On the southern edge of the Duchy of Highheart, there rested a village on the border of three seperate manors. The town was called Mollyheights; not for any good reason but enough to that is was the residents decided. It was an out of the way place that revolved around its quarries, the farms were secondary, only there to feed the laborers. As with most towns, it had a tavern, but only the one, so it was simply called "The Tavern." Since it was the middle of the day, most of the towns workers were occupied and the tavern was empty except for the proprietor and a few travellers.
One of these travellers was a dark haired youth. He called himself Joshua and his trade was the creation and sale of steel. He had checked the quality of of the miners' tools the day before, repairing and replacing them as they came. Now he met with another traveller, a scarred man with one eye with a single edged sword on his hip.
"As I tried to explain before," Joshua said, holding a mug of ale close to him. "I cannot make fourteen guns in a day." Taking a cautious sip, he took a glance at the other patrons: a trio that seemed to be playing cards had been passing glances his way on and off since the one-eyed bandit sat down. Probably part of the same group. He'd have to be careful. Setting his cup back down, the smith continued. "I'm good, I'll grant you but even I have limits."
"Yeah, well. Figured if you were all they said, you could figure out a way to magic up some kit," the man spat.
Rolling his eyes, Joshua tried to explain the man's folly. "My work is still steel. I can't just pull a sword from thin air. I need materials, resources and time. I-"
"Then what good's your witchery if I'm just gettin' the same stuff I could steal elsewhere?"
"Because it's not the same. Most smiths work by guesswork and chance. I can cast a hundred identical ingots of 'Armor-Grade' steel a hundred hours. That is why I charge you more. Now If you still want those guns, pay me and meet me at the drop in five days. Otherwise, leave."
The bandit just snarled. Then after a second of staring down the young smith, he left. The card players quickly fell into step with their boss as they left. "Imbecile..."
Mollyheights. Ugh.
She hated Connlaoth.
Of fucking course the bastard decided to trek through this way. Tara scowled to herself as she tried to make her way through the town without drawing too much attention- she was doing a spectacularly poor job of it. Strangers must have been rare in a place like this, particularly obviously Serenian strangers. She could feel curious, furtive gazes burning into her back with every step she took.
The Tavern. Dear gods. The place didn't even have a real name. But oh well, if this was where she needed to go-
Her tracking spell sort of fizzled at the edges, invisible though she felt it fading all the same. She cursed under her breath and desperately threw more power into the spell with a whistled tune, hoping it would bolster it enough to last just a bit longer...
No such luck. The spell fizzled, popped, and faded. Tara bit back a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush and dragged a hand down her face.
She was so close, she could feel it! Damnit!
"I need a drink," she decided, storming into the tavern. Her slamming of the door drew a few startled glances her way, but she ignored them as she made a beeline for the bar. The Bartender blinked at her.
"Ah... 'Lo stranger, what can I get ya-?"
"Whiskey, neat." Tara winced out how sharp her voice came out and forced a smile. "I have a little coin, sir...or I could play for the drink and a meal?" She gestured to the lute slung over her back and the lyre at her hip.
The barkeep gave her a skeptical look. "Let's start with the coin."
Well, she hadn't really expected that to work. with a sigh she passed over a few glittering pieces and plopped into a stool, twisting slightly to observe the rest of the tavern. The remains of her tracking spell tugged at the edges of her consciousness, not powerful enough to really tell her anything, just enough to be annoying-
Except it seemed to gather around a dark haired young man tucked away near the other end of the room. The spell sort of glittered around him, a shimmer of gold dust that only she could see, then faded away completely.
Tara's eyes widened. Maybe this wouldn't be an entirely wasted trip after all. Carefully, she drew her lyre into her lap and started tuning and strumming softly, humming under her breath. She allowed just enough magic to thread into her voice to draw the people in the tavern toward her- nothing too obvious, she was still in Connlaoth after all.
It had otherwise been a slow day in that small tavern so when the lightly dressed bard entered, she caught a great deal of attention. Even the smith took note of her; especially her apparent shift in personality. He chuckled at her facade, not in ridicule but in a sort of respect for a fellow liar. He had also noticed her ordered a rather strong drink which did seem to clash with her delicate persona.
Beyond the obvious, though, she did not interest him greatly. She did not seem the sort to commission a steel tool or weapon and there was only so much time he could afford to waste. Yet at the blending of the minstrel's voice and the thrum of her instrument, Joshua was given pause. Were he more familiar with magic aside from pyromancy, he might have been able to understand what was happening to him. As it were, the blacksmith rose, approaching the bar.
The traveller's fingers brushed his mop of dark hair out of his face as he took a seat beside the woman. "That is beautiful," he commented softly, reluctant to interrupt the song. "I'm Joshua, by the way, " he introduced himself, retrieving a few coins from his own purse. "I would be honored if you would join me for a meal."
Perfect.
Smiling up at him shyly through her lashes for the praise, Tara silently wished she could force herself to blush. That might help sell it. "Thank you," she murmured, and her lips curved up a little higher on one side in a soft smile. "For the compliment and the offer. I'm grateful."
And a little surprised, honestly. Information and a free meal, huh. She'd have to try this trick more often. "My name is Tara," she told him with another smile, tilting her head just a bit so a few locks of hair that had come loose from her beribboned braid fell artfully over her shoulder, drawing attention to the curve of her throat and the dip of her collar. "And I'm never one to say no to free food," she added with a quiet chuckle.
Pouting a bit, she blinked up at him and added, "Though I would hate to take advantage. A song for the meal, perhaps?"
Tara was being subtle, her actions meant to entice without seeming crass. Joshua could tell much of it was an act. But what was clear and what was necessary very rarely walk hand in hand. Maybe it was respect for a confident woman who knew how to charm her way out of danger. Maybe something else.
"Of course," the smith said in reply to the bard's offer. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Off-handedly he gestured for the tavern master to prepare food for the pair. The meal would be fairly simple: vegetable soup, grilled chicken, greens and fresh bread, but it was surprisingly hardy for the cost. But it would take some time to prepare, giving Tara time to play another song.
Joshua was personally inept as a musician. He had once laid hands on a found lute. The resulting noise had triggered a bout of angry howling from some nearby dogs and left him with a sense that his ears would start bleeding. He had tremendous respect for those who could play music so beautiful and affecting. He relished the feelings they evoked, even the melancholy.
Adjusting the lyre on her lap, Tara shot him another small smile as she began plucking a soft melody. She kept her magic out of it for now- didn't want to risk being too obvious- and started to sing.
There was a reason the young woman could make her living as a bard. Even without magic, her voice had a gently compelling quality that made the listener want to lean closer, just a bit, that shivered through the air and wove around a person like a careful caress.
She decided to go with something simple, an old love ballad recounting the tale of a Connlaothian lady and a Serenian knight who, despite their attempts to avoid it, found themselves in an illicit affair that must be kept hidden from her husband. The knight, Dame Ethera, was so ashamed to have broken both her vows of chastity and her lover's marriage vows that she challenged the lord to a duel- a rather melodramatic suicide, as she allowed him to stab her through the heart. But the Lady Serilda was so distraught as she held her dying lover that the gods themselves took pity and transformed the two women into a sapling tree, a sturdy vine wrapped around it. One could not live without the other, supporting each other, even after life had faded and wood had cracked.
It was a fanciful tale meant to describe the origin of a rare tree that grew most often in the Niahi, but it was poetic and filled with an aching sort of longing that fit Tara's voice wonderfully. By the time she trilled the last note and lowered her lyre, the few other tavern patrons had to drop their eyes and pretend they hadn't been listening with wrapt attention.
She cut her eyes up at Joshua sidelong and offered a lopsided smile. "Worth a meal?"
Joshua shut his eyes, letting the somber melody wrap around him. He was not familiar with the song itself but the emotions it was meant to evoke were universal. And though he had never been close enough to anyone to have a real sense of that kind of love, a part of him longed for it. A single, solitary tear rolled down his cheek. A manly tear! The smith coughed, taking the opportunity to wipe his face before saying, "I should hope so."
It was about that moment the tavern master and what appeared to be his daughter returned. Two wooden plates and two soup bowls were set before he patrons. "House special," the barkeep joked, dryly. He was quickly called away by another patron as the girl left them with utensils.
"So," Joshua continued, cutting into the chicken. "You don't seem to be from around here. What brings a Serenian bard to an out of the way little hole like this? If you don't mind me asking." He slipped the little piece of chicken into his mouth, signalling he was done talking for the moment.
Tara chuckled and accepted the offered food gratefully. "I s'pose you might say I'm not really from anywhere. Occupational hazard, I'm afraid. Most in my line of work have some sort of wanderlust, I imagine. Which is why I'm here." She tilted her head at him and smiled again before tucking delightedly into her food.
She was surprised by how little acting she had to do. The man was pleasant enough company, and an easy conversationalist. Just too bad he knew something about her quarry. Nine times out of ten, that meant he was a bastard.
She tried to ignore the little prickle of guilt in the center of her chest. No. It's not like she was planning to really hurt him, and whatever he had coming he probably deserved.
She needed to focus. Well, what she really needed was to get him alone.
"You staying here?" she asked as casually as she could. It seemed the most likely place in the dead end town to offer rooms for the night.
The rogue pyromancer understood not being from anywhere. Who he was meant he was almost always running from something. It was different, but it was sort of the same. Still, he thought he saw a hint of sadness behind her eyes. It was gone so quick that Joshua doubted he had seen it at all.
"More or less," Joshua admitted after her question. "There are rooms in the back with beds and such. I still have business in town so I was planning to stay a few more nights." He took a sip of ale before moving on to explain, "I work steel by trade. Mostly tools but out here, its hard to get in touch with some of the official guilds." He was surprised at how good the soup turned out and ended up engrossed in its simplicity for longer than he meant. Turning back to Tara he asked, "You planning on staying for a while?"
"I think I might be." She smiled again and propped her elbow on the bar, letting her cheek rest in her hand. With a huffing sort of chuckle she added, "May have to play for a room though. I try not to carry too much coin on me, less of a chance of being robbed- of course, less of a chance of being able to pay for much either." She smiled wryly with another little laugh.
"Makes sense," Joshua admitted, regarding the bard's logic. Highwaymen were not what one would call uncommon anywhere. So it seemed obvious to avoid carrying valuables as a first line of defense. It did not always work though, so the ability to boil a man's eyes out was a reliable fallback. "If," the smith began, having swallowed another mouthful of soup. "If it comes down to it, and you can't rent a room, I would be willing to share." Holding his hands up in mock surrender before Tara could respond, he declared his innocence, saying, "Not the bed mind you. I would take the chair." Returning to the meal, Joshua added, "I sleep better sitting up anyway."
Glancing back to where he had been seated earlier, Joshua noticed another of the villagers. He held a scabbard, obviously looking for the smith to perhaps maintain it. He gave the customer a nod, acknowledging him but continued eating.
"Oh!" Pretending to be a little caught off guard but grateful despite herself at the offer, Tara lowered her eyes slightly and shot him a quick, sort of shy smile. "Well that's, that's very kind of you, sir. Thank you."
Hmm. Not immediately trying to jump into bed. While that was almost refreshing to come across, it did make her job a little more difficult. But she was confident it wouldn't take much to crumble that resolve of his.
She followed his gaze to the man in the corner, then glanced back to him. "I don't want to keep you," she murmured demurely, and reached out to lay her fingers lightly on his hand. "I'm sure you've business you need to discuss." She smiled again, soft and inviting. "I'm hardly going anywhere, if you'd wish to return and...talk some more?"
As Tara's hand came to rest gently on his hand, Joshua cocked an eyebrow. Though reasonably handsome, women rarely threw themselves at him and the smith was left to question whether he was misreading the situation. It was her pause that seemed most telling, lacing 'talk' with layers of hidden meaning. Clearing his throat, Joshua replied, "Yes,I suppose we could talk later..." About what, he was not entirely sure. That might well be a bridge they'd need to cross later.
Picking up his plate, the young man went to the peasant swordsman. Drawing the blade, he began to appraise it in the style that only he could. Oh, sure, anyone could look at the blade and see if it has warped, guage the quality of the grind, feel the fit of the mounting. And to the uninitiated, Joshua looked to be doing just that. But hidden from most were the micro imperfections that only the mage could feel. Channelling heat into the blade, he felt is spill across its length. The movement of the heat told him where the slag had been trapped in the steel, where it should be harder or softer. All of this was done without fire, unseen to all but those who knew how to look.
From without, the blade looked fine. But Joshua could tell something was wrong. "The steel is too hard," he said. "Brittle like glass. Try and use it in a fight and it stands a good chance of breaking." Slipping the sword back into the scabbard, Joshua gave the other man an estimate that the other quickly accepted. "I should have it ready for you tomorrow."
She kept one eye on the smith- at least she felt she could assume he was a smith at this point- as she settled her lyre on her lap again and plucked out a soft melody, just loud enough to float through the general noise of the room but not overbearing.
Her magic was kept securely in check. She didn't want to risk outing herself, not that it seemed more patrons were trickling into the establishment.
The customer left and after finishing the last of his meal, so did Joshua. He had to be careful: by Connlaothian law, the practice of magic was a crime. Yet without, none could yet achieve the purity that the pyromancer could. Ducking into his cart, the young man shut his door before getting the work.
The first step was melting down the entire blade, child's play really. Pouring two pounds of white hot steel into a clay vessel, he let the slag precipitate out, then break off the trash. Mix in charcoal as it melts again and pour it into the basic shape of a sword. Casting steel had long been considered a fools errand as it as most could not control how quickly the metal cooled. Joshua smirked: by his magic, he was a the god of steel. Hammering the blade was still the hard part, but for him, that was all it was.
Once the blade was purified and shaped, magic was no longer useful. The steel needed to be hardened, tempered, ground to a razor's edge and mounted and these were all in the realm of tradition. It was not until late evening when Joshua finally emerged, finished sword in hand. He would hold onto it until tomorrow as he returned to the tavern.
Tara managed to convince the tavern's owner to let her set up by the hearth with her instruments, a small coin purse open on the floor by her feet. Custom was slow, but present enough that she managed to make a handful or two of coins by the time evening rolled around and more patrons began pouring in.
While more people meant a greater chance of turning a profit, it also meant more people drinking. Which meant people got chatty- and handsy, but she could handle that. Smiling and waving away the two men who had been listening to her play, she packed her instruments away and moved back to the bar.
If she was lucky, she could pick up on some gossip. The people she was tracking were the kind to grab attention, hopefully someone had noticed them.
Of course, if not, she always had that Joshua person. Where'd he gone off to anyhow?
Slipping through the crowd, Joshua took a seat next to the bard. "Hello, again," he said, setting the reforged sword on the counter. Spotting one of the other drunk patrons moving suspiciously, the smith shifted suggestively close to Tara and the fool backed off. "Barkeep, beer!"
As a mug of ale was set before him, Joshua took it, turning to the girl. "So, how was business?" he asked, taking a sip. He was trying to be subtle, hoping to avoid the suggestion of impropriety, while still getting an offer to his previous offer.
Ah, there he was.
Tara noted the way he shifted toward her subtly, but still distinctly protective, and the man who'd been approaching from her right backed down. Hm. Maybe he wasn't totally oblivious. That was good.
She smiled and leaned into his side a bit, cocking her head playfully. "Better than I'd expected really. And you?" She nodded to the sword he'd placed on the bar. "I take it that's your handiwork?"
As the bartender moved toward them with Joshua's drink, she reached out to touch his wrist lightly and murmured, "His next two are on me," and she passed over some coin. Glancing back to her companion, she said with another smile, "As a thank you for the meal earlier. And your kind offer of a room."
"Thanks," Joshua said when his drink came. He had only meant to have one drink, but if Tara was paying, who was he to say no? He had slung the scabbard over his shoulder, putting it out of sight. The smith was nervous about showing off his work. The steel he made was rare, above the quality of an average smelter. And while he doubted the bard knew much about the finer points of crucible steel, Joshua was unwilling to risk the scrutiny.
Quickly shifting his attention, the smith asked, "Does that mean you plan to accept the offer?" After another gulp of beer, he continued, "Like I said, it'll save money since everything's already payed for." By now, various patrons were trickling out the doors, returning to their homes and families...
She smiled again and nodded. "I'm inclined to, if that's really alright," she murmured with a demure little lowering of her eyes. "I really do appreciate your kindness, Joshua," she added, and leaned into his side a little more. Her hand came to rest just over his, as though she was hesitant about the touch, and she bit her lip when she glanced up at him.
"Not many would offer such to a stranger. Thank you."
The feeling of this woman against Joshua's arm stripped away all doubt; Tara was toying with him. The disconnect between her overt closeness and mock hesitance let him at a loss, though. He was not good with subtlety. Direct confrontations and outright lies were easy to respond to, since he knew where he stood in regards to a speaker. But this?
Taking another sip of his drink, the smith tried to will the blood from his ears. Avoiding Tara's gentle hand, Joshua said, "I-I think you give folks too little credit." The young man was visibly tense by now, and it was unlikely the girl would miss it. He seemed about to say more until he cut himself with another sip of beer.
Hmmm.
Perhaps she'd come on a bit too strong.
She pulled back a bit and ducked her eyes again. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward- time on the road can do that to a person I guess, you forget what's proper." She chuckled, and it was only partly forced. Tilting her head a bit, she added with a friendly smile, "On hope you'll still let me repay your kindness with a drink or two. No ulterior motive, I swear." She raised a bad and laughed again, eyes bright and playful, keeping a careful distance between them now.
Finally able to relax, Joshua offered a brief smile to the attractive woman. "It's no problem. I completely understand." And to an extent, he thought he did. People had needs, drives, desires. They often craved connection and closeness. The smith did as well, but he tended to handle things differently than most.
Finishing off his ale, the man shrugged the sword higher onto his shoulder. "That all being said, I wouldn't turn down another drink. I just need to put this guy away for tomorrow." Joshua signalled for a refill before excusing himself, slipping toward his room. Hanging the scabbard off a wall hook kept it out of the way before returning to Tara.
Alright. A little bit of a change of tactic then. No problem, she was good at adapting.
Tara smiled and nodded at his response, just the right amount of relief in her voice when she murmured, "Of course, thank you for your...understanding." When he left she slid her hand down her skirt, smoothing the fabric but also idly fingering the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh.
She might not need to use it after all. The man seemed amiable enough, for being affiliated with monsters. Maybe she wouldn't kill him, just...leave him tied up in the woods somewhere and be on her way.
It did not take long for the young man to reclaim his seat. Taking his refilled ale, he had a long pull. At a glance, more and more of the towns folk were spilling out and Joshua realized the tavern owner would be closing shop soon. The burly man was putting up an unopened barrel. "One more?" he asked of the pair.
Draining his mug, the smith said, "No, thanks. Bad idea to over indulge." It was true enough; he would be light headed soon. Barely so, but enough for Joshua's tastes. He continued his own drawn out process of draining his mug.
The barkeep nodded and glanced toward the Bard as well. "You?"
She smiled, and shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I've reached my limit for the evening." She cut her eyes sidelong at Joshua nd tilted her head slightly. "A long day, I take it?"
Passing a glance toward Tara, the smith shrugged. Moving his drink away from his mouth, he said, "Not exactly. I've just had my fill." Tipping his drink back, Joshua finished off the last of his beer before setting down his mug. With a sudden yawn, the man undid the collar of his jacket. "I always get a bit drowzy when I drink. I guess I'll be heading to bed..." he muttered. Slipping from the stool, Joshua made his slow way toward his room.
"Ah-" Tara bit her lip and reached after him, then drew her hand back quickly. "Does...your offer still stand? About sharing the room?"
She fidgeted a bit on the stool and mad a point not to meet his eyes, glancing at a point over his left shoulder.
Turning, Joshua gave Tara an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. The room is still open to you." The smith's focus slid to the master, adding, "I assume that's not a problem?"
The tavern master shrugged. "Not my place to say what people can do at night."
Blushing, the young man snapped, with more embarrassment than anger, "That's not what I meant." The older man simply waved him off, heading upstairs with his daughter, who herself seemed embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. Deciding not to push things, Joshua just shook his head and showed Tara to his rented chamber.
It was not a large room, so not much would fit inside. The door swung inward, revealing only three pieces of furniture: the small bed which looked looked just big enough for one person (or two if they lay very close together), a chair with a pile of blankets on it, and a small table that carried a small candle and a large knife, hilt within easy reach of the chair. The sword from earlier hung beside the door, awaiting its owners return.
The bard ducked her head in faux embarrassment as she scurried after Joshua to his room. Her eyes flickered about, taking stock of the space, judging the quickest means of escape.
"Thank you for this," she murmured with a small smile for the smith. Her head went to pat the pack on her back. "I can lay out a bedroll, promise I won't take up much room." A bit of the playful glint was back in her indigo eyes and she tilted her head just slightly to the side.
By this point, Joshua had slipped out of his jacket, clad in his loose fitting spock as he glanced at the woman. "I thought I said you could take the bed." Indicating the chair, the smith explained, "This was where I meant to sleep." Pulling up one of the blankets, he threw it over his shoulders like a cloak. Then a thought came to him. "Was there anything you usually do before going to bed? A change of clothes? I can step out if you needed any privacy." It seemed unlikely she would do so, but he put the offer forward.
Tara chuckled. "I suppose I should. Weeks on the road certainly doesn't do one's clothing any favors," she murmured with a quick smile.
Turning her back afforded privacy enough, so she did so, stripping out of her blouse to replace it with a thinner, comfortable tunic. Her skirt remained- she was unwilling to reveal the knives strapped to thigh and calf.
Joshua found himself instinctively looking away from the bard. He was frighteningly modest, feeling guilty at the sight of a nude (or in this case partially nude) figure. He turned when he felt she had had enough time to change and gave a relieved sigh when he found his estimate correct.
Moving on from there, the smith turned back to Tara. He noticed something odd about about her current wardrobe. "Why?" he began, looking down. "Why are you still wearing your skirt?" For the life of him, he could not think of a reason to leave it on. Was she trying to hide something? Joshua blushed again as his imagination took him where he had not meant to go...
Hmm...
Blushing. Wow. Even more innocent than she'd thought. In any other situation, she might have found it...endearing. Refreshing.
As it was, she saw an opportunity and took it. Making her eyes wide in her thin face, she tilted her head and looked down at her own skirt, then away bashfully. "I- well, I..." She cleared her throat and tried for a nervous laugh.
"I suppose I...could take it off, but I was...rather under the impression that would make you uncomfortable." Carefully, as though approaching a frightened forest creature, she shifted toward him and glanced up at his face through her lashes. "Was I wrong?"
"I-uh..." Joshua stumbled. "I suppose not." Coughing to ease his still rising discomfort, he explained, "It just seemed odd, changing shirts and not your skirt. I mean if you want to keep it on, feel free, but don't inconvenience yourself over me." The young man was not sure which aspect of himself was winning his war: his willpower or his inner lecher.
At around that point, Joshua 'sensed' something. He had never bothered trying to explain to others what it was like, so 'sense' seemed to be the best word on hand. He felt five blobs of heat moving, moving in very suspicious, very human ways. Five people were creaping toward the entrance to the tavern and without meaning to, the pyromancer was looking in their direction, through the wood of the now shared chamber door...
Tara's mouth curved up higher on one side than the other and she took a small step toward him. "It wouldn't be...inconvenient-"
Before she could get anything else out she sort of felt his tension, shivering through the air and coloring her perception of him. Instantly a warning tingle ran up her spine and she snapped her attention to where he stared at the door.
"What is it?" Her voice had changed completely, all soft titters and teasing lilts gone, replaced with a knife-edge of tension and barely controlled rage. Danger.
Joshua moved quickly to the table, taking up his knife. It slipped out of his scabbard with an airy hiss and for an instant, its long, forge welded blade was visible in the candle light before the flame was snuffed by the smiths breath. Its straight blade was narrow and single edged, optimized for thrusting but capable of cutting. Pushing Tara toward the wall, he prepared an ambush from behind the door.
"Looks like I pissed someone off," Joshua whispered as one of the assailants approached the door. "Sorry." Though after he said it, he realized they might have been after her instead. Either way, they were both in it.
The bard snorted and her fingers flew gracefully to the tie of her skirt, dropping it so she could step out of it. Beneath she wore a thin pair of leggings that barely reached her knees- quite scandalous attire, if anyone who cared had been around to see it- and daggers were strapped to each of her thighs.
"You, kitten? Piss someone off?" She shot him a cocky, lopsided grin, a spark of magic and pure danger in her eyes. "I don't think you could if you tried."
Well, seemed like the jig was up. Whether she liked it or not, she was working on the clock now. Rather than face the door, she suddenly whirled and pressed the edge of her blade against Joshua's throat- not hard enough to break skin, though it would have been easy.
"Eyepatch. What do you know about him?" she hissed. "And I'd talk quick if I were you, kitten. Our little friends will be breaking down that door any second."
Feeling the point of the knife touch his neck, Joshua froze. Wait - Eyepatch? Was that the man he had talked to earlier. He had no great loyalty to the man, so raising his hands, he calmly said, "I spoke to a man with a patch earlier today. He demanded half a dozen muskets for he and his men by tonight. I said no."
As he spoke, odd thoughts clicked into place. He would keep those thoughts to himself for now. "Let's handle this now, and if we get out of this alive, I'll help you find him." As he stopped talking the latch on the door lifted: Joshua did not dare move with the knife at his bare throat. It was her move...
Tara locked her gaze with his for a moment, two, waiting, calculating.
He was telling the truth.
Damn. She'd been following a false lead.
With an irritated click of her tongue she spun away from him, both daggers raised and crossed defensively in front of her body. "I don't need your help, kitten. But I'll send these assholes off for you." She smirked at him over her shoulder and said in her best simpering-little-woman voice, "An apology for the knife at your throat, hm?"
"No sweat," Joshua said. Whatever the bard was after, gods help the man when she caught up with him. "Besides," he added, reaching for the door. Yanking the door open, he reveal a shocked assassin with his dagger out. The smith gave a quick lunge, not with his dagger but his empty hand. Two figers against his sternum...
Two fingers was all it took as the mage willed heat - impossible, horrifying heat - into the man. He did not even have time to scream past melted lungs. A flash of steam as the fluid in his eyes turned to steam. The bandit's face turned scarlet as his brain boiled in his skull. In the coarse of a second, he suffered the worst agony a human could and then died, falling forward into the room.
Looking back to the bard, Joshua felt confident in his next proclamation. "Looks like Eyepatch and his friends came to renegotiate." After all, the man he had just killed had been one of the lackies who left with the lead bandit earlier.
A mage.
Gods, that heat-
A pyromancer?
Tara bit back a groan. "Of fucking course you're a pyromancer," she grumbled under her breath. "What not? Fits with everything else that's happened today." Scowling, she stepped to the side of the body, nose crinkled in distaste, and shot him an arch look. "Do try to keep the next one alive, yeah? At least partially- I need some answers, and dead men don't talk."
She bent to examine the corpse and added blithely, "Probably the only reason you're still alive, by the way. Sorry about that."
Joshua shot the bard a look. Though neither could see the other in the near pitch black, the bandits lantern having tumbled down and just gone out, he shot her a suddenly annoyed look. Though not specifically fond of her meek act, her change came off as harsh. "As you wish, your grace. Just cover your eyes for a moment."
The pyromancer was the first through the door, though in the instant he was through, he summoned a brilliant white flame that succeeded in blinding most of the men. A familiar voice cursed and sputtered; indeed, the one-eyed bandit had come for his own petty revenge. But he was on the other side of the room, suddenly stumbling over a chair.
Joshua ignored him, advancing on the nearest bandit, uselessly flailing with his sword. The smith needed only blow sparks from his hand and the spell set fire to the other man's face. He screamed as his skin sizzled, dropping his sword to the floor as he clawed vainly at his burns. The smith took the hilt of his dagger to the bandits temple, knocking him cold.
By now, a fallen lantern, likely dropped in the confusion of Joshua's luminous explosion, has spilled fuel, setting a small fire to the tavern by which Tara could likely see.
Fire. Always with the gods-be-damned fire. This was why she hated working with pyromancers. Conveniently ignore the fact that she could control flame herself, to an extent, Tara hummed a quick tune to sucked the air out of the immediate vicinity of the flames, leaving enough so they didn’t die completely but ensuring they wouldn’t spread too far.
“You think about collateral damage?” she snapped as she stepped out into the hall. “Do try not to burn the whole bleedin’ Inn down, if you please.”
Ah, Eyepatch. There he was. Easily weaving her way trough the semi-blinded, cursing bandits, dispatching one with a clean slice across the throat when he got too close, Tara grabbed the ringleader by the scruff and jerked him down to eye level.
“Watch my back, kitten, yeah?” she called to Joshua over her shoulder as she leveled the tip of one dagger at the man’s remaining eye. She smiled. “Now, I would recommend you answer my questions with as little smartassery as possible. Understand, sweetheart?”
Holding his hand hand up, Joshua wreathed it in enough blue fire to see by. "I have it under control, lady," he muttered to himself. A brutal thrust lodged his knife in the neck of another of the stunned bandits. The last man, having recovered slightly, swung a simple mace at the smith. Wheeling back, Joshau focused his magic, turning the club orange, forcing it from the bandit's hand. The mage seized his opportunity in a literal sense, placing hands on the man's face, flash boiling his brain. "Besides, the fire was their fault."
The last bandit struggled with the bard, reaching for his saber. The hilt came apart in his hand: Joshua had melted the tang out of the weapon, letting the pommel, guard and ashes that had once been a wooden grip fall upon the floor.
Eyepatch snarled, unwilling to accept his defeat. "I don't know who you are, girl. But siding with that crooked he-witch was the biggest mistake o' your life" Then, thinking better on his chances, the man mellowed. "Ask your damn' questions..."
"That's more like it." She positively beamed and drew her dagger back- but not before she' scoured a short, deep nick into the man's cheek. "Oops." She shrugged, still smiling. "Now. What I want to know is where the hell is Karian Blythe."
She paused a moment, sighed, then added, "Taller, sort of lanky man, 'bout yea big-" she held her hand about a foot above her own head- "Darkish red hair, blue eyes. Walks like he owns every piece of ground he touches. Ah, sometimes goes by Roderick Fell, or Kinsley." Her smile turned sharp and dangerous and she let the tip of her dagger rest against the man's collar, just barely pricking the hollow of his throat. "I know you've done business with him. What I want to know is when you saw him last, and where is he going."
Tara tilted her head to the side, as though considering, then gave a soft, four note whistle. The air was momentarily sucked from the bandits lungs, long enough to leave him going a little blue around the gills before she released the spell and allowed him to breathe again. "And oh yes- that's the last time you call me girl like it's a name."
Patch was hacking, gasping past blue lips as he struggled to catch his breath. "Whore," he hissed testing his luck as he sat back. "That animal will kill me if he finds out I turned on 'im."
The sound of tearing fabric, startled the bandit as Joshua began to polish his wicked looking blade. "Don't mind me," he said. "I just need to clean this off. You were saying about an animal being likely to try killing you some day in the distant future to two people right here holding very sharp knives? And magic?"
Understanding the pyromancer's point, the bandit swallowed. "I don't know where he is now. We were going to meet up in about a month. I was supposed to bring guns." Gesturing toward the smith, Patch confired, "Your guns."
Tara's heart leaped into her throat. A lead. A real lead. Gods, finally. "Where?" She pressed her node harder against his skin. "Where? Tell me and I let you live. Karian never has to know who outed him."
She filed away the information about guns for a later time; but the pyromancer may be more useful than he'd seemed...
Joshua had found a perch on the edge of a table. He watched the pair throughout the interrogation, pursing his lips at her assertion that she would not kill him. He was mostly out of view so he payed little mind to the tell. Honestly, he was reluctant to let the bandit go. He did not want to risk a vandetta as the man continued to hunt him.
Patch, for his part looked broken. "Darken Vei," he said. "I was supposed to meet him near a village in southern Darken Vei. That or one of his agents to give me the real meeting place."
Her smile was back, charming and effortless. "See now? That wasn't so hard, was it?" She leaned in and pecked the bandit's cheek, feeling him shiver as her blade pressed just a bit more firmly against his throat. "That was for your help, sweetheart," she said, leaning back with a wink and a grin.
"And this-" she drove her blade forward through his throat- "is for calling me a whore." Her tone and smile never changed as the man gasped, gurgled, and bled out, pinned to the wall by her dagger through his throat.
With a sigh Tara pulled her weapon back and flicked blood off the blade, sort of pouting as the corpse slid to the ground. "Pity. Guess I was lying about the whole let you live thing. Ah well." She shrugged and turned back toward Joshua- and paused. Her eyes flickered over him, calculating.
And just what exactly do I do with you, I wonder...
Glancing at the dead bandit, Joshua grimaced. The man was bled out, that was a good thing. But that did not mean he had to revel in that. "So," he began, his attention shifting up to the bard. "Looks like you got what you needed. Where does that leave us?" The pyromancer could tell she was trying to make a decision.
Preempting the bard, the smith decided to see if he might ingratiate himself to her. "I very much would like to avoid fighting you. So, if there is anything you think I might be able to do for you, I can see what I can do." And so the mage played his first hand. If that idea failed, then smity fire magic would be his fall back. And Tara seemed not to like smity fire magic.
Tara tilted her head and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, deep in thought. "Well. Patchy over here said he needed guns for this delivery meetup." She jerked her head toward the body, then looked back to Joshua. "Your guns."
She took a step toward him, eyes roaming up and down, like she was trying to take in every detail as she easily stepped over and around bodies.
Hmm...They'd probably have to deal with that.
She smiled as she stopped directly in front of him, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. Her magic coiled just beneath her skin, ready to defend herself if it came down to that. "So. Just how good are you, kitten?"
The smith was a bit nervous standing so close to a woman he suspected wanted to kill him. Sure, he could burn her insides out, but at this range she could likely give just as well. It was mutually assured destruction, not a good way to handle a deal.
But if she was asking what he thought she was...No time for false modesty. "My work is damn near perfect. I can turn the worst iron into the purest steel." Realizing words might not be enough, Joshua went to retrieve the sword he had reforged.
Keeping his distance, he explained, "This blade is made of the same material as the leaf spring in a wheellock. Made free of slag it can maintain tension forever: its basically indestructible..." To illustrate, he drew the blade and pressed the tip to the floor. The blade bowed to a little over ninety degrees. When he let it up, the blade was still staight. "When it comes to steel, I am a god. Is that good enough for you, princess?"
She positively beamed at him. "It'll do. Feel like making some extra coin?" She tilted her head. "I don't have much in the way of a down payment, but Karian is not a cheap man- and I give you full permission to ransack his corpse once we're finished with him. Sound good?"
A month. She had a month to plan this and get to Darken Vei.
That should be enough time.
Tara sighed suddenly and rubbed at her temples, lips pursed in thought. "I'll have to keep you around though, until the drop. No offense or nothing, kitten, but I don't trust you." She smiled at him again, but for once it seemed genuine- and the expression was tired. Just...tired.
"So, we have a deal? Or we gonna have to have a wizards' duel?" She screwed her face up in distaste at the idea. "In the middle of Connlaoth, of all places."
The smith threw up is hands at the mention of a duel. "I think we're fine. You have a bit of a reach advantage." He could have tried to flash her, but she could probably see that coming. Blinding an enemy with white fire only reliably worked when it surprised an enemy. Plus, his fire did not work when starved of air, which seemed to be Tara's go to.
Placing the sword on the counter, Joshua said, "I guess all that's left to do tonight is...clean up?" Glancing at the cadavers, he suggested, "Gimme a hand out and I can cremate them." It was really the simplest solution he could think of. While exhausting to use so much magic in a night, it was simpler and faster than trying to bury the bodies.
Her smile returned, dazzling. "Excellent."
Glancing around at the bodies again, she sighed and planted her hands on her hips. "Yeah. I can help moving them, but...fire's not really my thing." She crinkled her nose again, almost pouting, then brightened considerably and added, "I can clean up the blood and whatnot, though. And maybe work a bit of magic to make sure no one notices anything's amiss. We might even be able to actually stay the night, if I play our cards right."
With that, she bent to grab one of the dead bandits under his arms and hoist him up, grunting a little with the effort. Out of her "bard clothes", in just the thin tunic and breeches, it was clear that what at first seemed to be a slender, almost waifish build was in fact lean, compact muscle.
The pair began to shuttle the dead bandits out of the tavern. Joshua took his opportunity to finish off the cripple as he did, dropping the body into the line of corpses. He would not have lived very long anyway...at least that was the excuse the mage gave himself.
So they the mages stood, before the line of dead bandits. "Now, to make them vanish..." Crouching, he placed his hand on each one, willing fire and heat into each cadaver and in turn, they were consumed violet flames. He heat was incredible and the fire ate the bodies as fuel, leaving nothing but black ash. The smell of pork lingered in the air.
The act of willing fire and heat into five objects was exhausting and Joshua stumbled. "Sorry," he said. "Looks like that's it for me tonight..."
"Whoa, there. Easy." Tara moved forward without thinking and propped him up, easily looping his arm over her shoulders. She let one hand rest at his waist, the other supporting his back, and hummed a soft, quick tune that called on water and air to revitalize him. She wasn't a healer by any means, but it was an easy enough trick that had kept her from passing out from sheer exhaustion on more than one occasion.
"What say I get you to a proper bed before I talk with our host, hm?" she offered with a lopsided smile.
"Oh?" Joshua was still clearly exhausted, though he seemed to be standing staighter for the moment. He muttered, "Yeah...bed sound good..." If he had been more awake, he might have insisted on taking the chair again. As it were, he seemed almost literally dead on his feet.
As they returned to his room, the pyromancer found himself falling in a heap onto the bed. He had undressed earlier and was still wearing his loose fitting undergarments so without waiting he crawled up, tucking himself to one side. They was only just enough room left for Tara if she slept very close to him. By this point though, the young man was already asleep and completely unaware.
"Uff." Tara found herself bearing most of the man's weight as she sort of guided him toward the bed. Once he was in she leaned back and popped her spine with a sigh and a groan. She was pretty tired herself- while she hadn't been using a lot of magic, there was a decent amount of finite control she'd been employing after all day traveling.
Still, she needed to make sure the tavern owner didn't realize anything was up. She couldn't assuage his suspicions completely: they hadn't exactly been silent. She did manage to slip just enough magic into her voice to convince him that some ex-clients of Joshua's had been feeling a little bitter, but the situation had been handled, no need to worry.
Now completely exhausted, the bard staggered back to the room. She eyed first the floor, then the chair with distaste. Gods, just give me a real bed...
Well... There was space. But she didn't exactly trust the smith not to kill her in her sleep, and she didn't want to make that particular task any easier on him. Still...with yet another sigh she hummed a quick spell, a tingling over her skin that should wake her if there was any untoward movement, and she crawled into the bed.
"You better be as sweet as you seem, kitten," she muttered to herself as she curled up on her side and closed her eyes.
And like that, they pair was asleep. The tavern master would have some minor cleanup to do in the morning but it would be unlikely to spark too much interest.
Joshua would not stir until morning. It took him only an instant to reach full wakefulness; he was a bit of a morning person. His vague attempt to adjust himself revealed one surprising fact: Tara had elected to share the bed. Slightly more worrying was how close to him she happened to be. Yet, the almost romantic part of himself could not help but enjoy the sense of closeness the situation offered.
The smith decided to stay there for a time, closing his eyes. He would wait for the bard to wake up. Then they could discuss their next move...
Though not exactly what one might call a morning person, Tara was a light sleeper and woke almost instantly when she felt Joshua shift beside her. Her eyes snapped open and she quickly jerked herself into an upright position, twisting to look at him.
"Morning," she offered, tone even and polite enough, but eyes wary.
"Morning," the young man said in reply.
Careful not to place his hands awkwardly, Joshua slid to the foot of the bed. "I hope you slept well. Didn't mean to wake you." Glancing back, the smith noticed he had somehow fallen asleep on his sheathed knife. That explained the slight ache near his kidney.
Vowing to grab it later, he picked up his slacks, from beside the chair. "So, just to touch on our agreement from last night, you want my help getting close to this...Karian, right?" He spoke without looking at the bard, instead reaching for his doublet. "What exactly was your plan when we get to him?"
Tara quirked an eyebrow at him. "I kill him," she replied, as though this should be the most obvious thing in the world. "What did you think I was going to do, start up a gun supply contract?" She yawned and arched her back in a long, languid stretch, her tunic riding up toward her ribs.
"You think we can get breakfast in this place? I'm starving."
Glancing out the window, Joshua spotted something that would please the bard. "Looks like the master's daughter is collecting eggs." The last wooden button closed the collar of his jacket as he glanced over his shoulder. "I'll go see if I can't get us something."
The smith opened the door to the chamber. Before leaving, he glanced at Tara. "Also, that was more a goal than a plan to achieve it." He did not bother to elaborate as he closed the door behind him. Joshua needed to see about a couple plates of eggs.
Tara rolled her eyes and sort of pouted at the door, but didn't say anything as he left. She sighed and stood from the bed with another stretch before getting dressed and venturing back out into the main room of the tavern.
Gods, if someone doesn't feed me soon I'm going to slit some more throats.
As promised, the tavern master had cooked up a couple plates of eggs. They were served with with potatoes and a piece of quick bread and there was a promise of fresh milk to go with it. Joshua took his and Tara's plate off to a table set to one side of the room. He waved the bard over, offering the seat opposite him before taking up his fork.
With a dramatic groan she dropped into the open seat and let her head fall back, gaping her mouth open like a baby bird. "Somebody feed me before I expire," she whined pleadingly.
Joshua just sat there, staringat the bard across the table, a skewered tater perched an inch from his lips. Setting his fork down, he said, "You aren't helpless. Feed yourself." Gesturing to her plate, the smith added, "There's breakfast. Eat up." The bizarre girl was starting to infuriate him.
To clicks indicated that the tavern master's daughter had returned, setting down two cups of fresh milk. Joshua took a gulp before returning to his meal. "We should probably start south as soon as we finish so I have time to work my...magic." He spoke without a touch of irony, though unless someone knew he was an actual mage, they would likely assume his words to be simple self-aggrandizement.
She huffed and sat up straight. "You're no fun." She started in on the food, then narrowed her eyes and nudged his leg with her foot under the table.
"Oi, watch what you say," she muttered with a quirk of her eyebrows. "This is Connlaoth. If people don't think you're joking, we're both dead."
"This far into the boonies?" Joshua said, dubiously. "Mage hunters almost never come here and the peasants have bigger problems then some nobody with a thing for fires." There was also the fact that most commoners were not trained or equipped to handle a halfway decent mage. The nearest real threat would be fourteen hours away, seven if a runner got lucky and found a patrol. And the pair would be long gone by then.
The smith had been partway into his meal as they started and he quickly finished, draining his mug as he stood. "I have some things of my own to handle: wagon to prep, ox to harness. We'll meet at the edge of town in a couple hours?"
A glance toward the counter reminded him the sword he had left there. It was not a big deal, considering the master had neglected to notice it. But he still needed to handle the payment and return of the work. Bringing the weapon back to Tara, he said, "When the owner comes, can I ask you to handle the payment? If we're planning to leave soon, I'd appreciate the help."
She shrugged and nodded. "I can handle it. South or east end of town to meet up?" She raised a cup of tea to her lips and eyed him over the rim. She still wasn't quite sure what to make of this man- she supposed she'd better figure it out fast.
Joshua took a moment to think. The moment was brief; after all, the decision was not that complicated. "South. I think there's a pass we can use through the mountains farther along," Admittedly, the smith was not sure. He had very little business in Serendipity.
If there was nothing else, Joshua meant to go off and collect his ox. It had been allowed to graze with the tavern family's own cow, so it would have to be driven to the metalurgist's cart so they could depart.
"As you like." Tara toasted him as he left the tavern, finished off her meal, then stood to leave herself. She probably had a few hours before her new traveling companion expected to be leaving, and she meant to earn some coin while she had the time.