With eyes closed and her head tilted back, Mi'ishaen leaned back on her palms so that it looked as though she were sunbathing. What she was really doing, however, was listening.
"Turn your face westward, children of eternal cold;
Cast down your dark gaze, lest the sun ye chance behold.
The sun sets in rising, all light fades into the darkness;
So we die living, find song in foreordained silence."
Which is ridiculous, Mi'ishaen thought, since these pageant prancers don't even sing this bullshit at all. At least the old man got that part right.
"If you don't mind," she said aloud without moving any other part of herself, "there are differences between this verse and a similar one I've heard. If you'd quit shuffling around back there, I could perhaps actually hear this version properly. You know I can't just ask them to write it down for me."
Greyscale stopped moving and stood up straight immediately, casting an imposing shadow down on both the Tiefling as well as the various satchels and clay dishes that were neatly organized behind her. Again, the monotonous chant arose up out of the building across the street from the roof upon which Mi'ishaen sat and he stood.
"Turn your face westward, children of eternal cold..."
"I didn't think you were religious," Greyscale noted quietly, purposefully trying not to overpower the tuneless chorus below. Mi'ishaen didn't bother answering him.
"The sun sets in rising, all light fades into the darkness;
So we die living, find song in foreordained silence."
Mi'ishaen sighed deeply, as though she were inhaling incense or some other pleasant smell, then sat up off her hands and turned around so that the bits of cloth and clay plates were in front of her.
"I'm not religious," she confirmed, dusting her hands by rubbing them together, then purposefully poking through various pouches that were attached to one of the cross-body shoulder straps that belonged to her armor. "You do realize that it's dangerous to rehire a 'mercenary' accused of mental manipulation and high treason, right?"
Greyscale watched the Tiefling portion out various herbs, spices, and other ground up specimens. "We thought you were just angling to escape. Your returning to the Dragons was a stroke of genius even I didn't expect. The meddling of the Drow was unfortunate."
"Fuck you. The 'meddling of the Drow' is what sold a package deal that the judges wouldn't have otherwise bought," Mi'ishaen corrected. "Next time I see Bahlzair, I'll promise to kill him faster; he'll appreciate that. But you ought to pay him on top of it; he finished your job, and is too skilled to have to work for free."
"If you thought I was lost before, I'm really turned around now," Greyscale admitted. "I've always been a simple lizard."
"You were supposed to be playing the game to win, even if the rules changed in the middle," Mi'ishaen clarified, looking up from her satchel stuffing momentarily. "Bahlzair, for whatever reason, likes me enough to want to end my existance himself. So when he believed that the court was going to beat him to it, he came out of the prisons specifically to claim his kill. He murders for love and fun, but he's not a novice; the only reason he didn't get satisfaction was because the prison chewed him up just as bad as it did me. And all the whole time, who knows where you all were? I didn't even see any of you at the fucking trial."
"Had you seen me, what would you have done? What could I have done?" Greyscale countered. "What would just seeing each other have accomplished?"
"Don't fuck with me; you know what I mean," Mi'ishaen snorted, looking back down at her work. "I dislike being on the 'acceptable loss' list."
Greyscale gave a single small nod, an admission either of defeat or at least uncomfortable impasse. "It wasn't supposed to be you at all. Gnomes, like Shadar-kai, are able to nearly disappear before an assailant's eyes. When you subbed in for Cloud on that rooftop- well, it wasn't just the rules that changed. From that moment onward, you were playing a whole different game, and... I'll be frank, I never caught up. I waited to see what you could do. Salvaged what we could on the face game, especially since Silveredge was still visibly in play. And as you can see, complete name and all, she very much is still in play."
"Yeah," Mi'ishaen spat. "And you've got her reading your bullshit to me, now. As if I didn't hear you the first two goddamned times you asked- go on, ask me again."
"You forgot to call me a raw handbag," Greyscale noted. "I'd take it; you're well within your right. But you're dealing with the raw handbag instead of the childeater or the cave crawler because I have more intel than Cypher or Cloud. And I'm asking you repeatedly because you're just as much fighter as rogue- you just proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're not a scaredy-cat sneak."
"If you have incompetent people, then fire them," Mi'ishaen shrugged, tying off one of the satchels.
"Funny," Greyscale smiled. "That's exactly what Cloud said when I told her you couldn't read."
Mi'ishaen looked up from her work and stared at Greyscale with a lava red glare that he knew should have terrified him. Instead, he simply nodded again- just once- acknowleging her impasse for her. He took a few steps toward her, then sat down. It didn't fully fix the shadow that he cast, but it at least stopped her from having to crane her neck to stare up at him.
"Look, Cloud is a fourth generation rogue," he reasoned. "Most of what she does is well-advised. But cowardice is not born of experience; it's not wisdom. Hell, it's not even intelligence. Cowardice is what happens when baby fears grow up, just like rage is what happens when baby hate gets big."
"That sounds like an apology," Mi'ishaen said, her tone flat and unimpressed.
"We both already knew your hearing's good," Greyscale shrugged. "What else is in the way?"
Mi'ishaen refocused herself on the satchels and the portioned herbs. "Doesn't make sense to save the same asshole we just sold up to the Pillars."
"You didn't hear he got out of that?" Greyscale asked, genuinely surprised by the Tiefling's lack of awareness. "Anyway, he's not the mark- just an unfortunate beneficiary. Look at it this way- the more resources hemmorhage out of this country, no matter the actual recipient, the worse everyone will have it. We're not saving any specific person's skin; we're just keeping Cormyrian gold in Cormyr- you know, where it's easier to steal it."
Mi'ishaen sighed with some degree of annoyance and looked up again, the tips of her fingers soiled by some freshly cut and crushed flowers. "Were you ever, at any point, just normal rogues?"
Greyscale laughed. "No; speaking for Coalwater as an operation, we've been not-quite-right from the start. We got a little more interesting when I met Dark, but so does everyone- singular little lady. Personally, I'm a proud third generation merc. The only reason I got into the stealth business was because, well, once upon a time, no one would openly hire a homeless Dragonborn child. Cloud used to be a run-of-the-mill messenger, but over time, people began using her solely to get to me- you know, 'cause she can just poof on you. So, that's how it started. Once upon a time, Coalwater was really just us. Cypher is a turncoat from a defunct company; she joined up later."
Mi'ishaen turned her head very slightly to the right- a movement as sharp and sudden as a response to a needle prick. "Say that again."
Greyscale raised the scaly equivalent of an eyebrow- a potrusion of scale that crested the bone of his eye socket. "Which part?"
"The part about you, personally," Mi'ishaen said with quiet intensity, closing her eyes.
"I got into the stealth business," Greyscale repeated with some degree of suspicion, "because the people around here wouldn't openly hire a homeless Dragonborn child."
Mi'ishaen opened her eyes again, and looked, unwavering, into Greyscale's face with an expression that defied his ability to interpret. The two searched each other momentarily- at first, with the Dragonborn not truly knowing what he was looking for. Then some wordless certainty, too delicate to withstand the exposure of an outward affirmation, took firm root in his mind. Mi'ishaen broke the contact first to get back to the stuffing of her satchels, and after a few moments of watching her, Greyscale got up and left as unceremoniously as he had come.
In a stone, Mi'ishaen thought, somehow angry and amazed at the same time. In a stone. Well, I guess I sat still long enough, huh? Yeah. Guess I did.
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