Chapter 2
They stepped out into the night. A fresh breeze came and went in sighs, with only the barest hint of the sulfurous stench from the sewers. The veranda was almost as crowded as the room they had emerged from, and the street beyond no less busy than it had been this morning. Reflections of firelight from the streetlamps sparkled on the cobblestones, smoothed by centennial comings and goings of feet, hooves and wheels. Behind the jagged outlines of roofs and chimneys, a full moon was rising, veiled by thin clouds. It felt good to be outside. When Tav stretched, every joint in his spine popped.
“Didn’t imagine that leaving the tavern with a city official would be the highlight of my first day here.”
“Hm?” said his pale friend. They fell into step, walking down the street.
“Can’t say I’ve met many magistrates outside the courtroom.”
“Oh.” Astarion cleared his throat. “Have you spent a lot of time in courtrooms?”
“Some.”
“Whatever for?”
“Vile allegations against the purity of my intentions when I was caught on other people’s property, mostly. With some of their belongings inexplicably found in my possession.”
In truth, Tav had only been caught once, and on a fully legitimate raid. The same raid that had left a gash in his armor. There’d been an ambush, and by the time the fighting was over, only three of his party, which had initially numbered a dozen, still drew breath. Callimer Naerth could’ve executed him. But instead, he tried to intimidate an inexperienced, young adjudicator into fining Tav’s family for trespassing and thievery, which would’ve been much worse, as far as Mother was concerned: not only because of the public humiliation, but also because their coffers were quite empty. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. The adjudicator managed to prolong the proceedings until Talice showed up, decked out in regalia and righteous outrage, and saved Tav, yet again.
“How dreadful,” said the pale elf mirthfully. “But you needn’t worry. I leave work at home when I go out at night.”
To hunt.
The thought touched Tav like a whisper, so hushed he was only sure he hadn’t made it up on account of the alien feelings that washed over him with it. Fear, disgust, and above all, desperation. Chills went up his scales. It was all he could do to keep walking and not betray his sudden confusion.
“So,” Astarion said. “What’s brewing in that lovely head of yours?”
Despite everything, Tav’s breath caught at the offhand compliment. “I uh… well, this morning I overheard a pair of maids near an inn just up the road, talking about something strange they found in one of the guest rooms.”
“An inn just up the road? You mean The Sleeping Giant?”
“I forgot the name. But it’s got a fancy gate, stables, and all sorts of outhouses. Way above my means.”
“Could be no other. The Sleeping Giant is the only inn decent enough to take patriars’ gold this side of Lower City. What did the maids find?”
“A golden idol of some kind. Magical, at least in their esteem. One said it made a strange, humming sound, and the other, that it felt warm to the touch, and was too heavy to lift.”
In truth, there’d been no conversation to overhear, and only a single maid. Tav picked up the girl’s thoughts while she swept in front of the gate as he passed by.
“A golden idol too heavy to lift? That would be worth a fortune, if there’s any truth to it.”
“My thinking exactly.”
They’d been ambling down the street, and hadn’t made much distance from the tavern, but now Astarion took Tav by the elbow and turned them the way they came. “Why, we must investigate this oddity at once! For all we know, it might imperil the good citizens lodged there, and we can’t have that, can we?”
“Public safety first,” Tav replied, laughing. Astarion’s arm was light as a feather on his, those freezing fingers laid over the back of Tav’s hand with a familiarity that sent pulses of pleasant arousal through him with each slow step uphill.
“If I may ask,” Astarion said after a minute, “why didn’t you investigate the golden idol at once?”
Tav sighed. “The sun kills me. Burns my skin and pokes holes in my eyes. Also, in this garb, I stand out like a broken thumb unless I’m in the shadows. I’m a creature of the night.”
The pale elf hummed with amusement. “Do your golden scales offer no protection?”
“Not for the eyes, I’m afraid.”
“Your eyes are golden too.”
“Yours are like blood and wine. One could get drunk just looking at them.”
Astarion’s grip on Tav’s arm tightened. “That’s… sweet.”
Tav glanced at him, but he kept his eyes on the street, his profile etched against the moonlight like a sculpture. In the familiar blues of the dark, he seemed even paler, and older. There was something fragile in the traces of the smile still lingering on his lips. Something profoundly sad.
Tav covered his hand with his own and felt him start, but then relax.
“Your hands are cold,” Tav murmured.
“Poor circulation,” Astarion murmured back. “But worry not. I will be perfectly able to take care of any locks that might stand in our way.”
A typical skill for a magistrate, that.
“I’m not worried. The room is on the second floor, but we should be able to get in through the windows.”
Astarion laughed. “You already have the whole thing planned, I see.”
“An empty purse and an empty belly will do that to a man.”
“Yes. Necessity is the mother of all crime.”
The truth was, Tav hadn’t intended to go back there, magical golden idol waiting to be “investigated” or not, before meeting Astarion. “I still hope to find honest work,” he said out loud. “Necessity had driven me to… less-than-honest work before, but not as a rule. I made my living as head of security for one of the noble houses in Undreaeth.” A practiced lie, it rolled off his tongue like nothing.
“What changed?”
“Ah. It’s a long, unsavory story.” That much was true, at least. Mother’s face, disfigured by hate, flashed in his mind’s eye. Thin-blood ingrate! You’re not half the person Talice was, and you never will be! She wasn’t wrong. “Perhaps I’ll tell you another time.”
“Only if it’s full of blood and intrigue, darling. Personal histories bore me otherwise.”
“Sounds like you guessed half of mine already.”
Astarion let out another high-pitched giggle and Tav smiled in reply. Fleetingly, he tried to remember the last time he fell into talk with someone so easily, so naturally—when he last liked someone at first sight and continued liking them after it—and he couldn’t, not all the way back before Talice died. He’d taken a handful of lovers since but none who stirred him past the needs of the flesh. Ah, how she’d laugh, if she could see him now. He could not have picked a worse subject for his wishful affections if he had gone looking for one on purpose.
They walked on, practically dragging their feet. Astarion’s hand wasn’t getting warmer under Tav’s. Quite the reverse, though the wine, the nerves and the steep ascent made sweat trickle from his armpits. He looked at the pale elf sidelong. The moon shone through his silver hair like the dancing lights of Eilistraee. But his brow was pinched.
Once more, Tav tried to touch his mind—and once more, he was repelled at the gates of the crimson fortress. But a single thought got through.
Gods, what am I doing?
The same question Tav had asked himself, back in the tavern.
“Here we are,” he announced gently, sad to interrupt the strange, intimate silence.
Astarion lifted his chin to survey the imposing, three-story building ahead, with its wide front yard, stone walls adorned with little windows and a charming tiled roof, and the tall gate that gleamed in the torchlight like gold.
Then he cocked a wicked eyebrow at Tav. “Shall we?”
That they worked well together came as no surprise.
Upon passing through the gilded gate, they were stopped by a well-equipped guard who inquired about their business, as some lordling was celebrating the birth of his first son inside. By silent agreement, Astarion did the talking, while Tav hid under his cloak, its magic tuned to make him appear uninteresting and nonthreatening. Astarion slipped into the guise of a haughty noble so smoothly and effortlessly that Tav stared from under his hood just as slack-jawed as the poor guard, who, despite serving a noble himself, fell to apologizing and stuttering like a newly minted recruit and let them through without so much as a lookover.
Tav giggled, still clinging to his pale friend’s arm. “That was flawless.”
“I know,” Astarion said, chin held high. “But now it’s your turn, darling.”
Another step took them outside the circle of torchlight, and Tav draped an arm around Astarion’s shoulders, pulling him under his cloak. “This way.”
Unobserved, they walked briskly into the shadows between the main building and the stables.
“You know which room it’s in?” Astarion whispered.
“Yes. We can climb up here.” Tav pointed at the neat stack of fresh firewood, left outside to season. A row of dark windows overlooked it from the second-floor corridor leading to the rooms. All of this, and more, he had gleamed from the girl’s mind. He knew the maids avoided the upper floors at night, keeping well away from drunk, entitled guests going in and out at all hours. One of the guards was supposed to patrol the corridors from sunset to sunrise but the tour was long and the man underpaid, so he could not be counted on to appear on time should a maid raise an alarm.
“How convenient,” Astarion said.
“Let me boost you up.”
He was light as a feather, quick and silent like an owl. Before Tav knew it, he was up on top of the wood pile. “Seems solid enough,” he said, testing the logs on the edge with a boot.
But Tav is not as lithe as he, and as he leapt and pulled himself up, the logs started to shift. Astarion caught him under the armpits and helped him up just as he resigned himself to the mercy of Eilistraee: had the pile toppled, it would’ve made noise worthy of an earthquake. Their eyes met, wide with fright, and they burst into giggles like a pair of boys.
Tav hadn’t experienced such glee, such excitement, in years, and something told him his friend felt the same. As their laughter subsided, they kept looking in one another’s eyes. Taken by sudden certainty that the moment was right, Tav stepped closer, and Astarion stood his ground, and they would’ve kissed if not for the firelight approaching through the windows.
They ducked as one, huddling under Tav’s cloak, and fell into another fit of giggles as the dim orange glow trailed over them, then disappeared.
Tav made to move, but his friend’s grip on his wrist tightened. “They’re coming back.”
That was the guard on patrol, then, carrying a torch. It was very fortunate: they’d have plenty of time before his tour would bring him back here again.
When the firelight passed them once more, they rose and Astarion inspected the closest window. “Should be easy,” he muttered, producing a slender dagger. The steel flashed briefly in a strip of moonlight as he slid the blade between the panes, feeling for a bolt. There was a scrape, a click, and the panes silently swung inwards.
“You work wonders, friend,” Tav whispered, though in truth, he would’ve probably managed a lock as simple as that himself.
“Wait till you see me in bed,” Astarion whispered back.
Tav stumbled, getting in, and once more Astarion saved him from making a racket by gripping his arm just in time.
“This one’s on you!” Tav hissed, half-terrified, half-laughing.
“All according to plan, my dear.”
Tav bolted the window behind them and started down the corridor, taking Astarion’s hand. It was still as cold as death. Tav’s was hot and sweaty but the pale elf didn’t seem to mind.
They stopped in front of the door Tav had seen in the girl’s thoughts, the number 9 carved in the middle. Carefully, he pressed his ear to it, but he could hear nothing past his wild heartbeat.
He stepped back and nodded. “All yours.”
Without a sound, Astarion dropped on his knees, and pulled a lock-picking toolkit from inside his doublet. It was no larger than a coin-purse, and not too different from the one Tav carried in his pack, though he mostly used his for tinkering with artifacts rather than picking locks. A dozen delicate probes and pincers gleamed from the pockets like surgical instruments as Astarion unrolled the soft leather. He took one in each hand, not even looking, and got to work.
Dim firelight and sounds of merriment came from the staircase at the other end of the corridor. Drunken voices rose in song. The drumming of dancing feet followed soon after. Tav took a breath to remark they might not hear the guard coming, but just then the lock made a satisfied click and Astarion rose, putting away his kit, all in one smooth motion.
“After you,” he said with another of his charming little bows, and Tav briefly entertained a fantasy where he’d pin him to the door as soon as they entered and wipe that cheeky smirk from his lips with a kiss he’d not forget in a hurry.
But as they slid inside, Tav’s attention was gripped by the unmistakable hum of magic.
“Do you feel that?” he asked in a whisper, looking around. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with barely enough space to step around the bed.
“What?” Astarion said. He had already opened the ponderous wardrobe that loomed in the corner by the window.
“Magic.”
“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. Oh, this is nice.”
He draped a silken shawl around his shoulders, posing in front of the oval glass hung on the wall. Something about the picture didn’t quite add up, but the tug of unfamiliar magic was too strong to resist, and Tav was drawn to the bedside cabinet like an iron splinter to a magnet. This was where the girl had seen the idol. Her memory, still fresh in his mind, mingled with his vision as he pulled out the drawer.
“Oh,” he uttered.
“Have you found the treasure?” Astarion materialized by Tav’s side, gripping his shoulder as he stood on tiptoes to look over it. He gasped. “Goodness. And just when I thought I’d seen everything.”
Tav blinked, confounded. “This is not what I expected. Whatever it is.”
“What do you mean, whatever it is? It’s clearly a dildo. Though I’ve never seen one quite so… artistic.”
“Are you sure?” It looked like—well, not a fish, but—
“They do make them in all shapes and sizes, darling.”
Could he be right? The girl had thought of it as “an idol”, but perhaps it was because she didn’t know the word dildo, or because she was too embarrassed to use it even in the privacy of her own mind. And the way the image in her recollection had been blurred—Tav thought it was from the awe of magic, but it could’ve been sheer mortification.
Pushing past him, Astarion reached for it, but Tav took hold of his wrist in time. “Wait. There’s a spell on it.”
“A trap? It stands to reason, I suppose.” Making no effort whatsoever to reclaim his wrist from Tav’s grasp, Astarion leaned on him, and his hair brushed Tav’s cheek as he looked up. “If I were in possession of a massive golden sex toy, I wouldn’t want anyone to touch it without my permission either.”
Heat rushed into Tav’s face. Astarion’s skin was smooth under his fingers, his hair like feathers on Tav’s lips. The scent of lavender rose from the shawl around his neck, reminding Tav of Talice, her chambers and her clothes. But his hair smelled like citrus fruit and rain. Before he could think himself out of it, Tav nuzzled his soft curls.
“Now’s hardly the time, my dear,” Astarion said, making his voice delightfully soft. “We shouldn’t linger.”
“Right.”
Neither of them moved. Tav’s breathing became heavy. He touched Astarion’s chin, turning his face up, and his lips parted.
“Well?” he whispered as Tav hesitated. His hand hung in front of Tav, casually dangling next to the bulge in his breaches. “Go on, then.”
“The moment we’re out of here,” Tav whispered back.
“Promises, promises.” Astarion sighed, affecting irreparable disappointment, then danced away to check the cabinet on the other side of the bed.
Shaking his head clear, Tav focused on the… well. The dildo. As dubious as the idea seemed, he didn’t have a better one. It was certainly the right size. Swelling from a bulbous, flat-bottomed stand, it tapered toward the rounded tip in a smooth, luscious curve. His friend’s patronizing tone aside, Tav had seen such implements before, but never one cast in gold. If it was gold. It was polished to such a high sheen he could see the vague shape of his reflection moving over it like oil on water.
The enchantment sparked towards his hovering fingers, eager to connect. A… thunder spell? Its faint thrum sped up the closer Tav came to touching. He closed his eyes, abandoning the distractions of the bodily senses to better feel the spell with his magic. A single strand of the Weave wrapped around the thing in a hundred layers, with no beginning and no end, binding it to the physicality of the cabinet like a spider’s cocoon. That was why the maid had been unable to lift it, not the weight.
As usual, he didn’t really know if he could dispel the enchantment or not. With time enough for careful study, perhaps he could’ve unraveled it by means other than brute force. But they had minutes at best, not hours or days; and, well, brute force rarely fails him. With a silent prayer to Eilistraee, Tav loosed his power.
Colors exploded in his vision, thunder roared in his ears, but when he opened his eyes, the room looked exactly as it had moments ago. Astarion was bent over the cabinet, prying open its lock, apparently oblivious to Tav’s efforts. Good! Good. Often his efforts result in explosions that manifest in the material plane too. He exhaled his relief—then looked down.
The golden dildo was in his hand, alluringly smooth, heavy and cool.
“It’s not gold,” he said. “It’s gold-coated glass. The spell kept it tied to its place.”
Just then, the lock on the cabinet clicked open. Astarion froze and looked at Tav. “Ah.” He put his kit away. “If I’m honest, it did sound too good to be true.”
“Perhaps you’ll have better luck.”
He scoffed. “With my luck, we’ll be caught, tried and hanged, all before first light.”
Tav knew he hadn’t been entirely serious, but his words were sobering. Unless Tav had read everything that had happened tonight completely wrong, getting caught and punished by the law was the last thing Astarion would worry about. “You could say I forced you to come with me,” Tav blurted out.
He couldn’t see Astarion’s face when he laughed, leaning down to search the cabinet, but it wasn’t the high-pitched giggle this time. It was a deeper, slower laughter, weighed down with irony. “You’re sweet.”
Tav didn’t feel sweet. He felt foolish, and the glass toy in his hand wasn’t helping. It did look very nice, though. “This might still fetch a handsome price,” he mused. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Astarion turned to give him a look so dirty Tav’s cheeks flushed. “I think you should keep it. Ah-ha!” He lifted something triumphantly, and Tav heard the unmistakable jingle of coins. A heavy-looking pouch dangled from Astarion’s hand. “And I will keep this.”
Relieved laughter bubbled out of Tav. “It’s only fair.”
“Put that away, darling, and let us be on our way before my luck catches up.”
“Right.” But even as Tav unstrapped his pack, the inscrutable feeling that had come over him when they’d entered the room, returned. There was something he was missing. Like a word at the tip of his tongue, it eluded him. He stared at the mirror, hung on the wall. He couldn’t see his reflection in it from where he was standing, but—
“What is it?” his friend asked.
He took breath to say something—he didn’t know what—but then he almost dropped the heavy hunk of glass as it vibrated in his hand.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It moved,” Tav gasped, holding the dildo out. “It—”
It did it again! Spooked, he tossed it on the bed. Obviously, there was another spell on it, which he’d failed to detect, and—
The dildo buzzed, making them both jump away. Then it started… shaking, to and fro, slowly advancing over the silky cover.
Astarion was the first to gather his wits. “Well, that’s… Oh, my.” He chuckled, then outright laughed. “How delightful!”
Only then did Tav understand. When in… use, the reverberating enchantment would drive the dildo to move, in a rhythm, back and forth. Or rather, in and out. He swallowed. The arousal he’d completely forgotten about stirred once more in his groin, shameless, blind and thirsty.
“Better catch it before it runs away,” Astarion teased. The obscene motion was taking the dildo toward the far edge of the bed.
As Tav’s hand wound around it once more, he caught the thread of the enchantment and realized it stretched far beyond the confines of this room. Someone—presumably the owner—held the other end by means of a matched magical device, such as a wand, a ring, or a bracelet. And when one vibrated, so did the other.
Which explained the non-too subtle change in the soundscape. The singing had ceased—replaced by yelling—and the floor shook with the thudding of several pairs of feet running up the stairs.
“We need to get out of here,” Tav said. “Now!”
To his credit, his pale friend didn’t lose a beat trying to question it, but spun at once and opened the window. “Not ideal,” he whined, already crouching up on the sill. Tav peered over his shoulder. The brightly lit front yard loomed at the end of a fifteen-foot drop. But at least it wasn’t swarming with guards. Yet.
As if challenged by his optimism, an alarm bell rung from somewhere to the left.
“Volatus plumarum,” he whispered, bathing them in a shower of silver sparks. “The spell will protect you. Jump!”
“Thieves,” a woman cried, bursting into the room. “Stop!”
But Tav had already thrown himself out of the window after Astarion.
Her next word rang with magic. “Glacies!”
The ground under him turned to ice but he hit it rolling and only the hem of his cloak caught the killing frost. “That was close!”
“Run,” Astarion cried.
Blurry figures poured out of the inn, shouting. The guard who’d let them pass was about to close the gate, but seeing them sprint, he left it and reached for his mace instead. Astarion was leading the way. Tav had to trust him to deal with the man while he turned and hurled a thunder bolt at the open window behind them. The woman whose fancy toy they’d stolen was framed in it, lit by an eerie aquamarine glow of the water crawling up her arms while she wove another spell. She wore form-fitting scale mail that shone as if made of mirrors. When Tav’s spell hit her, throwing her back—hopefully on the bed—it was as though someone had snuffer out a light.
It all happened fast enough that Tav got to witness Astarion in action. He used his momentum to slam a shoulder into the guard’s midriff, evading the swing of the mace with the fluid grace of a dancer. The man doubled up and staggered. Astarion was momentarily out of it too, reeling from the collision, but Tav caught up. All it took was a good shove at the guard’s shoulders and he toppled.
“Follow me,” Astarion said, and dashed through the gate.