- Jyre: The Urchin - Day 1: 11pm

I stared up at the tower, which was nestled halfway up the steep hillside. It was a hauntingly eerie image in the fading light. I could have gone up the stairs, I suppose, but then I would have had to face ridicule from the servants and guards, if there were any. So I chose, instead, to take the back route. I had traversed this way once before but that had been in daylight. The area I had chosen to climb, sheltered by plant growth from any view from the tower, looked a lot steeper in the dark. The initial stages were easy enough. The ground was rocky with tufts of grass sprouting here and there. They gave enough purchase for me with which to haul myself up. I was past the halfway point when I came across the real problem. An overhang, like a miniature cliff, towered at least twelve feet above my head. The rock-face in front of me looked like a bowl standing on edge. The rock itself was as smooth as glass. I would have turned back, had I not seen this place before. Skirting my way around the lip of rock that made the bottom edge of the bowl, I eventually came to the thin crack that ran from the bowl's base to its top. With a little effort, I managed to squeeze into the fissure. It widened slightly just above my head and I was able to grab on to the rough rock and pull myself up, bracing my feet against the rock to stop myself falling. Had I been any bigger I would not have been able to do this; there are times when being a titch has its advantages. By repeating the process of reaching, bracing and pulling until my arms felt as though they were about to fall off, I eventually managed to drag myself out of the bowl and onto the overhang above. Once there I just fell on my back and stared up at the darkening sky, panting.

The tower itself was perched on a small shelf halfway up the tall rocky hill. The structure could be described as having two parts: the mansion-like base and the tall tower..

The wide mansion-like base sprawled out across the shelf in an irregular shape consisting of rectangular and cylindrical units with arched roofs, some connected by short hallways. It filled the shelf easily, leaving little room to walk, or even stand. Many of the units and halls protruded out of the rock-face, which lent me to conclude that there was much of this house hidden inside the hill. From what I could see by the light of the lampposts at the front of the house, the entire structure was made from black shiny stone, ornately decorated with all sorts of relief carvings. Stained glass windows circled the structures, each one different from the one that came before. The entire mansion gave a clear sense of carefully calculated randomness. Had I approached from the stone path and stairway it would have been impossible to see any of this, for it was blocked by the dense foliage and the fences that channeled any visitors to the front door whilst preventing any exploration of the property.

The tower part itself was too distant to be clearly made out by the light of the lampposts lining the front walk. The night sky was overcast, so not even starlight could illuminate its features. It was tall; very tall. It was also a good way into the manor’s structure, standing free of the vertical rock-face that made up the rest of the hill which towered several hundred feet above the tower’s tip. Searching for the most efficient way up, I circled around the structure in front of me, glancing at the relief carvings as I went past. They seemed to be forming a narrative. This particular one showed a man doing battle with an iron golem, and upon defeating the beast, receiving a large shield. I saw my path up as soon as I went around the bend; there was a narrow passage between two of the structures, which formed a path straight to the base of the tower itself.

I was level with the tower's base now and a short dash brought me to its stone clad walls. I walked around to its sides, careful to keep in the shadows and avoiding the windows whilst I searched for my goal. Spotting the dark window near the top of the tower was not easy, especially with the moon's light blocked out by the clouds. Finding the ugly gargoyle that was perched on the wall above it was much easier. It overhung the wall slightly and a wooden platform had been constructed around its base to support its weight. I pulled two pieces of wood out from under my baggy top and placed one of them, a rope arrow, on the floor. I held the other between the palms of my hands and whispered a short chant. The wood in my hands shook and grew until it stood as tall as my shoulder. I couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of that bow. It had been a gift from a young mage named Tanya, whom I had met on my travels but a year ago. I hooked the arrow in place, raised my bow and took aim. When I released the string the arrow rose with a whistle which was followed by a resounding thud a few seconds later. The rope uncoiled, its end hanging level with my face. I returned the bow to its original size, slipped it back under my top and began to climb.

I grabbed for the windowsill with my left hand and pulled myself forward. At the same time I released the rope I had used and then pulled myself through. It was dark inside and I could just make out enough to know I was in the right place. The bedroom was quite massive, and thankfully dark enough to keep me from being too distracted by the odd shapes all around me. I just focused on the shapes I did recognize, the bed, wardrobe, and chest of drawers. There was, however, no sign that the one I had come to see was there. I tucked myself beside the wardrobe and waited.

My hands were sweaty with nervousness, and I could feel them shaking. A glance at the outside told me it was getting very late. Just as I was beginning to wonder if he would ever come, the door swung open and he walked in. By the light in the hall I could just make out the silhouette of a man in a hoodless cloak. My mind went blank. Everything I had prepared was forgotten. He was preparing himself for bed by the time I realized why I was here. My presence suddenly seemed highly inappropriate. I pulled the letter from my pocket and stepped into the light. "This... this is for you," I blurted out, then hurriedly jumped back out the window and scrambled down the rope before he had a chance to reply.


- Nightfall: The Return Home - Day 2: 12am

The midnight hour approached as I slowly climbed the spiral staircase to my chambers, near the peak of the tower. I had been unable to get anything constructive accomplished in the halls of The Circle that day, in spite of the wealth of new content, which made me slightly frustrated. "Never enough time in the day," I muttered to myself under my breath. I reached the top of the stair and passed through the grand double doors leading to my chamber. Upon entering the room, I immediately felt a presence nearby. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a figure huddled by the wardrobe. I chose to discreetly observe what my guest was up to, without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. *

The minutes passed as I emptied my pockets onto my desk, and placed my formal cloak on the hook by the door. Just as I began a few random meaningless acts which could give one the impression of getting ready for bed, a small silhouette, which I vaguely recognized to be that of the young thief Jyre, sprang from its hiding place. She shoved a letter into my hands, muttered something about it being for me, and dove out the window. She is an interesting girl, to say the least.

For the past month Jyre had been one of my more faithful contributors. She regularly showed up at my doorstep or the office at The Circle with one or more new treasures she had salvaged, usually paintings or obscure rarities, in return for things like supplies, food, or money. She was a very secretive and timid person, and our words exchanged were seldom more then were absolutely necessary, but I appreciated her all the same.

Rebuttoning my overshirt, I turned on the lamp at my desk and opened the letter to read.

Master Nightfall,

Good, you have been. Understanding. I feel... I must tell of myself to you. Me words, please forgive, are not good. Me learning of letters came late to me. But I will try. You take my goods. Pass them on. Fair of me it is to reveal to you your source.

Orphan I be. Me dad I never knew. Me mum... Dead she is. Many years dead. Street rat am I. Thief, steal, rob. Those were my deeds. For food in me belly and clothes on me back. Understand, please. I had to survive! Twelve I did be when I were caught. A young man he were who found me. Ranson. That were his name. A guard he were. For the Lady. Ranson did see me starved. Filthy. Pity was his kindness. Took me home. Fed me. By the fire I sat all night. Such warmth I had not known before that time. Handsome, he was. Black of hair and green of eye. Loved him would any lass, sure of it am I.

Innocent I be'd. He... took advantage of me. Drowsing by the fire were I when he... touched me! "Quiet," says he. "Do as I say, or kill you I wills. You think they will miss one of your kind." Please, say you understand. I was lonely. He... The memory pains. Please.

Morning bright did wake us and to him his feet did leap. "Come," he commanded. To the lady did we go. And to her did he make plea for my service. I was a guard that very day. Do not judge me by this! I serve or I die. He gave me no choice!

I train, work hard. Learns much. Letters was I taught, and stealth. Watching. Protecting. Did I enjoy? Yes. Guard I was and guard I was happy to stay. Food I did have and much health. And Ranson did I have to fill me where I were lonely. Happy content. That was me.

But a mistake I did make. To patrol the house was my duty and I did see many a time that things were no good. To my captain Els I did go. And explain I did. But never, never, never did he listen! Angry I grew! Frustrated! "Tell the lady," be all he ever did say. To tell her I tried but always were she busy. Unimportant, I was. And so ignored. When to him I went to tell of bad lights, he did shrug and say "tell the lady." Hit him I did. Hard. We fought much. Everyone saw. She saw!

Arrested. Both of us. Captain Els was whipped. I... Put in a cage and left to rot. Hunger. Fever. Fear of death. No other memories have I. The rescue I do not remember. Going on the ship... It was captain Els who did freedom give me. His life was risked for mine. Obliged was the word he used when I asked why.

Time passed. Strength I gained. Guard I was again, for a short time. Then return did we to my homeland. It is revenge we seek. The captain and me. The lady she... She is evil! It is from her I steal my goods and to you they are passed. Though thief I be, I am not a bad person. Wish only to stop the lady do I.

This is me. This is who I be. Now you know the truth.

Your servant,

Jyre.

- Jyre: The Urchin - Day 1: 11:00 pm

Now the tower stretched up into the sky before me, its shape hard to discern against the black starless sky, but its presence harsh and unyielding. I could feel its solidity pushing against the moist nighttime air. I had only a few more boulders to climb up before I would be able to hunt for a way in.

Most would have simply wandered the path up the stairs which gently wove through rocks, but there were men at the front gate. The men, guards with swords, would look upon a small young girl like myself and think awful thoughts. They would not say them, but their eyes would betray them. No matter their words, I would not be able to stand the look in their eyes, not now, not when I so needed to see the look in the eyes of the Lord of this tower again. His eyes were always different.

Besides, someone dressed like me could not present themselves at the front gate of a nobleman’s mansion. My clothes were little more than sewn rags, with an old black curtain torn up and reassembled into a hooded cloak. The cloak, I thought, helped me blend in with the shadows.

But tonight I might as well have left the cloak behind. The underbrush which grew in the lush soil between the rocks concealed me well enough, but the moisture made the cloak damp, making it heavy and harder for me to climb up the rock face. The climb was already difficult enough. Usually I was able to find a gap between two rocks that I could use to get my hands and feet into, so I could pull myself up the nearly vertical surface. After each successful attempt, as I lifted myself clear of the vertical rock face and saw in relief a horizontal shelf, I would fall to my back atop it, panting.

The challenge of the climb kept me focused, and stopped me from thinking too hard about what I was doing. I picked myself back up and looked over the edge I had just climbed up. My eyes happened to fall upon a package, a small painting wrapped in scrap parchment, which I had left behind at the base of the hillside. It was for him, or it was supposed to be anyway. Really, it was for me. It was just a tool; an excuse to see him.

In the beginning, it was different. I would steal from her. The Lady kept many treasures, most of which I would dare not touch. But then my eyes befell a work I knew she cherished. It was a painting, done by one whom they all said was very dear to her. I stole it, and snuck into the night. I held a tight hope that this action would wound her.

I remember peeking cautiously around the corner to see her standing in the center of the stair hall, gazing up at it. The Lady was tall and graceful, and carried about her a certain warmth. It was not a caring or inviting warmth, but more a warmth that crept under your skin and made you wish that you could pull it from your bones. I remembered her long black hair, which hung from her head like a mass of slender vines. I swore I could catch a glimpse of thorns.

She would touch the frame of the painting as she looked at it, wooden, but not cut and nailed together, rather natural branches bound by reeds. The painting was abstract, just splashed of red, brown, and green thrown about seemingly at random across the canvas. I did not know why she looked at it, what she saw in it, but I felt that it had to be evil; as evil as she was. Maybe, I though, if I stole it from her, it would take away some of her power.

No, I knew what it reminded me of. The painting made me think of a forest, drenched in blood.

‘You must not keep it!’ Els warned me. ‘It was hers!’ Els was always looking after me. He had rescued me from her, though I don’t remember it, and I never found out why.

Back then I always did as I was told, so I sold it to him; the lord of the tower, the master of The Circle of Stone and Shadow.

Regardless, that was how I met Lord Todulem, and found him to be a man the same as any other. Well, maybe not completely the same.

At the time, I had just wanted to get the painting off of my hands, but the gold he gave me for it made me greedy. I snuck back into The Lady’s dens and grottos, even without Els, stealing more bits of artwork, and sold them to Todulem. Fear turned to thrill of the heist and joy at the sight of gold, and the sight of him, Todulem.

Somehow, something changed. There came a time when I started caring less and less about what I was paid and more and more about just getting another chance to see Lord Todulem again. I could no longer wait for my carefully planned capers into The Lady’s lairs. I just started grabbing junk on canvas propped up on the walls of common homes, worthless to him, but they were my passport. Even if he turned me away, at least I had gotten a chance to see him.

Tonight was different though; just seeing him wasn’t enough, and I did not need any painting as my reason anymore. I had to ask him for help, and warn him. I felt like he was the only one I could trust, and that I had put him in danger. I had tried going where I usually meet him, at his museum in Hightowne, but I was late, my cold feet caused me to miss him. I knew that if I didn’t go through with this tonight, I never would, so I came here. When I came to the base of the tower, I knew I had a choice to make; I couldn’t climb up with the painting in hand. It was time to drop the act, and do what I had really come here to do, and nothing more.

I closed my eyes, gathered up my strength, and turned towards the rocks once more, reaching up to a ledge, and pulling myself up.

The wide mansion-like base sprawled out across the shelf in an irregular shape consisting of rectangular and cylindrical units with arched roofs, some connected by short hallways. The way it was built into the hillside left little room to walk or even stand around the edges. Stained glass windows and relief carvings circled the structure, each one different from the one that came before. The building was strange; there were none other like it in The City. Also, it seemed to me that it wasn’t here at all not long ago. I wondered if he had created it himself. That was how the rumors went. He seemed capable of doing anything.

Finally, arm stretching up as far as I could reach, my fingers came to the lower edge of one of the relief carvings, which at last gave me something I could actually get my fingers around. I pulled myself up, working hand over hand until I was able to get my feet into the spaces between the sculpted figures, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on my destination, and never letting myself look down. As I got within feet of the overhang my arms began to shake with fatigue. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, willing myself to go on.

With conviction, I opened my eyes. The conviction was shattered the instant I saw a pair of dark eyes staring right back at me. I almost dropped to my death, or certainly a great deal of pain, but quickly realized that it was just one of the sculptures, and felt rather silly. In fact, I had not moments ago used its gaping mouth to grab onto and hoist myself up. I gave a little smirk at the stern, aggressive face in the stone, and continued up, my previous fatigue having been washed away by the shot of adrenaline.

The roof’s overhang wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have to deal with every other day while worming my way around The City’s rooftops, so I had no trouble getting around it and onto the roof of the mansion. Once safely onto the shingles, the base of the tower itself was finally in sight. I scampered up the incline, gazing up to the faint light in the window which had not been there a moment ago. He was inside.

I stared into the darkness, searching the top of the tower for any sign of something wooden. Silly, I never thought about what I would do if I couldn’t use one of my rope arrows. I could see gargoyles perched around a narrow rim, leaning forward with their arms pushing upwards, as if they were holding up the cone roof of the tower. The roof looked like it was built the same way as the one I was standing on, which was made from wood. I was going to have to risk it.

Having made my decision, I pulled my bow from my belt. It was a special bow, like nothing I had seen here in The City. It was a gift from a friend, Tanya, whom I had known back in my home, The Village. That was not even a year ago, but somehow, it seemed so far away. At rest, the bow was just a small shaft of wood which could easily be put under my belt. I held it between my palms, and whispered the short chant Tanya had taught me. The bit of wood trembled as it grew into a short-bow as tall as my shoulder.

On the other hand, the rope arrow was an artifact native to The City which I had never heard of back home, and would be considered just as marvelous as my bow. They were expensive, and very useful for getting where you’re not meant to be. I hooked the arrow in place, raised my bow, and took aim at where I felt there must be wood. I wanted to close my eyes and will the wood to be there, and just let the arrow fly and hope for the best. My arm began to ache from holding the string taut while I searched for my target.

A chilly wind passed over me, causing a tremble deep inside my gut. At that instant I felt as if my feet were sliding down the slick shingles of the roof and that another gust of wind like that could send me tumbling head over heels. The wind was gone, but the trembling persisted, a deep dreadful shiver that went straight through to my core.

I held my breath to calm my shakes, waited another instant, and then let the arrow fly. I couldn’t help but clench my eyes shut, waiting with dread for the inevitable sound of my valuable rope arrow shattering against stone, ruining my chances of seeing Lord Todulem tonight. Instead, the unmistakable thud of the arrow sinking into timber came down from above, followed by the groan of the rope unraveling as it fell. It was a delightful, deeply satisfying sound. I let my breath out and opened my eyes to see the end of the rope hanging level with my chest. I held the bow on my palms once again, said a different chant, and it shrunk back to its original size. I slipped it back under my belt and began to climb up.

I always felt silly while climbing rope arrows. I had seen grown men twice my weight climb up without the rope budging an inch, yet still every time I used one I felt as if it would pull free at any moment. It made no sense to me, but then again, neither did the magic of the bow. Another chilly wind passed around me, causing the rope to sway to and fro, and the trembling in my gut again twisted and churned. I gripped the rope tighter with sweaty palms, and wrapped my legs tightly around it as well. The wind was stronger this time, and longer, and if I gave in to it, the fall would be more deadly.

As quickly as it began, it was gone. I relaxed my arms and legs, but not my grip, and continued up. When I reached the top and could climb no farther, I jumped from the rope to one of the gargoyles, which was damp and slippery, hugging it tightly until I could get my feet steadily onto the ledge. From there I slowly and quietly shifted to peer into the open window. The massive bedroom was illuminated by a single candle on the table. The furniture cast long black shadows that stretched up to the ceiling. The room was empty; he was not here. My first instinct was to scan the room for valuables, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have taken them. I could not steal from this man.

Then I turned and looked over my shoulder, and beheld the view. The city, with all of its beauty and ugliness stretched out before me, and beyond it the glistening sea. The glow of the city lights turned the sky a sickly shade of pink. As much as I hated this place, it was my home now, and there was little I could do about it. Maybe after Lord Todulem helped me tonight, he would help me return home as well. I smiled at the thought of returning to my village, a place that would not cause the sky to glow a sickly shade of pink.

As quietly as I could, I entered the room, and quickly tucked myself into a shadow cast by a large wardrobe. I tried over and over to wipe the sweat off my shaky hands onto my cloak, but I could never seem to get it all. As time ticked by, I began to wonder if he was really here at all. He had to turn in for the night, I told myself; unless of course… he did his other business during the night. I had not thought of that.

I could just leave my note on the table and be off. He’d find it eventually. But… I also wanted to see him. As my heart flooded with anxiety, I pulled the folded letter from my tunic pocket, written with charcoal on some paper I had ‘borrowed’. My eyes skimmed over it, just to make sure I had written the right things.

Lord Todulem,

You have been good to me. I feel... I must tell you of myself. You have taken my goods and given me pay. I must tell you of their source, though it fears me to.

I am an orphan. My dad I never knew. My mum... Dead for years. A thief in the street is what I become, steal, rob, sneak, take. Understand. Please. I had to survive!

I was twelve when caught. A young man found me, named Ranson, who I was to learn was a guard for The Lady. He saw me starving, filthy. He took pity, took me home, fed me. Such warmth at his hearth I had never known. His hair was black. His eyes green. I was sure, any lass would love him. Any.

I was sleeping by the fire when he... touched me! Quiet, says he. Do as I say or I will kill you! You think they will miss one of your kind? I gave in willingly, though it pained me then as it does now. Please understand, I was lonely.

Morning came, and he took me to The Lady. I was to serve her as he. I was a guard that very day. Do not judge me by this! I was to serve or I die!

I trained, worked hard. I learned much. Letters was I taught, to read and write. I had food that filled me with strength. Ranson kept me in his care. I felt it was good.

Patrol of the house was my duty, and I did see many a time that things were no good. To my captain Els I went, to explain. But never, never, never did he listen! Tell the lady, he told me. I tried, but she would never see me. Unimportant.

One night, I saw in the darkness lights. It filled me with fear. I went to Els, and told him of this. Tell the lady. I hit him. Hard. We fought. Everyone saw. She saw!

We were arrested. Captain Els was whipped. I, put in a cage and left to rot. Hunger too me, and Fever. I Feared death. I have no other memory.

Then I was saved. It was captain Els who freed me. I asked why. Obliged as all he would say.

Time passed. I healed. I honed my skills, to sneak, to climb. This is how I came to be who I am. Though a Thief, I am not a villain! Please understand.

It is revenge we seek. The lady she... She is evil! It is from her I steal my goods and sell to you. That is why I must warn you! Be rid of them, please! If she found you had them, she will hunt you! I fear the danger I have caused you! Please forgive me!

Now you know the truth.

Your servant, Jyre.

Els was facing away from me, oars gripped tightly in his hands as he pushed and pushed against the water. At first, I didn’t know it was him. I thought it could have been Ranson, and that he actually had loved me, in spite of how he seemed, and that he had chosen to save me. I felt slightly disappointed when I discovered it to be Els. I should have treated him better. He took me to a place he knew of in the woods where I could recuperate, and where there was food.

I remember Els sitting for hours by the fire crafting arrows from sticks and stones and bits of leaf. Then he would vanish into the woods for hours, sometimes more than a day, until he was able to kill a wild beast. Then we would eat well; better than I had back in my village. My time alone in the woods with Els was a hard time, but it was a daydream compared to my servitude and imprisonment to The Lady. All of that was years ago.

We came to The City only after Els felt that I was completely recovered. ‘It won’t be the same as your village,’ he warned me. ‘There are hundreds, thousands of people there, and if you fell in the streets, they’d sooner step in your face than help you up.’ He was right of course.

I wondered if he would cut me loose at that point, leave me on my own, but he did not. He never asked me to stay by his side, nor did he ask me to leave. I don’t know what made me stay with him. I perhaps felt bound to him, that his rescuing me was a debt that I needed to pay. It was a good place to be, though. Els always treated me fairly, and never struck me, and never, ever touched me as Ranson had done.

Els tried to get a job as a guard, but it never stuck. He was always let go no more than a week after being taken on. ‘It’s the markings’ he said to me. ‘The other guards talk, they think they recognize what they mean, and they are afraid.’ He was talking about the tattoo on the back of his hand. All of the lady’s guard had them. I had one, but on the sole of my foot. It showed us to be one of hers. The other guards thought it meant that he was a pagan, and that the Hammerites would come of him, and that they would be next. We were forced to live in the streets, like dirt.

Els was a big sturdy man, but I was small and agile. He taught me what he knew of how guards thought, and how to use my nimble frame to my advantage. ‘They may be twitchy,’ he would tell me, ‘and jump at the creak of a board, but they’re also lazy and don’t like moving around too much under that heavy armor. If you think someone is onto you, just make sure you’ve broken their line of sight, find a nice deep shadow to hide in, and stay quiet. Few will search more than five minutes.’ He always told me to be patient, and never afraid. Always patient.

So, we survived, and kept far from the eyes of the district watch and the Hammerites. I stole from petty merchants and picked pockets. I emptied the coffers of shops and swiped gold from under the mattresses of foolish commoners. I was even able to teach Els a thing or do about the sneak, and so we became partners in crime. Els was the brain and muscle, and I could reach many small and narrow and high places he could not. Between the two of us, we were able to end our siege of the slums, and turned our eyes to those more deserving of theft.

During those years we never went too long before hearing some word about The Lady. Rumors spread about her deals with the powerful lords of The City, and the wicked things that had resulted. Our anger grew in memory of what she had done to us. Els seemed to know things; things he would not tell me, for he never spoke of her. I feared that she had put spells on him in the years of his service, dark things he would not dare mention. I could see the pain and hate in his eyes whenever I did speak of her, for I did so often and openly.

I remember one night laying in my cot in our hideaway, staring through the cracks of the floorboards above us into the upstairs room, like I always did, when I thought aloud, ‘I wonder if anyone back in my Village wonders what happened to me.’

Els’s reply shocked me, and struck me as the most beautiful thing he had ever said. ‘Would you like to try to find your way back there, and see?’

‘Yes,’ I squeaked after a moment, as my eyes filled with tears at the thought if finally going home. I had been so scared to ask him for all of that time, afraid he would say no. The next day we went, and long did we travel. I did not know the way, nor did he, only bits of memories from when Ranson took me to her.

‘There were hills like these,’ I would say, ‘and trees like this,’ I told him. ‘And I remembered a stream, that’s what stuck out most.’ After searching for what seemed like weeks, Els found what he said to be a trail through the woods. I did not see anything there, just a bit of space where the grass had been flattened, probably by a deer, but he was insistent. We followed it, and he was right.

We found a small village in the woods, just a couple of huts, but it was not my village. The people there made friendly faces, but for the most part kept away from us. I knew why; we smelled like The City, and worse, there was the marking on Els’s hand. ‘You are welcome here if you need food or a place to rest,’ one of them told us, ‘but we beg you to not stay.’

It was by chance that a familiar set of eyes happened to be peering out of a window as Els and I passed. It was Tanya, my old friend from my village.

Tanya was a young man who was training to be a magician, a bit of a loner just like me but mostly because the other children picked on him for having a girl's name. I on the other hand had an overly boyish name. Now he stood before me once again. We ran to one another at the sight, and embraced. ‘I am so glad we found you,’ I said to Tanya, ‘you can take us to our village!’

But Tanya’s eyes filled with sadness at the mention. ‘I cannot find our village, Jyre, it is lost.’

Lost? How could it be lost? The thought was insane to me, but Tanya explained. ‘I once left, just as you had, but I was never able to find my way back, even with all of my skills. It is as if it was gone, wiped away, just a memory.’ I did not speak of it then, but in my heart I promised myself that this had to be The Lady’s doing. She had taken me from my village, and now, she had taken my village away from everyone.

And Tanya too told us we could not stay. I asked, ‘would you come with us?’ but the answer was no. There were too many dangers about, too many lurkers. Our scents were strong of The City, and it would lead many to this place, man and beast alike who would seek to destroy it. Any village in the woods which did not offer allegiance to the Woodsie Lord was in danger of being destroyed by the beasts at his command, and so none would ever leave their village, and those that came were not allowed to stay.

So, with my heart heavy with loss, I left, but not before Tanya gave me the gift of my bow, as was Tanya’s skill to make. Els and I returned to The City, and never again did I mention to him my village, nor my conviction that it was The Lady who had destroyed it.

Time passed, and then one day not long ago while Els and I were sitting in the Red Dragon Inn, enjoying a rare treat of brandy after a successful heist, we chanced to hear a rumor; The Lady had returned to The City. She had been here for some time in secret, going by a new name. We did not speak of it that night, but I felt my blood boil, and I knew that he felt the same. When the dawn came, Els spoke of her openly for the first time since our escape, and we vowed not to rest until we saw to her downfall. We had learned much since we had escaped from her, and felt that our skills were enough.

‘We will find her weakness,’ Els said, “and we will exploit them! We will find her riches and take them. We will find her contacts and spread foul and dark rumors to them, forcing them to shatter! Bit by bit she will be broken and eventually will fall! We must first shatter her foundations. To do that we need knowledge! Patience, Jyre. You must have patience!’

I remembered those words well. They became my creed. We broke into The Lady’s hideouts and fortresses, and for a time, I actually believed that we were doing what Els said we would do. But we never seemed to do anything. We would sneak through her halls, breaking into studies and store rooms, looking through her things. We always left empty handed. I stole things from her sometimes, gold, jewels, and then that fateful painting. Els scolded me. ‘She will find out!’ he said. ‘She will trace it back to you and then it will be over!’

That painting, as I had mentioned, led me to Lord Todulem and his bedroom in which I now hid. I didn’t want The Lady to hurt him because of what I had done, and at the same time I was weary of Els’s plan that seemed to go nowhere. I wanted to end this. I felt like he could help us. I hoped dearly that he would be thankful for my warning, and then swayed to compassion for me, and join in my cause to bring about The Lady’s downfall.

I heard the jingle of keys, a noise more distinct than any I could think of at that moment. I drew myself back against the wall tightly with anticipation, and held my breath. I knew that at any second now, the door would open, and Daneel would be there. The jingle of keys subsided, there was a moment of silence, and then I heard the lock in the door open with a dull clunk. I couldn’t breathe.

The knob turned, and the door opened. A man stepped inside quietly, and shut the door behind himself.

I almost did not recognize him without his cloak and hat, especially in the dark, but after watching him move about the room I was sure it was him. As I watched him place some his belongings from his pockets onto the dresser, it sunk in that I was an intruder in the bedroom of Lord Todulem, and what a foolish thing this was to do. I glanced over at the window, and then back to him, thinking I should try to leave while he wasn’t looking.

But then I looked at him again, as he slowly undid his tunic. He seemed so calm and thoughtful. His quiet tranquility put me at ease. He would not call his guards or send me away. This was the same man who had always showed me such kindness when all others saw me as filth. And, I had come here for a good cause.

I picked myself up out of the shadows, and walked halfway across the room to him. I wanted to call out to him, to let him know I was ready to reveal myself, but I found no voice in my throat. Instead, I just stood there, waiting for him to turn around. Finally, he did.

And he just looked at me. His dark brown eyes were steady, and mellow. His short hair was beginning to curl, waving back and forth on the top of his head, and around his ears. There was a short trimmed beard on his chin, and a mustache as well. He was tall and strong, but not towering or bulky. At that moment, standing before him, he felt to me just as the tower had, his presence pushed against me like an invisible field, making me short of breath.

He did not seem surprised to see me, but he also did not look happy either. This wasn’t the same look that I had been yearning to see. There was a distant look about him, in the dim light. It almost felt like he was looking straight though me. I averted my eyes and forgot everything I was going to say. I didn’t want him to speak; I could not stand the thought of him chastising me for being here. Without explanation, I dropped the folded note to the floor at his feet as I spun around and dashed for the window. I did not turn to look back as I crawled outside, leapt onto my rope, and climbed down as fast as I could.

The wind had picked up during my wait, and I found myself being pushed back and forth violently as I climbed down. Several times I clutched my body tightly to the rope and held still for fear of being blown away. When the wind subsided, and I was able to open my eyes again, I looked up, hoping to see him looking down at me, watching over me in my decent, but he was never there. Fretting, I continued my climb down, interrupted several more times by gusts of wind which threatened to throw me to my death. I could feel the rope slipping through my slick palms inch by inch with every sway of the rope.

But I did not fall. Slowly, I worked my way down the rope, until I finally felt the solid, rough rooftop under my feet. From there I scrambled down the inclined shingles and tried my best to climb back down the way I came without falling or hurting myself. As I carefully and quickly dropped from rock to rock, I finally looked back up at the tower. My rope arrow still hung from the wooden beams of the roof. There was no going back for it. Even if I had, I wouldn’t be able to get it back down. It showed me how I felt about this entire night; hanging, halfway between my hopes and dreads.

I turned back towards The City, and secretly wished that he wouldn’t read the letter. I privately made a deal with my heart, that if he didn’t read the letter, that if he really had no idea who I was and didn’t care, then I would just go on living like I had been, and it wouldn’t be so bad. On the other hand, if he did read the letter, it may tear my world apart, for better or for worse. As I started my journey back to the small den I called home, I lied to myself that I was happy that I had accomplished this, and secretly admitted to myself that I had done a very foolish thing, and I would live to regret it.

Halfway there, though, I made a decision. I had written in an address for him to send his reply. I would go there, and wait.

- Daneel: Intrusion - Day 2: 1:00 am

My first thought was that this was another assassin, who had been laying in wait for me for some time, but after a moment passed I grew very skeptical at this initial assertion. The small figure only stood there for an instant before dropping what looked like a note. I glanced at it as it fell to my feet, and then back at the small figure which dashed out the window. I listened as it climbed around the side of my tower, took hold of a rope arrow, and began to climb down.

I plucked the letter from the ground, and exited my bedroom. Quickly, I walked down the stairs, through several halls, until I finally came to the front door. I let myself out, and moved through the yard so that I could get a better look at the intruder as he or she climbed down. Two of the guards, Gispa and Medan, came over to me to see what was going on, but I held my hand up to them and bid them to be silent. Once they were stationary and quiet, I turned back to the tower just in time to see the small creature land on the rooftop and begin climbing down.

“Jarah was right,” I finally said to them. I noticed that they too had watched the intruder climb down, over my shoulder. “Let this one go, he or she only wanted to deliver a message.”

“Who’s it from? Gipsa said, peering at the note in my hands.”

I smiled. “I don’t know. I am pretty certain that whoever it was got in before I came home, so don’t worry about it too much. Just look sharp for any future break-ins. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

As I returned to the mansion, I brushed Jossimer off at the door, who was probably about to scold me for wandering around in the yard in the dead of the night. It was dark in the halls and in the stair, so I waited until I was in my study before reading the note.

It was badly written, scrawled, as if by an infant, but written with small letters, which was unusual for a youngster, who preferred to make letters as big as their hand. It rambled on for some span about being an orphan, a thief, and then being raped at age twelve by a guardsman. Then she was apparently made a guard.

“A twelve year old girl was made into a guard?” I said, almost laughing. “What manner of foolishness is this?” I read on, through an explanation about how, as part of her guard duty, she was taught to read and write. Since when were guards given an education? And now it seemed that she welcomed the company of the guardsman who had violated her. That much I could believe.

She went on to explain how, as a result of trying to do her guard duties, she was told to speak to the mistress when she reported strange goings on, but was never able to. Now it started to make sense. If she was a serving girl, she may have been taught to read so that she could be left instructions by her mistress, and naturally a guard captain wouldn’t want to be bothered with the paranoid clamoring of a serving girl, especially a child.

Then she spoke of her downfall, when she attacked the captain who had been ignoring her. She claimed that there was a fight, and that they were both punished for this. I could assume several things about what really happened, but it would all just be speculation at this point. Then she was thrown into a jail cell, and left there to starve… only to find herself rescued by the same guard captain whom she attacked.

There was no explanation for this. The letter only explained that time had passed since then, during which she healed and learned to be a thief.

And then she hit me with the kicker – she wanted revenge upon her mistress. She described this lady as being evil, and that she is the one from whom she had been stealing the goods that she’s sold to me. She said that she was afraid for my well being, since I now possessed her mistress’s stolen goods, and apologized for endangering me. She felt that that this lady must be stopped from doing whatever wicked things it was she does for some unspecified reason.

She signed the letter, Jyre. On the back there was a street address.

“Jyre,” I said to myself, trying to remember, and fit the name to a person of the stature of the intruder. Yes, I remembered her, the art thief. She came often, always with a painting or some bauble, usually worthless. Besides, I was no fan of abstract art.

I gave her enough money to survive another few days for her efforts, and then usually disposed of her plunder. I wouldn’t have to worry about it being traced back to me, no matter how wicked or powerful this mistress was. None of it was put to display in the museum; it had been sold. Maybe those buyers ought to be warned? I needed to keep a good relationship with them, even if they did have no taste.

Now she wants me to help her get revenge upon her mistress, who treated her cruelly, and must certainly be a wicked person. Well, most mistresses fit that description rather well.

I did not want to deal with this right now, nor did I want to have to think about it in the morning. But, really, what dealing was there to be done? Should I humor her with a reply or simply tell the guards to be more watchful? Reluctantly, I gave in to the part of myself which decided that all things must be dealt with in some form or another, and quickly penned a reply. Besides, I had helped Sheam when she was in need, and what of young Zin?

“A million servant girls in The City,” I muttered to myself as I wrote, “And a hundred cruel mistresses, yet in all of The City, only one Daneel Todulem for them all to turn to with their sob stories.”

I finished the patronizing reply, and signed it ‘Todulem’.

“This will be the death of me,” I continued, “when word of this gets out, every prepubescent female with a axe to grind with her mistress will be after me to help them get their revenge.”

Exhausted, not in the best of moods, and probably not of sound judgment, I folded the letter, addressed it, and placed it in the ‘out’ chute on the wall. A messenger would come during the night and tote it off to its final destination.