Connecting the Dots

It was much different seeing the derelict buildings of this part of the city at night. Now she could see what once was in all its bizarre beauty. Shalia could imagine a blooming garden with sleek railings, a table for tea in the serene area. But for now and the near future, it would remain broken and uninspired.
She silently observed as Amalu led her further into the nearly empty building. Where had all the members gone off to? Some lair this was. Tamazzalt mentioned the war camp not far out from the city; maybe gathering there now. Suited them better than some forgotten structure.

The wooden post had roused interest. Small horizontal carvings all over it, not like it was designed that way but far too organized to have been the cause of damage. Deliberate. A luck charm or a totem to a god? Could be a number of things.
A strange lot, the Brotherhood. Between this post, some hidden past, Amalu appearing blind but moving like the all-knowing wind. Seemingly mercenaries, of which she was familiar with once, but much more shadowy. Assassins, or perhaps just versatile tools as had been confirmed before. Would not put it past the Ozainae to have some group like that among their ranks. They could take on magik as well…another strong point of concern. No surprise they had some unfavorable history here with qualities like that. But it was best to have them on her side in this, she had come to decide. Not just the hunt, but going forward with the war. If the hunt proved prosperous, surely this would aid in bringing the Brotherhood into the fold like Tamazzalt suggested. Couldn’t hurt to have their power, especially if they were as formidable as reputation implied. The Inquisition could finally have its match. She kept reminding herself of that when she pondered asking about the group’s more peculiar aspects. In time she would know the details.

They saved her life and she had a strong vendetta against the Helians that cut deeper than just a prophecy and waging war. It felt increasingly like the Brotherhood was keen on action and she was tired of waiting for the world to pass her by.

Shalia and Amalu seated themselves on the floor. Even if the building was long abandoned and the space empty and dull, the pattern of the rug had its own charm. The woman peered at it as he spoke. Daylight began to fade as the evening crawled nearer.

“Hmm,” she grumbled softly at his reporting. “The man did say he had been waiting to finally kill me. Unsure how long, but if he made it onto the barge…” She hesitated a moment in thought, nail picking at the carpet beneath them. There had been no excessive stops, no communication with other camps or meeting new people after they set out. Guards in the night would have seen someone sneaking in. Unless…that skeevy prick!

Her expression hardened with a tense jaw before she replied.

“After the sandstorm our barge needed repairs. While most were down at the river, the camp was attacked by raiders. Killed two of my men and an Ozainae, but ultimately took nothing and fled. The sun had set and that is the only time it would have made sense to sneak in with the workers distracted. He was the cause of their deaths. Had to be. But they will both pay dearly for the attempt on my life and the taking of those lost. Who knows how many in the city fell under her blade as well?”

Seeing the man injured by the dagger had brought slight joy, but to see him writhe slowly toward death? It would be pure bliss. The woman would be a challenge to gladly accept. She could still remember the swift glint of the sword under moonlight and the unexpected smell of her second attacker like the encounter was only moments ago. In her heart, it felt exactly like that. A fresh wound. She almost winced at the memory of being sliced at the arm, thankful she did not carry its scar.
They had crossed Shalia Nix that night, crossed also the Brotherhood, and in doing so, danced right into the crossfire of alliances, clans, and ruthless agents of the shadows. Biting off more than they could chew.

Now she only wanted to bite off their heads. Keep their bones as trophies for necklaces and armor. Things to remind them of their place in this land. What they had done to bring this about themselves.

Shalia sighed and folded her hands in her lap again, having clawed at the fibers of the carpet. “That makes five Helians thus far. Three of which you know the relative locations of--the Penitent, the fighter, and the hand talker. Best to keep an eye on them. I wouldn’t put it past the Inquisition to deliberately spread their numbers out, but something tells me that Isl--” she stopped suddenly and pressed her lips together, “--that the Penitent has nothing to do with them. The fighter sounds like he draws in far too much attention to be operating something covert, though it could be a front to divert suspicion. Same with the odd one. Never heard of a Helian who didn’t clutch their coins or keep their fists readied.” Shalia paused to let her words sink in and consider how to next approach.

“Did they kill anyone near the war camp? Steal something else?” She did wonder what operation they stumbled upon that was enough to prompt an attack, but she was not close enough to the Brotherhood of the Ebony Hand yet to ask directly. Maybe these two holy warriors were just reckless and stupid enough to try something like that so close to the city and the stirring nest of the black robes--poking the bear in its cave, fanning the flames of the dragon. Unless they had some hidden ranks in the city, they were playing a game they would not win. And in the long run these bastards would not succeed, either.