Chapter LXXXVII: Bodyguards

By day, the Shaharat Tea House was a gathering of the peaceful and erudite. The scholarly of Aht Urhgan congregated there to discuss the current events of the day, engage in philosophical debate, or listen to scheduled poetry readings. Subjects from as close as the Commoner's Ward and as far away as Tshaya passed through on a daily basis. A wide range of accents filled the air with the same thickness as the scents of jasmine and chamomille. Foreign dignitaries, regular citizens, and average tourists sought out the Shaharat Tea House as a quiet spot of intellectual discourse and silent contemplation, along with savory hot drinks of exotic flavor.

By night, the story changed entirely.

Jinxie struggled to keep her bearings as flashing lights assailed her from every angle. A piercing spectrum of strobe lighting that was further obfuscated by the glut of humanity crowded together in the tight space. Bodies which were little more than animated shadows against the intense lighting bounced up and down arhythmically. Adding to confusion, some of them were wearing wristbands that lit up in the dark, sending a flurry of rainbow colors swirling through her already affronted vision. Every few seconds she had to blink the lights out of her eyes, but it proved a futile effort as they grew brighter with every step she took.

The noise was worse by far, however. Around her, the wildly spasming congregation of teenaged Imperials shrieked and grunted in a gross parody of singing and dancing. A mixture of leather, hair dye ,and body odor filled her nostrils as she struggled to push her way deeper into the mass of people. They hooted and hollered, and more than one of them tried to grab at her before she ducked behind someone else. She was buffetted about from one body to the next as they recklessly hurled into each other, bouncing her slight frame about like a leaf in the wind. Some of them were shouting things, but it was lost in an unintelligible sea of noise emanating from the crowd itself and the unbearably loud performers they had gathered around.

Lacking a proper stage, they had simply cordoned off an area and set up their instruments behind it. Jinxie had attended musical performances before, but nothing like this. The singer was a stick-thin red-haired Hume thrashing wildly as he spit screaming lyrics out into an amplifying stick. She could see where the device was attached to a set of amplifiers, which further artifically boosted the sound of his screeching. An Elvaan with raven locks reaching down to his waist wailed on a modified lute, his fingers slicing up and down the strings. All the members of the band, in fact, were men with hair nearly twice as long as Jinxie's.

"Ack!" Her protest was lost in the overpowering sound as a mass of sweaty hair struck her in the face. She turned swiftly, only to find that the offending smack could have come from any of dozens of the teenaged revelers, all of them sporting hairstyles emulating the band. Jinxie brushed stray strands away, making a disgusted face as the scent of fresh dye assailed her. It had been less than ten minutes since she had entered the scene and she was already regretting her decision. The question of why the Empire would assign her an escort which frequented such places was also prominent in her mind.

The group completed their number with a drawn-out wail from the singer. As he held a warbling note, the drummer, a surprisingly swift Tarutaru, punctuated every second of the scream with a rapid-paced hammering that sent the crowd into a frenzy. The screaming was deafening as they finished the song, and the percussionist leaped up onto his own drum set, hurtling the set of sticks he used into the audience. A scuffle broke out as people dove over one another in an attempt to grab them. Jinxie pressed herself as hard as she could up against the wall, watching long-haired kids crush one another in a pit of human stink and struggling to understand the appeal.

It was more than an hour later before the area had finally cleared. Maintenance crews who worked for the Tea House labored to clean the stains of food, sweat, and blood before the next business day began. A few straggling fans hung out around the entrance, and Jinxie's nose caught a familiar scent coming from them.

"It's a good thing I didn't bring Speed," she murmured, making a sour face as the acrid aroma wafted by her. With a heavy sigh, she looked over the area. She had been told the mercenary Naja had ordered to accompany her would be waiting for her here. Now the crowd was all but gone, and no one had presented themselves. One by one, she watched the security guards supervising the event go home for the evening, and not a one of them presented themselves to her. Bitterly, she turned to leave, only to be nearly run down by a Mithra girl running by her.

"Oof!" She cried, and the Mithra squealed in surprise as she nearly tumbled head over heels. They both fell to one side, Jinxie rolling with practiced ease and regaining her footing. The other girl fell flat on her face, and came up groaning as she held her nose.

"Are you alright?" Jinxie realized her voice had much less concern than it did annoyance. If the Mithra caught it, she didn't let it show as she held her nose, rising to a sitting position.

"'M I bweeding?" She peered up at Jinxie with quavering brown eyes, nose held tightly in-between two fingers. Kneeling down, she brushed the Mithra's hands away, examining her.

"Tilt your head up," she ordered, looking her over. The girl looked to be barely out of her teens, and was wearing robes entirely out of fashion for the crowd which had just gathered. Her eyes caught a glimpse of a harp firmly strapped to the Mithra's waist. "You're a Bard?" she questioned.

She nodded, sniffling noisily. "I came here with my boss, but I lost track of him." Her lowered her head down in response to Jinxie's hands making her do so. "Is it broken? There won't be a scar, will there?"

"You're fine," Jinxie stood up, brushing off her tabard. "There'll be a bruise, it'll go down in two or three days. Try to watch where you're going."

"A bruise?" She pouted. "That's kind of cool, I guess . . . but it's definitely not going to look good." The Mithra looked around, snorting again and holding her nose. "Maybe I can find a mage to heal it." Suddenly, her eyes locked onto Jinxie, looking her up and down for the first time. "Hey! Are you a mage? You're dressed like one. Could you wiggle your fingers and make the bruising go down?"

"I - " Jinxie froze. A week ago she could have done this with as much effort as it would take to blink. Now when she reached for the magic inside her, she felt nothing. A hollow pit where once was the ocean. Every second she felt the loss stinging inside of her, and only an even deeper loss kept her going.

"No, I'm not a mage," she told her. "I'm not anything. I'm just here looking for somebody."

"Well, I - "

"Krista!" Jinxie spun around as a booming voice rang out through the emptied square. Beside her, the Mithra girl jerked upwards, To Jinxie's surprise, the Bard stood at sharp attention, body stock still save for a halway-decent salute, her eyes fixed straight forwards. Turning, the Hume stumbled back a step when she realized the object of the other's attention was standing directly behind her.

It was a man, sandy hair disheveled and loose about his hard, yet smiling face. He had prominent Aht Urghanian features, and his skin tone was the darkened tan common of Imperial citizens. He was wearing what might have once been a shirt but was now a tattered cloth over a torso of rigid muscle. A belt held up loosely-fitting pants which were then tucked into heavy leather boots. The grin on his face was rogueish and sly, more befitting a man much older than he appeared to be. Tucked into his belt, Jinxie spied the drumstick which had been tossed into the crowd.

"Sir, the operation is complete, sir!" Krista barked from beside her. The larger man clapped his hands together, rubbing them enthusiastically.

"Excellent, Private Krista, now; what did we learn?" His voice was rough, like sandpaper was scratching across his vocal chords. Planting his fists on his hips, he tilted his chin up, appraising the young Mithra with an intense stare.

Her lip trembled for a moment, but she composed herself quickly. Taking only a moment to rub her nose again, Krista shouted out what Jinxie judged to be a fairly well-composed response. "Volume is not a substitute for talent, sir!"

"What else?"

"Sir, showmanship is key, sir!"

"Good," he nodded, leaning in closely, "what else?"

"Sir, music can affect emotion on a mass scale, sir!"

"What else?!" The big man barked, now practically nose-to-nose with the Mithra.

"Sir, always leave them wanting more, SIR!"

His smile returned, and he leaned back up, satisfied. "Good work, Private. We can consider this operation a success." By the way she exhaled, Krista was obviously relieved things had worked out well. Before she could be addressed again, the sandy-haired man's attention fell on Jinxie, and she felt the surprising weight of his stare.

"How do you do, ma'am?" He inclined his head smartly. "I apologize if my apprentice here has disturbed you."

"N-No," she stammered, surprised, "not at all." Composing herself, Jinxie straightened her back and raised her eyes to face the larger man. Even at her full height, she was still head and shouldered below the musuclar Imperial. She always felt so much taller with her magic. Now she felt differences in physicality so sharply that they stung. "I am here looking for someone, and Private Krista was going to assist me."

"You were?" The Imperial turned curiously to the Mithra.

"I was?" She said, confused. Then she caught Jinxie's glance and snapped back to attention. "Sir, yes sir! Er, ma'am." She scratched her head, and then rubbed her nose again. "I'm confused," she admitted.

"Don't worry about it, Private, the operation is a success." To Jinxie's surprise, the larger man went to attention himself, offering her a salute. "Provisional Mercenary Major Jinxie, I presume?"

That wasn't so shocking. Most of the people in Aht Uhrgan knew her by now, so she nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes. I'm here to meet the bodyguard assigned to me by the Empire. I hadn't expected the scene to be . . . what it was."

"It's the band," the man Jinxie reasoned was a soldier of some kind explained. "They're a motley crew, but I like them." Then, he clapped his fist against his heart, and indicated to Krista that she should do the same. Realization creeped across Jinxie's mind with a mixture of distress.

"Captain Sefadin of Salaheem's Sentinel's, at your service," the soldier introduced himself. "Pleasure to be aboard."

"You're Sefadin?" She tried somewhat unsuccessfully to mask her astonishment.

"In my native habitat," he grinned. "But don't worry, Major, I'm much more impressive in armor."

"You're Jinxie!" Krista was suddenly staring, open-mouthed. "You're the one we'll be traveling with? This is phenomenal!" She suddenly produced a quill and parchment from within the folds of her robes, scratching at the blank sheet furiously. "All the other Bards in the city are dying to write songs about you, and I'll be able to one-up all of them! This is incredible! I'm - "

"Private Krista!" Sefadin barked, and the Mithra nearly dropped her items, scrambling to keep them from falling. "What have I told you about using language like that?"

"Sir, my apologies, sir!" Krista shouted. Then, with full sincerity in her eyes, she turned back to Jinxie. "Ma'am, this will be totally baller, ma'am."

"Much better," He approved. "Well then," his hazel eyes returned to Jinxie. "what are your orders, ma'am?"

It was a lot to take in all at once, but Jinxie's mind worked quickly. Naja Salaheem and Razfahd would not have assigned this man to her if he was not the best. Despite his appearance, she had to trust that they knew what they were doing. There was no time to quibble or debate. She had to be on her son's trail by first light.

"Gear yourself for travel and meet at the Hall of Transference at dawn," she commanded. "We leave for Caedarva Mire tomorrow morning."

"Yes ma'am," the Captain acknowledged, still grinning. Krista went to bow, but then remembered herself and saluted instead.

After answering a few more basic questions, Jinxie left the Shaharat Teahouse, heading back to her lodgings. She had been promised two of the finest soldiers in Aht Urghan to accompany her, and she supposed Sefadin and Krista were it. That bothered her, however. She couldn't properly take the measure of the former, but Krista was obviously a greenhorn in the whole business. Also, a Bard was hardly a bodyguard. If she was talented in the spellsong, she would be useful, doubtlessly, as Xaerus was still conspicuously absent. But to protect her from the dangers of Caedarva Mire? Jinxie had to wonder if there was something she didn't know.

What she did know, as she walked down the darkened and emptied streets of Imperial Whitegate back to her room, was that she was not alone.

A tingle along the back of her neck told her there were eyes on her. The familiar sensation of being watched was one she wouldn't forget even without magic to confirm it for her. She continued walking, picking up her pace. The feeling persisted, and she heard something scrape against the roof of one of the buildings surrounding her. The wide avenues of Aht Urghan suddenly felt very confining as she sped up again.

Practically running, she pumped her legs faster. Every street looked the same in the dark. She felt a twinge of panic at the base of her skull, and forcefully suppressed it. Someone was following her, she was certain of it. She had no idea where she was, and couldn't find her way around the city in the dark. Whomever was trailing her was not giving up. If it were an assassin, someone sent by Doshu to finish what Chiz started, she would have no cover, no defense. As the aching absence in the pit of her stomach reminded her, she would have no magic, either.

"I refuse to be helpless," she told herself, and in a flash she spun around. The rapier buckled to her side rang out as she tore it from its scabbard. Her husband had been a magnificent Samurai, his wife was not helpless in swordplay.

"Come out where I can see you," she demanded. The night was still. Nothing answered her call. "I know you're there! Come out and face me!" She tried to sound commanding, and not let the fear edge its way into her voice.

She was proud of herself when she kept from gasping as a woman appeared before her.

Rather, it seemed as if she appeared from nothing, but Jinxie could just faintly make out the smell of some sort of spell component in the air. Before her, a Mithra swathed from head to toe in black kneeled on the cobblestoned streets. At first she thought it might be Xaerus, but then realized this woman was taller, more muscular, and sported a pair of matching katana blades on either side of her hips. Her eyes were downcast, and she touched her knuckles to the ground as Jinxie nervously leveled her blade down towards her.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "Why are you following me?"

"Forgive me . . . " her voice was near a whisper. "It was not my intent to scare you."

"Answer my questions," Jinxie found the steel in her spine. It was much easier to face down a physical person than the phantoms of her imagination.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Two pale, slanted eyes stared out from beneath a mask of black cloth. "I am your second bodyguard. You met with Captain Sefadin and his assistant earlier a the Shaharat Teahouse. I have been trailing you since that event."

"You? But I thought Krista - "

"Krista is still in training, under the charge of Captain Sefadin. I am the second one chosen to defend you in Caedarva Mire." They remained where they were, Jinxie with her sword forward and the other woman on the ground. "May I rise?" She asked.

"Slowly," Jinxie agreed. "Very slowly."

The Mithra nodded. Then, like a flower unfolding, she gracefully stretched out to face Jinxie, her hands remaining visible at all times. Cautiously, Jinxie lowered her rapier.

"Forgive me, making direct contact with a client is not my usual mode of operation." She kept her hands up, but her voice was steady, and her stance left little doubt that she could attack at any time. "I am employed most often for things which must be carried out . . . discretely."

A black ops Ninja, Jinxie realized. A mercenary hired to do things which those doing the hiring could not associate themselves with publically. "What's your name?" She queried.

"Vaala," she answered simply. "I have no official rank designation, so simply Vaala will do."

"Vaala," Jinxie repeated. Gradually, she eased her sword down completely. When she had been promised the finest soldiers available, never did she imagine one would be a teenager in a man's body and the other an untraceable assassin. "Well then, Vaala," she felt weary from the night's activity. Tomorrow would be a trial that she had to be ready for. She needed sleep, and badly. Her head had scarcely seen a pillow since Drake's kidnapping. "Could you . . . escort me home?"

The Ninja nodded, and began guiding Jinxie through the winding streets of Whitegate. It wasn't long before they arrived back at the apartment afforded her by the Empire. She and Vaala parted ways, with the understanding that they would see each other again when they departed together for Caedarva Mire, on the trail of the Lamiae. Despite her reservations about her profession, Vaala's lithe movements and the practiced ease at which she swiftly and silently moved did much to reassure Jinxie during their walk together.

As she finally fell asleep, the last nagging thought in her mind was the fact that even after they had parted ways, the feeling of being watched had never quite gone away.