While the city's forces secured the cistern - like an army of angered ants pouring into their disturbed mound - Alicia found her rope outside the castellum. Already she could hear the brisk shouts and urgent commands, securing the area around her. She wasted no time to ascend Vestra Aqueduct, wrapping the rope around her gloved hands and planting her boots on vertical stone.
In her rush to crest the final stretch and make it to the top, escaping the voices from below, she nearly missed the voices from above. Two voices, calmly deliberating amongst themselves like discussing what they should have for tea.
"Fascinating how efficient those little guards can be, don't you think? Ha-ha! Look at them go!"
"Truly a nuisance. But at least it confirms the Council has poured much coin into their means."
Alicia tightened her hold on the rope, willing herself not to sway or the rope to creak, dangling just beyond their sight. Someone else had seen the same use in standing atop the aqueduct. The wind tickled her back, a shiver running down it with the reminder of how far she could fall.
A trilling laughter emerged from the first voice - like gentle rain - all delighted and angelically innocent. She also thought his accent quite strange, melodic and dancing, yet tight and wrangled, as if speaking from some lower part of his throat.
"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" A light tapping of feet, shuffle of cloth.
"Would you rather they had spent that coin on more, ahh -- brothels?"
No answer was immediately forthcoming from the second voice. But Alicia could hear the smile in her phlegmatic tone, unhurried as a well-fed cat baring a languid claw.
"To furnish the likes of you with more work? Hardly," the woman said, coolly dismantling the man's mockery with her own wintry wit.
"This is an intriguing development, though. We sent warning but to a few watchmen - and half the city's arrived. It appears we can attract many of Alliria's vigilant swords at our leisure. Sadly, this time, too many for our novices to handle, but . . ."
". . . But . . ?"
"News of this will travel, regardless. Fear will fester in this wound. And whispers of our order shall titter from the most ramshackle taverns in the outer city to these very quarters. Should their defenders fail to curb future attacks . . . people may begin to question those who hold the reins to power."
"Oh, yes, the whole lot seems to be here. I definitely see plenty of those dour guards in black and gold--"
"House Iskandar. Swords serving a house fat in coin, though thin in respectability."
"And those red-carapaced beetles with fangs, who are those - ah! - all clustered together like scarabs--"
"Fraternitas Draconis, among them. The crimson guard of the current lord commander of Alliria. Dangerous, but lacking ambition and foresight. His minions may be a bloodthirsty lot, but he keeps wearing the city's leash willingly. Gods only know why. A more alien protector could hardly be found."
"Well, you sound like you will miss them already."
A rustle of cloth signalled a sharp turn from one of them. Alicia winced, half expecting to have been discovered. She could feel her arms burn with the effort of holding herself aloft, and her feet started slowly sliding down the wall. If only these two yammerheads could finish up their conversation already!
After a beat, the woman's voice rang out with sudden sharpness:
"Mark me, under-elf. I need you to pay serious consideration to all this. You see now what we are up against. And your courting of the councillor will be crucial to our plans. You may be able to supply her . . . unique tastes . . . but I shall remove you in a heartbeat if you fail to serve us. Are we clear?"
Another pause -- the sort of pause that hung over a gallows, before the headsman pulled the lever for the drop. Finally, the male voice replied, his voice as smooth and sweet as honey - though Alicia thought she detected a hint of steel below its glossiness.
"Crystal, my dear."
"Then go. You know what must be done."
Finally, their footsteps carried them further along the aqueduct. As they passed Alicia, she could only pray they would look forward rather than downward, the darkness being her only shield. She glanced up past the tumble of her own hair, catching sight of one of them walking past - dressed in darker robes, wearing a similar bull's cranium for a mask, but with grander horns. The bleached glow of Lessat threw this figure into an unhallowed glow, looking like some horseman of Death in the flesh.
Fortunately for Alicia, they kept walking. Perhaps those masks were good for something, if only to limit the sights of cultists. She let out a long, weary sigh of relief, waiting for another few minutes before she deemed it safe to climb to the top.
Once there, Alicia lay on her back, scooping up the rope, panting and straining with the toll of this night. She could hear soldiers pouring out into the construction yard below, their mundane shouts strangely comforting at a distance - reminding her that away from these horned ranters, the status quo existed yet as normal.
But though she might have lacked the context for their conversation, she had the gut feeling that great change might be underway. How long would this city remain the city she knew?
Whatever shadow war might launch in Alliria's streets, she knew one thing. She would rather want to be on the winning side of such a war.
--Fin--
