Forsaken by Shadows 60: Mercenary for Hire

~25. Mercenary for Hire~

Ti’yana

Ti’yana stood on the edge of Dock Road, seriously contemplating disobeying her father. Her emotions tangled like a ball of yarn left to the wrath of a litter of kittens, the reed basket clutched in her hands under serious threat of total destruction as she mulled over whether or not to take the next step. 

She really shouldn’t be here. Just imagine what her father would say if he found out, which, come to think of it, was probably a good exercise, because he’d probably make her say it. 

Do you know what I’m going to say? 

Yes, yes, she knew. He wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

No, wait. He’d be mad. Disappointed, but also mad. 

And rightfully so. What was she thinking? He’d expressly forbidden her to come to this street, and not because he found joy in taking pleasure away from her. The rule was for her protection, a reassurance she would be safe from mercenaries who might consider her beauty in nefarious ways.

And yet, the boundary had become more than a minor inconvenience. How was she supposed to craft Mazira’s Serenade dress and keep it secret from literally everyone when she wasn’t allowed to shop at the only sewing notion store in the whole city? What cruel twist of fate had allowed her unlimited access to all the fabric in the world, yet barred her from needles, threads, lace, and trimmings?

She should have just asked Rismyn to do this for her. He wouldn’t have even blinked twice. She could have given him a list and sent him on his way, and he would have happily done as she requested, no questions asked. Unlike her father, who would definitely pry, and definitely disapprove of her design, even if it was Festival attire.

But she couldn’t risk it. Mazira had been clear, she wanted her Ordeal to remain secret until she revealed the results at the Serenade herself. She’d been especially adamant that Rismyn learn nothing of it, and Ti’yana was not about to take that from her. Too much had been taken from her. The Serenade was Mazira’s moment, and Ti’yana was determined to make sure she shined.

Even if it meant disobeying her father. 

Or so she’d thought.

She wavered in the shadows of a darkened alley, her cowl pulled low, trying to talk herself into just doing it. So long as she avoided being seen by any mercenaries, it would be okay, right? That was the point of the rule. Not that she couldn’t shop on Dock Road, but that she’d be safe. She could be safe. With her hood up, and with the errand only requiring a few minutes to complete, there was little chance of any untoward encounters. The spirit of the law would be honored.

Yet her feet wouldn’t move. She couldn’t make herself take that final step, to willfully disobey the words of her father’s lips. There’d been no grey-area in his demand. Stepping onto this road would be actively disregarding him, unlike her accidental rule-breaking when Beltel had dragged her against her will into the spyhole. That secret had been hard enough to keep, and still ate away at her conscience.

Intentional disobedience? What would it do to her?

“So, are you lost, or planning to rob someone?” 

Ti’yana nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the voice behind her. She’d chosen this particular narrow alley precisely because it was secluded, the perfect place to agonize over domestic rebellion. She whirled around, raising her basket in defense, as if the woven reeds would offer her any protection. 

The blood drained from her face. 

So much for avoiding mercenaries. And not just any mercenary. The one she’d had the displeasure of separating Rismyn from, who had inexplicably seemed to become his friend just a few cycles later. Stars above, he’d eaten dinner at her house. Twice.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, readjusting her hood. She glanced around, both relieved and horrified to realize he was alone. The few times she’d seen him away from Dock Road, he’d been escorted by Rismyn or her father, either of whom would have been disastrous to run into in her current state of breaking the rules. But if he was alone, unsupervised…

Her father’s fears for her echoed in her head, and Ti’yana took a step back. “Y-you’re not supposed to leave Dock Road without an escort.” 

Dreder grinned, an unsettling sight. “And you’re not supposed to be here at all, are you?” 

Ti’yana stiffened, glancing over her shoulder to the road she’d been forbidden from. Given the circumstances, it might be better to step onto it, where Launites patrolled among the sellswords. Standing in a secluded alley with a mercenary seemed like the exact scenario she was supposed to be avoiding. 

“Of course I am,” she insisted, trying to laugh it off, but the sound that came out of her mouth was more of a nervous huff. “I live here. I can go where I want.” 

“Right, of course.” He strode toward her, but Ti’yana stayed fastened to the stone, the riverwalk serving as an invisible wall to her escape. “To answer your question, I wasn’t out of bounds when I saw you. I was right over there.” He gestured beyond her with his right arm, and though Ti’yana knew it was rude, she couldn’t help but stare at the gleaming hook where his hand used to be. 

She didn’t know the full story behind it, but she’d gathered enough context to know it had something to do with Rismyn. Mazira hadn’t seemed to know all the details either, and Rismyn refused to talk to any of them about it, except for her father. 

“I stood there for probably ten minutes, waiting to see what you would do,” Dreder continued. He moved until he stood right in front of her, and the way he looked at her made her squirm. 

Not because he was slack-jawed with her charm, or even because she could read lurid thoughts in his mind. That, she was used to. No, it wasn’t hunger she saw on his face. It was pure, genuine curiosity, like he was reading her life story in the ridges of her defensive body language. 

“But you just stood here,” Dreder concluded, looking her up and down. “Alone in a dark alley, wrapped up in a cloak, and looking like you’ve swallowed poison.” His devious smile returned. “I recognize trouble when I see it. You’re definitely up to no good. Can I help?” 

Ti’yana’s trepidation morphed into indignation. Just who did this elf think he was? And how dare he assume that just because she was planning to break some rules meant she was automatically up to no good? The two expressions weren’t always synonymous. 

“I am not up to no good,” she seethed, fully aware that she sounded like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “I’m just… just…” 

“Just so bad at lying you can’t even come up with one on the spot?” 

He was still grinning, and it had the curious effect of making her want to stamp her feet. She remained dignified, however, putting her hands on her hips. “And what about you, sneaking off the street alone?” 

“I’m not alone,” Dreder said. “I’m with you.” 

Oh, no. She did not sign up for the responsibility of him. “Well I’m busy. So go… do something. Else. Away from me.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. 

Dreder laughed, an unfeigned, carefree sound, and Ti’yana tensed, ready for him to say something patronizing, or to move closer and force her decision on whether or not she wanted to break her father’s rule. 

But to her surprise, he just shook his head. “Alright, alright. It was a pleasure running into you. Maybe we can make it a habit.” 

And then he stepped around her, heading back to Dock Road.

Ti’yana stared after him, genuinely shocked that he’d done as she asked. But now that she thought about it, this was the most interaction she’d had with him. In the three total times she had found him in her home, he’d never once spoken directly to her. She’d caught him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, so he wasn’t immune to her charm, but he had, despite her father’s concerns, behaved well. 

And her father had let him into her home.

“Wait,” she called, scarcely able to believe she was saying it. 

Dreder pivoted on his heel, so fast it was as though he’d been expecting her to call out, and the smirk he wore almost made her change her mind. “Yes?”

“You’re a mercenary.” 

He raised an eyebrow, some of his amusement slipping. “Yes.” 

“So then… I can hire you… for a job…” 

Now both his eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Potentially…” He moved back into the alley. 

Ti’yana took a breath, twisting her hands around the handle of her basket. “You were right. I’m not… I’m not supposed to visit Dock Road right now…” 

“Really? I’m shocked.”

Ti’yana stared daggers at him. “I can take my business elsewhere, you know.” 

“No, please, I’m way too invested in the story.” Did he ever stop grinning? “Go on, I’m listening.”

Ti’yana bit the inside of her cheek, kicking herself for going down this path. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to change her mind. 

But the Fleet was expected back any cycle now, and Mazira’s dress wasn’t finished yet. This was the best way to get what she needed without breaking her father’s trust and keeping Mazira’s secret. 

“There’s a shop,” she finally said. “It has some things I need. If I… gave you a list, could you maybe go there and get the order filled? And bring it back to me? Oh! And don’t look at the list, or the contents of the basket, and definitely don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Rismyn or… or my father.” 

Dreder’s expression was difficult to read, his eyes wide but his mouth quirked. “That’s it? That’s the job?” 

“Yes,” Ti’yana said, unable to make eye contact as she thrust the basket at him. “Would five silver be enough? I can get more, if not…”

The mercenary threw his head back and laughed, and Ti’yana’s face burned. 

Oh, this was definitely a mistake. What had she been thinking? Sellswords didn’t think like normal elves. They’d sold their souls to greed and gold. “Forget it,” she said, turning away. 

The bite of cold metal on her skin stopped her escape, as Dreder’s hook snaked around her wrist. “Wait, hang on.” 

The feeling of his unnatural contact sent shivers down her spine, of the unpleasant variety. She snatched her hand away from him, stumbling back several steps. 

Dreder raised his hands—hand?—in an apologetic stance. “Sorry, that was probably overstepping.” His tone had taken on a soothing cast. Coming from him, it sounded unnatural. “I forget others aren’t used to… it.” 

If he was going for pity, Ti’yana had none to give. She just folded her arms and glared at the stone wall to her left. “Look, do you want the job or not? I have things to do.” 

“Three silver to do your shopping,” Dreder said, reaching his actual hand out for the basket. His crooked smile returned, and he had the audacity to wink at her. “Two-silver discount for upsetting the client.” 

Ti’yana rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t about to argue. Somehow, this was starting to feel worse than actually doing the shopping herself. She handed over the basket and then pulled out her coin purse, the silver and copper inside clinking together as she fished for the proper amount. 

“This will cover the cost of the supplies,” she said, holding out the coins. “And three silver for your service.” 

For once, the mercenary didn’t smile. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and incredulous. 

“What…?” Ti’yana asked, suddenly self conscious. She looked at the metal in her hand, reassuring herself that she had counted it correctly. Was it the assortment of different seals that made him stare? Was he surprised Launite money was just a mixture of coins from the other drow cities, collected over time to make sure nothing got traced back to them? 

“You’ve never made a deal with a drow before, have you?” he asked.

Ti’yana flushed again. Though he’d said it without a drop of humor, she couldn’t help feeling like he was mocking her. “Of course I have!” 

“No, I mean, a real drow.” He glanced around, as if checking no one was nearby, then ushered her further into the alley. “What’s to stop me from taking your coin and your basket and absconding with it?” he said as they went. 

“What?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “But you—”

“Or what’s to stop me from gutting you here in this alley and taking all your coins, which you just flashed in front of me like it was nothing!”

“I don’t—”

“Seriously, woman. I thought you were a merchant’s daughter. Why do you think your father forbade you from coming here? It’s to keep you safe from elves like me.” 

The tangle of her emotions went taut as his words struck her. She wanted to be angry for the way he insulted her intelligence. She wanted to be shocked that he would even insinuate such treachery. She even wanted to demand how he knew it was her father specifically who told her not to come here, and how he’d known the reasons why. But none of those feelings could compete with her fear. 

Dreder was right. He could do any of those awful things to her. And she was alone with him in an alley. 

He raised his arm and Ti’yana flinched, but he only set her basket down on a crate. “Put your coins away,” he said. “All but a silver and five copper.” When Ti’yana didn’t move, he crossed his arms. “Look, if I was going to rob you, I wouldn’t have told you. I’d have just done it.”

Reluctantly, Ti’yana raised her coin purse. 

“No, don’t let me see it. Leave it under your cloak.” 

She jerked the silk bag back beneath her mantle, dropping everything but the silver and five coppers as he’d instructed her. 

“Now, here’s how this works.” Dreder held out his hand. “You offer me half the payment now, and then give me the rest when I return, as well as reimbursing my expense.” 

Ti’yana nodded. Slowly, as if he might bite if she made a sudden motion, she held out the coins to him, drawing back quickly as soon as the exchange was made. 

Her money disappeared into the folds of his tunic. “That’s a free lesson in bartering,” he said, taking up her basket again. “Now, where am I going, and what am I getting?”

Ti’yana didn’t say a word as she reached back into her pouch and produced a charcoal stick and a slice of rice paper, imported from the surface. She used the crate to scrawl out her list of items and folded it, handing it to Dreder. His eyes had never left her, his gaze open and unapologetic, unlike the furtive glances he’d stolen when at her home.

But he didn’t try to touch her again, or say anything uncouth.

“Riverby Threads,” Ti’yana said, as he took the paper from her. “It’s a sewing shop, just around the corner.” 

“A… sewing shop?” He looked genuinely surprised, the muscles of his jaw twitching as they restrained a smile. 

“Yes,” she said, trying to recover her severity. “And that’s all you need to know, sellsword.” 

Dreder shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re the client.” He swung her basket by his hook over his shoulder. “Ten minutes. I’ll be back. Just sit here and look pretty, and please, for the love of unholy gods, don’t try to make any more business deals.” 

Ti’yana’s lips curled in disgust, but he was already walking away. She watched him go, knowing he’d be gone at least fifteen minutes, thanks to the chatty tiefling who ran the shop, but opted to let him figure that out on his own. Maybe she’d deduct tardiness out of his three silver, show him how savvy of a merchant’s daughter she could be. 

But as he turned the corner out of sight, all of her frustration left with him, and it was all she could do to resist the urge to burst into humiliated tears. 

How could she have been so stupid? She’d not only made a deal with a mercenary, which felt an awful lot like supporting a business bathed in blood, but she’d simply taken him at his word. It had never once occurred to her that he might take advantage of her, steal her coin, or worse. He’d been a guest in her house, invited by her father. He’d agreed to her contract. Why would he go back on his word? 

Because he was a mercenary from Menzoberranzan, a city she’d only heard horror stories about. A real drow, as he’d called it. 

She shuddered, hopping up on the crate and hiding her face in her hands. Which part of this story would disappoint her father more? The fact that she’d come here, that she’d hired Dreder, or the stupidity of her actions? She didn’t want to guess. 

The minutes ticked by with no discernable difference in the hue of the light. She let her head loll back and kicked her heels against the crate, wondering if Dreder had, in fact, absconded with her coin.

Absconded? Had he really said that? She could hardly believe he knew the word. Diction hadn’t seemed like one of his strengths in the snippets of conversation she’d overheard before he realized she was there and quit talking. At least, not diction of that variety. His choice of words generally included a level of profanity she was shocked her father tolerated. 

Then again, she was still shocked her father tolerated him in general. 

How long had it been since he left? Had he really stolen her pocket change? He couldn’t be that greedy, could he? No. He knew there was more easy money if he returned. Which reminded her. 

Ti’yana dug into her coin purse and pulled out the rest of what she would owe him, so she wouldn’t have to look for it when he returned. The sooner this whole exchange was done, the better. 

After what must have been half an hour, footsteps at the end of the alley made her jump to her feet.

Dreder strolled toward her, returning just as he said he would, her basket full of paper wrapped goods.

“Finally,” she said, her ire returning at the sight of him. “What took you so long?” 

Dreder didn’t flinch at her tone or her question. “There was a line. And then I ran into the boss on my way out, and naturally he was curious what I was doing in a sewing shop.” His lips twitched in what she was beginning to learn was his signature look as he raised his hook. “I’m more of a crochet guy, myself.”

Ti’yana scoffed, rolling her eyes, then froze. “Wait—you know what crochet is?” 

“Doesn’t everyone? Here’s your stuff.” He held the basket out to her. “And I didn’t peek. Promise. Though what embarrassing contraband you could possibly have picked up at a place like that, I can’t even imagine. Wasn’t even a front for psychedelic mushrooms. I think I offended the horned-lady when I asked.” 

He was joking, right? Ti’yana seriously hoped he was joking. Clearing her throat, she chose not to address it and opted to believe the best. “And you don’t need to know,” she said. She reached for the basket, but just before her fingers wrapped around the handle, he whipped it back.

“Actually,” he said, “speaking of contraband…” 

Her stomach dropped. Oh no. Where was this going?  

“You may recall that your initial request included my services and my silence.” His smile was way too large. “And what we actually agreed to was three silver for my services.” 

No, no, no… “Please—” Ti’yana began, her stomach leaping from where it had fallen to lodge into her throat. “It’s really not worth telling anyone I was here. Do you want more silver? I can give you more silver!”

He held up his hand to silence her, and to Ti’yana’s great chagrin, it worked. “Second lesson, don’t let the supplier of what you need know how desperate you are. Or how much money you have. But don’t worry. I am happy to negotiate for my silence. I just have a different price.” 

Ti’yana ground her teeth. No, she did not like where this was going one bit. Surreptitiously, she slipped the coin she’d gathered for him back into an inner pocket of her cloak, in case she found herself needing both hands to defend herself. Why hadn’t she brought a bladed weapon with her? After all her boasting to Rismyn about being able to protect herself because she knew how to sword dance, too.  “What… what do you want?”

Dreder didn’t seem at all in a hurry, perhaps savoring her discomfort as he casually swung the basket back and forth. “I want you to show me something in the city I haven’t seen yet.” 

Ti’yana didn’t move. Had she… had she heard him right? Or was it some sort of euphemism she didn’t want to contemplate? “Come again?” 

“I want to see more of this city,” Dreder said, her basket going still as his hand, and hook, rested on his belt, eerily close to the hilt of his weapon. The posture wasn’t unfamiliar, living in a community where the majority of the citizens learned the art of the sword, but on a drow like him, the gesture certainly caught her attention. “If you can even call this hamlet a city.”

Ti’yana bristled, although there had been no venom in his words. Not something she could say of her own as she replied. “If Launa isn’t up to your standards, then why do you want to see it?” 

“Whoa, hey, easy there,” he said, but he smiled as though he enjoyed her hostility. 

Creep. 

“I never said it wasn’t,” Dreder continued. “It’s just small, that’s all. Riz keeps going on and on about how great it is, but he’s always too busy to take me anywhere. So show me one thing, and I will take word of your sewing-contraband to my grave.” 

Ti’yana frowned, sifting his words for a trap. After the coin fiasco and his pulling this on her, she wasn’t about to just agree to anything. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind or…?”

Dreder shrugged. “I’ve only been to your house and back. I’ve heard rumors about surface-gardens and crystal walks. I don’t care, you pick. Where do you like to go?” 

Ti’yana narrowed her eyes, trying to imagine the mercenary surrounded by flowers in the Garden Cavern, with his hair so perfectly unkempt it looked stylized, as though his rebellion was that intentional. He dressed in dark clothes, the belts around his waist studded with metal and dripping with weaponry. A shortsword, a longer sword, a dagger, and a belt knife. Who knew what else he had stashed away, though why he needed so many blades when he only had one hand to wield with, she couldn't fathom. 

Regardless, nothing about his appearance screamed elf who enjoys sniffing the roses, or even elf who is enjoyable to be around, for that matter. But she needed his silence. Rismyn wouldn’t care if he found out she was here, but her father would be livid, and Dreder seemed to have had an open invitation to her home, for reasons that had yet to be properly explained to her beyond, it’s the best way to keep an eye on him.

“Alright. Fine.” She extended an expectant hand, reaching for her basket. “I will take you to one place. How about the Market District?” 

“Maket?” he repeated, his nose scrunching in distaste.  “No, that sounds boring.” 

“You didn’t specify it had to be something fun,” Ti’yana shot back. “And I happen to like the market.” That, and it was close, full of people, and she could potentially pawn him off on Rismyn, who should be working with Jasper by this time of light. “All you said was you wanted to see something you haven’t seen before and I got to pick. So do we have a bargain, mercenary?” 

Dreder’s eyes widened, then lit up. His smile, which so often appeared mocking, dangerous, or just plain irritating, dawned like the first trickle of white light into their blue mornings. It melted his hardened edges and made him seem almost friendly. “Well, look who paid attention. Alright, m’lady, we have a bargain.” 

Ti’yana shuddered as he finally handed over her basket, yanking it away from him in case he tried to pull it back. 

Really? M’lady? Ugh. This was going to be a nightmare. She turned away without another word, marching down the alley with the air of a martyr marching to her doom. 

Dreder followed at her heels like an obedient puppy, practically brimming with the same level of barely contained excitement. She would have thought him under the spell of her divine aura, except that he was far more capable of coherent speech then most the men she’d accidentally charmed. It had been nearly two tendays since they’d first collided over Rismyn in the Sunglow Tavern. Plenty of opportunity for the effects to wear off. 

Which meant he had no excuse for being so obnoxious. 

“So, the market,” Dreder said, and Ti’yana closed her eyes, praying for patience. “What’s it like?” 

“It’s like a market,” she said, as they left the alley and turned onto a proper street. She should have added a no talking clause into this deal. 

“Okay, yeah, but like, is it a big market? A sustenance market? A frivolous market? Does it pop up only on third and fifthday, or is around all year?” 

Ti’yana raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He had a lot of interest in a market he didn’t want to go to. “It’s big enough for us,” she said, recalling his previous jab about Launa being a hamlet. “And… I don’t know. It’s an everything market? Some merchants live elsewhere in the city and rent stalls for the cycle, others have more permanent establishments. It just depends.” 

“I see.” He paused, but his silence didn’t last nearly long enough to suit Ti’yana. “So your father, then, he rents a stall?” 

Ti’yana nearly choked on her own breath, trying to imagine her father, with his grandiose standards, condescending to a market stall. “No.” 

“But you don’t live in the market district.” 

Why did he care so much about something so irrelevant? “My father prefers space and quiet,” she explained. “Our business hasn’t suffered because of it. People don’t seem to mind coming to us for their needs.” 

“Is it weird?” Dreder asked. He pivoted as they went, walking backward so he could face her as they spoke. “Being raised by a man?” 

What kind of question was that? Ti’yana straightened, lifting her chin. “Of course not. He’s my father. Why would it be weird?”

“Because he’s a man.” Dreder looked at her as if that should have meant something. “What do men know about nurturing children, especially daughters?”

“A lot, when given the opportunity,” she said, her jaw set in defiance.

“I dunno.” He shook his head, as though uncaring of the hard stare she gave him. Perhaps he was just used to such expressions by now. “It’s not natural. Why don’t you have a mother, anyway? Or at the very least, an aunt or an older sister?” 

This time, Ti’yana froze, her mouth agape. Had he… had he just asked her that? That deep and tragic question, that personal prying into her past, albeit a past she had no memory of, but still! It was quite possibly the rudest thing he could have said to her, and she was too stunned to be offended. 

“What?” Dreder asked, and he seemed genuinely baffled. “I’m just curious.” 

Ti’yana snapped her mouth shut. “No one’s ever taught you how to talk to girls before, have they?” She strode forward, picking up her pace. She was already over this tour. Rismyn better keep him at Jasper’s or she’d have his head. 

“Why?” Dreder asked, keeping pace with her easily. Once more, her irritation only seemed to feed his enjoyment. “Am I doing it wrong?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I admit, my general instruction regarding women is stay silent and keep my head down.” He grinned, though what he found so funny, she couldn’t say. “But following instruction has never been my strong suit.” 

“I noticed,” Ti’yana ground out. 

“So, I shouldn’t ask about your matron?” 

Ti’yana stopped again, her knuckles creaking as she nearly shredded the basket in her hands. “Look,” she said, endeavoring to keep from shouting as her blood boiled. “I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but here, in Launa, and probably in the rest of the world, it’s considered incredibly offensive to ask someone about their past. Most of the people here have suffered terrible things, and we don’t want to talk about it.” 

To her absolute dismay, a single tear escaped her lashes, which probably gave her the look of someone on the brink of despair, though truthfully, she was just livid. Her mother’s death at her father’s hands had always been an abstract sadness, a longing for something that might have been. 

But she found it hard to mourn a woman she had no memory of meeting, whose only claim to motherhood was giving birth to her, nursing her a few tenadys, and then attempting to murder the father she adored, leaving him bereft with guilt he didn’t deserve, wallowing in the shame of defending himself. Much as Ti’yana wondered about her mother, she would never understand why her father grieved a wife who had betrayed him. 

Yes, the story was sad. But it was her father’s sad story, not her own. Her eyes weren’t watering for sorrow of what was lost, but for anger at this calloused, ill-mannered mercenary asking about such sacred treasures as if he remarked on the price of silk. He had no right to dig into her affairs, or insult her father by implying he was somehow an inadequate parent just because he was male. 

Dreder’s mirth lasted about three heartbeats past Ti’yana’s rebuke, before something in her body language must have struck him. His signature smile faded, his brow furrowing as he studied her. Confusion became solemnity, as all expression faded from his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and to his credit, were Ti’yana in the mood for allowing him such grace, he actually sounded like. “I meant no disrespect, m’lady.” 

“Stop calling me that.” She crossed her arms, the heat in her gaze enough to light a forge. Fortunately, she managed to blink away the rest of her hate-filled tears. “This isn’t Menzoberranzan. I’m not better than you because I’m a girl. You said it yourself, I’m only a merchant’s daughter.” 

Dreder studied her in a way that made her twitch, then blush. His gaze was too intense, his expression too thoughtful. What did he see, when he looked at her that way? What portrait was he painting of her in his head?

She didn’t want to think about it. He was warped, the product of his twisted upbringing. Whatever thoughts he was having, they were tainted by blood and shadows, and she wanted nothing to do with it. 

“Let’s just get on with this,” she said, stepping forward, but Dreder didn’t move. As though her words broke the spell of his focus on her, his attention was caught by something beyond her.

“What’s that?” he asked, just as Ti’yana turned to see what he was staring at. 

She didn’t see anything, beyond a few shops and some patrons milling about. They weren’t in an especially busy part of town, but there was enough business that her and Dreder’s discussion seemed to have gone unnoticed. 

“What’s what?” she asked. 

“That.” Dreder pointed with his hooked hand toward a building just to their right. 

The plain and unassuming sandstone was a complete contrast to the expensive bay windows on either side of the open door, the glass panels held in place by gold-painted framing. A decorative, wrought iron fence marked out a mossy courtyard, home to six small, round tables, four of which were occupied by various city-folk.

“That?” Ti’yana cocked her head. The change of subject was a welcome relief to her tension. “It’s a creamery. A frosted creamery, to be exact. Have you never had frozen cream before?”

Dreder’s expression filled with wonder and curiosity. Apparently, her rebuke no longer troubled him. “No, what’s frosted cream?”

“It’s…” She trailed off, as the opportunity seized her. She could be rid of Dreder sooner than the market. “Would you like to find out? In fulfillment of our bargain?”

“Yes, please,” Dreder said, taking the bait with renewed enthusiasm. “What is it like? How do they freeze it? Why do they freeze it?” 

Rather than answer his questions, Ti’yana led him into the courtyard and toward the door. It would be much easier for him to see than for her to explain anyway, though it took far longer to order than necessary. Dreder first had to get over the fact the store was owned by a forest gnome, and explaining that calling her a faerie gnome was incorrect and offensive took multiple attempts. Once he overcame that initial barrier, however, Ti’yana then had to pull him away from the woman, whom he seemed determined to question to the end of her sanity. 

At last they returned to the courtyard, where a mortified Ti’yana was relieved to find a table on the edge, away from the decent folk of the Sanctuary. Dreder balanced his stone bowl of sweetened cream dribbled with candied berries in the crook of his hook. Every time he tried to touch the stone with his hand, he pulled his fingers away as if he’d been burned, though it had actually been chilled to glacial temperatures to keep the cream from melting too fast. 

“These are exotic berries,” Dreder said, staring in awe at his concoction as they settled at the table. “We only got them in House Ti’glath on High Unholy days, and that lady had vats of them! And you paid just coppers for this. I didn’t realize this city was so rich.” 

“We grow them here,” Ti’yana explained, resigned to her longsuffering experience. “In the farming caverns.” Dreder opened his mouth, presumably to ask a question, but Ti’yana raised a hand to stop him. “No, I don’t know all the details on how it works. I’m sure my father will be happy to explain it, though. It’s a subject he finds fascinating.” 

“Right, of course,” Dreder said. “I’ll ask him.” He took up his spoon, but hesitated. 

Ti’yana wasted no time digging into her own bowl of sweetened cream, placating her nerves with sugar. She gazed out over the other patrons, smiling faintly at the sight of an elven family, a mother and father huddled around their gloam-drow child, who giggled over the joy of her treat. Such moments of unstrained bliss were becoming harder to find in Launa, the longer the cycles went without further news of the threat that stalked outside their walls. Every cycle the Gates remained closed was another reminder that their peace was fragile, security an illusion. 

The thought drifted her attention back to the mercenary before her, who was supposed to be part of the solution, but was so far staring at his softening cream as though it might attack him. 

She blinked, then frowned. “Aren’t you going to try it?” 

“Yes.” But his eyes narrowed. 

Ti’yana sighed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Just… Did you poison this?” 

“What?” Ti’yana’s mouth fell open. He’d asked it so… seriously. Was she supposed to laugh or be offended? “Why would I poison it?”

“Well you don’t exactly hold me in the highest regard,” Dreder said, poking at his cream. “Might be a convenient way to get rid of me.”  

Ti’yana’s face warmed. Stars. He really was serious. The worst part was, he didn’t even sound upset about the thought of her poisoning him. Like it was a normal conclusion to come to. “How could I poison it? You were standing right next to me the whole time, and I never even touched your bowl.” 

“You coulda bribed the faer—forest gnome.”

“Oh my stars.” She rubbed her temple. “Look, if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.”

Dreder yanked the bowl closer, as though she was going to snatch it away. “No, I want it.” Without another complaint, he stabbed his spoon into the cream and lifted it to his lips. Ti’yana watched with brows raised as he took his first tentative bite, his consternation transforming into unhindered delight. 

“My gods,” he said, followed by a few other choice words that didn’t bear repeating. “This is what frost, sugar, and cream can create?” He sounded thunderstruck. “Why have I never heard of it before?” 

“It’s amazing what can be accomplished when cultures join together, rather than tear each other apart,” Ti’yana said, completely deadpan as Dreder barreled into his cream with a vengeance. Apparently his concerns over poison were short lived. “What you call exotic we call common—hey, wait, you should—”

But it was too late. Dreder dropped his spoon and grabbed his head. “Ahh, it hurts! I knew it, poison!” 

Despite herself, Ti’yana laughed. The sound seemed foreign and distant, given the general state of vexation she’d been suffering through for the last few hours. But she couldn’t help it. She’d been afraid of this elf when they first met in the alley, but it was hard to fear the mercenary who’d succumbed to frosted cream. The experience normalized him, somehow. Made him more elf than enigma.

“It’s not poison,” she finally said, taking pity on him. “It’s because it’s cold. It happens when you eat it too fast. I should have warned you, sorry. It’ll pass in just a moment.” 

Dreder groaned, still cradling his forehead. After a moment, he sat back, staring at the bowl before him with a new look of respect. “Sweet but dangerous,” he said. “There’s a metaphor for life in there, somewhere.” 

Again, Ti’yana laughed, more out of incredulity this time. “Philosophy? Really? Has my father rubbed off on you that much?” 

Dreder jabbed the cream with his spoon yet again, though he seemed wary of another bite. “What, you weren’t forced to read all seventeen volumes of Zeedrar’s Treatise of Thoughts growing up?” He scoffed. “Count yourself lucky. It warps your thinking; everything becomes a metaphor, whether you like it or not.” 

Ti’yana’s humor evaporated. Not because she’d heard of this Zeedrar’s… whatever he had called it. But because Dreder had just alluded to his education, an education she had callously assumed he lacked, given his profession and general aura of disregard about everything. Shame twanged like a discordant harp string in her core, resolving into notes that sounded an awful lot like her father’s voice, reminding her that it was wrong to judge a person by their appearance.

“No,” she began, feeling the sudden need to defend herself, even though Dreder hadn’t seemed remotely offended. “I just—” 

The blast of horns cut off her stammering. But not just any horns. Gate horns. 

Ti’yana lost her breath, her heart surging from one emotion to the next as the deep, low melody rang out, a musical crier reporting the news.

Everyone in the courtyard sat still and silent, absorbed in reading the melody, except for Dreder, who frowned and looked around. “What was that?” he asked, when the notes died away, but Ti’yana needed a moment to recover. 

The horns. The tune. The melody. She knew exactly what it meant. Unlike the last time, when the horns served as harbingers of tragedy, calling their outward patrols home for the long, silent siege of fear, these notes heralded something good. Something exciting, even, despite their current season of despair. 

“The Fleet has just crossed into the Outer Rim,” she said aloud, though more from wonder and disbelief than as an answer to Dreder’s inquiry. “Our sailors are almost home.” 

“Ah,” said Dreder, his dour expression the opposite of her own. 

He started to rise, abandoning his half-eaten cream. Ti’yana was just about to ask him where he was going, when he winced, reaching under his tunic and fishing out a silver medallion. Just like with the bowl of cream, he didn’t let his fingers touch the metal for long, instead turning it with his hook. Ti’yana glimpsed a single rune etched into one side, glowing red as if it had been sitting in a forge. 

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “Time to go to work.” 

That’s right. Bregan D’Aerthe was contracted to see their Fleet returned safely. Because there were killers out in the Wilds, and no one was safe. Ti’yana rose too, almost in a dreamlike state, as fear and delight mingled in a violent storm in her gut. For a moment, she saw Dreder differently. He wasn’t just a sellsword, he was part of the effort to protect their people. Not quite a hero, but no longer an enemy.  

“Hey,” she said, as he turned away. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say it, but the word stopped Drerder, catching his attention. 

“Be careful,” she said. “And… and bring our people home.” 

Dreder fixed her with a curious expression, as if he couldn’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. Then he shrugged. “This was fun,” he said, nodding to the creamery. “Perhaps we could do it again, when I get back. See more of the city, that is.” 

His words constricted her like barbed wire, puncturing the hazy feeling the gate horns had stirred up inside of her, snapping her back to the moment, to reality, to the mercenary standing before her, inquiring after a continued acquaintance. A killer for hire, who weighed the worth of a soul in units of gold.

Suddenly unable to look directly at him, her gaze shifted down, anchoring on the silver that glinted where his hand ought to have been, a stark reminder that his alliance had been bought with coin, not merit.

Her expression darkened. “What did you do to Rismyn,” she began, daring to look back at him, “that made him cut off your hand?” 

It was an educated guess, of course, but it seemed to have been an accurate one. Dreder rocked back on his heels, studying her with a guarded look, before he finally said, “I thought it was offensive to ask about someone’s past.” 

Ti’yana nodded. His reluctance was confirmation enough. Whatever had passed between him and Rismyn was bleak, and though Rismyn seemed able to overcome it, Ti’yana would not. They could share all the frosted cream in the world, and it still wouldn’t change what he was, and how little she wanted to become his friend. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her expression grim. “Drop dead, sellsword.” 

She turned away to gather up the bowls and take them inside. When she turned back, Dreder was gone. Only later would it occur to her that she never paid him the rest of her debt.

***

Somewhere in the vast, echoing caverns, an unnatural sound carved through the darkness. Torafein’s lids rose heavy from his eyes, not convinced that he wasn’t imagining it. 

Something about that mournful cry seemed familiar. He’d heard it before, but where? When? 

He lay there long after the sound dissipated, beholding the criss-crossing veins of copper that saturated the limestone of the tiny crevice he’d wedged himself in to rest. Green and russet intertwined within the bedrock, gently illuminated by the bioluminescent carpet of moss he lay on. The dancing designs criss crossing over his head made his vision spin as he fought to recollect himself. 

That sound. It wasn’t an animal. No beast or monster had made that cry. It had been too melodic. An instrument, maybe? Yes, music. That was it. Music.

Horns. 

Gate horns.

Torafein rolled onto his stomach, beginning the mad scramble out from under his refuge, as realization electrified his motivation. 

Those were gate horns that had woken him. Launa’s gate horns. Signaling the return of the Fleet, and for Torafein, the return of hope. 

He was almost home.

Disclaimer: Forsaken by Shadows is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.