The Trahiad Read online

  She saw the man trying to reach for something in his cloak—a dagger, most likely—so she pushed his arm up higher until she heard a pop. The man screamed. Elisa let go of her grip and let him fall to the floor.

  “Keep to yourself,” Elisa said and she spat on the man. Turning to the rest of the patrons she added, “that goes for all of you.” She noticed Delia step away and nod her appreciation, and she also noticed the innkeeper glaring at her. We’ll probably need to leave soon. Innkeepers never liked troublemakers. Even though that lout started it!

  “What are you doing!” Wyatt exclaimed as he grabbed her by the arm.

  She could tell she upset him from the look of concern on his face. He didn’t like her in the Slums to begin with—despite it being their home—and especially didn’t like it when she entered inns or taverns in the Slums.

  “These men!” Wyatt continued to hiss. “They’re dangerous to, well, you know—”

  “Women?” Elisa finished for him. “Wyatt, I know I’m not a baby girl anymore and you find it odd I’m looking more and more like a woman, but a woman I am. And men are noticing!”

  “Exactly!” Wyatt said as he peered around the room intently, trying to determine if anyone was listening.

  Elisa couldn’t help but laugh. She loved seeing her brother like this, overprotective and concerned for her safety. He had been protecting her since they moved to Alderidon many years ago. But she also knew it was time for her to protect herself and contributing to the family. With that thought, her grin widened.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Wyatt said again as he moved her toward the front door, but Elisa shook her head.

  “Can’t leave just yet, Wyatt. I have something urgent to tell you,” Elisa said. “Is there a room we can talk in?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Talk in? Elisa, I almost had another job. I would only take a week this time, but it pays well—”

  Elisa frowned. “Pays well? You’re guarding smuggled goods, Wyatt. And they pay you copper! They almost caught you last time. And for what? Copper! If you get caught, they’ll hang you!”

  When she saw Wyatt wince, she realized she had been yelling. Whereas before the men were looking at her for her figure, now they were looking with gleaming eyes expecting a fight. She noticed several men fingering concealed weapons. Dragon’s blood, these men are scum.

  “I didn’t mean that,” Elisa whispered coldly, and she saw another wince from Wyatt. Still too bloody harsh.

  “I’m trying to provide and protect,” Wyatt said coldly. “It’s difficult. Ever since Mum and Da died. I mean, I was just a boy. I don’t have skills. I don’t—”

  “Oh, stop pouting,” Elisa said, trying to sound tough, but her voice betrayed her. I hate when my voice shakes.

  Wyatt smiled sadly at her and nodded with understanding. They’d had this conversation a hundred times before. Wyatt always tried to find honest work, but always ended up falling back to the jobs his network would provide—which were illegal and poor in pay.

  But that’s all about to change.

  “Can we please find a room?” Elisa asked.

  “It costs money,” Wyatt said, and under his breath added, “which we don’t have at the moment.”

  Elisa wanted to scream in frustration until she saw Delia approach.

  “I couldn’t help but hear you two—talking,” Delia said carefully.

  Elisa frowned, and Wyatt sighed.

  “I talked to Master Hil, he said you can go into the storage room behind the kitchen. Follow me, we’ll take you to as much privacy as we can provide,” Delia said and moved away toward the kitchen.

  “Thank the Creator,” Wyatt mumbled as they followed. “There is someone with a heart in this cursed place!”

  As they entered the kitchen, Elisa vowed to never eat at an inn in the Slums again. Dirty pots covered counters crusted with chunks of food, many of which had rodents or bugs crawling across them. The floors weren’t any better. She could see signs of wood underneath, but there were black streaks that she knew was a mixture of dirt and who knew what else. The way a rat stopped and licked the floor made her gag. She saw a mop and bucket, but filled with what she assumed was water, soap, and… vomit. She was grateful that the head of the brush was immersed in the water. I can’t imagine what’s growing on that. She was grateful she hadn’t eaten anything.

  She heard a gag and turned to look at Wyatt, whose eyes were wide and he had his hand covering his mouth.

  “What?” Elisa asked. “You look like you just swallowed garbage!”

  Wyatt nodded slowly; his face paling with each nod. “I think I did,” he said carefully, trying to hold the contents were in his stomach.

  She stopped. “Wait? Did you eat here? At the Hogswallow?”

  Wyatt nodded slowly, his face aghast.

  She couldn’t stop the laughter from exploding. “Wyatt!” she exclaimed. “It’s the Hogswallow. There’s a reason this has the roughest patrons in the Slums! The Hogswallow! The name by itself should be enough of a warning!”

  “I was hungry,” Wyatt tried to defend. “Now I know why the meat tasted rotten. It was rotten!”

  “Gross,” Elisa said, and feigned a gag.

  They were grateful when they were through the kitchen and led to a compact storage room behind. The room was filled with crates of food—Elisa didn’t want to look at them too closely for fear of seeing more rot—discarded wooden pallets, and other odds and ends, but it was big enough for them to stand in, and when Wyatt closed the door, it felt like they were alone.

  “What is it?” Wyatt asked. “Like I said, I had almost closed another job. What was so important that we had to talk in private?”

  Elisa couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

  “Tell me,” Wyatt plead as he saw her smile. “What’s the wonderful news?”

  “It’s the Trahiad,” Elisa finally answered. “They are recruiting. Announced this morning.”

  Wyatt’s mouth dropped. “Are you serious?” he asked, slightly skeptical. Then he shook his head. He always looks silly when he shakes that overgrown head of his. “You can’t be serious. Elisa, if you are playing some cruel joke on me… I’m not in the mood for it!” His voice raised as he continued to shake his head. “I had a job. I can’t get my hopes up. I had a job…”

  He made his way toward the common room, but Elisa held out her hand and pushed it firmly against his chest. “I’m serious, Wyatt. Look.”

  Carefully, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. She unrolled it, turning it carefully until she showed Wyatt the contents within.

  Wyatt’s mouth dropped.

  She turned it over so she could see it and smiled at the contents. There was a triangle made of swords surrounding a dragon’s head. The mark of the Trahiad. There was a simple poem written within. She read it out loud.

  “Swords, dragons, plunder, and flagons. The mark of the Trahiad is calling for wagons. Wagons of treasures, and wagons of loot, now all we need are twelve pairs of boots. Search in the sewers if you have the courage to play, but you better act quickly, for final invitations come end of the day.”

  Wyatt’s grin grew. “This is our chance. Finally! It’s our chance,” he stated again as he rubbed his hand through his hair. Then skepticism spread across his face. “Is this for real?” he asked. She could tell he was afraid of the answer.

  Elisa smiled. “I verified it with Jestor. He confirmed it’s real.”

  Wyatt reached forward, picked her up, and gave her a giant hug. “Elisa, do you know what this means?”

  She smiled again and hugged him back. “Yes, Wyatt, we finally have our chance!”

  “We finally have our chance,” Wyatt whispered back. He was close to her, close enough that she felt something wet hit her face. She looked up and saw him crying. Her own eyes burned, but she fought her tears back. I will not cry at a time like this. I will stay strong. We will do this.

  “Elisa, we h
ave a chance to join something that is better than anything we’ve ever had,” Wyatt said. He was filled with hope. “Sure, they are thieves. Sure, they break the law. But they are organized. They are a family. They will protect us. They’ll protect you. Dear Creator, I won’t have to worry about those scumbag men trying to—”

  Elisa cleared her throat. “I know, Wyatt. I know what it means. We’ll be protected. We’ll have steady incomes. We’ll have a roof over our heads. We’ll have—”

  “A second chance,” Wyatt finished for her. He laughed as he stepped back to give her some space. As she looked at him, she noticed his face grow cloudy and his lips scrunch up in a grimace.

  “What?” Elisa asked.

  “The riddle,” he said. “We’ll have to solve it, and if it’s anything like the past riddles during their recruiting, we’ll have to steal something to prove our worth. It will be challenging, probably the most challenging thing we’ve ever done. And there is so much on the line. If we fail now… this is our one chance at joining the Trahiad. If we fail… we’ll never be able to join the Trahiad.”

  “Stop it, Wyatt,” Elisa scolded. “I’m already nervous enough. I don’t need you filling my head full of doubts.”

  Wyatt let out a booming laugh. “Doubts? I was listing all the reasons I’m confident we’ll succeed. We have you, little sis. With your brains and my brawn, nothing can stop us. Right?”

  Elisa kept replaying all the things Wyatt had said in her mind. “Right,” she said with less confidence than her brother. I pray to the Creator that we can!

  “Then let’s get started solving the riddle. It ends with ‘for final invitations come end of the day’,” Wyatt said, quoting the invitation. “That must mean we need to find them before tonight. We have to get going,” Wyatt said. He grabbed the piece of paper from Elisa and read it through several times. “Swords, dragons, plunder, and flagons—that’s the mark of the Trahiad—that’s simple enough to understand,” Wyatt deciphered. “And ‘calling for wagons of treasure and loot’… that’s just what the Trahiad is about,” he reasoned.

  Elisa nodded excitedly. “Twelve pairs of boots—that must be who will get the treasure or loot. They must be recruiting up to twelve people. We need to make sure it’s us!”

  Wyatt nodded. “Search in the sewers if you have the courage to play… the sewers,” he said with a disgusted look. “More filth. We need to figure out where to go in the sewers. That’s our first test, and we have a time limit to find it. Sounds like this invitation isn’t complete unless we find them somewhere in the sewers before the end of the day…” he trailed off with a troubled look.

  “What’s wrong,” Elisa said with a wry smile.

  Wyatt continued to frown and rubbed his fingers on his chin.

  When he didn’t look up, Elisa coughed to get his attention. He looked up, confused. Then his confusion turned to hope when he saw Elisa smiling. “Wait, do you know where to go in the sewers? Do you know how to solve the first test?” Wyatt asked eagerly.

  Elisa’s grin widened. “Of course, I know,” she said, satisfied. “Racin Poe and some of the Trahiad had an altercation with the Guard last night and I watched the entire thing. But more importantly… I followed them afterward. Which means I know exactly where to go and exactly how to solve the riddle.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Wyatt responded, an enormous smile forming across his face.

  They smiled together, nodded, and then hurried out of the Hogswallow Inn, for what Elisa hoped was the last time.

  Today is our chance for freedom.

  2

  A Search In The Sewers

  Two key characteristics that guarantee success are listening and observing. And they are intricately connected. For if one listens, they can understand what exactly needs to be done to succeed. And if one observes, many times it lays the solution to succeed out before them. Too often we move at such a pace that we ignore what is being said and we miss the signs that would otherwise guarantee our success. My counsel—listen and observe.

  Elisa and Wyatt stopped as they reached the Merchants District. It was located right off of Stith, and they had to step to the side to stay clear of the many carts and wagons bustling down the cobblestone street. It was close to midday, and the city was busy at work: merchants inviting patrons into their buildings, peddlers selling from makeshift shops crammed into any open space along the streets, servants tidying up after their masters as best they could, and people shuffling through the many offerings to find the best deal as they fulfilled their daily errands.

  A perfect time to blend in and disappear, Elisa thought as she looked at a building across the street from them.

  “Are you sure this is it?” Wyatt asked as he stared at the building Elisa was regarding. It looked like every other building on the street. It was two stories tall, the first floor covered in stone, and the second covered in stucco that rose to a steeple that held a wooden roof.

  “Yes, Wyatt, for the fifteenth time,” Elisa responded with thick annoyance.

  “That was the second time, third at most!” Wyatt defended.

  Elisa ignored him. I hope this is it. No, she knew this was right. I recognized where Racin had come from because I’ve been in this building before.

  The main floor of the building was an old flower shop, the owner a blind lady named Haps Cauth. She was at least ninety years old and had been putting together flowers for decades. They were the most beautiful bouquets that Elisa had ever seen. It’d be nice to receive a bouquet at least once in my life.

  “At Mistress Cauth’s?” Wyatt said, unconvinced. “I highly doubt—”

  “Yes, Wyatt!” Elisa whispered harshly, cutting him off. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  Wyatt shrugged his massive shoulders and smirked. It made Elisa cringe. He always makes that cursed face when he thinks I’m being stupid.

  “It’s Mistress Cauth,” Wyatt reasoned, his tone on the cusp of lecturing. Elisa could tell he was holding back from rolling his eyes. “You’re telling me that Mistress Cauth is involved with the Trahiad?”

  “Of course it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Elisa said as she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she took a deep breath. “But, I never said she’s involved with the Trahiad. I simply stated that this is where Racin Poe entered the sewers.”

  “If you say so,” Wyatt said, quietly. She glared at him from the corner of her eye and could have sworn she saw him whistling. Whistling! As if he’s amused!

  She shook her head to clear her mind. “Now, let me go over this again. She’s blind, so she won’t be able to tell who we are.”

  “I’m not taking advantage of Mistress Cauth,” Wyatt stated, emphatically. “She gave me a yellow rose a few years back when I was down on my luck. Said I looked like I needed a pick me up. Though she’s blind…” he stopped as he pondered the irony. “So not sure how she could tell… but she was right, and it meant a lot to me!”

  Even Wyatt has received a flower? Why do I only attract those grimy men from the Slums? She shook her head again. “I appreciate your fond memory,” she said flatly, “but I intend for you to distract her long enough for us to search for a trapdoor. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to avoid her completely.”

  She could tell from the look on Wyatt’s face that he wasn’t pleased.

  “Do you want to join the Trahiad or not?” Elisa asked.

  “Fine,” Wyatt conceded.

  “Then listen up. I’ll call for you when I’ve found the trapdoor. I’m certain I already know which room it is in as most of these buildings have the same floor plan,” Elisa continued.

  “Whatever you say. Let’s just get this over with,” Wyatt grumbled.

  Elisa put a hand in front of her mouth to stifle a grin.

  “What?” Wyatt asked.

  “You always look so funny when you are pouting because you don’t get your way. You look like a big… giant… baby,” she said, snickering.

  Wyatt pushed her into t
he street and said, “Get on with it, Elisa. We’re running out of time.”

  She had to dodge an approaching cart and turned back to glare at Wyatt. But she saw him smiling and knew her comment had relaxed him. Can’t fault Wyatt for wanting to do the right thing. She wished that she could. Instead, we’re trying to solve a riddle to join an elite group of thieves. My parents would be so disappointed. If we had parents.

  They crossed the street quickly and entered Mistress Cauth’s shop. As they entered the flower shop an aroma of flowers, herbs, and dirt greeted them along with a blast of warm, humid air. Wyatt waved a hand in front of his face—he never liked the smell of nature—and Elisa took what she figured would be her last deep breath. I’d rather inhale this than the smells below. She was more used to the sewers than she cared to admit.

  “Can I help you?” a rickety voice called out from behind a counter.

  Elisa turned to find Mistress Cauth facing her, but all she could see was a bundle of gray hair behind the counter. Wow! She’s short! She turned to Wyatt and mouthed, “she can’t see us… let’s go.”

  “Is someone there?” Mistress Cauth asked. “I thought I heard something?”

  Elisa took a step toward the back door, stepping carefully as she assumed that the floorboards were probably about as old—and rickety—as Mistress Cauth.

  “Curse me, must be my ears playing tricks on me,” Mistress Cauth reasoned. Then she went back to whatever she was doing behind the counter.

  Elisa made it to the far door and pushed it open but stopped when she realized she was alone. Turning back around, her face grew fiery with frustration as she saw Wyatt staring at the counter and the florist behind it. Curse me! “Wyatt!” she hissed as loud as she dared.