The Rose and the Azalea - Chapter Thirteen

• Posted by The Sunflower Manual September 24, 2018 - Filed in TSC: Long Story - #Harrow  #Sabina  #Rose/Azalea  - 1,045 views

  

   

   

  

  

  'Rose' is one of the most frequently used words for rhyming in Breton poetry.
  

   

   

   

   

  

   

   

   

                  The Ja-Kha’jay’s Bride stank.

   

                  Garbage and blood lined the sides of the deck. I saw rats crawling out in broad daylight. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was docked in the bays bought and maintained by the family, I was quite sure that the Anvil guard would have quarantined the ship. How could S’hni bear such squalor?

   

                  Not that I actually wanted to know how that mad Khajiit’s mind worked.

   

                  I went below deck. The stench was worse here. I could smell rot and dung emanating from the slave holding pens, crammed full of men, women and children so bruised and emaciated I was reminded of the horror stories some of my ex-Legionnaire enforcers would tell of Thalmor prisoners of war. I turned away. This… these people were what S’hni used for her private entertainment.

   

                  No. No, that kind of thinking was weak. These were goods. Goods that brought in a solid quarter of Flavana profit every year, and a good two-fifths in busy months.

   

                  The captain’s quarters were at the very end of a corridor with cages lining each side. The slaves held inside shrank from me as I walked past, Edwin following close behind. One of the cages is open, I noted.

   

                  As we approached S’hni’s room, the enforcer I’d sent ahead pushed his way out, shaking his head. ‘Can’t get anything out of her,’ he shrugged. ‘Scared out of her wits.’

   

                  I cocked an eyebrow under my heaume and went inside.

   

                  A single Wood Elf girl was kneeling in the centre of the room, half-naked. The fingers on her left hand were missing and the cuts looked fresh. Tears streaked her face, and her mouth was working silently, forming meaningless syllables as she bobbed her lips open and close like a goldfish.

   

                  Lying on the ground next to her was S’hni’s dagger, coated in gore, splashes of blood trailing from the blade and leading straight to the Bosmer’s mutilated left hand.

   

                  Wind blew in, carrying with it a whiff of the sea, a refreshing scent compared to the filth inside. I breathed it in, thankful, then narrowed my eyes. The starboard window was open. Walking over, I leant down and examined several gashes in the window’s wooden sill, spread very widely apart. They looked like scratches from claws.

   

                  ‘What happened?’ I stormed over to the Bosmer, who shrank from me, cradling her hand. ‘S’hni did that to you, didn’t she?’ I said quietly, then snatched up the dagger and raised my voice abruptly just as the girl began to nod. ‘Don’t think for a second that I’d hesitate to even out her handiwork. Now tell me, what happened?’

   

                  ‘W-Wild Hunt,’ she sobbed in a panic. ‘The Wild H-Hunt came into the… into the…’

   

                  ‘I don’t like being played for a fool, elf,’ I snarled, kicking her arm to the side and planting my boot on her right wrist.

   

                  ‘It’s true,’ the Bosmer shrieked. ‘S-shadows, a giant f-formless beast- it- they-’

   

                  I touched S’hni’s dagger to her index finger. ‘It? They? How many of them were there?’ I roared.

   

                  ‘I don’t know,’ the Bosmer screeched, her eyes bulging as spittle flew from her mouth. ‘A shadow- shadows- swarmed into the room and tore master apart- devoured her on the spot- I don’t know how many, I don’t know, I don’t know, it was the Wild Hunt, the Wild Hunt, the Wild-’

   

                  I released her with a disgusted grunt. ‘Hysterical,’ I muttered to Edwin. ‘Useless. Have someone sell her cheap.’

   

                  I walked back towards the window and peered out. The Ja-Kha’jay’s Bride was docked with the port side facing the wharf. Whoever… whatever entered the room would have come from the direction of the sea.

   

                  A flicker of unease gnawed at my gut. Some kind of monster? S’hni couldn’t have been eaten… right? No bones, no specks of flesh or skin or blood left over, not even her armour. That’s right, the claw marks on the windowsill had to be hers. They were just spread wider than usual because S’hni had dug in with both her hands, that’s all. She had been dragged out of the ship, and that was the end of that. Not eaten.

   

                  Not eaten…

   

                  I felt an inadvertent chill run down my spine. ‘Let’s go,’ I said, marching out of the room. ‘There’s nothing left here.’

   

                  We left the captain’s quarters with the Bosmer still mumbling about the Wild Hunt. I was fuming by the time I stepped back onto the dock and clambered into my coach. The sky was a dark blue outside, tinged with only the slightest hint of red. The sun had sunk well below the horizon. We were supposed to pick up Azalea almost two full hours ago.

   

                  ‘That’s two underbosses gone over the span of a week,’ I spat, the carriage rocking under me as we set off, trundling back towards the town square. ‘Rhansan must’ve had accomplices. Now that they know they can’t come after me…’

   

                  ‘It doesn’t add up,’ Edwin said slowly.

   

                  ‘What doesn’t?’ I snapped irritably.

   

                  ‘Despite her ship’s… hygiene problems, S’hni’s security was sound. Certainly tighter than yours, Lady Sabina, when you’re not home at the Manor. They could’ve ambushed us today while you had your meeting with the smugglers-’

   

                  ‘It’s your presence, then, along with my enforcers,’ I said with a little jerk of my head. ‘That must’ve scared them off.’

   

                  ‘Me, and a paltry half-dozen men,’ Edwin scoffed. ‘Doubtful… they switched targets far too quickly. I wonder-’

   

                  Before he could finish, my carriage stopped.

   

                  ‘What is it now?’ I muttered, feeling an annoying heat rise along with my temper, pricking at my nape. ‘We’re running hugely late already, what with this nonsense with S’hni.’

   

                  From inside the carriage, I heard the hubbub of conversation. My coachman was talking with someone. A minute or so passed and I bounced my foot impatiently. Just as I was about to slide open the window and see what was going on, there came a sharp rap on the door.

   

                  I exchanged a dark look with Edwin, then opened the door. It was the coachman.

   

                  ‘What is it?’

   

                  The coachman held up an envelope. ‘It’s from Fjorn Iron-Tooth, ma’am.’

   

                  I took the envelope and slit it open with a dagger. Folded inside was an elaborate sheet of expensive vellum, and on it were printed letters in dark gold ink.

   

                  ‘In Loving Memory of Hrolka Iron-Tooth, 4E 155-197,’ I read. ‘You are cordially invited… Nord quarter, Little Whiterun… service runs from nine to six on the Ninth of Sun’s Dusk.’

   

                  ‘Will we be attending?’ Edwin said, his dark eyes fixed on mine. ‘Funerals can be messy affairs, as you’ve already experienced, my lady.’

   

                  I sighed and leant back in my seat, feeling very tired all of a sudden. It never ends.

   

                  ‘Of course we are,’ I said, sitting back up violently after that moment of weakness. ‘We can’t afford to make enemies of the Iron-Tooths, especially not now.’

   

                  Edwin nodded. ‘I’ll contact the tailor.’

   

                  I frowned. ‘I’ll be going in full armour, as is Flavana tradition. Doesn’t really matter what I wear underneath. And I still have the black cape I used for Father’s ceremony in my wardrobe. I should be all set.’

   

                  Edwin gave a jerk of his head. ‘It’s for your boy. We don’t have anything his size, and we can’t bring him to a funeral in that skimpy dress of his.’

   

                  ‘Robes,’ I corrected.

   

                  ‘Very well, robes. Whore robes with a slit in the side showing an entire naked leg up to the hip and coloured white and violet with dark purple butterflies. With a pink ribbon to boot.’

   

                  ‘All right, I get the point,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Find him something appropriate. Who knows, black and grey might even suit him.’

  

   

  

  In contrast to 'rose', 'azalea' is used far less in poetry.
  

   

   

  

   

                  Forty-five minutes after the meeting with the Penitus Oculatus and Bengakhi’s elimination of Rhansan, Sho materialised on a short rooftop behind me as I made my way back to the centre of Anvil. I unfurled my parasol and rested it on one shoulder to hide the motion as I turned to greet him.

   

                  ‘Good afternoon, Sho-jo,’ I murmured. I did not ask him what he needed; the explanation would come in due course.

   

                  ‘Bengakhi-ra requires your presence in the apartment command post,’ Sho said from his perch. Unlike his brother, he was not wearing his janitor’s disguise. He crouched there in full field operations garb, hood and cowl over his face, his form blending into the shadow cast by the building, and the few pedestrians that passed me took as little notice of him as they would of a stray cat. I wondered if he had cast a spell, or if Tamriellians were all generally so unobservant.

   

                  I raised an eyebrow. ‘He has completed his mission already? I haven’t even walked my way out of the district yet.’

   

                  ‘Bengakhi-ra values efficiency, kit.’ Sho was already turning away, doubtlessly to head off on his own assignment. ‘We would do well to emulate him.’

   

                  And he was gone, leaving only a small breeze in his wake, our brief exchange having lasted barely ten seconds.

   

                  I made my way into a deserted alley and leapt up towards the rooftops myself. If Bengakhi-ra was calling me back, it must be a matter of some import. I should hurry.

   

                  Twenty-one leaps brought me back into the Meat Street, and another sixteen leaps landed me in the abandoned apartments. No civilians on ground level. I dropped back down, skirt billowing around my legs for a brief second before my feet connected with the pavement.

   

                  The Oculatus were still inside tending their posts, but Rhansan’s body had been removed. I looked quizzically at the senior agent - his name was Elinnaeus - who greeted me with a gruff grunt and a message.

   

                  ‘Your commander’s in a room down the corridor, last one to the right’ he said, scratching his chin. ‘Said to send you to him once you arrived. Brought in a prisoner too.’

   

                  ‘A prisoner?’ I tilted my head. Shadeclaws almost never took prisoners.

   

                  Elinnaeus shrugged. ‘Thought you’d want to know, lass.’

   

                  I bowed and stepped out of the command post without bothering to correct him.

   

                  The room I had been sent to was a dismal one. It was dark and windowless, with moulding walls smelling of damp, lit with a single candle. Bengakhi was standing behind a shaking man making muffled noises from under a sack that had been draped over his head. The man was dressed in fine clothes. He had been forced to his knees. His arms were bound behind his back. His scent was familiar, musky, though I couldn’t determine much more than that.. His skin was fair. Nord, most likely.

   

                  ‘Close the door,’ Bengakhi said. I obeyed and felt a powerful - extraordinarily powerful - cone of silence seal off the entire room.

   

                  I clasped my hands behind my back and waited, standing straight with my back rigid. Like with Sho, I had no doubt that Bengakhi would explain the situation.

   

                  ‘Haruka,’ my commander said slowly. ‘Has caught a spy.’

   

                  ‘Has Tsukikage been compromised?’ I asked immediately.

   

                  Bengakhi studied me for a moment, the candle’s flame bouncing off his eyes. ‘Your first thought is of the village?’ he said, his expression as unreadable as always. ‘I approve. I approve… greatly.’

   

                  I felt a shiver of pride.

   

                  ‘No, this Nord was not sent here with Tsukikage in mind. He did not, in fact, know that the brothel is an outpost of ours. I intend to make sure that it stays that way.’

   

                  The spy whimpered. It sounded as if he’d been gagged as well. I was reminded of the first man I had ever killed. He had been a Nord too, and forced down before me as this man was now, in a similarly isolated location. I had hesitated then. Now-

   

                  Bengakhi pulled off the sack and I stared. I knew that face, those golden curls of hair, that chiselled nose. Dandelion stared back at me, his bright blue eyes watering and widening in recognition as he bit on his gag.

   

                  I disguised my shock as best as I could. I had worked with the Nord boy for barely two months, and although our conversations had occasionally been more intimate than the small talk I made with my other colleagues, I did not think of him as a close associate… but still-

   

                  But still-

   

                  ‘Prostitution,’ Bengakhi’s harsh voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Offers any operative, not just shinobi, an excellent opportunity for gathering intelligence, given the varied backgrounds of a brothel’s customers and an environment with significantly less inhibition. Take this lesson to heart, kit.’

   

                  I nodded, remaining composed. ‘Do we know who he’s working for, sir?’

   

                  ‘No, although Haruka found detailed reports of Imperial troop movements hidden in a secret compartment in his trunk,’ Bengakhi replied. ‘One to two week’s worth of observation. I doubt he knows who actually hired him himself. Most likely he was just given instructions from a middleman… or several middlemen.’

   

                  I was beginning to understand why I had been summoned here. ‘Bengakhi-ra…’ I said quietly.

   

                  ‘I want you to ask him several questions,’ he interrupted. ‘One - if he has any accomplices in the Bouquet. Two - where and how he obtained his information. Three - where and when he is supposed to drop off his reports. Four - the identity of his employers.’

   

                  ‘Bengakhi-ra-’ I began again.

   

                  ‘You are free,’ Bengakhi said, his voice a low hiss. ‘To use whatever methods you see fit...’

   

                  ‘Bengakhi-ra-’

   

                  ‘...but I expect you to continue until you produce results.’

   

                  ‘Bengakhi-ra, Tsukikage shinobi do not conduct interrogations-’

   

                  ‘Are you questioning my orders, kit?’

   

                  ‘No, sir, I merely meant to point out that the Council explicitly advises against the practice of torture in the field given the unreliability of-’

   

                  ‘Information,’ Bengakhi said, his tone final. ‘Is information. Unreliable or not, it can be used.’

   

                  He removed Dandelion’s gag and motioned for me to begin.

   

                  ‘Zelly,’ Dandelion’s breath hitched. ‘Zelly, please. You know me, you remember me, I-’

   

                  ‘Do you have any accomplices in the Bouquet?’ I asked, my voice dead.

   

                  Please answer.

   

                  Please.

   

                  ‘I don’t… Zelly, I-’

   

                  Let that be enough. Let that be enough…

   

                  I looked at Bengakhi and with a jerk of his head, he signalled for me to continue.

   

                  Feeling a slight load off my shoulders, I asked the second question. ‘How did you obtain your intelligence?’

   

                  ‘Customers told me-’

   

                  ‘Which customers?’ Bengakhi snarled. Dandelion shook.

   

                  I leant in, forcing an encouraging smile onto my lips. ‘Come on, you can tell me. Which ones?’

   

                  ‘J-just customers in general, we g-get Legionnaires all the time… you know that, right, Zelly? Remember when we spent that one evening with-’

   

                  ‘Distraction, misdirection, and appeals to empathy and camaraderie. More tactics you would do well to remember, kit,’ Bengakhi growled. ‘Now focus.’

   

                  ‘Where are you told to drop off your reports? We only found one to two week’s worth in your trunk, so you must have handed in some already. Who are your contacts?’

   

                  ‘Slow down,’ Bengakhi said. ‘Repeat the first question.’

   

                  I obeyed.

   

                  ‘B-behind the brothel, a d-dead drop-’

   

                  ‘That,’ Bengakhi said quietly. ‘Was a lie.’

   

                  ‘I-’

   

                  ‘It is a pity your ears cannot detect the subtle shifts of heartbeat rhythm that indicate an untrained liar, kit,’ he continued. ‘Repeat the question.’

   

                  I obeyed. For over an hour I asked Dandelion where he was meant to drop off his reports and who his employers or contacts were, but no matter what answer he gave, Bengakhi was never satisfied.

   

                  ‘In a f-fish barrel by the docks-’

   

                  ‘Kit, repeat the question.’

   

                  I glanced at my timepiece and, with a profound sense of relief, realised it was almost five. ‘Sir, I need to go, Sabina should be waiting for me in the town square-’

   

                  ‘You seem very eager to return to her, kit.’

   

                  I froze.

   

                  After a full minute, Bengakhi spoke again in a voice tinged with unmistakable malice. ‘Sabina Flavana… will be delayed for at least two hours. You will continue.’

   

                  I licked my lips and prepared to ask again.

   

                  ‘Kit,’ Bengakhi said, very softly. ‘I strongly suggest that you begin to take this interrogation seriously.’

   

                  ‘Sir, I must repeat that the Council’s - and Takarro-ri’s - views on torture…’

   

                  ‘If you cannot be of use to me right now, kit,’ Bengakhi said, even more softly. ‘I cannot see how you can be of any greater use to the village.’

   

                  Dread crawled up my spine. The nightmare I’d had so often during my recuperation sessions after Rendanshu shot back into my mind, unwelcome but as fresh as ever. Me, lying in the snow. Abandoned, exiled from the mountain, becasue I was useless, useless, useless, useless…

   

                  No, no, no, no, no, I can’t be useless, I can’t afford to be useless, I can’t afford to become useless, I-

   

                  I want to stay in the village, I want to stay, the village is my home, the village is my family, all that matters is the village, the village the village the village the village the village-

   

                  ‘Dandelion,’ I whispered, clenching my fist. ‘Please just tell me the truth.’

   

                  ‘I did, Zelly, I was,’ the Nord boy cried. ‘I really did put it in the barrel-’

   

                  The room lit up with blue and purple flashes and Dandelion screamed.

   

                  I electrocuted him for ten seconds.

   

                  Dandelion fell to the ground, convulsing. He split his temple open as he thrashed and continued to scream.

   

                  I stopped and repeated the question.

   

                  He answered, his voice tinged with hysteria and his handsome features twisted with agony.

   

                  Bengakhi said nothing.

   

                  I shocked him again and repeated the question.

   

                  Dandelion began to weep, repeating ‘Zelly’ over and over again like some kind of mantra.

   

                  I increased the current.

   

                  His screams grew even louder.

   

                  I repeated the question.

   

                  Bengakhi said nothing.

   

                  I increased the current even further.

   

                  After several more shocks, Dandelion seemed to lose consciousness. He was curled up slumped on the floor, twitching. The stench of excrement filled the room. His muscle contractions had caused him to defecate uncontrollably.

   

                  Bengakhi was still saying nothing.

   

                  I lifted Dandelion and slapped him. No response.

   

                  I poked him hard in nine consecutive acupoints, forcing his traumatised nerve endings to respond. His lungs heaved, his pulse shot up, and his eyelids fluttered open.

   

                  For a few brief seconds he seemed unaware of my presence or Bengakhi’s. Then his pupils refocused and his lips quivered. Snot ran from his nose. His jaw worked aimlessly.

   

                  ‘Zelly,’ he mumbled, sniffling. ‘No more, please, I can’t take any-’

   

                  ‘Where did you drop off your reports? Who are your contacts?’

   

                  I no longer recognised my own voice.

   

                  ‘Oh, gods…’ Dandelion threw his head back, sobbing. I had burned off half of his lustrous golden hair. His scalp was showing through what remained and his flesh was steaming.

   

                  I sent another stream of lightning coursing through his system. The steam became smoke. The flashes illuminated his skeleton.

   

                  ‘Stop oh gods please stop I’ve told you everything already oh gods oh gods oh gods-’

   

                  Bengakhi lowered my hands, leant forward, and stepped casually on his neck. The crack echoed throughout the room.

   

                  The silence was deafening.

   

                  ‘Why?’ I asked, my voice as hollow as I felt.

   

                  ‘He was working for the Thalmor,’ Bengakhi said calmly. ‘Haruka followed his scent to the fish barrel by the docks he told you about. She also tracked down three other spies, one of them the leader of a local Justiciar cell.’

   

                  ‘You… knew… then… why…’ I felt my throat close.

   

                  ‘A test of your capabilities,’ Bengakhi said, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You passed with flying colours, kit. Like most of your tests.’

   

                  It was incredible- it was absurd- it was ridiculous- that even now that one line of praise sparked a jolt of pleasure deep inside my being-

   

                  I stood there, rooted to the spot, as Bengakhi seemed to speak from a great distance away.

   

                  ‘With S’hni out of the picture, Flavana leadership has not only been severely weakened, but the majority of the family’s holdings are now in the hands of the head of the family herself. The Empire already has a legitimate excuse to swoop in and claim that capital, so all that’s left is to alienate the Flavana family’s remaining allies. The Penitus Oculatus and the Legion can handle the small organisations, and I have a plan for the Iron-Tooth Clan that requires your participation.’

   

                  I listened and nodded to show that I heard and obeyed, my eyes still riveted on Dandelion’s corpse. Something was welling up inside my stomach, clogging up my veins, choking me, threatening to burst my skull, and it took me a few minutes before I knew that something to be hatred.

   

                  And it persisted - it persisted even after Bengakhi dismissed me and I made my way out of the apartments into the streets and wandered slowly back towards the town square under a darkening sky.

   

                  I arrived feeling numb, a numbness that ran deeper than Magicka exhaustion, a numbness I could somehow feel and not feel in my bones. As I stopped and wondered belatedly if Sabina had left already or gone to the Bouquet to search for me, I turned and saw a figure looking directly at me.

   

                  The figure had big eyes that were almost disproportionately large, and the long dark eyelashes on those eyes were as shallow as the rest of its facial features, as if each curve and line had been crafted specifically to meet the general public’s notion of pure physical attractiveness, while the rest of the figure - the smooth black hair, the slender limbs, the graceful body wrapped thinly in risqué, form-fitting silk - had the same maddeningly superficial beauty that made me want to reach over and pound it into pulp, to blast it with lightning until only ash remained, to tear into that false mask with the claws I didn’t have and rip and tear until nothing was left but the true form of the disgusting little thing underneath-

   

                  I backed away from the store window and I understood… I understood that it wasn’t Bengakhi that I hated.

   

                  There was a fountain in the middle of the town square. I staggered towards it and dipped my hands in, taking a shaky drink - and then I found Azalea staring at me again from the water's rippling surface and I gasped and jerked back in horror.

   

                  A couple of Imperials passing me gave me an alarmed look, while most of the other citizens in the town square quickened their pace as they left for their homes. With a sense of vague concern I remembered that a curfew was in effect.

   

                  I slid to the ground as the night’s chill began to settle around me, realising with furious shame that tears were sliding from my cheeks to my chin.

   

                  Perhaps if I stayed here long enough the watchmen would come and take me away. Perhaps they would throw me in the dungeons for breaking curfew. Perhaps they would search me and grope and find out and jest and grope some more. Perhaps my cellmates would take turns. I don’t care anymore, I don’t-

   

                  ‘Azalea!’

   

                  Her voice.

   

                  ‘Gods, I’m so sorry, how long have you been waiting here?’

   

                  Her scent.

   

                  ‘Here, come on, up you go.’

   

                  Her smile.

   

                  ‘Don’t cry, silly. I’d never leave you here. Let’s go home.’

   

                  I flung myself into her arms and let her hold me tight.