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The Cantori Diamond never slept, but it was quieter during the day, when the heat was at its peak.
Despite it, the hush that fell over its public floor was noticeable enough for the attentive Crows on the higher floors to look down from the balconies.
At the entrance, a group of five was stepping in, unaggressive but eye-catching with unapologetic Qunari attire.
Crows hissed and reached for their weapons. Viago raised a fist, demanding their silence and stillness.
The leading Qunari was a woman with black hair, light skin, and twisted horns. She wore a long white dress, which was not consistent with warrior attire. The three males at her back were the ones silencing the casino: soldiers not dissimilar to the Antaam invaders. The last one on the woman’s right was the one to look up directly at the balconies. The elf’s eyes caught notice of Viago and Teia in a few seconds, as if she knew exactly who to look for.
“Spy. Ben-hassrath,” Viago concluded.
“What do they want?” Teia asked, frowning.
The usher, an old Crowd who had retired and seen too much to be bothered by a few giants, welcomed the party with her usual phlegm. They couldn’t be heard from the higher floor, but the usher led them toward the back of the room while her assistant hurried for the stairs.
“We’re going to know soon enough,” Viago replied as the assistant slipped between the curious Crows to stop by the Talons’ side.
He bowed to them before announcing:
“A Talon has been asked for at table 10.”
Viago went to the stairs without a word, the crowd parting for him. Teia followed. Few could say they had ever negotiated directly with a Talon, even fewer those who had talked with two. A Master was usually sufficient for any negotiation, and anyone else asking directly for a Talon would have been rebuffed for the sheer nerve of it. However, Viago wouldn't have trusted anyone else with such 'guests'.
Only the two women were seated at the table meant for six. The soldiers were standing. One, hornless, was on the left of the Qunari woman, facing her side with his back to the wall. The other two were turned so that together they had no blind spots.
Viago took the seat opposite the Qunari, angling himself so that Teia instinctually sat on his left, opposite the elf spy.
“Welcome to the Cantori Diamond,” Teia spoke up with a practiced smile. The casino, as its name implied, was under her house’s jurisdiction. She introduced the two of them before gesturing at the card game sitting in the center of the table. “Do you play?”
“No,” the Qunari woman replied without batting an eyelash.
“I know how to,” the elf admitted, “but the Qun has no use for hidden meanings today. We don’t need to hide why we’re here. Your people can come closer; we don’t care,” she said, looking pointedly at the Crows who had started trickling down the stairs and lounging around the room. Jacobus had sat down at a close table and didn’t hesitate to stand up and stay behind Teia’s shoulder, scowling with his arms crossed, when the permission was granted.
The elf waved to her companion. “This is Issreth, and I’m Ashissra. We want to hire the Crows in the name of the Qun.”
Issreth pulled out cards from her belt’s pockets, put down the pile on the table, and spread them in a smooth hand gesture, unveiling thirteen of them.
Viago’s sharp eyes noted the details written in the common tongue, but the names written in bold letters at the top were telling: Kithshok. Kathaban. Rasaan.
“You want the leaders of the Antaam killed,” he concluded.
“Correct.”
Jacobus let out a disgusted nose. “Oh, now, you care?”
Viago clenched his jaws, holding back his first scathing words in favor of a more discreet warning look, considering their audience. Jacobus barely had the decency to lower his eyes at the rebuke. He still had a lot to learn in self-control, despite his recent improvements with Rook's help.
Issreth, after watching the teenager coolly, asked:
“Is this one a Talon?”
“No,” Viago denied immediately. “He’s still learning,” he replied with a second, more blatant, reproachful glance at the boy. Jacobus tilted his head down in submission, but not without a show of moody attitude.
“But he has a point,” Teia said. “Why now? It has been eight years since the Antaam’s rebellion.”
Issreth hummed. “Then I suppose I should teach.”
She closed her eyes, thinking, as Crows slowly gathered in a loose crowd behind the Talons’ backs. When they were settled, as if she knew her audience was ready, she opened her dark eyes.
“I shall use what you’re familiar with, young Crow,” she said to Jacobus. “Let’s imagine that, far in the future, Talons have a meeting to decide on their policy toward the rest of Thedas. Most of them are in favor of an aggressive, imperialist, and invasive attitude. The First Talon, conscious of the stakes for their country and beyond, has been holding them back repetitively.” She leaned back in her seat, crossed her legs, and gestured with a little looping handwave.
The crowd was all ears, conscious that they were listening to the answer to the famous question: what in the Void had happened to set the Antaam off?
“The conversation becomes heated when…” (she twisted her hand suddenly) “... the First Talon is stabbed in the back. They stagger, catch their assailant, and smash them into the negotiation table. A brawl breaks out. The First Talon is the main target, but they are extracted from the situation by their people, heavily injured. The other Talons scatter. They go back to their domains, and they order their Crows to prepare for an immediate departure. The news of the brawl hasn't spread yet. What do the Crows do?”
Issreth waited for Jacobus’s answer. The teenager, uneasy to be the center of attention, replied reluctantly:
“They obey.”
“Indeed, they do. This is their Talon. They’re to be obeyed. So the Crows are to leave. But what of those who usually assist the Crows? They have no orders. The crews do not comply. The supplies aren’t packed. The port is closed. And yet, the Talons demand departure. What do the Crows do?”
Jacobus shifted on his feet.
“Answer the question, Jacobus,” Viago pressed, tapping his gloved hands on the table. He knew what the Qunari was doing, comparing them, showing how similar they were, but she had a point, and this was an interesting lesson for the fledglings.
“They… I suppose… They manhandle the crew. They take the supplies. And…”
“And?”
“They force the port open.”
“Yes, they do. Cannons are the most effective way to do so. And Crows are, of course, quite effective. So the Crows fire on Antiva city. Just the port, of course, because Crows are precise and do not wish to hurt their own. But see, it’s a hot and windy day. There is a lot of wood in the port. It catches fire. Embers fly. The fire spreads. The Crows leave, and the capital is on fire. Dozens die. Hundreds are injured. Thousands are now defenseless without the protection of their only line of defense because that’s what the Crows are, aren’t they?”
Issreth tilted her head down, her eyes darkening in the shadow of her horns.
“Now. You’re a leader of Antiva. What do you do?”
“I… take care of my people.”
“You wouldn’t deserve your title otherwise and quite rightly lose it. So you focus on your people. But when they have recovered, what do you do?”
“I kill the ones responsible,” Jacobus replied immediately, short and decisive.
“Ah, but you forget, learner. You have just lost the large majority of your army. All that remains is the only protection between your people and those who would strike them because they share a common origin with the vultures who descended upon them. You cannot afford to send them on wild chases. So… what do you do?”
“I…” Jacobus hesitated, glancing at the cards on the table. “I outsource.”
“And what do you need for that?”
“Ressources. Money.”
“Correct.” She tilted her head to the side, raising her chin, calm and unbothered. “Did I answer your question, little Crow?”
“Yes...”
“Good.” Issreth brought her attention back to the Talons, and by virtue of them facing each other, she met Viago’s eyes. “I trust that you have no objection to the targets.”
“None,” Viago confirmed.
“Do you have conditions?” Teia asked.
“The Antaam considers that an honorable death is a death in battle. There is no honor left in the Antaam’s leaders. The details do not matter to us, but do not give them this pleasure.”
“Noted.”
Issreth opened another pocket at her belt and removed a roll of scrolls that she settled on the table.
“When it is done, we wish that you pin this announcement for the rest of the Antaam.”
Viago reached for a copy, and Teia read, leaning toward him. There were two pairs of lines written in large, elegant script. One was in Qunari and the other in Common, presumably the translation. It said:
“The unforgivable is erased. The forgivable is forgotten.”
Later, the Talons would ask a Tal-Vashoth what it meant. They would explain that in the Qun, justice was given based on one principle: what could be forgiven, and what couldn’t. In the first case, the sentence was death — complete erasure — or qamek consumption — erasure of the self. In the second case, as long as the guilty confessed, an appropriate punishment was applied, after which the crime was considered forgotten.
With these two sentences, the Qun stated that the leaders of the Antaam were guilty of unforgivable crimes, and by their death, justice was dispensed. As the rest of the Antaam didn’t meet the same fate, they were told that their crimes could be forgiven — if, the Tal-Vashoth insisted, and only if they confessed, and to do so they had to surrender to the Qun. In short, the Qun were giving their lost soldiers a way to come back home with their tails between their legs but their honor intact.
Viago would mull on it and decide that if this rid his country of leaderless packs of rampaging Qunari, he’d take it.
“It will be done,” Teia agreed, straightening. “But thirteen contracts make for a considerable sum.”
“Even if you’re as eager to get rid of them as we are?” Ashissra spoke up, leaning forward with an elbow on the table.
“Even then,” Viago confirmed, unmoved by such a shameless argument.
“Would an exchange of services lower that sum?”
Viago looked up from the scroll he was putting back with the others to meet the sharp eyes of the elf. He was highly skeptical that the Qunari could be helpful, but Teia took the bait with a congenial smile, always willing to let her opponents show their cards.
“What kind of service are we talking about?”
“You have a… problem in the house of your former governor. We could handle it for you.”
Ah. Unexpected. Interesting.
“We can handle it,” he dismissed the claim, taking the stance of indifference so Teia could play her part, well aware that they weren’t handling the problem at all.
After Governor Ivenci’s capture, the last of the Antaam had entrenched themselves in his house. Every issue was booby-trapped with saar-qamek. Their only attempt to go in had been a disaster. Short of waiting for the Antaam to die of hunger (and they had no way of knowing how many they were exactly and how many provisions they had), they were at a stalemate.
“As you wish,” Issreth said, and she pulled on a rope at her belt to untie a long line of gold ingots from under her dress. It had been wrapped tightly around her body, stopping it from making noise or being noticed. “Is this sufficient?”
So, that’s what the slits in her dress were for, Viago thought distantly, a bit surprised, as the rest of the Crows were, by this abrupt reveal.
“Issreth,” Ashissra said softly, not unkindly, but in a tone that implied a mistake.
The horned woman blinked at the elf questioningly.
“It was a negotiation tactic. The Fifth Talon didn’t really mean that he didn’t want our help. I was supposed to convince him, or rather, I think, the Seventh Talon, who would then convince the Fifth.”
“Oh.” Issreth took this in. “Why?”
“So they could downplay their need for assistance.”
She hummed thoughtfully before nodding in understanding. “Pride.” She bowed her head to the Talons. “My apologies.”
And she removed the gold from the table, sliding it back under her skirt. She crossed her hands back on the table and waited patiently.
“Proceed.”
Ashissra cleared her throat, but before she could speak, Viago huffed in amusement and waved his hand.
“Never mind. If you can get the Antaam out of Treviso, we’ll consider a discount. But you get them out first.”
oOo
“Why are you there and not with them?” Jacobus asked Ashissra as she hid with them on a rooftop with the best view of the Ivenci house.
Ashissra raised an eyebrow at him and gestured at her face. “Did you miss the lack of horns and height? I don’t have their resistance to poison. The antidote to saar-qamek makes me terribly nauseous, and they don’t need me anyway.”
“Is that a common side effect?” Viago asked out of professional curiosity.
“If you don’t have grey skin, yeah. They swallow it down like whisky, and then they can go through saar-qamek like plain fog while you’d be coughing. Just look, Sataareth’s about to go in.”
Indeed, the hornless Qunari blasted the courtyard door open in the next moment, triggering the saar-qamek trap. Despite the cloud of greenish smoke, the large man stepped forward without hesitation and shouted in Qunlat.
“What is he saying?” Jacobus asked.
“It’s a ritual call. He’s announcing himself as an envoy of the Qun and demanding the Antaam face their responsibilities,” Ashissra explained.
“He’s making himself a target, you mean,” Teia muttered. This was clearly not the way the Crows handled things, but then, their way hadn’t panned out.
“He’s a former member of the Antaam. They aren’t taught to cower. And that’s what the Antaam respect. Look. It’s working.”
Indeed, a dozen soldiers slowly came out of the house and spread in the courtyard, weapons at the ready but not raised.
They were far enough upwind that the saar-qamek couldn’t reach them. It would have made hearing the scene difficult if the Antaam wasn’t so loud by nature.
The one leading the soldiers spoke as if he were on a battlefield, while he only said one word:
“Arishok.”
Viago breathed in slowly, controlling himself even with his doubts confirmed. There weren’t many hornless Qunari. To assume that the one accompanying the negotiating party had been the famed Arishok, betrayed by his own men, had been a reach, but then it had strategically made sense, as was proven.
When the Arishok replied, Jacobus stared at Ashissra pointedly until she sighed and resigned herself to her new role of translator:
“I’m no more the Arishok than you’re Qunari.”
Some of the soldiers flinched at the barb.
“I’m Sataareth. Do you lead?”
“I’m Karashok. I lead.”
“Daathrata led you astray. Do you follow him beyond death?”
“We do not.”
“Ivenci took over command. Do you follow the bas?” Ashissra blinked and specified: “Uh… bas means not-Qunari.”
“We do not.”
“Then what is your purpose, Karashok?”
There was a long moment of silence. The saar-qamek slowly dispersed, and Sataareth stood tall in his silver armor, his sword held loosely by his side.
Viago took note of the body language. This was a leader, the Arishok the soldiers expected. It was a far cry from his posture in the Cantari Diamond, taking space but without the allure of command. This was a man used to following as much as commanding and doing well with both.
“We have none,” Karashok finally admitted.
“Indeed. You are maraas.” Ashissra clicked her tongue. “Maraas means… uh… nothing and alone at the same time.”
The soldiers shifted again. This was clearly something they didn’t appreciate. There was tension there. A weakness to exploit.
“What are you here for?” Karashok demanded with a warning in his tone.
“Judgement.”
At the door, a white silhouette slipped among the weak billows of saar-qamek. Issreth stepped forward as if she were walking on air, the panels of her long slitted skirt dancing along her legs. She was singing. No, reciting. Praying? Yes. Her words had the rhythmic, soothing tone of a prayer, and as she spoke, most of the soldiers lowered their heads and murmured to themselves, as if praying along.
“That’s the Qun, Canto one,” Ashissra murmured. “Existence is a choice.
There is no chaos in the world, only complexity.
Knowledge of the complex is wisdom.
From wisdom of the world comes wisdom of the self.
Mastery of the self is mastery of the world.
Loss of the self is the source of suffering.
Suffering is a choice, and we can refuse it.
It is in our own power to create the world, or destroy it.”
Issreth stopped by Sataareth’s side and stated:
“You have lost yourself. You’re suffering. Former children of the Qun, you may die without honor as bas or confess, live, and come back to the Qun. Choose wisely.”
A beat. One fell to his knees, dropping his sword on the ground. The rest followed like dominoes.
“That’s… it?” Jacobus asked with a hint of disappointment. He had been hoping for a fight.
Ashissra raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you listen to your lesson? The Antaam followed their leaders because that’s what they do. They weren’t asked if they wanted to leave the Qun, if they wanted to spend the rest of their life away from Par Vollen like a band of worthless mercenaries. What would you do in their place?”
“I… I’d have left on my own!”
“Good for you. And then?”
“I’d have come back home, lay low.”
Ashissra snorted. “You’re a stereotypical Crow. You preen like a peacock. You’d be spotted in less than a month, tops.”
“I do not! I wouldn’t!” Jacobus protested, straightening.
Teia was grinning, but Viago sighed. “Fledgling, stop proving her right.”
oOo
A few hours later, Crows and Qunari met on the docks, where the wayward Antaam had already boarded an Antivan ship (it better be borrowed or loaned rather than stolen, Teia distractedly thought).
"Are you satisfied?" Issreth asked.
Teia tilted her head. "You have fulfilled your part of the deal. As agreed, we'll fulfill ours, at a discount."
"We take half as a deposit," Viago warned them, a hand on his hips, near his weapons.
Issreth looked down at Ashissra, who nodded.
"They want half of the discounted gold now," the elf confirmed.
The Qunari bowed her head in understanding and pulled on her belt once again, the gold ingots sliding down. She counted them out (she actually had thrice as many on her and didn't seem bothered at showing it off in a public setting; Qunari's disdain for gold truly was something), cut the rope at the right amount, and handed it over to Teia (who had to brace to carry such a weight).
"The other half will be expected when the contract is fully completed. How should we contact you then?" Viago asked.
"Ashissra will let us know when you succeed," Issreth replied. "We'll come then."
"Are we supposed to trust you on that?" Jacobus asked defiantly, his arms crossed.
The Qunari, both Issreth and Sataareth standing at her back, looked at him coldly. "The Qun pays its debts. Always."
"So do the Crows, and your kind aren't welcomed in Treviso, anymore," Jacobus pointed out.
Issreth looked down at Ashissra, clearly seeking her counsel. The elf of the Qun leaned close and whispered a few words in their language before Issreth shrugged and pulled the gold once more out of her skirt. She counted the other half of the agreed amount, cut it, and handed it over again. Before she could add it to the heavy armful that Teia already carried, Viago intercepted it.
"There," Issreth said. "The full amount. Since Crows always pay their debts, I trust that you'll complete your part, whether or not you're already paid in full."
"We will," Viago confirmed. "We're motivated to do so."
"We'll await news of your success, then. But remember, Crows: the leaders must die outside of battle, and their Antaam must be given the message."
"We remember. It will be done."
"Should it be done with… outstanding results. We could consider adding a…" (She frowned and murmured a Qun word to Ashissra, who translated helpfully.) "… a bonus to your payment."
"Noted."
oOo
Teia and Viago looked down from the roofs of Marothius as the Antaam previously following Kashtaar, the Jewel-Taker, fought between themselves in front of the message they had plastered over the Warlord's body landing site. His fall from his own balcony, as he succumbed to the poison's madness, had been messy and covered the poster with blood. However, it was still legible and caused its usual scene.
By now, they were familiar with how this usually went: some officers tried to take over the Warlord position and impose their rule by force. Sometimes, they succeeded, at least temporarily. However, the message always gained ground over time in the minds of the most faithful. The warband then dissolved into two sides: those who wanted to come back home and the others. It was rarely resolved without violence and most often led to mutual destruction.
The Qun seemed to have foreseen this outcome, though, as most often than not, Ashissra and Sataareth showed up with a small team, quite timely so at that (how they knew where the Crows went was driving Viago a little bit crazy), and managed to give the faithful the upper hand.
"We'd better get that bonus," Viago muttered as a dozen injured Qunari fell to their knees in front of the former Arishok, laying down their swords at his feet.
"Do you think we could poach Ashissra?" Teia wondered with her chin on the back of her hand as she watched the elf who turned toward them and sent them a wink despite them being nearly invisible in the darkness.
"No. Pretty sure she's in love with the priestess."
Teia sent him a surprised look. "You think? Why?"
"I've seen her look when Issreth's back was turned. I know that look."
"You do?"
"I wore the same with you," he replied while standing up.
Teia's delighted laughter followed him as they took their leave.