HS&S:WT Short

[sabremeister]

The first short story

It was raining. It was, after all, a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in torrents onto the cobbled streets, ricocheting up with a noise akin to a crazed stilt-walker tapdancing. There was no-one about in the city's streets (for it is in Tasal that our story is set), and the darkness was broken at occasional intervals only, by lantern or torch-light from open tavern doors.



Most of this was lost on the young thief hanging by her fingertips from the gable of a roof. If she swung just right, she could reach the windowsill. She had a long hooded cloak to keep the worst of the weather off, but it wasn't waterproof, and nor were her clothes underneath it. She flexed her legs and tensed her forearms. Her booted feet thudded against the closed shutters. Damn! Too far! Whoever was inside would have heard her, and the impact had loosened her already tenuous grip three storeys above the streets.

The shutters opened, the dim glow of a fire in the room beyond mostly blocked out by the silhouette of a short and thickset man. The thief took her chance, swung again, and landed her feet on the sill. Her fingers released their hold, her back curled, and the man at the window caught her hands with lightning reflexes and pulled her in. She collapsed, drained, on the bare floorboards, as the man closed the shutters behind her.

"Well?" he asked.

The girl clambered to her feet, her numb fingers fumbling with the clasp of her cloak. "You had better have those blankets ready," she gasped, "and that drink!"

The man, and now that his face was lit by the fire it could be seen he was roughly the same age as the girl, hurried forward. Piled on the chimneybreast as it sloped back were three heavy blankets, nicely warmed by the heat of the fire through the stone. He ignored them and picked up the large tin mug of steaming liquid nestling behind them. He passed it to the girl, who grabbed it in both hands and took a long and careful sip as he unfastened her cloak for her. She closed her eyes as the first sliver of hot mead slid down her throat, restoring some of her body's heat leached to the elements. She let out a long, slow breath as the cloak was released and flung clear. She opened her eyes and handed the mug back. The man put it on the floor by the hearth and picked up the blankets as the girl blew some warmth onto her fingers and began undoing the drawstrings at the neck of her shirt. The man sorted the blankets and held out the warmest as she pulled the tattered shirt over her head, and flung it towards the door. He draped the blanket across her shoulders as she bent and hauled off her boots, then peeled her soaking wet breeches from her legs, and flung them after the shirt. She shrugged off the blanket and pulled her shift over her head, dropping it behind her and picking up the blanket again to wrap herself in it quickly. She noticed the other's grin.

"Don't get any ideas! I need to warm up for a looong while first."

"You always do need warming up," he replied, smirking.

She'd untied her soaking loincloth and now whipped it at him. "Blankets! Drink!" she snapped. He tossed her the remaining two blankets, which she caught and draped over her shoulder. She used the first to give herself a brisk towelling, before tossing it in the direction of the door. Then she wrapped herself in the other two blankets, picked up the mug in both hands, and retreated to the corner between the wall and the chimneybreast, where a large and thick straw pallet served as a bed. She took a long drink, again closing her eyes to savour the taste and warmth.

While she had been drying off and getting settled, the man had been retrieving her sopping wet clothes. The cloak and the breeches he laid out flat on the floor in front of the fire, the shirt and shift were laid on the chimneybreast where the blankets had been, with the loincloth on top of them. He searched each garment before laying it down, and when he was done, he picked up the discarded boots and searched them too. Finding nothing, he stood them by the hearth, then collected the thrown blanket, rolled it, and placed it at the base of the door. Then he turned to face the girl, who was smiling at him. "You didn't get it," he said, disappointed.

"You didn't find it, you mean," she replied.

He hauled his own shirt over his head, casually dropping it behind him. Once again, the girl silently admired the rippling muscles of his torso, highlighted so well in the firelight, as she had done many a time before. "What's the difference?" he asked.

The girl took another drink and smiled at him. "Perspective," she said, simply.

He grunted, and unknotted the short length of string that served as a belt. He let it drop, then pulled his breeches down, stepping forward out of them. His legs were just as finely muscled as his arms and body. His loincloth followed the rest of his clothes, then he grabbed their last blanket and sat next to her on their bed. He arranged the blanket around them both, his arm reaching around her back. "Tell me," he said, resignedly.

"Why the sad voice?" she asked.

"Lirin - you didn't get the ring! That's why you went out tonight, to get the ring!"

"I know, Ander. But who said I never got it?"

He gestured hopelessly at the drying clothes. "It's not here!"

Lirin took another drink. "Yes it is. You just can't find it. Yet."

Ander slumped against her. "Fine. I'll have another look in the morning."

"You may have to wait a bit longer than that."

He looked at her. "Tell me."

She took another drink, and sighed. "I ran into Mathis. Why do you think I came in over the roofs?"

"Don't tell me he got it?"

"No, he didn't. But I had to do some pretty quick dodging to get away. He found me just at the wrong time, and I didn't have any hands free."

"So..?"

"I swallowed it."

Ander breathed a sigh of relief. "You got it, then. Thank the Gods." Lirin took another drink. "Oh," he said. "Shit."

"Precisely," she confirmed.


To be continued (probably) ...

Comments

[entorien.livejournal.com]

I like it! Lovely interplay between the characters, wonderfully descriptive. The setting itself is gritty and real, just thinking about all that cold rain gives me the shivers.

I hope this will be the first of many tales to be posted.