Birthright Chapter 8 – Lighting the Fuse
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I stared at the large building ahead, around three stories by the looks of it with a smaller building closer to us while the larger building was surrounded by a small field of plants. Made from what looked like some sort of dark grey ceramic, it seemed quite solid. “How are we supposed to draw your uncle out?”

“That part is easy. We’re going to take over the trading post.”

“Which one is that?”

“They both are technically, I think. But we’ll be taking over that one.” She pointed at the larger building.

I really couldn’t tell if it was a good plan or not, but I did appreciate the simplicity of it. And getting to take a rest inside, presumably with food, while we waited seemed great. “Who owns this trading post, anyway?”

“Xangro Nul, he was an acquaintance of my father’s. He’s the sole representative of the merchant consortium in town.”

“Er, won’t it piss those guys off if we take over the house of their representative?”

Sarinknell smiled. “Without a doubt. Which is all the more reason why my uncle will want to get us out of there as soon as possible. We can always patch over relations with the merchants later. They’re not ones to hold a grudge, so long as you’re willing to pay their price.”

I followed behind her as she bypassed the smaller building. The small grounds around the trading post were full of spindly red plants, with skin like velvet. They shone in the light of the lamps placed at intervals around the house. Tinted glass, embossed with an unfamiliar seal, trapped a writhing flame of brilliant orange.

I stared at them, entranced, as we approached. The flame moved like a living thing, creating ever shifting shadows. There was no sign of any soldiers or other servants around the building, but I stayed on guard. It was impossible to say what surprises might be lying in wait in this land of magic.

We followed the discrete path of paved stone as it wound its way through the gardens. The air was thick with a curious mixture of oil and something floral. I assumed it must be coming from the plants around us. Continuing along the path, we reached the front door without incident.

The door looked like polished brass, decorated with a pattern of curved lines. Even the ceramic walls around it were carved with a similar pattern, turning the house into one giant mural. I wasn’t sure if it was intended to be beautiful or ominous, but in the lamps’ flickering yellow light, it was both.

Unperturbed by the house’s appearance, Sarinknell pounded the door with her fist. She continued until someone on the other side called out that they were coming. I glanced at Sarinknell, wondering if I should draw my sword, but there wasn’t a hint of tension.

She probably wasn’t expecting to do battle then. Taking my hand off my sword, I relaxed. A thin demon with a pair of small curved horns and yellow skin opened the door. He had a sour expression on his face, one that only worsened when he took in who was banging on his master’s door.

“Can I help you, miss?” The sheer venom with which he said the honorific made it seem as if he’d said something far worse.

“Yes, actually. Tell your master that Lady Sarinknell is here to see him.”

“Lady Sarinknell?” His disdain had lessened, blunted by his rising confusion. “Are you saying you’re Lord Sarinknell’s niece?” Narrowing his eyes, he inspected her closely, paying particular attention to her shabby clothes.

“Indeed. Now fetch your master before I lose my patience.” She glared at him.

“I shall see if the master is in. Until I return, I can only ask that you wait outside and try to hold on to whatever patience you can muster.”

He tried to close the door, but Sarinknell put her arm in the way. “That won’t do. You can’t expect someone of my status to wait out here in the cold.”

From deep in his throat, the servant hissed. He clearly wasn’t happy about it, but he took his hand off the door. “Very well. Then if you’d be so kind as to take a seat over there.”

He gestured toward a bench a few steps from the door. “I shall return shortly, and the meantime I would ask that you not touch anything.” With a final huff, he stalked off. He left us in the small entrance room, departing through the sole interior door.

There wasn’t a lot of room on the bench, so I remained standing. Looking down at the milky white tiles on the floor, I wondered how much a place like this would cost. It was much larger than any house I’d ever lived in, but that wasn’t too surprising. I’d hardly been wealthy back on earth. “Is your home bigger than this?”

Sarinknell shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure how big this place is, I’ve only been here a few times. But I don’t think so. My home is considerably more fortified, but there isn’t much of a difference in living space.”

Even if it was around the same level as this place, it seemed like I’d be living somewhere quite luxurious. Assuming we succeeded in taking it from her uncle. Maybe that was something to look forward to, even if it wasn’t much.

While we waited, I inspected the painting hanging opposite the bench. It depicted a demon man, tall and elegant, with a series of horns protruding from the top of his head like a crown. I was taking in the detail of the city burning behind him, which had been rendered in great detail, when Xangro’s servant returned. With the slightest of bows, he informed the room at large that his master was ready to meet with ‘Lady’ Sarinknell. The wannabe Demon Lord glanced at me. “Come.”

We followed along behind her, through the high-ceilinged hall beyond, up the stairs and into a small room with a fireplace. The inside was hazy with smoke, not from the fire, but from the pipe of its sole occupant. He stood as we entered. A demon with pale grey skin and bulbous eyes.

Were it not for his grave countenance, I’d have thought him rather comical. With a gesture he dismissed his servant. It was only when the other man had left the room that he spoke. “And so Orshen’s whelp has come to visit. I assume you remember me. To what do I owe the questionable pleasure of your visit?” His voice deep and raspy, filled the room.

“I need to borrow your house for a while.”

Tracing his single, crooked horn, Xangro sat back down. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d be here for such a ridiculous reason. And why would I do such a thing?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll just take this place by force.”

Xangro’s face twisted in anger. “You impudent fool. How dare you speak that way to me in my own home? Get out.”

Sarinknell tapped me on the shoulder and nodded. After a little fiddling with the sheath, I freed Shontensho and brandished it. Sarinknell jabbed a finger in Xangro’s direction. “I’m past asking. Get out before I have my servant do something we’ll both regret.”

Xangro didn’t move a muscle. “I care nothing for your threats, little girl. If you put so much as a scratch on me you’ll bring the wrath of both your uncle and the consortium down on your fool heads. If you leave this instant, I’m willing to overlook this nonsense as nothing more than a youthful transgression.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Extending her claws, she slashed a deep gash in her arm. Her blood formed into two long tendrils which shot toward Xangro. They slipped past his hands before he had a chance to react and wrapped around his throat. “If you won’t do as I say, then you can die here.”

The demon clawed at the tendrils to no avail. “So be it.” He struggled to get the words out through his constricting throat. Feeling that she was going entirely too far, I searched Sarinknell’s face for any hint that she was bluffing. But as far as I could tell she was dead serious. “Isn’t this enough? You’re not actually going to kill him, are you?”

“If I must. His death will make things harder, but it will still have the desired effect.”

Xangro’s eyes were wild and his legs were banging against the floor. Figuring he had to be close to passing out or dying, I decided that enough was enough. I wasn’t going to let someone die, not for this. Even if they were a demon.

I brought the blade down on the tendrils in a downward swing, they provided some resistance but the momentum of the blow was enough to cut through. The blood holding Xangro lost cohesion and he fell back in his chair, gasping for air. “Look, you can see that she’s serious about this. Rather than losing your life just to prove a point, can’t you just let her use your house for a little while? We’re not going to destroy it or anything.”

One hand on his chair for support, the other over the red skin of his throat, Xangro got to his feet. “Fine. I’ll play along with your absurd little game.” He walked toward the door.

“But I won’t forget this. Mark my words, I’ll see that you all hang for this. If you survive whatever your uncle decides to do with you.” We moved to let him through and he left the room. Sarinknell swaggered over to where he’d been sitting and plopped herself down. “That went well.”

I sat down opposite her, sighing. “Did it? You nearly killed him.”

“Oh, please. I was never actually going to kill him. Do you take me for a fool?”

“Can you say that for sure? Because it looked like a close thing from where I was standing.”

Sarinknell licked her lips. “It’s possible that I got a little too riled up. I don’t think he’d actually have died though.” She looked down. “Probably.”

“For the record, I’m against killing unarmed citizens. Unless there’s no other choice.”

Sarinknell snorted in amusement. “Noted. But there’s no need to worry, I intend to keep killing to an absolute minimum.”

 

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