Chapter 3 - Selethen’s Gambit
Alidar's knife was in his hand and flashing towards the shadowy figure before the figure had even settled in the hammock. With a scrape of steel against leather another knife met his own with a clash, twisting it out of the way. Alidar withdrew his hand and watched warily, seeking an opening to strike when the figure spoke.
"If this is how you treat your friends I don't want to know how you treat your enemies." The wry humor of the statement was undercut by a current of barely concealed anger and it struck Alidar in the gut along with the identity of the figure. He groaned softly and sheathed his knife.
"Sorry Sel, my day has me on edge. I'm sorry I didn't make the rendezvous. Did Abir make it to his sister?" The concern in his voice must have calmed Selethen down some because his next words no longer held the anger he must surely be feeling.
"Yes he did," his friend stated. "I believe you though, have a story to tell me. When you didn't make it I sent a Rat back over your route where he found Hakim just finishing taking down his stall. The Rat reported you had taken off with a girl. I would've dismissed that as fantasy but he was adamant." At this his anger seemed to bubble over again. "Bloody sands Alidar! We are about to pull the riskiest job we have ever done and you wish to blow off steam with some wench! Today of all days!"
Alidar winced at the tirade but mention of the princess had him straighten in indignation on her behalf. "She was not 'some wench' Sel! She was the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld and you do her a great dishonor. If you weren't my friend my fists would have already spoken my displeasure." At his speech Selethen raised both eyebrows, evidently surprised and even in the midst of his apparent anger a humored smile played across his lips.
"Alidar El'Iren, championing a young lady? Well now I've seen it all. I must admit I am intrigued." His grin faded and he stared at Alidar, a serious look in his eyes. "You'd best come clean Ali. Some of the Rats want you demoted. I can't have my second forgetting to rendezvous, no matter how enticing the company of a young lady is." His voice was clear of anger but Alidar knew it simmered beneath the surface. He wasn't clear just yet.
"Alright, but do me the favor of holding the questions until after." He waited for Selethen's nod before starting his tale from when he met Hakim to when the princess left him. He told him everything including the Giving of Names. Selethen's eyes had flashed with emotion twice during his tale. Once at the mention of the Hasharri and again at the Giving of Names. After he was done he leaned back in the hammock and watched his friend process. Selethen's gaze was unreadable and his shadowed face gave no indication of his mood. His response, when it came, was somewhat unexpected. It wasn't an explosion of anger like before, instead it was contemplative and almost philosophical.
"Well if you had to become enamored with someone at least it was someone with class." Alidar just stared at him in response. Selethen chuckled grimly. "You realize I have to cut you out right? The Hasharri know your name and they have seen your face. When we raid the Den of Wonders you will be a liability. Even if you hide, eventually they will find you just to make sure you aren't a danger. And they will be thorough. They'll find out about the gang for sure and if you're lucky all you'll get is a lifetime behind bars." Alidar winced as all of his own reasonings came back to him. Selethen noticed and grimaced. "You thought of that huh. Damn she must be one fine wen-, lady for you to disregard all sense of survival. All of my lessons scattered across the sands." He held out his hand. "I'll need your mask." Alidar grimaced but brought it out. He flipped it in his hands a couple times before reluctantly handing it over. "I know the gang is the only family you've known so you're not out completely. I'll tell the gang you caught heat today and are lying low."
"Thanks Sel." Alidar meant it. The gang was family. It would be a hard few weeks. "Let me know if there is any fringe work you need doing for the raid. I'll help where I can." Sel nodded before beginning to swing his way back down. He paused, hanging by one hand like one of the circus monkeys he had shown Alidar back when they had just started traveling. He turned his head and Alidar caught a flash of a wry smile before he spoke.
"You're too good for this business Ali. Someday, you'll get out. Just be careful that your character doesn't get you killed beforehand yeah." And then he was gone, as silent as when he had arrived. Alidar stared after him for a moment before leaning back into his hammock. He pulled the mosquito net over himself along with his tattered blankets and pondered his day until the sands of sleep took him.
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The chill underground went bone deep. Here the sun did not reach and its heat was absorbed by the hundred feet of stone above. The old man, who was not a man, shifted in his chains, their runes sparking to life as he did so. His eyes flared and darted this way and that. His powers, diluted though they were, told him the time of liberation was near. He would be free soon from this place, this "Den of Wonders", but the strands of fate were never kind or cruel without a reason. The Maker was putting something into motion, the old man could feel its current pulsing through The Threads. The Tapestry was about to receive a new great work. Like a priceless jewel yet uncut. Images flowed through him then. A face, a code, a flower, a kingdom. The power blasted through him only briefly before the chains sucked it away and the old man smiled softly despite the pain of it. He would wait until this uncut jewel presented itself to him. He would let it decide its own destiny and he would gauge its true worth. Only then would his magic be able to flow and only then could the great work begin, the next great tale waiting to be told. It was how the maker liked best to work, on the ground with his creations. The old man wondered briefly how the Enemy would be responding but shook his head. It was unimportant at this moment.
He heard footsteps in the hall. It would be his guards coming to check on him. He had had plenty of visions here and there, brief flashes, nothing the chains allowed through, the visions just weren't powerful enough. Such a powerful surge though had most likely drawn the attention of the mage who maintained his bonds. When the guards came through the door, Archmagus Deonval was first. He was followed swiftly by two other guards who fanned out behind him. The magus moved quickly to check the bonds and, finding them secure, turned to the old man.
"So creature, what vision have you received from your precious maker? I felt enough power flowing through your chains to level a small city block. What did you get?" The old man contemplated whether he should say anything but another voice entered the conversation from the doorway.
"Yesss what did you get? I would very much like to hear anything you would have to say, Fateweaver." As the old man looked to the door he found that to his surprise the guildmaster himself had come down. He bowed his head sarcastically to the man.
"Why should I share the Sacred Sight with you? That would be like throwing pearls to pigs. You will only misuse the information and I find it amusing to watch you mortals scramble to discover what a simple prayer to the maker gives to me." The old man turned his gaze to the magus, whose own face was slowly turning the color of a ripe tomato in anger. "My dear magus if you wanted to know what I know so badly perhaps instead of contemplating a world without a maker you might instead pray to him and find wisdom." Turning back to the guildmaster he shrugged, though the movement brought him pain via the chains. "I'm not sure what you wished to accomplish with this visit but I assure you I am quite content to await your next torture here."
A gesture from the guildmaster halted the archmagus, who in a fit of anger had begun casting a spell. He walked forward and leaned down so that he was looking into the old man's eyes. "There is no need for this hostility. There would be no need for torture either. Just bless my son with your magic and you will be released. All he needs is a push and he will ascend to the highest peaks this world has to offer." The guildmaster's words were soft but sly, like a serpent given words. The old man responded simply.
"Your son is a murderer and a coward. I could no more wield my magic on his behalf than I could set the ocean on fire." The guildmaster sighed as if he had expected that answer.
"You will do as I wish eventually. I need only have patience I'm sure. My son will receive your blessing, even if I have to have him drink a gallon of your blood. I hope you will change your mind before that day comes." Saying this he turned and left. The magus smirked down at the old man before remarking to him.
"Your stubbornness will get you killed, creature. Just grant my master's wish and you will be freed. It shouldn't be difficult for one with your power."
The old man sighed and closed his eyes. "You both will never understand. No power I possess could give your master what he requires. It isn't about power, or intention. It's about character. If you wanted to have wishes fulfilled you should have sought out one of the Mishallah. I don't fulfill wishes, I empower the dreams of those individuals that have the character to withstand the harsh path their dreams take them. The guildmaster's son would perish before the day had run its course. He simply doesn't have the character for it."
The archmagus gawked at his speech but recovered enough to throw a parting salvo at the old man before leaving. "Power may not be everything but it has certainly trapped you here. Maybe you should think about that before saying what can or can't be done with power." There was a thud as the heavy metal door slid shut. The old man chuckled into the now empty room. His black eyes gleamed in anticipation. Black eyes that glimmered with constellations and ever intertwining threads. Threads that foretold the coming liberation.