Niku's listless attitude disturbed the rest of the dogs in Howler's keep almost as much as they bothered the dog master himself. It seemed the recognition and loss of the dog's sire weighed upon the him much like the loss of his mistress had; not only did his food remain in his bowl, so too did his water. Howler even had to pull and tug at the young puppy to get him to relieve himself, which was strange indeed.
Fortunately, Amadelle was true to her word, and had visited the Sunfire Mercenary manse nearly at sunrise, just before she went to the temple to worship with her family. She still smelled like the rose bath that she'd been forced to take an hour before, and the delicate scent reminded Howler of thin-fingered, pale-skinned noblewomen. Amadelle hadn't behaved like a gentle noblewoman, however, when she fearlessly walked past the other crated dogs and pushed herself- along with her beautiful, hand-sewn dress- straight into Niku's crate in the effort to get him out of it. As soon as the child suffered a scrape because she could not get her arms all the way around him while within the crate's confines, Niku very carefully pushed his head against her until he had nudged her back out. Once free of the dog-sized cage, Amadelle hugged and kissed Niku until she had to be coaxed away from the large puppy by the servants who had escorted her, who complained of the work they would have to do to get the stink of dogs out of the lovely temple dress. Howler had the wisdom to take hold of the scruff of Niku's neck, preventing him from simply walking back into his crate once the little girl said her goodbyes, but was surprised not to receive a single snap for his trouble.
"Come, pup; we've got to find the creature what's got your bitch in a punishment pen," he sighed, mostly to himself.
Uncoiling the lead strap that bore the same tattoo image as was emblazoned on Niku's back, Howler attached it first to Niku, then to a peg on the wall. Upon realizing that the length of his strap was insufficient to allow him to lay down in the small crate from which he'd come, Niku simply laid down as close to it as he could. Howler moved the food and water dishes accordingly, to no avail; they received just as much attention as they had when they were farther away from the common table where the leaders of the Sunfire often sat to have impromptu meetings. It cost the dog trainer some work to keep the other dogs from taking advantage of Niku's fast.
Hours later, when the sun was on the other end of his journey, Howler took Niku's strap off the peg and attached it to his own thick, leather belt- prepared with multiple lead hoops just for that purpose- and got himself ready for the tug of war that it had been to get the dog anywhere.
But as soon as the dogmaster moved forward, Niku heeled just as readily as he had when he had begun training.
Howler raised an eyebrow at him. "I see," he noted, moving to the cutting table to pocket a bit more meat than he had previously prepared. "C'mon, then. Let's hunt."
The rest of the Sunfire Mercenary headquarters were understandably silent. Mordren was cooped up in his room with an apprentice mage who swore that she still could not manage to penetrate the Blackwater mages' defenses. Kronmyr was laid up in his own room, recovering. He had nearly been shot off a rooftop due to backlash from the market ruckus three days before; it had taken Mordren's wife herself to stabilize him, and even she claimed that there would be a merciless scar on the left side of his back. Bann was again fighting the good fight of correspondence, and had been holed up in his room for hours, poring over how best to answer the Dragons, the Semmites, and the patrons in need of manpower or dogs. Because of the now noticeable strain on all the company's leaders, there had been a quietness shared between the initiates, the seasoned blood, and the true veteran mercs. A make-shift mentoring program surfaced, continuing martial training in Kronmyr's absence, and mercantile training while Bann was occupied. The mages didn't openly train each other, for fear of Mordren's sneaky, tattling wife, but there were certainly pointers shared between them whenever her magical presence was absent. All the hush-hush activity somehow maintained order in the base, but it also made it very easy to go about one's business unquestioned. Howler was able to walk right out of the door without being noticed at all.
The streets were also quiet, as the cool of the evening had encouraged most citizens of Suzail into their homes hours earlier. Stars began turning curious eyes downward, and the full moon, striding majestically across the darkening sky, sent loving beams over the warm homes toward her unnatural son. Howler looked up as soon as he felt her pale light on his bare skin, comforted by her attention. Niku, noting the dog master's distraction, looked up himself.
"Huh," Howler grunted as he came to himself, noting that it wasn't yet cold enough to see his breath. "Gonna be warm, but no rain. Good tracking night. Here's the scent, fresh as we got, now. Go, get to it. Go on, pup, go."
Niku had stood up to sniff at the bit of cloth that Howler offered, but then pranced for a few moments, unsure of something or other. Howler stopped talking and flapped his hand at the dog, wondering at his pause, but when the creature took off, the power remaining in his recently unchallenged muscles nearly dragged the dog master off his feet. As the puppy pulled forward, Howler noted some stiffness in the joints, which was to be expected after sitting in the punishment crate as though it had been comfortable for longer than had ever been intended. Yet in just a few minutes, Niku warmed up and was able to lengthen his strides, change directions smoothly, and stop on a dime to keep the scent fresh in his nose.
With the ease and speed at which the two tore through the city, it didn't take them long to find a distinctive break in the mud, brush and other foliage outside the city walls. Niku dashed to a white and green tree that looked as though it had a few pieces of tender bark torn away from it, then dropped down and rolled around right in front of it. Howler recognized the behavior as a rejoicing in a defeated enemy, which seemed out of place, given the situation. Further, it had been a unique trait that Howler had tried hard to break before the dog had even been sold.
"Up, up," Howler urged, as he caught his breath. He only had to come within three feet of the place to smell what had gotten Niku into such a mood, but he still took his time to look around and actually see it, with the benefit of dim-light sight.
"You got blood, eh, boy? Huh? You find somebody's blood, yeah?"
Huge splotches of the dried stuff, not yet completely obliterated by dew or rain fall, greeted the dog handler's nose and eyes alike. Niku was rolling in the largest one, whining and barking; the pitiful sounds were confusing, when contrasted against what he was physically doing.
"C'mon, pup; up with you," Howler encouraged, partially amazed by the amount of animation he was seeing in the previously depressed dog. "Gotta find the body."
Just as he spoke, Howler's sharp hearing caught rustling- first in the trees above, then all around them. A suspicious snarl rose to his throat before he could catch himself, and Niku, distracted by the unexpected sound, began turning around in circles while offering up short, sharp barks. Howler reached out to physically convince the hound to sit down and shut up, but got snapped at as though he were an utter stranger. Frustrated, the dog master drew back his hand with full intent to strike the dog-
-and got a glancing knife slice across the back of his hand. The blade was so sharp and clean that Howler didn't notice the free flowing cut before he heard the weapon smack into the wood of a tree on the other side of him. Mere moments after he looked for the source of the attack, he heard a distinctly masculine voice playfully call out-
"Sorry about that, friend."
The dogmaster, unable to stop himself, turned and roared at the treetops all around him. His hair lengthened and grew thicker, and what meager clothing he had, already mostly skins and furs, seemed to disappear into it. Niku stopped turning in circles, opting instead to run from one side of the beast to the other. Lykan Gan dropped down to all fours, but wasn't quite angry enough at the dog to decide to attack him. In the momentary stillness, oddly enough, Niku stopped darting from one side to the other, walking straight up to the large wolf-like creature to lap at the blood.
"There now, see?" a light, male voice called from the treetops somewhere above. "We're all friends here, eh?"
Lykan Gan pulled his paw away from Niku and coiled himself up with the intention of climbing one of the trees, but just as he did, a sharp prick caught him in the back. In mere moments, a strange, pins-and-needles sensation began working its way up his powerful muscles. Unable to actually speak, the gigantic wolf man snarled his displeasure, which sent Niku back into useless, distracted circles. The rustling in the trees put both sets of canine eyes to dancing- to their right, then to their left- and as he searched for the sound's source, Lykan Gan began to turn in circles just as useless as the ones that occupied Niku. Unlike the natural dog, unfortunately, Lykan Gan had a shiny black dart in his back, the venom of which steadily blurred more and more of his vision, robbed him of his rage, and began forcing him- wholly without his consent- back into Howler's weaker, smaller form.
"And now we good friends all have a chance to talk," a higher, yet more masculine voice called merrily. "I'm assuming you remember me, Garett."
The mid-change wolf man snarled viciously, but couldn't continue to hold himself upright. The resulting collapse into the very place where a slide mark broke the natural foliage seemed strangely fitting, however, even to him. Niku padded over to him, sniffed carefully, then sat down right next to him.
"I remember you, certainly. Fhi would remember you too- if she were still alive to do so."
Howler, who had by this time melted completely into his Human-like semblance, struggled to make his thick tongue and dry throat work. "Rasha..."
"Is in jail, yes, I know. Yet, she's in no worse captivity than Bann, Kronmyr, and Mordren are," the male voice stated, cutting the dog master off. There was more movement in the trees, and a recognizable, thin-boned Elven male became clearly visible. One of his brilliant aquamarine-and-green eyes was unnaturally grey, but even that seemed to sparkle slightly as he smiled somewhat shyly. "There is a strap on each one of their necks, fitted by your own two hands."
Although spitting angry, Howler could not force himself to get up. Sensing the spike in fury, Niku moved to sit down in one of the blood splotches, digging his nose into it.
"She...will...hang," Howler managed through clenched teeth.
"At least she can only die once. Loyalty to you first cost Bann the seal he cherished more than he could a wife or child. Now it costs him the company he fought so hard to build, drained of its honor by forced ties to Netheril. When he goes to the hangman at last, that'll be death number three, for him."
Howler breathed deeply, pushing his body to gain more ground against the rival merc's poison. Some modicum of power returned to his shoulders, and from other places in the lightly wooded area, wolves howled encouragingly.
"Bann...would... would never-"
"Oh, go on, do go on!" the cheery Elf said, smiling more widely. "Explain to me, in breathless pants, in gasps, in terrible wheezes, why the former Purple Dragon, once famous for being above board and open book about all of his dealings, is now keeping two and three different record books, calling them 'bum journals,' when they actually chronicle well-planned, if not always well executed, kidnappings. Tell me all about why you have to allow Kronmyr's operatives to deliver your hounds to the edge of Cormite territory- tell me what buyer there is interested, if not a Semmite or a Netherese. Tell me what magical powers could compel him to become duplicitous."
"They... have...NOTHING-" Howler began to roar.
"I pray your patience, sir. As I was saying before, Fhionne was not alone that night, Garett," said the Elf, fearlessly hopping down from his perch. "You may have thought she was, you will wish that she was, but she was not. I was there, for one, and at the time, I was hoping to earn my way into the Sunfire by protecting you and your paramour from the Semmites that I knew liked to lurk about here. What neither of us knew was that a certain nobleman, one Signor Rancelair Illance, was responsible for the sudden spike in Semmite activity. You see, since his family's little misunderstanding with the Crown, he made a unique business deal; Sembia was in need of a few Cormyreans, and in return for the signor's so kindly lending them- permanently- the generous Semmites saw fit to fatten his pockets. Illance had been using his own connections to get this done, with a reasonable ratio of success to failure, at first, but then- ah, then there was Fhionne. A low-born Human citizen of Cormyr, humbly but gainfully employed at a well known tavern, chased from the city borders by a mere Human man, but killed, with spectacular brutality, by something else. Kronmyr has the blood of your first attempt at partnership on his own hands, but hadn't you ever wondered, Garett, how Bann found out about the second woman?"
And although he bristled, the dog master remained silent.
"I had the benefit of both my eyes, at that time. I saw everything- your desperate attempts at peaceably turning Fhionne, her terrified rejections, and your enraged response. You were too busy tearing her apart to see your audience, but I struck two of them down before receiving a taste of my own medicine from their hands- it should have blinded and paralyzed me completely. I took a counter-poison, and escaped their ropes, but was too curious to let them get completely away. So I followed them, all the way back to Rancelair's very chamber. Those Semmites gave former Swordmajor Bann Kylsohn's lead strap into his filthy hands, and he gave his new pet two choices: kidnap my marks for me, or the Crown will hear that former Officer Garett Thom, who was supposed to have been exterminated outside of the borders after contracting lycanthropy, is not only still alive, but alive enough to dismember and partially consume a law-abiding, hard-working Cormyrean woman. And so it is, Garett, so it is that you are doing just as much harm to Bann as you think Mishka is doing to Rasha."
There was silence for some time.
Howler, who had long gained full control of his body again, sat up, looked down at the black dart behind him, and tossed it at the Elf, who tolerantly allowed it to hit him in the face. Niku whimpered faintly, but didn't move, and Howler looked up into the trees.
"Where's that bitch of yours, pup?"
"That's not-"
"I'm here," Mi'ishaen replied, hopping down from the tree into which her knife had stuck some time before. Niku bounded over to her at once, knocking her over and sniffing insatiably at her right shoulder.
"Thattaboy," Howler scoffed, winded.
"He's her dog," the Tiefling managed, once she could get out from under the concerned puppy. "Or, rather, they're on the same...team... I guess. She doesn't like owning-"
"You're a pack," Howler replied miserably. "You're his pack. He fasted for you."
"And Bann, and Kronmyr, and Mordren? They're your pack," the Elven rogue sighed, sitting down comfortably as though the conversation had been a friendly chat the entire time. In front of him, he placed the original letters from the mysterious "R" to Bann, close enough for Howler to read, but too far away to easily snatch. Luckily, it seemed the dog master didn't even think of doing so. "Bann has been at this for a while now, but it's taking a toll on him, isn't it?"
"These... smell like Rasha," Howler huffed, not wanting to think about the Elf's last statement. "She works for you, yeah?"
"You're not giving this thief acrobat here enough credit, Garett," the Elf smiled wickedly. "Rasha did this copy work, yes, but it was for Mordren. Why didn't he take all this to the Crown, I wonder?"
"I'm not Garett," Howler sighed. "Not anymore."
"To Bann you are. And to the others, too. They're not just doing this because of Garett, though. They're protecting and working with Lykan Gan- and, speaking for Coalwater, we became interested in that long ago. When this Semmite connection surfaced, the interest became concern- we had to act. Coalwater might be a rival company, but we are still Cormyrean. We want to get you out of this slavery."
The dog master looked up from the letters at last. "So Coalwater started monitoring the Sunfire- because of me?"
The Elf merely nodded.
"We sent spies of our own; they never-"
"Of course not. Think of what you would do to Bann if you knew that your life was worth so much to him. Even- no, especially- if you can only think in terms of what you would do to yourself."
Silence reigned for another few moments before Howler successfully got up from his position. "The Dragons want you, bitch. You don't want Rasha to swing for you, you better hop to it. Soon."
"Tell you what," Mi'ishaen admitted. "Go back and get your company out of the shit it's in, and I'll get- Rasha- out of what she's in, okay?"
Howler looked Mi'ishaen over from his guarded distance, at first, but then took five strides to close the distance between them. Strangely enough, the jumpy rogue didn't move, but stood her ground, looking up into his eyes. The two stood that way for a few minutes without saying anything, before the dog master turned away.
"Come, Elf. Bring your papers, and speak to Bann for Coalwater. I'll back what you say- I'll even stay on your left, so you can see it all perfectly."
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