A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a Yetto
19
MAR/21
Wink knew her mistake immediately. She felt the stone cobble beneath her foot shift slightly and slide into place with a barely audible click. She had been so careful down here in the catacombs beneath House Whithall, gingerly pressing upon each section of the floor with her wooden staff before stepping forward; searching for the telltale grooves, scratches, or raised shadow and seemingly insignificant scuff mark that looked out of place; examining at the patterns of dust and dirt that coated the ground, searching for tracks and also for places that were conspicuously free of tracks, which might indicate that this was a section to avoid. She wasn’t trained for this type of work, but she did notice the minute details that others missed thanks to her tutelage under people like Pakku, Toad, and the “beggar king” that took care of the urchins of Raam, so she felt she was up to the job. However, even in spite of her meticulous attention to these tiny details, she had somehow overlooked this trap and she knew in an instant that she had failed them all terribly.
“Trap!” she cried out, hurling herself forward and flattening herself upon the ground, biting her lip as her head banged against the hard stones in her clumsy haste to throw herself free of whatever was coming; the act leaving behind the telltale metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She wasn’t sure of the nature of the trap in that moment, as she had no experience with such things in her life upon the streets; she just knew the stories that the drunks and minstrels told: tales of adventurers and heroes and reckless thieves, all felled by spike traps, shooting darts, pits of vipers, or gouts of poisonous gas or burning acid. This trap was much simpler than all of those, but just as sinister: a giant boulder simply dislodged itself from the ceiling above her and dropped down with thunderous force and began rolling, deliberately and inexorably, down the hallway behind her, driven with a single-minded focus to crush everything that got in its way.
How it had missed her, she had no idea, but it was clear that diving forward had clearly been a lucky reaction on her part. A sense of relief washed over her like a warm bath, but the comforting waters quickly turned ice cold as the enormity of the consequence of her failure flooded back to her. This realization was accentuated by a muffled cry of shock and pain that echoed from the passageway behind her, barely audible over the slow, booming rumble of the boulder as it churned its way down the hall. Oh Tiamat’s Hate, Niki! He had been right behind her in the hall she realized in a panic, scrambling to her feet and looking behind her, terrified of what she might find. Her heart fluttered with joy when she saw Niki poke his head around the corner and the two of them made eye contact and exchanged a look of pure relief. Wink smiled at the sight of him, and began to mutter a sheepish apology about ‘how she was sorry,’ and that ‘she would be more careful in the future,’ when she saw all color wash from his face. She followed his gaze and saw the crumpled body laying down the hall a few feet away from where the young lordling stood. Even in the faint, eerie, green phosphorescence emanating from the glowing moss that adorned the walls of the crypt, Wink could make out the brightly colored patchwork robe lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the hall…
“Yetto!” Wink cried out, as she raced back down the hall towards his fallen form. Arnia stepped out from the corridor behind Niki and tried to stop her, with a look of sadness in her soft eyes. “Wink, no. He’s gone,” Arnia warned her with gentle earnestness. “You don’t want to see this.” Wink slipped free of her caring restraint and knelt down beside Yetto’s crumpled body. He was as still as stone as he laid there in a growing pool of blood. Wink panicked, and rolled up her sleeves and gently touched a palm to his broken form; his body still burning with the memory of life.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she searched for something, anything, within her to try to help him. The Many-Eyed Serpent had bestowed numerous gifts upon her in the recent weeks, and she still hadn’t had much time to register all of the miraculous things she could now do thanks to the strange connection she now shared with this inscrutable being that visited her in her dreams. Everyday brought new discovery and unrealized potential it seemed, and so she prayed fervently that the Divine Serpent had also imparted to her the gift to return the breath of life to her fallen friend. She focused intently and willed a tiny spark of celestial light to blossom and grow from deep within her, as a warming otherworldly energy flowed through her and out her palm and into Yetto’s still form; and she waited. And she waited. And after a long and terrible moment of deathly stillness, Arnia eventually pulled Wink away and gently pressed the sobbing girl against her side, hugging her close. “He’s gone,” she said softly.
“We have to do something, we can’t leave him here,” Wink protested quietly, but she melted into Arnia’s embrace more strongly. They had to do something, but what? Wink hadn’t known Yetto long, and she wasn’t even sure that she trusted him fully. He was just too much…well, everything: too charming by half; too commanding despite in his perceived nonchalance; and entirely too convincing. It was impossible not to be swept up in his wake and carried by the inescapable current of his raw personality. Like oxygen to flame, everyone was drawn to him and engulfed in the inferno that was his mere presence. The group knew almost nothing about him, yet he seemed to have learned nearly all of their secrets in their short time together. It was impossible to not bare yourself fully to his idlest scrutiny, no matter how hard you might try to keep some small part to yourself. Still, he was part of their group, and they had to do something; tell someone. “He must have a family. Someone who misses him. Someone who loves him” she whispered, barely audible above the horrifying stillness that her failure had wrought.
Ixen emerged from the shadows behind the two of them and knelt down by the body of their fallen comrade, a faraway look in his eyes. He pulled the cowl from over his head, placed his scaled hands upon Yetto’s brow, and began softly intoning a song in his draconic tongue. The sound was a low, slow hauntingly beautiful tune; a vibrating and primal hum that conjured within it a mental image of a majestic dragon, magnificent in its tranquil lethality, stirring in a restless slumber.
When he finished his prayer, he stood up and faced the group; his scaled head hung low in reverence. Arnia nodded approvingly and asked him, “That was beautiful, what was that?”
“A prayer from my kind, beseeching the embracing arms of the Lord of the North Wind, that may his scales shine ever bright when he reaches the other side,” the Guardian of the Sewers replied. Then, he brusquely added, “We should take that robe. Its magic might help us in our quest.” Ixen was no stranger to death – having invited many intruders to the sewers he called home into Her dark embrace by his own hand – and he looked upon this loss with an icy pragmatism. Everyone felt strange taking the blood-drenched robe off of Yetto’s corpse, but no one could come up with a reasonable justification not to. Their mission was all important, and it had just gotten much more difficult with Yetto’s death.
As Arnia and Ixen began to gingerly strip the robe from his body, paying special attention not to disturb him any more than necessary, Wink found herself staring into Yetto’s face. It was remarkably untouched by the giant boulder, as if the very Fates themselves did not want to deprive the world of his heavenly visage. His lips were locked in a tight grin; a smile that might almost be mistaken for an expression of cheer if you didn’t also note the reason it was placed upon his face. The most startling change was in his eyes, Wink noticed. In life they were captivating; drawing you in completely with even the barest glance. They had shone like living fire; ice blue flames that danced with malice and mirth, and burned with the mad intensity of one who knew the very secrets inscribed upon your soul. The eyes Yetto now wore still gazed out upon the world, but now they stared blankly at the ceiling: cold and lifeless, devoid of the flame that had once blazed so brightly within them.
Wink was dimly aware of the conversation between Ixen, Arnia, and Niki, and hardly noticed when the three of them continued down the hall, after a vain attempt to pull her from his side. Wink couldn’t go, not just yet. She needed to do something to make up for her failure, but she could not come up with anything that could recompense for such a heavy loss. Perhaps there was a clue to Yetto’s secret life upon his person that would give some hint to any friends or family this enigmatic man might have left behind. She steeled her resolve and began searching his belongings for some clue as to his true being; for a small peek into his life before their chance encounter in the sewers a few short days before; and perhaps, she thought a bit selfishly, to hopefully also provide some small chance for atonement for her failure.
Her initial search turned up a coin purse containing a few ceramic coins, but nothing else. On his person was some weaponry and various sundry adventuring gear, but nothing that provided any insight into his life. She left these items with him, as it seemed sacrilegious to disturb his possessions any further than they already had. She was about to give up her investigation when she noticed a strange stitching pattern on this inside of his bloodstained cloak. Her time as a pickpocket had trained her eye well to notice details like these, as it became clear to her that there was a hidden pocket sewn into the lining of the garment. She felt around with her hand and noted that there were indeed some items secreted away within the hidden folds of his cloak.
She used her dagger to swiftly slice open the hidden pocket and a ring promptly fell out of the incision and plopped into her hand. It was an incredibly fine item, made of smoothly polished ivory, and inset with small stones of turquoise and white jade arranged in an intricate, alternating pattern. Wink stifled a surprised gasp as she gazed down upon it, for she had seen similar rings adorning the fingers of prominent members of the Augustbow family. She had often toyed with the idea of nicking such a valued treasure as a testament to her skill, but Toad had warned her that nobles like the Augustbows would certainly have the means to locate such prized possessions should they lose them, and the penalty for possessing such a treasure was not worth any price the item might fetch.
Wink slipped the ring back into the hidden pocket and removed a bamboo reed tube that was also sewn into the lining. This reed had been creatively stitched into to cloak so as to also function as a dress weight, allowing the garment to lie flat in a flattering fashion, rather than allowing it to billow and flare up in the slightest wind. The ends of the reed tube were capped with wax and stamped with a faded symbol she did not recognize. Wink promptly broke the wax cap off by smacking the reed on the ground and looked inside. Within the canister, she saw two tightly wound scrolls that took some effort to remove from the tight confines; but the small wooden tweezers in her thieves’ kit made the job much easier.
She unrolled one of the parchments on a smooth cobble a few feet away from where Yetto lay; holding the stubborn scroll open with her palms lest it roll itself back up again on its own accord. The parchment was full of flowery script, comprised of words and symbols she did not fully understand, but she did recognize the seal emblazoned at the bottom of the page – stylized claw upon an alternating field of turquoise and white – that denoted the coat of arms for House Augustbow. Was this the information Yetto had used to get two of the sons of House Augustbow crucified? Perplexed, Wink began to sound out the syllables as her father had begun teaching her, shortly before he had disappeared. Getting the first line of text was a taxing effort, but she was fairly confident that it read “R-O-N-A-N A-U-G-U-S-T-B-O-W.” Ronan Augustbow? News of the crucifixions of two of the sons of a prominent noble house had spread throughout the City like a wildfire, and so Wink was almost certain that neither of the two lordlings had worn that name. Ronan Augustbow? And an Augustbow signet ring? If Wink knew the dangers of possessing such a ring, clearly Yetto would as well, wouldn’t he? Was it a counterfeit ring? It sure looked real. Was Yetto actually an Augustbow, himself…did that make any sense? If that was true, then why would Yetto get members of his own family killed in such a gruesome manner? Perhaps as a power play of sorts – the kind of deadly games nobility play? There were just so many questions and no good answers, she thought glumly, silently hoping that perhaps Niki could make some sense of it. With a sigh of resignation, she rolled the parchment back up and slid it back inside of its bamboo sheath.
When she spread the second scroll out on the stone floor and looked down upon it, Wink’s blood ran cold. While she could not make out any of the words written upon the page, she did recognize the colorful image painted in the center of it in an instant. It was an intricately detailed, colorful rendering of a gold-scaled man with the features of a dragon and an exact likeness of Ajikis Ixen: her friend; the infamous Guardian of the Sewers; and the druid who just happened to have a massive bounty placed upon his golden head. What in the Hells did this mean? Yetto – if that was even his real name – had known all about the bounty on Ixen this whole time? If so, who was he working for, and reporting to, and why keep this information a secret from them? He had clearly had plenty of opportunities to cash in on the reward if that was his primary goal, so why wait? Or was he trying to protect Ixen? Wink’s head swam with confusion as she tried to unpack this latest mystery.
After a long moment, Wink mindlessly rolled this scroll up and tried to insert it back into the reed tube, but she could not get it to fit properly, and settled instead on crumpling the page up and stuffing it carelessly into a pocket sewn into her cloak. She could hear the others calling for her from down the hall – apparently, they had located Sabrina Cliffster and needed her help in getting her free of her restraints. Wink should have been overjoyed that they had found Sabrina, but her mind was preoccupied with thoughts about the depths of Yetto’s subterfuge and of all of the secrets that had died with him. Part of her wished she had saved some of her divine gifts so that she could attempt to speak with him in the other realm and get some answers, but she was too tired; too spent; too empty; and too sad. Besides, getting information out of Yetto, even dead, was likely to be a fool’s errand. Hells, the man could probably even charm her from beyond the grave, and convince her to let him ride around in her body, she thought glumly to herself.
Wink rejoined her companions and listlessly freed Sabrina of her bonds without paying much attention to the task at hand, only remembering being disappointed that the supposedly compassionate Lady of House Cliffster behaved like any other haughty, pompous noble by making demands upon her saviors; entreating them to make haste or questioning their motives and methods and all reasoning behind their rescue plan; and not seeming to care at all that one of their number had died in the effort to free her.
They snuck past Sabrina’s captor – a feat made slightly more difficult by Arnia’s delightful lack of subtlety, and only made possible by some clever thinking from Niki, who quickly and stealthily distracted the addled man. Though they had not been down in the Whithall catacombs for long, the situation up on streets of the Black City had deteriorated greatly in their absence: fires raged from many of the nearby buildings, the flames painting the night sky in an eerie crimson glow. The smell of burnt wood, and straw, and flesh, filled the air, while the hungry fires sent plumes of black smoke cascading and dancing wildly into the still night sky.
It did not take long to see the cause of the new destruction: the assassin that Yetto had charmed earlier in the day with his honeyed words and subtle magic, had changed somehow, transforming into a creature of raw power and living hate. He was a man somehow fused with a serpent and then merged again with a blessing of dark promise. He radiated cruelty and certainty as he bent the wills of the weak-minded, the insane, and the infirm living on the streets of Raam – and there were many of these – to his will; in much the same manner that he too had been broken, reshaped, and recast by Yetto only a few hours earlier. It did not shock Wink that Yetto would somehow be behind this madness as well. He was an artist of deceit, a musician with the spoken word, gifted in getting the world to dance and sing to his sordid song.
Ixen spotted a man tied to a wooden pyre and pointed out Sandini to the group; he was being prepared to act as human kindling in some kind of dark purification ritual. Wink had no love for the man, but he certainly did not deserve to die in such a horrific fashion. No one did. There was so much pain and suffering in this world, and it all just seemed to build and feed upon itself, in a ouroboros of despair; a never-ending cycle in which nothing changed for the good. The sight of the plight of this man, as despicable as he was, broke Wink from her catatonic malaise. She couldn’t help Toad, she couldn’t help Yetto, she couldn’t help most of the suffering masses in this terrible place; but she could help this man not to suffer this terrible fate. She might not be able to save his life, but she could certainly try to ease his passing from it.
She was resolute in her decision, though it took some convincing to the group. She was relieved when Niki agreed to accompany her, as Arnia handed over her crossbow to Wink with some hesitation. “We will wait here,” Arnia said, her tone proclaiming that she would not be talked out of staying nearby should things go wrong, despite Wink’s protests that she and Ixen should instead get Sabrina to safety. Secretly it relieved her that Arnia and Ixen would remain close, though she did not let it show on her face.
Wink and Niki crept forward to get a better look at the cacophonous scene, trying to get in range for the razor tipped crossbow bolt have the best chance of finding its target. They stuck to the shadows, using the rubble and burned out shells of the nearby buildings as cover as they worked their way closer to the macabre scene. Niki and Wink were silent as secrets as they moved, but the twisted assassin noticed them almost immediately despite their skill and stealth. He raised his hands to silence the murderous mob that hung on his every word and he smiled broadly. “Behold! The next sacrifices for our purifying fires have presented themselves!” the creature yelled to his adoring masses, who cheered wildly in anticipation of the impending excitement. Even at this distance, Wink could see the crazed look in the man’s eyes as he stared down at her from his makeshift dais while she crouched low behind some rubble in a futile attempt to hide from his wicked gaze. She recognized those eyes in an instant, for she had seen them before. They shone like living fire; ice blue flames that danced with malice and mirth, burning with the mad intensity of one who knows the very secrets inscribed upon your soul.