Approximately 15 months ago...
She had been in the palace of Dilla-Sehr for only a week. The Brothers Dim had made good on their agreement, but her request had taken time to arrange.
Clad in clinging, scanty silks, she spent her days lounging about on overstuffed couches like an ornament; just another pretty face in a sea of them. Pabah Jher collected beautiful women like she collected relics, but much to her relief he didn't seem to do much, if anything, with them. His only heir was adopted whilst, from the gossip rife in the harem quarters at night, his bed had only ever been warmed by his own substantial girth.
But it wasn't the man, his women, his palace or his belongings that had brought her here. It was what she had determined to be hidden away beneath...
Approximately 12 months ago...
Finding her way down had proven difficult. Any scouting or probing had needed to be done under the cover of darkness whilst the palace inhabitants slept, lest questions be raised about the overly curious concubine wandering the grounds. Indeed, she had been almost caught several times in the dead of night by the guards that patrolled the estates.
But she had eventually found what she had been looking for, had made several forays to map the concealed tunnels and had chosen her last eve in the palace to coincide with a grand party; all the better to slip away unnoticed in the hubub.
Several hours later, and over 50 feet below the surface if her calculations were correct, she found herself faced with the culmination of her hard work. There it sat, delicately balanced upon what looked to be a particularly fat stalagmite, untouched and unseen for millennia!
She breathed it in, the stale air, the dust and damp, to her the scents of victory.
The Mirror of Dal'Ra was, as it turned out, not a mirror at all but a shield. Round, alike those favoured by the Eorlings and of more or less the same size, but ever so slightly concave as opposed to flat. Its polished metal gleamed brightly even in the weak lantern light, even beneath its thick coating of dust. Stunningly beautiful!
She took it. She wrapped it in thick cloth. She left.
From there, she rode away from the palace, and the harem, back toward the north where she would soon see to it that this partcular artifact would be sent to Evendim and kept securely in her vault.
Aproximately 6 months ago...
News had reached her several times of a new gang of outlaws, somewhere between Tharbad and Trestlebridge, taking swipes at her couriers and caravans. She had paid them little heed, fully aware that the larger, more established groups would eventually destroy or absorb them, and those larger groups knew better than to come for what was hers. Some she had paid off, some owed her favours, and some had grown into their prime hearing tales of the woman she used to be. That old notoriety could still prove useful, it seemed.
Her lack of vigilance would prove to be detrimental however, for among the missives recieved came a report concerning the loss of the Mirror.
That would not do. Not at all.
Reluctant though she was, it was time to return to the North. It was time to take matters into her own hands.
Yesterday...
She had stepped into the dim recessess of the Forsaken Inn, yet another stop on her long and tedious tour of various contacts she had made over the years. This time, her target was Falster Fox, a tough and angry man who was always quick to raise his voice or use his fists.
He had blanched the moment she greeted him.
It was to be expected; he owed her a substantial amount of money and feared that she was finally here to collect, but all she wanted was information. He had none to give, but agreed to keep his ear to the ground.
As her conversation with him wound down, they were interrupted by Gregwald. How long since she had seen him last? Since before Aidenn had died...
Somehow it felt like a lifetime, and yet no longer than yesterday. That was a pain, she supposed, that would never leave her heart.
They had talked a while. At first it had been pleasant, but of course, the mood had to turn.
"He said some strange things about you, you know... "
Probing revealed spilled secrets, some true, some embellished, some glaring omissions. Somehow, the man had managed to stab her in the back from a thousand miles away. She should have felt anger, she should have felt surprise, but she didn't.
She just felt... sad and weary.
One more betrayal. That was where forgiveness led.
But what to do now?
Vengeance was for fools, and all the secrets she held of his seemed... inconsequential now. Should she fill in the gaps for Gregwald? Make his place in the proceedings known? One pointless, petty little victory just to make herself seem less the aggressor and him less a victim?
What for?
It would solve nothing. It would prove nothing.
What to do?
Nothing.
Of course, she couldn't entirely discount the possibility of punching him in the face were they ever to meet again, but that was a problem for another day.
Here and now, she had more important matters to attend to.
A missing relic, and an upstart little group of bandits who had yet to learn their place.
