No One's Chosen (48 page)

"Why have you done this?" She realized she was
screaming.

"Who… gives a shit? You'll kill me either way. Just
have it done." He spit at her but the spittle did not make it
farther than his leg.

Socair's face twisted into a rage. She lifted a foot
and stamped it into the man's face with all of her strength. She
could feel the bones and teeth buckle but it did not quell her
anger. She pulled back and kicked again. The sound this time was a
wet crunch where before there had been a series of snaps. The man
slumped and fell over but she did not abate. She stomped and
stomped and the blood splattered onto the wall and the bed and her
legs. It was not until Silín grabbed her arm that she finally
returned to her senses. Socair's face was red and she was breathing
heavily. She spit on the corpse and left, punching the wall as she
passed.

"Are you well?" Silín asked, walking down the stairs
behind Socair.

"No." She knew it was curt, but it was all she could
offer.

Socair picked up a chair from the floor and sat it
down putting her face into her hands. Silín placed a hand on her
back.

Socair let out an angry scream. "Are there no guards
in this fucking city?" She spat the words sloppily and angrily.
"How? How could such a thing even happen? Did no one see?"

Silín only lightly rubbed her back. It was no use
trying to tell Socair to accept that the world was unkind, Silín
knew. Socair knew as well, but she would not accept it. Or perhaps
she could not.

Socair sat in the chair and said nothing, letting the
minutes pass. Finally, she stood and walked from the alehouse.
Silín followed her.

Socair stopped outside. "We are done with this. They
are dead and justice is done, for whatever it's worth."

"What next?"

"The attacks in the south. Or the rumors. Or whatever
it is. We need more information."

"Where—"

Before the question could pass Silín's lips, a naked
old man with a great grey beard ran around the corner of the
alehouse screaming.

"Boats!" he yelled as he passed. "They came in boats!
They came from the water!"

Óraithe stood in the alleyway above the den pacing
impatiently. Teas would be there soon and she was integral to the
next part of the plan. Each of them would have a part to play in
the preparations. She'd been to sleep late the night before but
still risen early. It had not been early enough to stop Teas from
skipping off home to check in with her father. She said he would
worry too much if she did not come home and assure him that
everything was alright and that she had kept herself safe.

It was not yet midday, but even so, Óraithe could
hardly contain her excitement. Even with the robbery so recently
having been committed, the High District did not seem to notice or
mind. They had contented themselves with scouring the Low District
and making trouble for the poorest among the elves in the hopes of
scaring respect into them. It was hardly the right way to go about
it, Óraithe thought. In her mind they were poking a caged beast and
their anger would move eventually from the stick to the creature
holding it. They could blame her now for the inconvenience, she
would gladly play the villain.

Teas walked lazily around the corner looking at the
sky as she went. There were no clouds and the sky was light blue as
it so often was during the whole Saol. Teas spotted Óraithe waiting
and jogged to her, squeezing her tight.

"You were waiting?" Teas smiled.

"I was." Óraithe couldn't help but return the smile.
Teas was the brightest part of her life, truly. This was as much
for Teas as anything, Óraithe told herself. "How is your
father?"

"Oh, he worries. But that is just his nature. I tell
him that you would never let me come to harm but he won't hear it."
Teas sighed and shrugged. "He doesn't know you as I do."

Óraithe laughed lightly. "That may be for the
best."

She pulled Teas's hand and made for the stair down to
the den. Teas followed and they moved off from the alley into the
comfort of a place Óraithe had truly come to think of as home. When
they entered Teas ran over to Bonn immediately. The boy's eyes lit
up to see her. The jealousy that had been apparent in Scaa when the
two of them were together had even begun to fade and she smiled
more now. Óraithe closed the door and put a hand on the old, ill
kept wood. This was her home, truly. For a time after they had
found the den, she had had trouble remembering not to return to
Cosain's shop, but the night before it had not even occurred to her
until they were in front of the stair.

The short elf made for the table and sat down. Scaa
moved and sat on the other side.

"When do we begin?" Her husky voice was flat, almost
disinterested. She picked at her nails with the dull knife Óraithe
had killed the mountain elf with a few nights prior.

"Today. There is no reason to wait. The High District
has kept up as though nothing happened. You saw it."

Scaa shrugged. "You'll have no argument from me. I
can scarcely believe the Palisade was unwatched. Reckon they see it
as more important to seem untouchable than to react to a
provocation from the Low District."

Teas came over with Bonn not far behind. She sat
beside Óraithe and Bonn took his place next to Scaa. Teas was
smiling as she sat.

"What are you two on about?"

"The highborn," Scaa said, yawning.

The smile faded from Teas's face. "You are planning
another attack?"

"We are." Scaa spoke again, impassive.

Teas looked down at her lap.

"If you want no part of it, I understand," Óraithe
said softly. "This is a fight I started."

"Do you have need of me?"

"I do. But I—"

Teas placed a hand on Óraithe's leg and smiled
gently. "Then I will do everything I can."

Óraithe smiled. "Thank you."

"Nonsense. We are sisters. Now tell us what is
needed."

Óraithe turned to address the table. "Scaa, what of
the silvers you took from the warehouse?"

Scaa poked Bonn and the boy perked up as if just
remembering. He dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out
the coins, putting them onto the table.

"Good. The area around the Chancery is unknown to me.
Do you know it?"

Scaa shook her head and yawned.

"Then I would have you take Bonn and see to the area.
We cannot scout it so easily as the warehouse. It is important that
we know the area well so we might watch the comings and goings of
workers as well as how best to escape." She grabbed the two coins
and pressed them into Teas's hand. "I need you to go to the south
markets. There are alchemists there. They will take coin and not
ask questions. Can you do it?"

"I can. What should I tell the alchemists I
need?"

"Tine's Tears. It will catch fire if it touches air,
so take great care with it."

"We need such a thing?" Scaa asked, suddenly
interested.

"It can burn even stone and is nigh impossible to
quench. We must be sure the place burns. I mean to retrieve some
dyes. The old man saw the pink dress and it would be apt to attract
the guards as well."

"True enough," Scaa offered, snickering. "The
highborn do not leave their children to wander the streets
unattended."

Óraithe rolled her eyes and stood and the others
followed her up.

"You will need bleach as well," Teas said.

Óraithe grabbed her friend's hand. "Thank you." She
smiled as did Teas.

They left together and each went their different way
as they made the top of the stair. Óraithe could hear Bonn ask Scaa
where they were going as they walked away. The short elf turned to
Teas.

"Be careful. Come back safe, even without the Tears.
Just come back safe." Óraithe smiled nervously. Teas had been to
the south markets at least a dozen times that she knew of. There
were always questionable sorts there, but it was no more dangerous
than the square or the slums.

Óraithe did her best to put worried thoughts out of
her mind and get to the task at hand. She needed to find bleach and
dye. There were shops around the Low District that dealt in
clothes, sure enough, and even near on a hundred seamstresses, it
seemed like. She did not know who among them would be responsible
for the color of a garment though. The square was the best place to
find out things which one did not know and so Óraithe pointed
herself in that direction and began walking.

The streets were fairly crowded. The air was cool for
Saol, even the end of the season, and that was often enough to
bring bodies out into the streets. She turned onto one of the side
roads moving toward the square and was nearly struck in the head by
a stitched leather ball as it came whizzing past. It was followed
in short order by a rabble of children clamoring to be the first to
give it another kick. Óraithe had played the game only once before.
It seemed a wonderful way to explore the city but she was too short
and the children left her behind. She had cried alone in an empty
alleyway after that. She was different now, she told herself. She
would neither follow nor be left behind.

The square was bustling with elves. Many were
celebrating the fine weather with purchases of better cuts of meat
and the buskers did their best to coax coin from the comfort of the
pockets on the rejoicing shoppers. There were plenty enough people
there that Óraithe figured she could have lifted enough coin to
just buy the dye and bleach outright. She did not know much about
the stuff, but she knew it took the color from clothing. She
remembered Cosain proudly listing it among the creations of
alchemists that have made the world a better place but she could
not remember the name of the elf who had done it. It hardly
mattered, so long as it did what was needed.

Óraithe wandered the square until she heard a woman
shouting that she did alterations and repairs to clothes. She
rushed up to the woman.

The woman spoke before Óraithe had even settled
before her. "Ah, a right street rat, ya are. Can't do nothin' for
them stains but you could do with a stitch or two. One copper for
the both of 'em."

"Do you sell dyes or bleaches?"

The woman clicked her tongue. "Bah. Ain't no dyer,
girl. Dyers got no reason to come to the square. And from the looks
of ya, I doubt you got much a reason to go to them. One over a few
streets though." The woman motioned disinterestedly across the
square. "Big purple sign above the door."

She did not wait to see if Óraithe had a further
query. No sooner than the last words had passed her lips did she
look up and go back to shouting her services across the square.
Óraithe did not mind, she was done and heading across the square
nearly as quickly. The dyer's shop was on the fairer side of the
the Low District. The side where Teas's father kept his shop, only
farther north.

Óraithe passed the streets on the far side of the
square, looking up and down the alleys for the purple sign. It was
the third street that played host to the shop. It was a deep purple
thing with a bolt of fabric painted in gold and red. The colors
were brilliant and the sign well painted. It was to be expected of
a dye shop, Óraithe figured. The door to the shop was a deep purple
as well with more subtle trim of various reds.

Without thinking about it overmuch, Óraithe pushed
the door open and stepped in. The shop was much smaller than she
had expected with small pouches on hooks above large bins of
beautifully colored powders. There was every color Óraithe could
imagine and a dozen more. Shades of blue she had never seen and
greens and purples and browns and reds and every color in between.
It made the small shop feel almost claustrophobic. Óraithe was
hovering above a deep green, feeling as though she were staring at
a forest, when a high, girlish voice called from the other end of
the shop.

"Is there anything you need?" The voice came from a
young girl on a stool, near Óraithe's age by her own estimate. "Are
you interested in dyes?" She was dressed nicely in colorful
clothes. A loose blue-green shift above a brown skirt that had a
rainbow of color in lazy waves around the bottom. The girl was one
of the more fortunate among the Low District. Dyeing was an art and
it took years to master the mixing and the setting of color into
various fabrics. Such a family would never want for coin, even
among the lowborn.

"I am." Óraithe said, reminding herself that there
was a greater purpose to serve.

The girl lit up and hopped from the stool. "I thought
you might be. The greens are so beautiful aren't they?" Her smile
was genuine and kind.

A pang of guilt shot through Óraithe. She had never
wished her pockets to be full of coin so strongly in her life. "I
love the color dearly. In fact, I've always wished I had a dress
just this color."

The girl clapped her hands. "I know what you mean! A
deep green dress just seems so elegant." She swooned and spun,
grabbing her skirt and pulling it out with a flourish. "Ah! Don't
you just wish you could be a highborn and attend one of the
seasonal balls?"

"I do," Óraithe said with a sad smile. She ran her
fingers across the bin. "I should like some of this. The
green."

The girl stopped swaying to the unheard music and
looked at her curiously. "Just the dye?"

"Yes. Is it a problem?"

"No… no." The girl grabbed a pouch after shaking away
the curiosity. "It's not so rare, just you are young. And most
commonly elves our age tend only to be interested in having the
work done for them."

Óraithe chuckled and shook her head. "I've realized
that it is best to do things myself so much as I can."

The girl smiled and finished filling the pouch. "That
is an admirable way to be." She spoke as she moved back to the
counter at the far end of the shop, Óraithe in tow. "Do you have an
interest in the art?"