Downtown Druid

Dantes stood in a darkened alley surrounded by filth and broken glass, feeling as much at home there as was possible. He wore his dark green jacket with the hood up, protecting from the light drizzle that fell that day, and had a scarf inside the jacket just below the hood. He flexed the fingers on his new left hand, making them dance a bit as he waited. There was still a bit of a delay in his movements with it, but it was getting smaller and smaller as he practiced. He pulled his stiletto from its sheath and tested the edge on his other hand, drawing just a drop of blood. As he stood there and prepared, Jacopo followed their target, making sure he didn’t deviate too much from his usual route.

Venson Decarte was a man of roughly two hundred and ten years by Dantes’s estimation. He was tall, even for an elf, and lean with blonde hair he wore in a ponytail and soft yellow eyes that almost matched it. He was only a second generation noble, but was on a number of political committees and seemed to have a talent for politics. He was also a man of routine, which Dantes had noticed was common for those of Elven descent. He woke before the sun, had tea and read something for pleasure, usually a mystery book of some kind. Then he had breakfast with his wife. They’d share a kiss, then part, and from then on he was in committee meetings until the late afternoon. After that he’d go to buy a new book, then head home to meet his wife for dinner.

Jacopo watched as Venson left the bookstore with two thick tomes under his arm and began taking his usual shortcut through less populated streets, right next to where Dantes stood with his dagger in his hand.

Dantes watched the street as he pulled the scarf up over his face. The moment Venson passed he stepped out of the alley and grabbed him, spinning him around and shoving him against the wall. While he was disoriented, Dantes threw him into the alley and moved to push him against the wall.

“Gua-!” he started to yell, but Dantes pressed the point of his stiletto against his throat.

“That’s not a good idea,” he said, pressing the point of the knife just enough to produce a single drop of blood.

“Listen, just take my money. I didn’t see your face and won’t go to the guard.”

“You just tried to call for them a moment ago? Seems a little disingenuous.”

Venson said nothing, unsure of how to respond to that.

“Don’t worry, if everything goes as it should, you won’t get hurt.” He pulled the man from the wall, and held on to the back of his coat, pushing him forward. There were no abandoned buildings in Uptown like there were nearly everywhere else, but he’d found a temporarily empty storefront. He made Venson open the back door that he’d already picked open earlier, and pushed him inside. He walked him downstairs to the basement storage, where he had placed a single chair in the middle of the room along with some rope.

“Sit.”

“What’re you going to do to me?” He asked as he sat.

“Ransom you.”

“I am not rich.”

Dantes laughed, and took the coin purse from his waist. He opened it and counted.

“Eleven gold pieces, seven silver, and four copper, just as walking around money. Do you really not consider yourself rich?”

“That’s nothing compared to my colleagues.”

Dantes smiled wide enough that Venson could see the amusement in his eyes. “You are comparing yourself to the wrong people.” He slid the coin purse into his own pocket and moved behind him and began tying his hands and feet to the chair. He was lucky he hadn’t tried to struggle, someone his size could’ve been troublesome to deal with.

Once he was done he inspected the knots and brought the stiletto to his face.

“Wait!” he said, jerking his face away.

Dantes cut a lock of his hair.

Venson opened his eyes slowly and turned back toward him. “Oh, I thought you were going to take my eye.”

Dantes shook his head. “What kind of monster starts with eyes?” he shook his head. “I’d do fingers way before I do eyes. At that point you may as well just kill someone.”

Venson paled a bit.

Dantes took the hair and bound it to a small scroll with a message he’d written earlier that day, then he stepped outside of the room, leaving Jacopo to watch their victim, and tied the message to a different rat that he sent scurrying away toward the home that Venson, and his wife, Magistress Mariska, shared. He stepped back inside and leaned against a wall.

“The message is sent and now all we have to do is wait for your wife to arrive with the agreed upon payment.”

Venson looked scared, but not hysterically so, and sat silently in his chair. Dantes took the books that he’d dropped. One was in elvish, so he tossed it to the side, but the other was in the common tongue. The title was, “Murders on Mirror Street,” Dantes raised an eyebrow and opened it to the first page, tracking the rat with his message as it made its way to Mariska’s front door.

…

Mariska arrived at her home just under an hour later. She was reaching for the handle of her front door when she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as what little light there was reflected off of the blond lock of hair hanging off the ransom note. She opened it, reading the demands, her hands clenching the note tighter and tighter. She took a long deep breath, took a small notebook out of her coat that she scribbled something in, then placed it back into her pocket. She flattened the creases in her robes, and opened the door to walk inside. She moved toward her study, and slid several books off of a shelf to reveal a small magical safe. She opened it with a muttered phrase and quickly counted one-hundred gold coins and slid them into a file case she regularly carried documents in. Once that was collected, she dismissed her servant and began pacing through her house, nervously picking at different things as she waited for the time that Dantes had set for her. Once it was near that time, she left her house and started moving toward him.

Dantes closed his book and watched her movements through the eyes of a bat. He’d initially considered moving Venson to a more isolated location, but that was logistically too difficult. If he’d had a gang of people rather than vermin, it may have been easier, but that wasn’t a possibility. At least not yet.

Dantes moved to leave the room, closing the book and tossing it toward Venson who jumped when it landed near him.

“That’s pretty good so far. My guess is that the groundskeeper did it.”

“Where are you going?”

“To meet your wife. If everything goes as it should then you’ll never see me again and your wife will be here to untie you next.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t think of escaping though. I’m not the only one Dangl- my employer hired. There’s another man watching the building. How do you think I sent the message to your wife?” He left the room, leaving some roaches to keep an eye on Venson as he locked the door to the basement and began moving toward the empty alley where he was planning to meet Mariska.

She was still on her way, and he’d arrive sooner, but something was wrong. She had the gold, she was going to the correct location, and Dantes didn’t see anyone else, but he had the bat tracking her from the air move in closer, and send out a screech, listening to the bounce back and into its ears. He didn’t see anyone, but there was definitely someone else with her. He had a nearby rat watch her from the ground level, and he was able to see that the puddles left by the earlier raid were being disturbed by a second pair of boots other than her own.

Dantes frowned, thinking about everything he’d watched her do. The only thing that had stood out to him was her taking the time to write in a small notebook. A paired journal, that was the only explanation he could think of.

He checked the pistol he had hidden at his back, it was loaded, he slipped it into a pocket further toward the front and began gathering more vermin to help him if he needed it at the meeting site. He waited there, leaning against the wall, and letting his senses do their work.

Mariska appeared in the alleyway, and hesitated for just a moment before walking toward him.

Dantes could sense the other person with her. He was Dantes’s size, and began moving toward him quickly and quietly ahead of Mariska, likely in an attempt to surprise him. Before he reached him, Dantes raised his left hand and extended the fingers of his new hand out like vines toward him.

The invisible figure tried to dodge out of the way, but Dantes knew exactly where he was and soon had him completely immobilized and on the ground. He drew his pistol with his other hand and aimed it at Mariska, who was approaching him while he seemed to be distracted, and pulling something from her coat.

“Don’t, or I’ll kill you both.”

She stopped, and slowly removed empty hands from her coat.

Dantes tightened the grip he had on the invisible figure. “Reveal yourself.”

The enchantment dropped, and on the ground was Johann, the member of the guard she worked with to root out changelings.

Dantes clenched his jaw out of annoyance for just a moment, then released the tension and relaxed. Things never went exactly according to plan, and in this case, he now had more leverage than he’d had just seconds ago.

He sighed. “That was clever. If it had worked you would have been able to get one over on me.”

Mariska carefully pulled out the heavy pouch of coins he’d watched her fill earlier and held it out.

“Here. Please take the gold and release my husband and we’ll leave from here.”

“Throw it,” said Dantes, indicating the ground in front of him with his pistol.

She complied, and had a surprisingly good arm, landing the coins right in front of his feet. Dantes lifted the pouch and listened to the jingling, feeling the weight of it as if he didn’t already know it had exactly what he’d asked for.

He slid the pouch into his jacket and pointed the gun at her again.

“Now. I want you to release a changeling named Syn from whatever bindings you have on her.”

Mariska paled. “What?”

“A changeling named Syn. She needs to be released from the bindings that hold her in the pit and any others attached to it.”

“I can’t do that.”

Dantes tightened the grip he had on Johann, forcing him to let out a grunt of pain.

“If you don’t do it, Johann and your husband will both die tonight.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking. Syn is dangerous, even more than most other changelings.”

“That doesn’t matter. Release her feybind, now.”

She hesitated, looking at Johann.

Dantes kept his grip on him too tight for him to respond. There was a chance he would ask her to do what Dantes was asking to save himself, but he didn’t seem the type. It was much more likely that he’d tell her to uphold her duty.

“O-okay. I, Mariska Decarte, release Syn from her binding.”

Dantes squinted. He wasn’t sure how, but he was certain that she hadn’t actually done anything. Maybe it was something to do with his druidic nature, his exposure to previous feybinding, his promise to Syn, or even something to do with him being a two-name no-name. He just knew.

He pointed the pistol at Johann’s leg and fired, tearing a chunk from it in a flash of viscera.

Johann wailed with what little breath he had left and Mariska jumped.

“Try. Again.”

She gritted her teeth, and looked at Dantes with pure hatred. “I, Mariska Decarte, Magister of Rendhold, Binder of Changeling Fate, do release the changeling Syn, from her bindings.” This time as she spoke there was a stir in the air that blew wind throughout the alley, and her words seemed to vibrate with power. When she finished speaking, Dantes could swear he heard the sound of a lock clicking open.

He holstered his still smoking pistol.

“You’ll find your husband in the empty storefront four blocks south and ten blocks East. He’s locked in the basement, but unharmed aside from a bad haircut.”

“You’re a fool. You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“I believe that, but I owed a debt.” He released his hold on Johann, and summoned a swarm of bats to fill the alley to cover his escape while he calmly walked out of it, making his way out of uptown and heading back toward his garden.