Dryad Eyes Side-Story - Information
The woman would not shut up. She was drunk, he knew that, and better here where it was expected than out on the streets. She smelled of too much perfume and of the sex it failed to hide. She might have been pretty, once, but her heavily powdered face showed the scars of age and abuse. Her words were still sultry, perfected after years of working the oldest art, but her seductions were ignored. Matthew only wanted to drink away his coin and leave.
But the woman would not shut up. Of course, he'd practically become a regular at this particular tavern, so she recognized him almost the moment he walked through the door. Drunk as she was, she seemed oblivious to his desire to be left alone. He'd come here, time and again, seeking information. This was where it had started, the tavern Treyp had left before being attacked. Yet no one seemed able (or willing, he thought) to give him the information he needed. Who were the four men who had followed her that night? Names, hopefully, even a basic description would help. He had found nothing. So much for all his training...
He finished the last of his ale and started to rise from his chair. A hand slapped him on the shoulder and he started to spin, hand sliding around to the dagger at his waist. Before he could act on it, however, he saw the culprit and only rolled his eyes. There stood Kurik, beaming a grin at the younger man. "I thought I'd find you here," Kurik said as he walked around to the other side of the table. He waved his hands at the woman. "Go on now, the men are talking."
The woman scowled at him, but stood and left, seeking another table to hover around. Kurik dropped into the now vacant chair just in time for a mug to be set before him by the bar maid. He took a large gulp and set the mug down again. "Matthew, we've had a very interesting turn of events."
"Have we now." Matthew leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He still wanted to get out of the noisy tavern. Why couldn't Kurik talk with him somewhere less crowded?
"Seems the girl, Lithia, her name is, has a bit of a story to tell."
"And?"
"And she'll only tell it to you."
The assassin's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Why me?"
Kurik found his mug empty, shrugged, and dropped a coin on the table. He stood and slapped Matthew again on the shoulder. "Walk with me."
Matthew followed him out the door and onto the street. The fresh air hit him, washing away the smell of the tavern, and he paused a moment to breath it in. Kurik was still moving on ahead. When Matthew caught up to him, the swordsman continued. "Treyp was attacked again."
"And no one told me?"
"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
Matthew shook his head. "What happened?"
"Lithia used her... charm against me. By the time I found her, she was in Treyp's room and... Well let's just say, Treyp is alive. Out cold and on the floor, when I got there, but still."
"So why does she want to speak with me?"
"She pleads innocence. Wrong place at the wong time, and all that. With the way she attacked me, I find that hard to believe. Anyway, she seeks to plead her case before either Geran or you, as you're easily the two men most distinctly associated with her, these days."
"Right, well I should..."
"We're here."
Matthew blinked. Had they been walking so quickly? Indeed, they'd entered into the keep, traversed the halls, and now stood outside a guarded door. Matthew approached it hesitantly, then looked back at Kurik.
"Be careful of her, Matthew. She has a certain way with men."
* * *
Matthew closed the door behind him, and, by the look on Kurik's face, he knew he could not hide the red in his cheeks. He took a deep breath and started moving away down the hall. His hands worked the clasp of his cloak and he quickly flipped it around until it draped him entirely in black. Kurik hurried after him. He'd only seen Matthew wear his cloak with its fine red on the inside when he had someone to kill.
"She's innocent," Matthew said as Kurik came near. "Like she said. Wrong place at the wrong time."
"Matthew," Kurik said. "Listen to me, Matthew. This isn't just about you. If you know who did it, you bring them in. Alive. Make them stand for what they did."
"Kurik..."
Kurik grabbed Matthew by the arm and turned him around to face him. "What did she tell you? Let us help you. Don't take it all on yourself."
The young man turned his hazel eyes up at his friend, held the gaze. "This is something I have to do. Understand that, please."
"Don't do something you'll regret."
"Oh. I'm not going to regret this at all. I'm sure I'll relish every moment of it."
Kurik stepped back, fingers finally releasing their grip on Matthew's arm. He wasn't used to this darker side of the boy. "We're all in this together. Bring them to justice, don't just go out for revenge, Matt."
"Revenge... Is all that I have." He started to turn away, stopped, and looked back. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if it were Talitha, Scalthries."
And then he was gone, leaving the swordsman to watch as he disappeared around the corner to go do what he did best.
But the woman would not shut up. Of course, he'd practically become a regular at this particular tavern, so she recognized him almost the moment he walked through the door. Drunk as she was, she seemed oblivious to his desire to be left alone. He'd come here, time and again, seeking information. This was where it had started, the tavern Treyp had left before being attacked. Yet no one seemed able (or willing, he thought) to give him the information he needed. Who were the four men who had followed her that night? Names, hopefully, even a basic description would help. He had found nothing. So much for all his training...
He finished the last of his ale and started to rise from his chair. A hand slapped him on the shoulder and he started to spin, hand sliding around to the dagger at his waist. Before he could act on it, however, he saw the culprit and only rolled his eyes. There stood Kurik, beaming a grin at the younger man. "I thought I'd find you here," Kurik said as he walked around to the other side of the table. He waved his hands at the woman. "Go on now, the men are talking."
The woman scowled at him, but stood and left, seeking another table to hover around. Kurik dropped into the now vacant chair just in time for a mug to be set before him by the bar maid. He took a large gulp and set the mug down again. "Matthew, we've had a very interesting turn of events."
"Have we now." Matthew leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He still wanted to get out of the noisy tavern. Why couldn't Kurik talk with him somewhere less crowded?
"Seems the girl, Lithia, her name is, has a bit of a story to tell."
"And?"
"And she'll only tell it to you."
The assassin's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Why me?"
Kurik found his mug empty, shrugged, and dropped a coin on the table. He stood and slapped Matthew again on the shoulder. "Walk with me."
Matthew followed him out the door and onto the street. The fresh air hit him, washing away the smell of the tavern, and he paused a moment to breath it in. Kurik was still moving on ahead. When Matthew caught up to him, the swordsman continued. "Treyp was attacked again."
"And no one told me?"
"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
Matthew shook his head. "What happened?"
"Lithia used her... charm against me. By the time I found her, she was in Treyp's room and... Well let's just say, Treyp is alive. Out cold and on the floor, when I got there, but still."
"So why does she want to speak with me?"
"She pleads innocence. Wrong place at the wong time, and all that. With the way she attacked me, I find that hard to believe. Anyway, she seeks to plead her case before either Geran or you, as you're easily the two men most distinctly associated with her, these days."
"Right, well I should..."
"We're here."
Matthew blinked. Had they been walking so quickly? Indeed, they'd entered into the keep, traversed the halls, and now stood outside a guarded door. Matthew approached it hesitantly, then looked back at Kurik.
"Be careful of her, Matthew. She has a certain way with men."
* * *
Matthew closed the door behind him, and, by the look on Kurik's face, he knew he could not hide the red in his cheeks. He took a deep breath and started moving away down the hall. His hands worked the clasp of his cloak and he quickly flipped it around until it draped him entirely in black. Kurik hurried after him. He'd only seen Matthew wear his cloak with its fine red on the inside when he had someone to kill.
"She's innocent," Matthew said as Kurik came near. "Like she said. Wrong place at the wrong time."
"Matthew," Kurik said. "Listen to me, Matthew. This isn't just about you. If you know who did it, you bring them in. Alive. Make them stand for what they did."
"Kurik..."
Kurik grabbed Matthew by the arm and turned him around to face him. "What did she tell you? Let us help you. Don't take it all on yourself."
The young man turned his hazel eyes up at his friend, held the gaze. "This is something I have to do. Understand that, please."
"Don't do something you'll regret."
"Oh. I'm not going to regret this at all. I'm sure I'll relish every moment of it."
Kurik stepped back, fingers finally releasing their grip on Matthew's arm. He wasn't used to this darker side of the boy. "We're all in this together. Bring them to justice, don't just go out for revenge, Matt."
"Revenge... Is all that I have." He started to turn away, stopped, and looked back. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if it were Talitha, Scalthries."
And then he was gone, leaving the swordsman to watch as he disappeared around the corner to go do what he did best.