Chapter 34.5: Victims of the Haven

As they passed through the remains of the tower’s door, Yissa flashed a grimacing glance at Ventyr. And her discomfort wasn’t unjustified.

The thick, oaken door wasn’t just broken open; it was shattered—up and down, top to bottom, along the side that would have once been shut tight with a lock, it looked like a bomb had gone off. Wild strokes of a blade seemed to scar the wood that was left, but where the door ended, there was nothing but ragged splinters.

Even over his shoulder, Vott noticed their wandering eyes. “Whoever they were, they wasted no time with manners. You should have seen the interior before we eliminated the debris.”

They crossed the round room, passed another door in much the same shape as the entrance, and followed the asura up a staircase. With nothing but a couple of rough-crafted stools left in the room they were departing, their creaking footsteps echoed off the stonework the whole way up.

Only upon stepping back out into the open air did Ventyr realize he’d been holding his breath. He let it go, taking in the walltop walkway they were now standing on. He looked down into the yard some twenty feet below and frowned, squinting at the main gate as though seeing it for the first time. He hadn’t recognized it before—he wouldn’t have known to recognize it. The tower door they’d just passed through was a wreck, brutally knocked in by blunt force, but the gate was fine. As far as fortress gates went, it was immaculate: well maintained, unharmed, even polished. Yes, when they’d come in by that way, even the chains and mechanics had sounded clean and functional. Something strange had happened here.

Ventyr’s attention returned to the walkway just as Vott came to a stop. Standing there in the torchlight at the edge of the tower battlements were two short, slender, and very hairy figures peering off past the parapets and into the darkening treeline. Their ears twitched in the direction of the newcomers.

“Rikkiti. Brizztikt,” the captain said, crossing his arms. “These people who would like to query you.”

The two jittered erect and turned to address all three of them with a quick but sloppy salute.

“Captain! And captain friends,” one greeted. Her white fur made that one easier to see than her counterpart, and the pitchy dance in her voice was as feminine as Ventyr knew skritt voices to get.

“All clear, Captain—Vott Captain,” she went on. “No trouble in forest. Rikkiti and Brizztikt keep watching—yes, keep watching. Keep listening.” She pointed to her mousy ear.

Vott shook his head. Clearly this wasn’t his first disjointed conversation with them. “Excelsior. That is— yes, very good, Rikkiti. However, I am not here to check the watches. This is Sergeant Ventyr, representing the Vigil. And this is Scholar Yissa, of the Durmand Priory.” He spoke more slowly to these two, more intentionally. “They want to— no, please tell them about the night of the attack. The ah-tack.”

The dark one’s face contorted, and he looked away. Those bulging, black eyes would have been impossible to follow in any light, but the turn and tilt of his head said everything. This one didn’t want to think about whatever had happened to them. Ventyr didn’t know what the worst would be, but he prepared himself for it.

The white skritt rested a slim, clawed hand on the other’s shoulder and nuzzled him before attending once more to the trio. “Yes, Captain,” she squeaked reluctantly. “Yes, yes. Skritt tell— Rikkiti tell. Tell all story—sad story. Rikkiti and Brizztikt all that left from old crew. All left. Last crew. Dead crew.” Rikkiti’s short muzzle dropped a bit.

Ventyr remained attentive to the skritt while simultaneously keeping one eye on the scholar. This information was important, and she had a way of derailing conversations. Her arms tight across her chest, though, Yissa seemed genuinely uninterested in responding in any way at all. “We’re very sorry for the loss of your comrades,” Ventyr said, bowing to the ratlike pair before them. “But we came for something you were holding for the Vigil: an object—many objects, actually. Objects of potentially great importance. Do you recall a large collection of crystalline fragments my order deposited here for a time?”

Rikkiti cocked her head to one side. It was impossible to tell where those pitch-black eyes focused, but the skeletal finger at her lip spoke of concentrated thought. “Crystal frag-mints?” She muttered to herself for only a moment before her mouth fell open, and her spherical eyes went even wider. “No, no—not frag-mints. Sergeant Sylvari mean shinies. Yes? Big pile. Big pile. Big pile—angry, purple shinies! Angry shinies. Sylvari mean angry shinies?”

“Yes,” Yissa chirped, finally entering the conversation. The cold expression that had dressed her face wasn’t entirely gone, but merely the mention of jade piqued the scholar’s usual excitement. “Angry, purple shinies is a horribly reductionistic epithet. Under other circumstances, I would disabuse you of it, but we don’t have the time, so yes: to speak your simplistic language, the sergeant indeed means that. Where are they?”

The two skritt exchanged an uncomfortable look, seeming to retract into themselves slightly.

“It is alright,” Ventyr insisted, as gently as he could to counter the frightening effect Yissa had had on the pair. “We are interested only in the—”

“Please, Alchemy,” Yissa broke in again, almost jumping a step toward the skritt, “reassure us that the shards are still here!”

Swaying anxiously, the white skritt swallowed. “No,” she groaned, now dancing with nervousness. “No, no. Angry purple shinies not here— no, not here. No shinies here, many days.”

“Many days,” Brizztikt echoed unexpectedly. “Attack. Attack on haven. Shinies lost.”

“Humans,” Rikkiti rasped, looking from her partner to the captain and the newcomers. “Humans come. Bad humans! Bad humans kill— they kill lionguard, all lionguard.”

“Not skritt,” the other moaned, looking away. “Bad humans leave skritt— leave Rikkiti, leave Brizztikt. Why skritt?”

Rikkiti put a hand on the other’s shoulder again, gently beginning to groom the fur with just the tips of her curled, little claws. She repeated after her friend. “Bad, bad humans, kill lionguard, leave skritt, take shinies. Old Captain, last Captain— he tell skritt: protect shinies!” Her attention fell to the wooden walkway they stood on. “But skritt lose shinies— all shinies. Shinies gone. Lionguard gone.”

Yissa hopped, physically leaving the ground, but Ventyr lowered a preemptive hand to the scholar’s shoulder to still and quiet her. He felt his own anxiety rising, bubbling just underneath his still solemn exterior. The store of jade here was gone? And stolen, at that? He clutched a fist around his staff. By the Tree, how could this possibly have happened?

Coming back to himself, Ventyr exchanged a questioning look with the asura captain, who still stood alongside them. Vott only nodded, shrugging slightly. “An identical summary to the one they presented to me when I arrived. It’s as stupefyingly incoherent today as it was then, though at the time I was uncertain what their ‘shinies’ might be. At least that aspect has been explained now.”

Ventyr frowned as he considered it all. It had been human thieves after all, which only made the theft make less sense. What was a band of cutthroat humans doing this far into asura territory?

He could feel the warmth beginning to crackle along knuckles, but he suppressed it, looking back to Rikkiti and Brizztikt instead of embracing the flames. The demeanor of the skritt had changed since their arrival. Skritt were generally jumpy people, it was true, but since telling their story, the two had slowly shrunken back, seeming now to almost cower before the trio questioning them.

Ventyr worked all the calm he could into the questions he still needed answers to. “Who?” he asked, leaning closer to their level. “Who was it? What humans stole the— the shinies?”

“What— humans?” Rikkiti asked cautiously, rolling the words over in her mouth.

“How Skritt know humans?” Brizztikt barked, sharply entering the conversation again. His bulbous eyes narrowed so tightly, they retreated into his face as he took a step forward. “Sergeant Sylvari think Skritt ask humans name—stop human killing, ask for name? Sergeant not smart Sylvari. No, not smart.”

Vott nearly interceded when a series of high chitters passed between the two skritt and Brizztikt looked away. The dark skritt fell silent and receded behind his partner as Rikkiti cocked her head toward Ventyr and stepped closer. “Skritt no know,” she said. “Who— what humans? Rittiki not know. Brizztikt not know. Lots humans, many humans. Humans— humans all look like humans. One big human. Not big like norn; just human, big human. Some woman humans. Most man humans.”

Ventyr nodded gratefully. It certainly wasn’t much to go on, but he supposed it was somewhere to start. “Was the big human their leader?”

“No. Not leader.” The white skritt shook her head fiercely. She slunk between him and Yissa, pointing down into the courtyard as though watching the violent scene play out in front of her all over again. “Stick-y human— skinny human. Yes, yes, Rittiki mean skinny human. Skinny human boss big human. Mean, mean—he no care. Not care for big human, not care for lionguard— not care. Take shinies but not care.” Her eyes began to glisten around the edges.

“And the two of you were the only survivors this skinny human left at the haven,” Ventyr mused, more to himself than anyone else. It was an odd note in this mystery, that the two skritt—only the two skritt—would be left alive.

There was another question he could benefit more from, though. “Did you see which way they went when they left?”

Rittiki chittered nervously, shaking her head. “No. No. Skritt no see. Skritt trapped, locked in room.” She pointed below them. “Hear humans, hear cart— yes, yes: hear cart leaving but no see.”

“The same recounting she gave to me upon arrival,” Captain Vott confirmed, seeing the perturbation on Ventyr’s face. He seemed to consider something else as attention shifted to him. “How much of this material would you estimate was deposited here, Sergeant?”

“Perhaps just shy of a ton. Why do you ask?”

Vott shrugged, brushing his nose. “Well, considering Rittiki’s inclusion of the cart and the volume of material stolen, we can hypothesize limited directions the thieves would likely have traveled.”

Heat rose in Ventyr again, and he fought to suppress it. Yes, he would very much like to pursue the thieves.

However, he did not have that luxury, nor would he in coming days. His only present concern was relaying whatever information he could to Captain Gelwin, back at the Brisban outpost. That was his sole objective, whatever and whoever may stand in his way—seemingly at every juncture.

“Which directions would those be?”

The lionguard captain looked up at him, raising an eyebrow skeptically, but he shook the expression away just as quickly. From the corner of his eye, Ventyr noticed Yissa doing the same.

“North and south,” Vott said, plainly. “Both ways along the Lion Road. Dragging a cart laden with stone would be a substantial undertaking even along a road. Without a consistent road, even the short distance west to Greyfern would prove nearly hellish—or at least according to the maps I was provided. Assuming there were beasts to pull the cart—”

“No. No beast,” Rittiki interjected. “Humans pull cart. Only humans.”

Vott nodded. “North or south, then. However, my scouts found nothing of note for a mile in either direction. Whoever they may have been, these bandits did excellent work concealing their tracks.”

“So that puts us painfully back at square one,” Yissa groaned. “I was so hopeful to see these artifacts: touch them, begin as detailed an analysis as possible—even given my current and incredible lack of useful apparati. I suppose there is nothing to do but—”

Ventyr cut her off, pressing Vott and the skritt for anything more. “And that is all that you can tell me? There’s nothing more that may be of use to us? Anything else they took? Maybe clues as to who they were or what they wanted with the stones?”

Rittiki’s lips curled into a rodential approximation of a scowl. She tightened her eyes in serious thought.

“No,” she said, rubbing her hands together and looking aside at Brizztikt. “Skritt know only what skritt say. Yes, yes—only what skritt say. Humans take shinies, only shinies. Say nothing— humans say nothing: what humans do, who humans are— say nothing. Skritt know no more. No more.”

Ventyr knew those dark, all-pupil eyes were now focused on him. She quivered a little, and he knew, however much it burned him, that she had nothing more to give them.

He could not believe this was happening.

“Scholar,” Ventyr asked, turning to Yissa, “Can you think of any uses someone could have for those shards?”

With a huff, the asura female shook her head vehemently, her stiff braids nearly hitting the sides of her face. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said, Sergeant? Not a single known individual has seen or touched this material in the last three-hundred years—aside from you. And me. And the Magister. And whoever else you showed it to at Vigil Keep. And of course the human female.” Yissa shrugged, scowling. “It is possible someone could seek to rebuild the construct or extract remaining magic—though that would require a working knowledge of mursaat spellwork, which I doubt many hold. But even considering that, I have to admit that my previous assessment still holds: with such an exclusive list of firsthand experiences with the substance, I can not confidently say I have any notion what a person, human or otherwise, might seek to achieve with it.”

“Scholar, a simple ‘No’ would have—”

Yissa raised a finger, still wrapped in her own thoughts. “On secondary consideration, it occurs to me that our previous theory—that of theft leading to monetary gains—could prove equally applicable in this circumstance as it did in our previous loss—though, the odds of this happening twice are very low.”  Her eyes widened. “Of course, in that case, there’s another question that should logically follow this, and factually should have followed our first stolen sample, and—my ears—I’m stunned to say it’s the very one you just proposed: why. Even if the initial thief were simply selling the jade for monetary gain, what then would be the motivation of the buyer?”

“Yes, that’s the—”

Now pacing between them all, she pressed on, the words pouring out of her like water from a spillway. “Alchemy, Yissa,” she snapped at herself, “however did I miss this? Magister Makkay is always commenting how blinded I can be by my own scholarly inquiries, and that’s what I’ve been: assuming that a buyer would be interested purely in the historic value of such a piece as a shard of mursaat jade. But other uses, other purposes?” She put a finger to her chin, suddenly staring up at the night sky. “My ears, I hadn’t even considered more nefarious alternatives: neither the magical nor martial uses someone lacking the proper scruples could concoct for such artifacts. And with something created by a people as unscrupulous as the mursaat themselves? My ears! I am as blind as a dredge!”

Snapping out of her concentrated stupor, Yissa spun to Ventyr, staring at him with wide eyes. “Did you recognize this befuddling possibly, Sergeant?”

He inhaled deeply, grinding the palms of his hands around his staff. “Yes, Scholar. I did. It is why I asked you the question. Whoever stole this store of jade did it intentionally; it was their target, their sole target, and that cannot possibly be good.”

“I thank you for your time.” He bowed quickly to the skritt before snapping his attention back to the captain of the haven. “And thank you, Captain. Considering the information you’ve provided, we need to be on our way. We can waste no more time.”

The squat asura nodded thoughtfully and cast a glance out across the treetops that came nearly to the wall. A breeze swept toward then, rustling the leaves in the deepening haze of twilight. For a moment the world was otherwise silent.

“Sergeant,” Vott grunted, “You are free to do as you like, but—”

“I’m unfamiliar with this region,” Yissa broke in, darting past the darker skritt and looking out over the landscape. She spun around to face Ventyr again, not even acknowledging the lionguard officer she’d interrupted. “Not the maps of course—I’m exceedingly familiar now with those—but the practical realities of the forest and surrounding province. Those I have a limited knowledge of. But it seems unwise that we should forego the safety of the haven less than an hour before total dark. Predatory behavior in both animals and more advanced species spikes in nocturnal circumstances, and we may not have this opportunity for safety every night. As they say, let’s not look this gift dolyak in the mouth.”

All eyes were on the scholar now, though again she seemed not to notice it. Crossing her arms, she met only the sylvari’s eyes, and there was an air of expectation.

Ventyr exchanged an exasperated glance with Captain Vott.

“That is, in essence, what I was about to suggest,” the squat asura admitted, putting hands firmly to his hips. “I have a general comprehension of your hurry, Sergeant, but Cuatl activity increases at night, and they’ve been particularly aggressive around the haven. The risks outweigh whatever handful of hours you might gain. But the choice is yours.”

Ventyr turned his back, letting his focus shift far off past the courtyard and the opposite wall of the haven: as far northward as he could see in the waning light. Thickets of tropical trees blended together as the ground rose up and away toward the edge of Brisban, much farther off than his eyes could yet see. From here it was only a shadowy sea of rolling canopies, dotted between with depressions he knew in his head were scattered grass and shrub fields. Metrica was verdant, yes, but it was a garden compared to the wilds beyond, and those wilds remained still miles out of Ventyr’s reach, along with any hope of informing his comrades of what he’d learned. He pushed down the frustration.

“Very well,” he said through tight lips. He did know they were right, even though it quietly ate at him to admit it. He turned back to them again. “We’ll stay the night. But we leave toward Brisban at first light.”