will Tailo might have conjured vanished the moment she uttered his family name. Even now, he was silently contemplating the many ways she would meet her end in this alley once he slipped his wrists free from their bonds.
"Do you really think the Crowhoods are foolish enough to let the high families enter our city without the proper... attention and accommodation?"
"So the Crowhoods are border patrol?" Tailo raised an eyebrow, only to be rewarded with another sharp backhand. He quickly made a mental note: finding the leader of the guild would be imperative. He was no stranger to navigating the tangled webs of criminal underworlds, and it was evident that a direct assault on the organization would be suicidal. No, he would need to negotiate a deal—one that would ensure the secret of his lineage remained just that, a secret, and that his family's name stayed out of the mouths of lesser fools…
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