Arrival
Steam hissed and searing droplets spat out from the aging brass of the coffee machine as Ilonka brewed for the new arrivals.
They were a rough-looking lot, but she understood how the two-week ride up to Chimney could add some rough edges to just about anyone. Especially with the unending rain they'd been having. Still, this crew made her nervous. Almost all of them carrying around big swords, pistols and with a dangerous air to them. They looked tough and desperate and Chimney was not a town where either quality was likely to shine.
"The Saijadani one's pretty."
Ilonka looked up to see Trazik leaning against the bar, eyeing the newcomers. Especially the tall Saijadani woman, the one who was scowling so fiercely at the uneven floorboards, trying to get her chair to sit with some stability. The woman's arms were powerfully muscled and she carried not just a big sword but a military crossbow across her back.
"She could break your neck with one hand, Trazik. Forget it."
Trazik made a face at his friend and stood aside as Ilonka came out from behind the bar with a tray of cups. She crossed the shop, the rain overhead thunderous and seeming to make the coffee cups shudder.
The Naridic girl smiled up at her. She had huge brown eyes and her hair stuck out from her head in rather spectacular disarray. Unlike the others, she didn't appear to be armed and was so skinny Ilonka was worried for her health.
"Hi. We're new in town."
From where Ilonka stood she could see light shining from the windows of almost every building in the tiny little town of Chimney. Beyond the ten or twelve structures and muddy streets the rain fell in unceasing waves across the endless mountain ridges that surrounded the place. Her shop was the only public building in town.
"Really. You came up with the silver wagons, right?"
"Yeah. What a terrible trip. I'm SO glad you've got coffee here, I haven't had a decent cup since I left Al-Tizim. You don't look Saijadani. Or Gap. I like your hair. What's the story with that Kishak girl?"
At first charmed by the girl's sudden rush of questions, and smiling at the compliment to her long black hair, Ilonka frowned at the last item. She set the final cup on the table and nodded, too afraid to speak. She turned to leave.
"The Kishak girl. Tell us about her."
The big Saijadani guy leaned forward, tilting his hat back to regard her with his one good eye. He was the scariest of the group, with a big old-fashioned sword and pistols and knives all over him. A big cigar clenched in his teeth added nothing to his charm. Ilonka didn't know what to say. She felt herself clutch the tray to her chest. She shook her head.
All five of the newcomers got very interested in her all of a sudden. Gratefully she felt Trazik come up behind her. Vlad and Karel were sitting over across the room and she saw them both look over, and just knowing her friends were with her gave her courage.
"I don't know... anything about her."
"Look, forgive us if we seem a little... intense," said the blonde fellow, smiling disarmingly. His long cloak dripped rainwater on the floor, and from the fashionable hilt to his rapier, and his familiar accent, he was obviously from the Jewel. Pavairelle. The greatest city in Barsoom. The city Ilonka and all her friends cursed themselves for ever having left to come to this forsaken acre of mud. "We're just a little surprised, that's all. You don't often see a Saijadani man with a Kishak daughter."
Vlad got up and strode over. Ilonka's stomach flopped over at the sight of his easy, rambling gait. "She's not his daughter."
Both Ilonka and Trazik looked around to make sure there was no-one else in the shop as Vlad spoke. Ilonka felt herself trembling.
"We don't know who she is. But she showed up at the same time as the troubles started up. Anyone who asks the wrong questions disappears. I don't know what brought you folks to Chimney, but you ought to be told right now: you will never leave."
The five at the table looked at each other after Vlad's melodramatic announcement. The Pavairellean one put his boots up on the table and leaned back. Ilonka had to smile at his bravado.
"My name's Aubrey. This is Philip," he indicated the big Saijadani guy, "Elena," the Saijadani woman Trazik was still ogling, "and Nevid," the last Saijadani, a slim young man who hadn't yet spoken. He looked rich. "We work for the del Maraviez family, and we're here to put an end to your troubles. If you know anything that can help us, we'd sure appreciate it."
He hadn't introduced the Naridic girl and Vlad looked at her curiously.
"Oh. OH. I'm Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan. I'm from the University at Al-Tizim. I've been researching early Naridic culture, actually Karidish culture, the people who lived in the Narid before the Seven Brothers, before Suelekar Ben Azan destroyed Ky'in."
Ilonka frowned.
"We're a thousand miles from the Narid."
Arrafin laughed. "Oh, not nearly so much. Well, not directly. But of course I had to cross to Pavairelle and then take the road up through the Gap to Fort Burnoll -- " She caught herself before she relayed more details of her trip. "Sorry. But Chimney is actually a very interesting place to me. I believe this is where Essermane Varag was buried by Ky'in. The old goddess. Kishak, well, actually Calegrian. Before Kishak, you know."
Ilonka looked at Trazik and they both shrugged. She had no idea what the girl was talking about. It looked like the other new arrivals were used to her blathering, however.
"Well, I don't know about that, but I do know this," said Vlad, still in his melodramatic mode, "Whatever that little Kishak girl's involved in, there's nothing natural about it."
Ilonka could tell the new folk weren't taking Vlad very seriously. She shook her head.
The young Saijadani, Nevid, spoke at last. His voice was soft, serious.
"Does she live with the Speaker? At his house?"
Ilonka nodded. Her eyes widened as the young man stood, bowed politely and strolled out into the dark street, ignoring the rain. His companions watched him go with mixtures of confusion and frustration. Aubrey, the Pavairellean charmer, nodded to Philip, the Saijadani bruiser.
"Why don't you go check out that invite? We'll sit tight here and see what else we can figure out."
Philip chewed at his cigar and stood up, checking pistols and sword before stomping out into the rain himself, leaving Aubrey, Arrafin and Elena. Aubrey gestured to the empty seats.
"Join us?"
*****
Nevid studied the Speaker's house. Two stories, dark. Rain trailed off the tile roof in great arcing spouts, plunging to the mud and forming craters there. With a quick study, the young man moved to the stone wall and grabbed at few handholds, deftly pulling himself up to a second-story window. The window opened easily and he was inside.
Immediately Nevid shed his cloak, revealing dark clothing beneath. He bundled the wet cloak up and stuffed it into his pack, then stood still, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He appeared to be in an empty bedroom. Padding noiselessly to the door, he drifted it open and peered into the hallway beyond.
Nothing.
A sudden coldness touched the back of his neck and he spun, half-expecting someone to be behind him. But there was nothing.
The hallway floorboards were sturdy and Nevid made no sound at all as he crept along. He stopped in mid-stride, listening. Another chilling touch. Nevid felt his heart beat faster. He strained to see further in the darkness. He moved forward, found the hallway turned to the right, in towards the center of the house. There was just enough light to make out the near wall, the plaster disfigured from years of rain and rot.
The house felt empty. Abandoned. His hand brushed at something near the wall, clinging like spiderwebs. He peered around the corner, down a dark hall where two high windows offered a faint glimmer in the darkness. The rain overhead threatened to come right through the roof.
A shadow passed by one of the windows. Nevid blinked, trying to make out the form. His heart began to shudder in his chest and he found it hard to maintain his quiet breathing.
Behind him something passed very near and he whirled. Still nothing. Around the corner and he planted his back against the wall, looking up and down the hall. The sense that something was very near, something he couldn't see or touch, widened his eyes and stiffened his muscles.
Nevid fancied himself something pretty special. Hand-picked by Isabella del Maraviez, an influential woman in Saijadan, he'd attended complex negotiations, intricate court politics and handled all sort of nerve-wracking affairs. He was smart, careful and could be very charming when he made the effort. He was beginning to realise, however, that a vast reserve of courage was not among his assets. Nevid was terrified. He was frightened beyond any sort of rational thought and it never crossed his mind that calling out, "Who's there?" was in no way sensible behaviour for a burglar.
His voice echoed in the empty hall. There was nobody in the house. Nobody he wanted to encounter, of that he was sure.
Something hissed.
Nevid turned and bolted back to the room he'd climbed in through. The shutters burst open as he leaped and tumbled to splash into the muck outside. He scrambled to his feet, bruised and breathless but unheeding of his injuries as his panic drove him on. He ran into the curtains of driving rain, leaving the open window behind him, black and empty.
*****
The man referred to as Philip stomped through the rain and muck, grumbling to himself. The journey up to this town had been foul enough to darken the brightest of spirits, and Philip was far from the brightest of spirits. He muttered and swore as he stumbled towards a large dormitory, shuttered windows letting slivers of candlelight out into the darkness.
As he passed under the eaves he turned up the eyepatch, revealing a perfectly healthy eye beneath it. With both eyes he scanned the immediate area, studying dark corners and overhangs with a suspicious gaze. Without losing his suspicious expression he settled the eyepatch back into place and knocked heavily on the door, resting his other hand on his swordhilt.
The heavy thuds echoed within and after some small commotion, hushed voices and sounds of movement, a young man called out, "Who's there?"
Philip sighed. He bellowed through the door, "Philip di Guzma. I was asked to speak with a young lady here."
In Saijadan such an announcement would be grounds for scandal at the least. Philip evinced a certain degree of discomfort in his scowl. Such invitations were unknown to him, and he was in no mood to play courtier to an strange lady. Or whatever the situation might be. Philip had few illusions about his own attractiveness -- he knew he was a fierce-looking fellow without much in the way of airs and graces. Ladies did not ordinarily seek him out, and he fully expected this invite to result in something much the same as the last time a woman paid any attention to him -- the duel in Fort Burnoll that resulted in his unfair expulsion from the city, all because of that hateful del Orofin wench Collette.
Philip's scowl deepened.
"She's not here. Go away."
The scowl became grotesque in its severity.
"Look, she asked me to meet her. Will you tell her I stopped by?"
"Go away. Just go away. Please."
Philip raised his eyebrows and considered the door. It would probably give way eventually, but without knowing anything what was on the other side, and without any pressing reason to find out, he decided he could live without breaking it down and defeating whatever evil lurked beyond.
Especially since said evil sounded about seventeen and frightened. Philip set his hat more firmly on his head.
"Fine, I'm leaving. But tell her I was here. She knows where to find me, apparently."
He turned and stomped off into the rain, the mud sucking at his boots with each step. His grumbling was more intense.
*****
Ilonka found herself growing friendly towards these three, despite herself. Aubrey had a breezy self-assurance that inspired confidence, and of course they had Pavairelle in common. They talked about familiar neighborhoods, traded rumours and gossip about the Kishaks and the Prince and the myriad societies and communities that made up the great city they both called home. She almost forgot her terror as they chatted.
And the Saijadani woman, Elena, turned out to be much friendlier than her expression indicated. Trazik had worked up the courage to sit next to her and despite her rather fierce expression she chatted easily with him. Ilonka was not the most vain woman on Barsoom but she couldn't help comparing herself to Elena. The Saijadani woman was a good deal bigger than Ilonka, of course, and with her broad shoulders and traveller's dress she didn't have much evident elegance, but the Pavairellean woman had to admit that her new rival had a brilliant smile and a much more generous figure than Ilonka, who had always been a little skinny. She told herself not to worry about such things. Not like she was interested in Trazik, anyway.
The other woman, Arrafin, on the other hand, stirred no competitive heat in Ilonka. It was obvious the girl was clever, and could talk a million words a minute, but she was just as obviously completely hopeless socially. Her hair was a rat's nest of tangled curls and stuck up all around her head, as though held in place by wires. She wore tattered desert robes that were covered in mud from their trip, and pulled sheet after sheet of dog-eared paper out of her shoulder bag as she explained the intricacies of ancient cultures to Vladimir. He was nodding and trying gamely to keep up as she rambled on, waving her hands around and nearly falling off the bench in her excitement. Vlad put out an arm and caught her easily. She was so skinny he could support her entire weight with one hand.
Ilonka smiled as everyone in the room reacted to Arrafin's almost-tumble. Obviously she was considered in great need of protection by everyone who encountered her.
She turned back with a relieved smile to Aubrey, who grinned back.
"Look, I know you folks must be scared, but we've been through some pretty scary stuff before and we're still here. Believe me, we can help you."
Aubrey's attention wandered for a second as he recalled the wild battles in the Wadi Shir, those frantic seconds atop the tower in Fort Burnoll and the desperate stand against the raptors he'd thought they'd never survive. He sighed, nostalgic. At least there hadn't been any rain.
Ilonka likewise faltered after Aubrey's comforting words. She looked up at Vlad, asking Arrafin about some old religion -- always glad to show off his University education, he was -- and over at Trazik, telling the pot-bellied gambler story to an interested Elena. Something inside her trembled.
The little girl. The little Kishak girl. Her eyes. Screaming in the night.
A sudden tremor shook Ilonka's body and she turned to Aubrey.
"Let me tell you something. About that girl."
Outside, through the rain, screaming. Horrible, inhuman shrieks of pain and helpless terror turned all of them around, cutting off all conversation as in unison they all stood, facing the doorway. For a second they all stood motionless, too frightened to move as the screaming went on and on.
The tiniest sound caught Ilonka's ear over the screaming and the still-thundering rain. She turned and saw Aubrey's slim rapier in his hand. Elena, too, had drawn a weapon and with one quick look and a nod to each other, they dashed out into the rain. Vlad was two steps too slow to catch thin little Arrafin as she darted after them, out into the night. Where something screamed.
