masterghandalf

Chapter 6: Thaliost

Thyra sat in her seat on the lightning rail, staring at the countryside passing by outside. This was the evening of the third day out from Sharn; they’d be arriving at Thaliost early tomorrow morning. They’d left Breland and Aundair behind, and now they were passing through Thrane; Thyra had her face pressed to the window as if drinking the scenery in. This wasn’t a part of Thrane she was particularly familiar with – she was from farther south than this rail line – but still, it was Thrane. Home, even if she hadn’t lived there for the better part of two years. And hopefully, if all went well, someday it would be home again. She let loose a sigh heavy with longing.

“You seem troubled,” a voice said over her shoulder; Thyra turned to the seat next to her. Today, Yhani sat there; the elf was watching her with concerned eyes. Thyra glanced over to where Len and Ghazaan sat across from them, but the captain and the hobgoblin were engaged in some whispered conversation and didn’t seem to be paying their fellow passengers any mind. She looked back at Yhani and nodded.

“More homesick than anything,” she said, “but I guess you could say that I’m troubled.”

“I understand that feeling,” Yhani said. “It has been almost two decades since I last set foot on Aerenal; my calling has kept me away. But I take comfort knowing that it is there, that it has endured for so long and will endure, and will be there to receive me when I return. Until then, I will go where Len goes, and her company is always a comfort to me.” She glanced over at the captain, who was now gesturing animatedly at Ghazaan, and gave a small, affectionate smile.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to go home,” Thyra said softly, looking down at her hands. “I had it all planned out, you know. I grew up in Flamekeep, I’m named for Tira Miron, and all I ever wanted to do with my life was be a cleric of the Flame, like my par… like my mother. And then everything fell apart.”

“Because your father’s business dealings fell through?” Yhani asked, her gaze suddenly sharp.

“Yes, of course,” Thyra said quickly, remembering the lie she’d told Len about her reason for hiring them. “Anyway, that’s why this job is so important. It may be the last chance my family has.”

Yhani looked thoughtful for a long moment before speaking again. “You say your mother is a cleric?” she asked; when Thyra nodded, she continued. “Your faith is not my faith, but I think we have some things in common. We both reject the notion that distant, uncaring gods are worthy of worship and choose to put our trust in powers within this world. In Aerenal we venerate our ancestors, whose actions shaped the world we know and continue to guide our people from the Undying Court, while you place your faith in the Silver Flame, the power that binds evil and protects Eberron from dark powers, and in Tira Miron who channeled the Flame and gave her life to defeat a terrible demon. We both look to the heroes of the past as exemplars to guide us into the future.

“But my people also believe that the fate of Eberron is guided by a great Prophecy – the Draconic Prophecy, some call it, for it was the dragons who first discovered it, though the Undying Court have great skill in interpreting it as well. This Prophecy is written in every stone and tree, every moon and star. And yet it is not fixed, for it defines not only what must be but all the things that possibly might be, and so for every event that fails to come to pass, there are more possibilities that are yet brought into being.” Yhani looked directly at Thyra now, her pale blue eyes boring into the young woman’s face. “And so my advice to you is this – if the path you thought your life would take has failed you, have you taken time to consider what new possibilities now stand open?”

There was something pointed in Yhani’s words, something that shook Thyra to her core. Barely managing to stammer out an incoherent reply, she turned back to the window, wondering. How much did Yhani know, really? How much had she guessed? And was Thyra imagining it, or had the priestess of the Undying Court managed to stir some long-buried hope in her heart. The future is not fixed. My future is not fixed…

It was too much to take in for now. And so Thyra turned her attention back to the scenery of Thrane, watching her home as it sped quickly by. Mother, Father, Val, she thought, wherever you are, I pray that you’re well. And maybe, if the Flame is merciful, we’ll be able to see each other again one day.

///

“I hate cities,” Harsk muttered as the company and their client made their way out of the Thaliost lightning rail station. The shifter’s voice was surprisingly soft to those who didn’t know him well, though it had the rough quality of someone who didn’t speak very often.

“Oh, come now!” Rinnean replied, draping one arm around Harsk’s shoulders; the shifter glared at him but made no move to force it away. “It’s no Sharn, but still, adventure, excitement, people everywhere. What’s not to love, my friend?”

“I hate Sharn too,” Harsk shot back. “Besides, we’re not staying here long – right, boss?”

“Right,” Len said sternly, shooting her scout and thief – Rinnean preferred “stealth expert”, but Len knew a thief when she saw one and had pegged the elf from the first time she laid eyes on him – a look that told them in no uncertain terms to knock it off. She gestured towards the east, where the cliffs upon which perched the city of Rekkenmark rose in gloomy bulk. Maybe it was just her bad experiences with Karrn troops during the war, but she didn’t like the look of that place one bit. “Lightning rail used to run out that way, over the Sound – there was a big bridge, you can still see part of it if you look – but it got wrecked. So we need to find another way across. As you can see, Rekkenmark’s up high, so there’s not a lot of boat traffic going out that way, but I bet we can find someone who’ll take us across and show us how to get up there, for the right price.”

“Smugglers, you mean,” Ghazaan said, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Come now, my good hobgoblin,” Rinnean put in, grinning. “Don’t talk that way. You never know when a good smuggler might come in handy.” He looked over at Len. “Might I be able to track down the right person for us? It’s my specialty, after all, and the rest of you lot, no offense, would just slow me down – and I’d rather not have Yhani giving me that look every time I try to do something vaguely interesting.” The priestess in question shot him a very dry, disapproving expression, and Rinnean’s grin broadened. “That’s the one!”

“Fine, get on it,” Len said. She glanced up at the sky. “Be back here by noon – that’ll give you about four hours. If you haven’t found anything by then, we’ll work that out at the time.”

“Oh, you wound me to think it would take that long,” Rinnean said. The elf winked at his captain and then turned and sauntered off.

“By the Traveler,” Len groaned when he was out of earshot, “I swear I’d fire that man if he wasn’t every bit as good as he thinks he is.”

“Do not worry about Rinnean,” Yhani said, putting an arm around Len’s shoulders. “He enjoys irritating people, which is why I allow him to irritate me. He would feel unappreciated if I did not.”

“Well, so long as he gets us a boat I don’t care if he earns the wrath of the Keeper of the Flame,” Len said. She looked over at Thyra, who had been very quiet ever since they got off the rail and kept glancing nervously towards the center of the city, where the Citadel of the Flame, the local administrative center-meets-cathedral, stood. “Is all of this all right with you? It’s your money, after all.”

“Technically, it’s my mentor’s money,” Thyra said absently; Len filed that bit of information away for further scrutiny. “I’m just nervous being back so close to home; I feel like I should keep a low profile. Actually, with that in mind…” she raised her hands in front of her and mouthed a short incantation Len couldn’t catch; a moment later she shimmered and her appearance changed from a deceptively-innocent looking girl to a woman about ten years older in leather armor, with a mane of dark hair and a hard face with a small scar over one eye. “There. Now, no one will recognize me, at least.”

Ghazaan whistled, seemingly impressed at the change, and Len found herself nodding somewhat approvingly. “Well,” she said, “at least you’ve got some useful magic there that doesn’t involve playing with people’s minds. Hope there’s more where that came from.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen all I can do, Captain,” Thyra said, grinning. “Not by a long shot. I do seem to fit in better with the rest of you looking like this, though.”

“Don’t go too far with that, kid,” Ghazaan said, laughing, and even Harsk cracked a grin. Havaktri, on the other hand, seemed far too preoccupied with staring at Thaliost’s architecture; if she’d even noticed Thyra’s change, she made no sign.

Len chewed her lip for a moment, then pulled Yhani to one side. “Well, the plot thickens,” she whispered. “If our merchant’s daughter is this worried about being seen in public in her own homeland, that says some very interesting things about her, don’t you think, ‘Hani?”

“I do not think she is a merchant’s daughter at all,” Yhani whispered back. “She said some things on the rail yesterday that roused my suspicions. I am not looking forward to this, but I think that for the sake of our company and this mission we need to get the real story from her, and soon.”

///

Rinnean returned shortly before noon, bowing with a flourish and proudly informing Len that he’d found someone who ought to fit their needs perfectly. The captain studied him intently for a long moment, then nodded once and gestured for the others to follow her; now they made their way through Thaliost’s streets, headed towards the harbor.

Thyra walked near the back of the party, still wrapped in the illusion she’d conjured. A part of her hated using the magic, wanted nothing more than for it to be gone, but another part found itself enjoying the ability, wondering what she might be capable of if she truly pushed herself to her limits. Shaking the thought away, she focused instead on trying to walk and carry herself like the mercenary she pretended to be rather than the somewhat overwhelmed girl she actually was; unconsciously, she found herself copying Len’s purposeful stride and casual bearing that nonetheless held a bit of threat as well.

Someone fell back to walk beside her; turning, she saw that it was Havaktri. “Thyra,” the kalashtar said, “there’s something I’m curious about. Looking around this city, there seem to be two distinct styles of architecture; most of it is these tall spires, but mixed in I see shorter buildings with a lot of white marble. You’re from this country – is there a reason for all of this? Or do humans just like being contrary?”

Thyra laughed. “Yes,” she said, “but there is a reason for the difference. I’m from Flamekeep, which is quite a bit further south, but I know my history. This city used to belong to Aundair, then during the War it changed hands several times before Thrane finally managed to hold it. See, the white marble buildings are probably newer, and Thranish – the towers are older, and Aundairan. Make sense?”

Havaktri chewed her lip for a moment, an oddly mundane action on someone so otherworldly. “I think so, yes,” she said. “And the city’s inhabitants, they are content with this?”

“Well, I’ve heard stories about riots and things,” Thyra said quietly, glancing around. “People who want the city to go back to Aundair, and loyalists who want to keep it Thranish no matter the cost. But we’re not staying here long and hopefully we’ll be able to avoid any of that.”

“I see,” Havaktri said, but she looked troubled. “So much strife and conflict in the world. They must love this.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Thyra asked, curious, but Havaktri suddenly seemed very interested in looking at the surrounding buildings and didn’t answer.

///

The group made their way through the city, following Rinnean’s guidance, until at last they came to the docks that lay spread out before them, boats and ships of all sizes and descriptions moored along the Scions’ Sound, or casting off or pulling into port. The Sound was wide and strong, but in the distance the dark cliffs of Karrnath could be seen closer now, the city of Rekkenmark perched atop them. The broken span of the bridge that had once connected the two cities could still be seen rising out of the water; it remained an imposing site, though a large piece of its middle was visibly missing, leaving it impassable.

The area around the docks was even more crowded than the main city, if anything, filled with shouting sailors and merchants hawking their wares; Ghazaan moved up to walk beside Rinnean, the burly hobgoblin expertly shoving his way through the crowd and making way for the rest of them, though Thyra could see he was smiling and waving affably as he did so. Finally they came to the end of the dock, where a single small boat was tied up at pier where a cloaked figure sat waiting for them.

Rinnean waved as they approached. “Hey, Pok!” he called. “Here they are, just like I promised – my boss, my team, and our client. Ready to cast off?”

“Always,” Pok said in a soft, smooth voice as he stood. Reaching up, the smuggler – for that was what Thyra assumed he was – pulled back his hood, and the young woman gasped at the face that was revealed. His hair was long, white, and lank, and his eyes were blank and milky, and his skin was a pale grey, and yet his face were oddly blurred or distorted, more suggestions of a nose and mouth than the actual features.

“Oh!” Havaktri said softly. “He’s a changeling, like – “

“Stow it,” Len snapped. Stepping forward, she sized Pok up; if she was bothered by his appearance, it didn’t show at all. “So, you’re the one Rinnean found who can get us across the Sound and into Karrnath discretely? I’m Captain Len, and these are my team. Rinnean says you’ll take us across for five Galifars. That deal still on?”

“Of course it is,” Pok said. “I never back out on a business deal, Captain Len.” He emphasized the name oddly, looked the captain up and down, then oddly, he winked. Len didn’t react at all.

Thyra suppressed a slight shudder. She knew it was unfair and irrational, but changelings made her uncomfortable; a part of her recognized how ridiculous it was for someone who was currently wearing a false face to be distrustful of shapeshifters, but some primal part of her couldn’t help it. All she could do was shake herself, tell herself she was being stupid, and get ready to pay the requested amount when they reached the other side.

“All right, then,” Len called. “Let’s get to this. Get on, people!” Minutes later, they had all boarded the small boat, and Pok cast off to begin their journey across the Scions’ Sound and into the grim nation of Karrnath, where their goal lay.

///

This chapter is mostly there to use a largely uneventful part of the journey to help flesh out some things a bit more, getting a bit into Thyra’s backstory, Yhani’s beliefs, and some general info on Thaliost. I never intended for our main crew to stick around in the city for very long, but this isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of if – after all, Valyria and Pitar are still trailing Thyra, even if we haven’t been keeping up with them. That should change soon…

-MasterGhandalf