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t was uncharacteristically gray and rainy in Lion’s Arch, and if Uriel had put much store in portents she might not have visited the guild registrar that day. Morisedd had left the city to pay his regards to Sywno and store their possessions with the Dunvael guild. Lemony was now at the Temple of Dwayna in the upper city. They were all due to reconvene late in the afternoon to see if what land was available for their new guild.
“You will be happy to know there is no other guild that has that name on record,” the man said pleasantly. It had taken her nearly two hours of standing around to finally get this appointment and she was eager to return to the inn for a brief nap. The long journey over the sea always wore her out and they had arrived very late the prior evening. They had been lucky to get a room.
“Excellent,” she said with a weary lack of enthusiasm. How ironic that the moment she had dreamed of for so many years had arrived and she was too tired and cynical to enjoy it fully. Still, when she was finally standing in the comfort of a guild hall, she would have plenty to celebrate. Cantha had caused her to regard everything up until that moment as one in a long series of delays
“The price to register a guild does not include the emblem or the hall. The entire endeavor can be quite costly.”
“I’m aware of that. Please proceed.”
She watched him draw up the charter and begin the process of entering her name and the information about her guild into a vast leather bound tome. A sheaf of papers was placed before her and she signed them, after which he placed a stamp and seal. Before the final paper was completed, she pushed a pouch of coins toward him and he counted them out carefully.
“Congratulations, Madame Ninnocha, you are now the leader of the Hand of Tasos. Long may your guild prosper and grow,” the man said pleasantly, rising to shake her hand.
“Thank you,” she replied, bowing with her pouch of paperwork clutched beneath her arm and heading for the guild emblemer. Again she waited for nearly an hour until at last she was seated at a battered table. She spread out her paperwork to show that she was the leader of a legitimate guild. Until she saw the choice of fabrics and insignia, she had not thought beyond the basic design of her guild’s emblem. She knew she wanted an open palm and had considered a white cloak to emulate the one worn by members of the Order of the Crystal Palm. Now the brooding gray day gave her a strange turn of mood and she chose black with a silvery outline of a hand. If she was to lead a shadow guild, she might as well look like one, she decided.
Clutching a bundle of extra cloaks for her friends, she left the dim little room at last and noted the time on the city clock. Sighing, she made her way toward the docks, realizing that by the time she got there, her friends should be arriving to meet up. She had no sooner threaded past a cluster of sodden fishermen and dock workers than did she find Lemony trying to match the steps of a lone pair of dancing men. The two were laughing at her expense but the little monk did not seem to mind.
“Haven’t you scoundrels got anything better to do?” Uriel muttered, blinking the rain from her eyes. What was Lemony thinking standing out here in the damp and cold, with unsavory strangers to boot?
“What’s it to you, Mistress Fire?” said the taller of the two, a handsome dark-haired man with a distinctly sinister glint in his hazel eyes. The other snickered unpleasantly. He put her in mind of Pendaran with his reddish brown hair and rakish mustache, but he was heavier set and scarred like a thug.
“Looks like the monklet owes us another coin. Little fool, you should watch where you put your clumsy feet.”
Lemony laughed and flipped the shorter man a coin. Uriel grasped her shoulder.
“Come, Lem, we don’t have time for this and I don’t trust them.”
“Strange, we don’t trust you either,” said the taller man. Uriel felt the hair of her nape rise.
“They’re here for a little boat ride to an island,” said the other, “I think we should oblige them.”
“This is a rather bad part of town,” the tall one sneered, “Good thing you ran into us first.”
The sound of their mocking laughter put her in mind of carrion crows. Uriel nudged Lemony ahead of her on the pier and turned to leave. She was afraid now and she scanned the shoreline for signs of Morisedd. Of all the times to be late, she hoped it would not be today. Her stomach flipped as she heard the man utter a swift incantation. Suddenly she could barely move her feet.
“Where do you think you’re going? You’re our guests, you can’t leave.”
“That was mean!” Lemony cried, “How dare you hex my friend. I should watch my manners if I were you.”
Not surprisingly, they laughed at Lemony.
“You haven’t seen mean yet, little monk. If I was you, I’d avoid making Willem angry,” the shorter of the two laughed.
Lemony chanted a prayer to Dwayna to release Uriel from the hex but had scarcely uttered a few words when she winced in pain and the spell died in her mouth. Her eyes were round with shock as she looked at the taller man.
“How dare you!”
Uriel could feel the hex releasing its grasp. She reached for Lemony’s arm too late to stop her from throwing herself at the men. The little monk’s balled fists clubbed the startled rogue on the ears. Then, once his surprise wore off, the burlier of the two twirled her around violently and jerked her arm up behind her back. She shrieked in pain when her attempts to stomp on his booted feet were met with a harsh twist and the unpleasant pop of a dislocated shoulder.
Uriel was trembling with rage and fear. Without thinking she felt the door to the realm of fire burning open with in her. One of them was no longer a threat while holding Lemony, but the one called Willem met her gaze and she could tell he was preparing to stop her. Gods curse mesmers. She hated them.
“I would not use your slow little fire spells against me,” Willem growled, “Come quietly and your friend won’t be hurt any further.”
Uriel glanced at the shore. The rain was coming down in buckets now and had driven nearly everyone indoors, including the city guard. Gods, why did this have to happen now? Lemony was sobbing with pain, afraid to make the smallest movement.
“Go get Murdi,” the little monk cried.
Uriel hesitated. On the one hand, it was stupid for both of them to get captured if one could escape. On the other, she just could not abandon Lemony.
“It’s not worth both of us suffering! Run!”
She silently apologized to Lemony and turned to flee, her boot heels pounding over the slick planks as she pelted toward the city. She heard Willem swear angrily and shout something at his partner. Lemony shrieked in pain, a sound that tore at Uriel but she dared not slow her pace now. Once on the shore she cried out for help, banging on doors until one opened to reveal a startled den of drinking fishermen.
“My friend... on the docks… kidnapped. Please help!”
To her relief, several of the men donned jackets and raced toward the docks. She trotted after them, guiding them toward the pier where the abduction had occurred. The two men had already fled and taken Lemony with them. Swearing, she pushed past the fisherman and ran to the end of the pier. Where could they have gone in so short a time?
“Uriel!”
She spun around to see Morisedd running toward her, his long jacket flaring around his narrow frame. A pair of young rangers had come with him although she did not immediately recognize them in the rainy gloom. Speechless, she raised her hand and gestured toward the dark smear of a little boat scudding away from them upon the roiling waves. She could barely make out Lemony’s pale form curled in the prow while the two villains worked the oars.
“They have Lemony!” she cried. Morisedd scowled, his sharp eyes taking the measure of the gap between he and the kidnappers and deciding he could not possibly shoot them from that range.
“I need a boat and men to row it. I will pay handsomely.”
One of the fishermen gestured toward the shore where a larger boat had been drawn out on the sand. Three others joined them, thanking Morisedd for the handful of gold he gave them in advance. Within moments they had pushed the boat into the water. Uriel waded in to take her place beside Morisedd.
“No, go back and alert Sywno,” he told her.
“Lemony is my friend and I’m going.”
Morisedd opened his mouth and then smirked.
“Brioc, run back to alert Sywno.”
The young ranger sighed and nodded, jumping off the boat with a distinctly sulky look upon his face. Nevertheless, he was swift and graceful as he rushed up the hill toward the city gate and vanished from sight. Uriel sat down on the bench beside Morisedd shaking with adrenalin and cold. He removed his overcoat and drew it over her shoulders to shelter her from the rain. Tears poured from her eyes.
“I’ll never forgive myself if they…” she couldn’t say it. The very thought that Lemony might die tore her heart in two. Morisedd wrapped his arms around her while she wept.
“It’s not over yet,” he said quietly, “I can still see them and these men know how to row. We’ll teach them not to tangle with The Hand of Tasos.”
Uriel swallowed and nodded, pulling herself together.
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