Chapter 42: 3.4 – The Keep Over the Borderlands

Adrenaline bit into the sides of Robin’s neck, hard. [Cutting Words] leapt to the tip of his tongue, but he held them for now. The shadowy figures firmly outnumbered him, and though his eyes easily pierced the darkness of the alleyway, his enhanced vision couldn’t do much about the deeply cowled robes everyone save himself and Avanus were wearing.

‘Cult in the woods, then,’ Robin said, fighting to keep up a blasé facade. The open door to the kitchen was a warm promise of safety at his back, but he hadn’t come out here for safe. He’d come here to make a dangerous bargain.

‘Among other things,’ Avanus acknowledged. ‘Sorry, Our Lady has been rather vocal in her appreciation of you, and we all wanted a look.’

Our Lady? Someone knew of Robin? Knew he was coming and told these people about him? That was less good. He was kind of banking on anonymity shielding him a bit. Particularly as Gis was in this town, somewhere.

Robin had no desire to come face to face with that snake again. Or the serpent that lived in his eye socket.

‘I think I’m going to need a few more details before we proceed with this discussion,’ Robin said. Part of him wanted to cross his arms and lean against the door jamb, but the smarter part—the one that said he might need his hands free—prevailed.

‘We serve the Queen of Air and Darkness,’ Avanus explained.

Robin prodded his [Bardic Lore] but came up empty. That particular bit of knowledge wasn’t knocking about in his subconscious. It certainly sounded fey-as-frak, though. And that matched Avanus’s eyes.

That sparked a connection. Robin’s mind was suddenly filled with lore on warlocks, those who made bargains with strange entities —often Lords and Ladies of the Fey, or eldritch horrors from beyond the ends of time and space—in exchange for magical or physical prowess.

‘You’re a warlock,’ Robin tested out his new theory.

‘I am,’ Avanus replied, confirming both Robin’s theory and that his [Bardic Lore] could indeed provide useful information when needed.

‘And your Queen told you about me. How much, precisely?’ Robin didn’t bother to conceal the irritation he felt.

‘Enough to be interested. Not enough to satisfy curiosity.’ Avanus gestured to the hooded figures around them. ‘Obviously.’

‘Right, well, they’ve all had a look-see, but if we’re going to get down to business and have a chat, I’d prefer to do it one-on-one.’ Robin tested the waters by setting some terms.

‘Fair enough.’ Avanus jerked his head and the robed figures reluctantly faded back into the shadows. ‘Sorry, most of us are fey-blooded to some degree or another and that leads to impulsiveness and curiosity.’

Makes sense. Robin was sure that they were still lurking, just hidden, but cults gonna cult, and it was unlikely Avanus would keep their dealings secret from his friends anyway.

‘So what do you want?’ Robin asked.

‘Basgar and his Right Hand are a plague on this city. We want them gone. They won’t go easily, however, and all of the people or organisations who could mount a resistance are fighting amongst themselves. My Queen has informed me that there is something I can use to unite the quarrelling factions under one purpose and oppose the petty tyrants making our lives miserable.’

‘And you want me to acquire this thing, somehow.’

‘She implied it would be well within your capabilities, and that you would be amenable to my offer.’ Avanus held up his hands helplessly. ‘Unless she was mistaken…’

‘Depends what the offer is. Spit it out.’ There was too much dancing around for Robin’s taste. He was on a clock, and if this didn’t pan out, he needed to find something else.

‘My Queen instructed me to give you a choice. I am to either aid you and your friends in your escape from this place, seeing you off toward the North with supplies and no pursuers at your heels, or…’ Avanus hesitated.

‘Or?’ Robin prompted, his curiosity piqued.

‘Or I am to act as vessel for my Queen and give you the opportunity to ask three questions about someone called Rhyth.’

Robin froze. The fact that this Queen of Air and Darkness knew so much made him uneasy. Of course, it was also an opportunity, if he could trust it. He’d have to speak face-to-face (face-to-channelled?) with a fey entity of unknown power to get his answers, and the fey weren’t terribly notorious for being easy and forthcoming with those.

‘Does everyone in this town know who I am and what I want?’ he asked with some exasperation. The question was to stall for time, though the frustration behind it was genuine.

‘I don’t imagine they do, no. I think you’ve just stumbled into a bit of luck, meeting me so soon.’ Avanus smiled.

Well, whatever he had thought before, Robin now knew Avanus was going to get his deal. Both of the prizes were things Robin wanted—needed, even. Having to choose between them was just a cruel trick this Queen was playing on him. Unless…

Unless it was an opportunity disguised as a trick. Both prizes existed, so could he figure out a way to win both of them?

‘I’ll agree to your deal on one condition,’ Robin said slowly, thinking the logic through until he was happy with his decision.

‘I’m listening.’

‘I want the option to choose which of the offered rewards I get when I fulfil my end of the bargain. Then, not now. I’ll get your MacGuffin, or whatever, for you, but I want time to properly think on my choice of reward, not have the process rushed in a back alley.’ Robin quirked a grin. ‘Not that rushed in a back alley is necessarily bad, mind you. Sometimes it’s just the thing to cap off a night out.’

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‘Your terms are acceptable.’ Avanus answered Robin’s grin with one of his own.

‘What am I stealing for you, then?’ Robin asked, knowing it was going to be a nightmare to find.

‘I don’t know,’ Avanus answered, ‘but my Queen assures me you will know it when you see it, and you will find it in the personal quarters of Gis, Priest of Urkhan.’

Fan-bloody-tastic.

***

Lantha and the others hadn’t exactly been ecstatic when Robin told them he had a lead on solving their problems. Of course he hadn’t been fully forthcoming with all the details, either. The dark, selfish part of him kept the secret in case he couldn’t figure out a way to have his cake and eat it too. If he chose to take the answers about Rhyth rather than Avanus’s aid in escaping Bordertown, well, no reason to make it a fight if he didn’t have to. What the Sisters Sharp didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

His meeting with Avanus had been two days ago. Robin had taken the time to gather more information, particularly on where Gis’s personal quarters were, and what the priest’s habits were. Fortunately, the priest was distinctive, and with Basgar’s recent takeover of the Keep, everyone was keeping an eye on the tyrant’s supporters.

Gis kept his personal quarters at the back of the main chapel in the Keep proper. A great deal of work was in progress there at present. It was easy enough gossip to pick up as quite a lot of the Bordertowners weren’t happy that the chapel was being defaced and rededicated.

Robin’s feelings on the matter were more complex, mainly because the steady flow of workmen in and out of that chapel meant getting into the Keep and into the chapel were trivial matters. Particularly for a shapeshifter like himself.

Gis’s private quarters were likely to be more of an issue, but he’d ford that stream when he came to it.

Lantha and Fiamah, even Ora-Jean would have counselled him not to barge in so recklessly, but Robin had faith in his skills. They were new, to be sure, but he felt so powerful now. He had magic at his fingertips, thrumming through his veins! How could he possibly fail?

The only way to find out was to try.

Which was why Robin was currently trudging under the portcullis of the Keep, head down and practically staggering under a heavy load of bricklaying supplies. Or something like that. He’d grabbed something heavy from the pile and fallen in with the workers. As long as he looked busy, no one questioned him. The Keep guards loomed sourly over everyone and discouraged idle chitchat. Robin was grateful for that as well. It meant none of his fellow workers bothered to question the ‘new guy’.

Robin slipped under the watchful eye of a Corporal of the Keep’s Guard and crossed the massive flagstones of the entry yard. Considering how paranoid the guards at the out gates had been, it was shocking that the workers were allowed entry so easily, but Robin wasn’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth. He tried very hard not to think that it instead reflected just how confident Basgar and Gis were that they had this town in the palm of their hand.

He trusted in his ‘forgettable average guy’ disguise and so far, it was holding up just fine. There was a moment he almost blew it, walking into the actual chapel, but after a moment of standing stunned in the entryway, he forced himself to move along and find a place to relieve himself of his burden.

The chapel was a thing of beauty, all graceful arches and soaring stonework. It matched what his [Bardic Lore] had earlier identified as an elvish influence on the architecture. The windows had been boarded up, however, and the niches where one might expect to see statues were empty of all save bits of rubble.

Robin put his wonder at seeing a whole new form of architecture aside, and, no longer weighted down by a massive bag of fancy dirt, began edging his way around the room toward the back of the chapel where he knew the priest’s quarters lay.

He didn’t make it halfway before he was challenged.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ A rough voice called out after him.

Robin glanced back. The man looked like some kind of overseer, gruff and brawny with a solid bit of fat over his muscle. Thinking quickly, Robin reached for one of the excuses he had prepared in case he was challenged.

‘The guard at the gate told me as I had to carry this message to one of the acolytes,’ Robin lied, flashing a bit of parchment he’d scavenged for just this purpose. He’d even scrawled some nonsense in English on it, in case anyone demanded to see the message.

For a moment, the man looked him over. Robin bit gently on the inside of his cheek and concentrated on looking a bit dopey and entirely incapable of deception. Apparently his ruse worked, as he was waved on after a moment.

‘Just be quick about it.’ The overseer dismissed him with a grunt. ‘There’s more to haul in and new guys do the grunt work.’

‘Yessir,’ Robin answered, ‘I’ll head right back out as soon as I’m done.’

The man grunted and turned away. Robin let out a slow breath of relief. With any luck, he’d be gone from the overseer’s mind in no time. There were always a dozen things competing for the attention of anyone in charge on a large job site. Things always slipped through the cracks.

Robin slipped behind the altar and through the shadowed archway hidden behind an ornate screen. It was clearly a thing celebrating Urkhan. It had none of the graceful, almost art nouveau sensibility of the original chapel. Clenched fists, gauntlets, and lightning seemed to feature prominently.

It would hide his movements nicely from the other workers.

Through the archway was a small hall. Robin followed it right to the end, where a simple yet solid oaken door barred his progress: the entry to Gis’s private quarters.

Robin checked for traps, though his knowledge of what to look for was limited to what he’d been gifted with as part of his proficiency upgrades. He didn’t find any. Not that that was reassuring. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and Robin was here for gains.

He reached out to open the door and prayed the priest was not in residence.

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