Get your own Free Home Page
Cheyne d’Cathdeni was born across the seas to a high
priestess mother of an obscure sect and to a human soldier. She
was wanted by neither and was given to an old aunt to be raised
in exile. Her aunt died a few years after teaching the girl to
read and write. She was then shunted into an orphanage in
Caspia. She hated it from the very beginning. The strict rules
and edicts combined with her rebellious nature were volatile.
The matrons of the church in which she resided started referring
to her as “Demon Spawn” within a week of her arrival. She had
openly renounced the teaching of the ways of Ianthe and she
constantly fell asleep during mass. She picked fights with the
other orphans, resulting in a bloody nose, a crying girl and a
grinning Cheyne. She frequently climbed out of her third story
bedroom window at night to experience the dark pleasures of
Kieron. One night during one of her excursions, Cheyne spotted
an outline of a shadowy figure, crouched in front of the doorway
of the jeweler’s shop.
Basbear chuckled quietly to himself as he picked the fifth
and last lock that barred him entry to the jewelry store. The
lock clicked open under the skillful picking he applied. A light
brushing against his waist startled him. He glanced at his belt
and noticed one of his fangs missing. “What the?” he thought. He
scanned the dark street and noticed a little girl peering out at
him, partially hidden by an alcove of a shop. He swore to
himself and muttered, “Gotta get that back”, Basbear silently
drew his cloak around himself and melted into the shadows of the
street. Cheyne stayed completely still and hoped that that
strange hiding man did not see her. At that instant, she felt a
tap on her shoulder. The shadowy figure somehow got behind her
He said, quite annoyed, “I’d like my property back, if you don’t
mind.” Cheyne mustered up all the energy she could and burst
suddenly into a run… and nearly bowled over the figure that had
somehow got in front of her. After she composed herself, she
looked at him and asked, “How did you do that?” Basbear, not
quite expecting this sort of response, did not say anything for
a moment.
"Who are you?” came the response.
“My name is Cheyne d’Cathdeni,” said the little girl with a
fiery glint in her eyes, “What’s yours?”
“Cheyne d’Cathdeni, eh? Would you happen to be related to
those d’Cathdeni elves from Across the Sea? Those Cleric-types?”
“Cleric-types?” Cheyne asked, “No sir, I was raised by my
aunt before I got to this forsaken land. Now I’m stuck in the
stupid old orphanage.” She kicked at a rock.
“Really? Well isn’t that a pity. May I have my fang back now?”
“I just wanted to look at it,” Cheyne said pitifully, with
a frown on her pouty lips.
Basbear chuckled softly. Cheyne smiled up at him through
her eyelashes and gave him his fang, somewhat reluctantly.
Cheyne asked, “What are you doing in there anyway?”
Basbear replied, “Oh, the jeweler asked me to check on things
while he was away on a trip to his other shop in Siva.”
The girl thought about this. “Then why didn’t he give you his
keys?” she asked.
“Because, he forgot to give them to me before he left on
his trip. He also wanted me to get a certain gem from his shop
for extra safekeeping.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to help me?” he asked to get her out of the
street and out of sight should any guards come by unexpectedly.
And to keep her in sight while he figured out what to do about
her.
“Sure!”
“Ok, let’s go.”
Basbear led her into the shop where he quickly dismantled
all of the shop’s rather skimpy wards and runes. He told
Cheyne, “I guess he forgot to turn them off before he left, he’s
a rather forgetful gent, now isn’t he?” She only nodded, in awe
of this cloaked man. She looked around the shop, never having
been in the shops of Kieron at all. She looked in the many
cases, looking at all the jewelry. There were gold chains and
rings. Earrings and bracelets were on top of the cases. A
sapphire set in silver caught her eye. A ring looked like one
her aunt had had before she died. A tear fell to the ground.
Basbear looked up at the sound, alert now that he knew the girl
was in the vicinity. He asked, “Something the matter?” She
asked, “Why?” She simply was not aware of the tear. There were
no others, just the single tear. She had not shed any tears when
the old lady died, nor were there any as she lay in the church.
And none at all as her coffin was being lowered into the cold
earth. Until now.
She asked, “Should there be?” He shook his head and he
noticed her holding the ring in her open palm. “Do you want that
ring?” he asked her gently. She looked at her hand. She blinked
and thought, “How did that get there?” Basbear said to her, “I
don’t think he would mind if you borrowed that little trinket
for a while.” She simply nodded and clasped the ring to her
chest. She looked very small and vulnerable at that moment. He
made a very rash and irrational decision then. He decided to
take her on as an apprentice, his son Jaren needed a playmate as
well. Of course, he did not tell her of this, she would find out
eventually. He wrapped up his business, which was nothing even
remotely resembling that tale he told her, but she was but a
child. He asked her, “Cheyne d’Cathdeni, might you be thirsty?”
She nodded. He gave her a drink from a small flask, which was
slightly tainted with a sleeping potion, enough to knock a full
grown man out for at least an hour. She drank from the flask and
said, “It tastes kind of funny,” as she fell quickly
unconscious. He picked up her light body, left the shop and
locked it behind him.
He looked at the sky and walked quickly down the alleys of
Kieron to the rogue hideout. He nodded to the low rogue at the
entrance, saying, “New initiate”. The scruffy rogue at the
entrance looked over the little girl, “A little young, ain’t
she?” Basbear shrugged, “She’s a natural, I couldn’t pass her
up. I take responsibility for this one. Besides, I gave her
enough sleeping potion to make a grown man sleep for an hour,
she’s out for at least the next day or so.” The rogue nodded and
waved Basbear in. Basbear went into the hideout and looked
around at the various rogues discussing their exploits.
+++++++++++++++
Cheyne woke with a raging headache, a dry throat, a
ravenous stomach and a near to bursting bladder. A Half-Elven
boy of about twelve years was staring at her. “Quit staring at
me, you freak,” she said, “and tell me where the outhouse is.”
The boy grinned at her and ran out of the room. “Oh crud,” she
said. Basbear came into the room where she was and smiled at
her. “Nice to see you again, little one,” he said to her. He
motioned her to get up and follow him. He took her to the
outhouse and showed her where to wash her hands. He told
her, “When you’re done here, come back into the house for
breakfast, I expect you’re hungry, no?”
She grinned at the Half-Elven man walking back into the house to
leave her to do her business in relative privacy. She relieved
herself and washed her hands. She scanned the area for possible
ways to get out and to the Orphanage. Why, she did not know.
However, she knew this much, never again would she accept a
drink without first seeing if the person offering took a drink
also. She walked back into the house; she still had a headache
that would kill an ogre, the thirst to dry an ocean and the
hunger to rival that of a lion’s. She asked the man, “Who are
you, and why did you bring me here?”
Basbear smiled inwardly at Cheyne’s questions. He looked at
her and said, “I am now your father, my name is Basbear and I
brought you here to be a younger sister to my son, Jaren.”
Cheyne’s jaw dropped, it took a lot to jar the young half
elf. “Father?” she asked after a moment, “You’re my Father?”
Basbear nodded, “I went to the orphanage and signed the papers
this morning. You are now my daughter and Jaren is your brother.
Now are you going to eat?” She nodded and sat down at the table.
A servant came out and served up a rather large breakfast
consisting of eggs and pancakes with a thick maple syrup, coffee
for Basbear and juice for his kids. Breakfast was a silent
affair, the only noises being the consumption of the food and
the clatter of silverware against china. Cheyne ate like a
horse, shoveling huge bite after bite into her little mouth.
Basbear paused a moment to watch his new daughter eat and raised
an eyebrow, “Didn’t that aunt of yours teach you any manners?”
Basbear snapped at her. Cheyne looked up from her plate, her
face a sight to see, syrup covering her mouth from the chin up
to her upper lip, speckled with pieces of pancake and egg. She
paused a moment and thought about the question. “Well, she did
but I choose not to use ‘em, you get to eat more food that way,”
she grinned like the devil. Basbear stifled a smile, “Well,
you’re going to have to use them in my house or else you’re
eating in the tool shed.”
Her days were filled with Basbear training her and Jaren,
though it did not seem like training. Jaren was as quick and as
nimble as she was but then all half-elves are pretty nimble. The
whole house was a training area; there were chests in the attic,
designed for young thieves-in-training. They were allowed to
spar as all young children do, but Basbear told them, “The first
to draw blood is the winner.” In this way, their disputes never
had to go through him. They settled everything this way, from
whose toy was who’s, to whose turn it was to help the maids
clean. They won and lost about an equal number. Cheyne expressed
an interest in starting a garden. Basbear was pleased and
allowed this, on one condition, that he chose the plants that
she was to grow.
He taught her about plants and the various poisons that
they could be made into. He also showed her the distillery in a
basement room, which was hidden from view from the maids and
other servants. He showed her the various lock and ward to
safeguard the room. About this time, the cook ran off with a
soldier.
Cheyne had been friendly with the cook, who was amused that
the child had expressed an interest in cooking. Basbear had
known about this and had allowed it as he had about the cook’s
soldier. When the cook left, Cheyne was asked to see if she
could cook. She tried. And scorched the meat, undercooked the
veggies and simply maimed the dessert. Basbear ate very solemnly
and Jaren just made faces. At the end of the meal Basbear
said, “That was a lovely meal, dear, I think next time we’ll try
something different.” Eventually she got the timing right and
learned to cook better. Jaren argued with her less as she got
better at cooking. She used some of her herbs from the garden to
spice her foods now and then. Soon her brother and father were
getting round. Basbear stepped up the training and made them eat
only twice a day.
Cheyne was let out of the house eventually, to go exploring
Caspia at night with her brother. She tended towards poisons,
however she needed more work on her dagger and knifing skills.
Jaren was good at picking pockets and they worked well together
as a team. Jaren would be the thief looking like a commoner, and
she would be the vagrant beggar. The marks would be wary and pay
all their attention to her. Jaren would then cut their purse
strings and they would be a little lighter for their missing
gold.
++++++++++++
Basbear increasingly leave them on their own, to conduct
his own business around and about Capsia. Jaren and she would
case houses during the days when they would work the streets,
pickpocketing and other petty thievery. After they cased a
house, or block of houses, they would loot them for all they
could carry. They grew to be a formidable team, one invariably
knew what the other was thinking. She loved her carefree life ad
saw no end to it.
Jaren turned eighteen and felt the need to go off on his
own. He left his father and his sister and headed towards
Kieron, to seek his fortune. Cheyne was at a loss without her
brother, her twin. (their father had called them twin shadows
when they went hunting) She went about the town, hunting, but
her heart was no longer in it without her brother’s presence.
She finally asked her father during one of their ever more
infrequent dinners, if she could go looking for her birth
relatives. Basbear thought about this for a few days. He said to
her, “My child. I do not approve of this little adventure that
you desire. Yet I will allow it, for I know what it is like to
be alone in this world. You may go, but remember where your
loyalties lie.” She smiled at him and hugged him. She ran to her
room to get her things packed.
She packed lightly and swiftly. She took only her daggers,
a cloak, two fresh sets of clothing, her lockpicks and
backpack to keep them in. She put the ring that Basbear had let
her have on that dark night years ago. She went into the kitchen
to ready provisions for her journey. Basbear had booked her
passage to the lands across the sea, where her elven family
lived. Of her birth father, she knew nothing, save that he was a
human soldier who had loved her mother briefly.
Back to the poems Page!
Get your own Free Home Page