Life Upside Down [Ronan]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el filled the kettle with water from a barrel and put it on the fire with a handful of herbs to make tea for his guest and himself. He smiled and shrugged, his ideas working all right for himself, but not the sort of thing he was trying to pass off on other people. He didn't consider himself anywhere close to wise. He flushed a little in embarrassment. "I just think that if I look back for too long, I get bogged down in the past, when I'm more concerned with what I can accomplish in the future. Not forgetting the lessons of the past, but not... letting them rule me. You know?"

[Ronan]

"Absolutely," Ronan said with a thoughtful nod, "I couldn't agree more." Sama'el busied himself with making the tea, dropping herbs into the boiling kettle. Tea... his mother had used to say that tea could heal the world. Fractured Mizahar, soothed by a steaming cup of tea. He smiled at the thought. "I actually wanted to discuss something with you," Ronan began, swallowing fiercely. "You're on the Watch, yes? I think there's something you should know, something I don't fully understand but could threaten our community." His thoughts returned to the beginning of the summer, to the fiery chaos burning on the plains, to Matthial and Merenwen, and his nightmarish discovery. "I think there is some kind of assassins guild operating in Cyphrus." He sat and waited for Sama'el's reactions. He was a man of the Watch, and Ronan hoped he would know what to do.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el smiled, cheerful enough as he kept one ear attuned to the kettle, which didn't always whistle properly when the water was boiling, and he knew this wasn't the proper way to steep tea, but he didn't want to juggle multiple kettles. This was a simple camp, not a pavilion, and he only had Jyn to help out with such things. But he blinked with surprise and no little bit of incredulity at Ronan's statement. "A guild of... assassins?" The idea seemed far-fetched. Cyphrus was patrolled by the Drykas Watch, who filled in the blank spots with their information-gathering Web, or roamed the sunny prairie with Syna's gnosis. There were the cities: Riverfall, Claridon, Kenash, fabled Xy. But he didn't see what logic there was in having such a guild in Cyphrus unless it was a hiding place somewhere near the middle of Mizahar. Still, such a claim should be investigated. "Tell me everything you know," he said seriously even as he found clean cups for the tea.

[Ronan]

Ronan was impressed by Sama'el's calm - this man was truly deserved of his position in the watch. That seemed the only likely way a man of his age would hold such a prestigious position. And though he was modest, he was no rookie at reimancy either... "I know a Syliran man, he goes by the name of Sigmund Matthial. He was trying to find a child, and I ended up involved in the whole plot - to cut a long story short, he believed that slavers operating around Endrykas had taken the child. They were posing as merchants." Ronan glanced down at the floor of the tent. Sama'el was busying himself with tea, but he was not ignoring him. In fact, the very opposite was true. His ears had pricked up, and he was listening intently as he went about preparing the hot, spiced drinks. "We were joined by a Kelvic - she went by the name of Merenwen. When we finally went to storm the merchant caravan's, everything went wrong. Matthial and Merenwen were attacked by one of the merchants - and the man had a powerful grasp of reimancy. I was to set a tent on fire, but inside, I found a dead woman. She was pregnant," he found his voice thinning, and so he coughed to clear his throat. "There was a black dagger in her chest. I presume you have heard the legend of the black dagger...?" The legend of the clandestine assassins, leaving black daggers in their victims... But why her? He wondered if the woman's pregnancy had been important. After all, assassins didn't strike randomly. They slew their victims with fierce conviction. Named targets, fuelling their cause...

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam was heartened by the fact that Ronan trusted him enough to come to him with this rather than any other man or woman of the Watch, though he hoped this wasn't old news, and he knew he would have to take it to the Sayaph immediately. He poured out two cups of tea and handed one to Ronan, his serious eyes proof that he was listening. "I know Matthial," he interjected quietly, nodding as Ronan continued his tale. Merenwen was a name he would commit to memory, likely with the need to question her and the Syliran about all this. The Drykas took these things serious, considering all of the Sea of Grass but for modest chunks of land around Riverfall, Kenash, and Claridon their own. One day they would find fabled Xy and fill it with fire and blood, ending the Zith scourge for once and for all. The death of a pregnant woman set his blood on fire, an echo of his initiation into reimancy, but he tried to stay calm. This was not an act of retribution he could return to the malefactors without the aid of the fraternity of the Watch. "I know the legend," he agreed. "Pray, continue." He sipped at his tea. It was too hot, but he didn't care.

[Ronan]

"We... cremated the body," he looked down at the tent floor, shamed. "That was probably the wrong thing to do... we've destroyed the evidence haven't we?" He looked up at Sama'el, accepting the warm, steaming mug of tea. That day had spiralled out of control so quickly... he remembered running through the darkness, warm rain against his skin, sliding in the mud, the heat of reimancy pressing on his back. "I didn't know what to do in the heat of the moment," he sipped the tea, regret spilling forth from his shaky words. "I was on my own for a while... completely alone." Have I ruined everything? Will the Watch have anything to go on because of my actions?

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The Sayaph of the Watch would likely have berated Ronan for cremating the body, even if it was done to honor the dead. But Sama'el, while inducted into the mysteries, did not commune with the dead. There were some who did, but he only called Fire and walked the Web, so as far as he was concerned, Ronan hadn't done anything too terribly bad. He smiled reassuringly and patted the older man on the shoulder; it felt strange to be offering such support to his elder, but he was on the Watch and that lent an air of authority, capability, and, sometimes, wisdom. "I would not do so in the future if it happens again, gods willing it doesn't," he said, "but I am sure if taken to the place, I can pick out what happened from the weave of the Web." The admission of his ability was meant only to reassure, but it often had a strange effect on other Drykas. Webbing was a requisite skill to become an Ankal, and so the skill came with due respect. "You were alone, but you survived," he said, dark eyes bright. This he understood. "Will you tell me of it?"

[Ronan]

Ronan turned away, folding his arms tightly. "I'm... I'm not sure what else there is to say. I was afraid. I made mistakes. And that's all there is." He returned to his tea, and swallowed the silence. The worst thing was Sama'el's gentle lack of response. The man of the Watch was willing Ronan to continue - he had made space for his thoughts, and he wasn't ready to intrude. "Fine," he said, putting the tea down on the floor. "I want to know who they are, and why they've done this." His teeth ground together, and his hands curled up into tight fists. "They have to be judged for what they did..." There - he'd said it. Revenge was a simple thing, but it was also a thing of honour. To a Drykas like him, it superseded all else. He hadn't known the murdered woman, but she had been in that sacred form - with child. The God's could not have averted their eyes for this... this was heresy.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam watched Ronan through all of this, then finally nodded. "I will speak to the Sayaph today and he will likely send us out on the morrow. Will you come with us if it is required of you? He will also want to speak to Matthial and Merenwen, to hear what they remember. We will investigate, judge, and execute that judgment in accordance to Drykas law and tradition. You needn't fear on that count." Again it felt strange to be interrogating (albeit gently) and comforting a man who was older than him, but Ronan was Drykas enough to defer to a man of the Watch even if he was younger. This lent Sam some confidence. "Drink your tea," he advised. "It might help a little, and then we can root out the problem tomorrow, yes?" He smiled encouragingly, wanting the man to trust in him and in the Watch, and to be a friend. "Thank you for trusting me with this," he added, because he was thankful.

[Ronan]

Sama'el's voice was calming, his promises like a salve against his wounds. They would deal with this. And now he had passed the burden into the Watch's hands. "Thank you," Ronan said with a nod. "I trust you. God's be damned... after all these years, after all this pain, I trust you." He grabbed the tea, and drank. It was all he could do. For on the morrow there would be more darkness. His divination crawled up the back of his spine like a cold serpent. The shadow was rising. And he wondered where it would strike next. END