As Dark as the Forest

Chapter 2

Ori

Remo, for all that he could instill the fear of the gods in a person, was completely average in appearance. Something that was actually, fairly integral to being so successful in what he had made his life's work – spying, thieving, and the occasional assassination. "Your mother is a beauty," he'd once told Ori, "But if you think on it, your mother has a very specific skill set. One with an average appearance like us," he'd gone on to say, "Is oft times overlooked. And, it is easy to play it up or play it down, depending on the task at hand."

All five feet ten inches of him was moderately muscled, and currently accentuated by a close cut black doublet, and dark breeches. Remo, the guild-master dressed simply and practically. But Remo was also a master of the art of transformation. When he strode the halls above as the chief proprietor of The Nest's Pleasure and Ale-house, he wore more elegant attire – his doublets were embroidered in gold, his shirts of the finest material and dye.

"Orianne. Welcome." Remo said, his voice gravelly and lethal. "I'm sorry to bother you on such short notice, but I have something of importance to discuss." He sat on a large comfortable-looking old chair, one leg crossed over the other, exposing the scuffed soles of his favorite black boots.

Ori's mother sat beside him in a matching armchair, her delicate hand resting beneath Remo's larger one. Ori's brown eyes took in her mother's attire – simple black breeches and a flowing purple blouse that were completely unusual for the Madam of the pleasure house, who usually moved about in voluptuous skirts and low-cut bodices of silk and lace. Isirrya's green eyes met Ori's brown ones with an intensity that made Ori waver. Despite the casual attire, her mother wore cosmetics that accentuated her high cheekbones, and long dark lashes. Isirrya lifted an ivory hand to push back raven-black hair, her gold bracelets clinking together with the movement.

Orianna and Isirrya could not have been more different if they tried.

Ori was glad of this though – she would rather blend in with a crowd than have all of the attention on her. Isirrya had been sought out by many of the clientele before her rise to Madamhood. As a result, the confirmed identity of Ori's sire was unknown.

But of all the men Ori's mother had slept with – Remo had been the most frequent, and remained so. And despite all of the precautions young Isirrya had taken, she had found herself pregnant. Remo had resented Ori, before her birth. Resented not knowing with one hundred percent certainty that the child Isirrya carried was or wasn't his.

In life and in work, Remo did just about everything with one hundred percent certainty. When Ori's transformative powers had developed, Remo had seen the value in them. He had known with certainty, that this skill she had was useful and worth developing.

And that was why, as Ori glanced, from her mother, to the Master, to the partially covered metal cage in the corner with an easel set beside it, she feared that he was incredibly certain of what Ori might be capable of for her final trial.

It wasn't so much the cage itself, as the dead silence that came from within it that had Ori feeling uneasy. Anything that required a cage with bars as thick as Ori's wrists was not something that Ori wanted to meet. Furthermore, as she glanced between the easel and the covered cage, she knew that Remo wanted her to sketch whatever creature this was. Her art was often a conduit for learning about the anatomy of living things.

Information that was useful for shifting into whatever lay beyond that curtained cage.

Sometimes she had to focus on her own anatomy. On slowing her rapid breathing, stilling her trembling hands, and calming her racing heart.

"Aren't you interested to see what's behind the curtain?" Remo asked, in a tone that suggested he knew she was afraid. "I can assure you, it's harmless."

No. Ori swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "Will you tell me my task before you show me, my lord?" Remo insisted on the noble title. Even though he was no true lord. He was a lord of his own making.

Remo let out a rough-sounding chuckle and took a sip out of the flask he had on the table beside him. As close as she was standing, the scent of the spiced rum burned her nostrils.

"No, little bird. You will understand better when you see." Remo, waved at one of his guild-members who materialized out of the shadows in the corner.

"Remove the curtain." He ordered.

The guild-member, a nondescript man who went by the name of Fedro, moved fluidly to the cage and pulled the curtain away to reveal a prone humanoid figure.

The young woman was curled up with her back to them, but from what Ori could tell, she was tall and waif-like, with dark, earth-brown hair and creamy white skin. At first, with a startled flutter of her own heart, Ori wondered if the girl was even breathing.

But she was – slowly, the rise and fall of her protruding rib cage just barely visible under a thin brown tunic. Long hair spread in matted waves onto the cold stone floor. Ori squinted in the dim lighting – Remo was going to have to increase the magelight in here if he wanted her to get the best details in her sketch – was the girl's ear...pointed?

Ori sucked in a breath. This was not good. This young woman before her, covered in grime and tattered clothing – she was a Quercian. An elemental of the Quercian Forest. Gods, what has Remo done to bring her here? If he'd broken a holy sanction... Ori bit the inside of her cheek. Quercus help me.

"I purchased her in the slave market for more than she's worth." Remo's voice interrupted Ori's thoughts, as if reading her mind. "I did not break the sanction to bring her here, though someone did." The man examined his fingernails, as though it was no more a concern to him than if someone had spilled a goblet of wine at dinner.

"My task is to study her." Ori said flatly. "And for what purpose." It came out, not as a question, but rather as an emotionless statement.

Remo smiled, a wide feral grin. The kind of grin that told Ori that this task was big. And that she was not going to like it. Remo might give back to the poor, but at times his moral scope did not quite align with hers. He'd never forced her into anything she was not comfortable doing. But the guildmaster was still out to make money and keep the guild afloat – even if he had to cross some lines to do it.

And Remo felt that the Quercians were too well off anyway. He felt that they didn't do enough to fight the injustices that went on every day in the inlands where Terrendia was located. He was of the opinion that they used their seclusion made to turn a blind eye, and he didn't like it. She'd heard him say it many times before.

The sick feeling that had started to form in Ori's stomach was about to turn into full-fledged disgust.

"Your task is to become her." Remo said, the grin never leaving his face. He took another sip of rum.

The Quercian girl rolled over with a soft moan, startling Ori out of her skin.

Remo laughed, "Oh Orianne. You are so good. Too good. Sometimes I'm not really sure if you are cut out for this place."

Ori often wondered the same, but this was all she'd ever known. And she also knew that if she left, Remo would hunt her down. Because she owed him for the life he'd given her all these years. Clothes on her back, and food in her belly. An education. A roof over her head.

"You will become her, little bird. And you will enter the Quercian lands. I've need of some of their secret assets, and a buyer who will pay a high price for them."

Ori didn't have the energy to give a response, and Remo clearly did not expect one. "Fedro, the curtain, if you please?"

Back in her room, Ori shut the door and sat on her bed, feeling numb.

You will become her... The words bounced around in her head, echoing like someone shouting in an empty room.

It was one thing to change one's physical body to appear as something else. It was completely another to become someone new – body, mind and soul. And Orianne had no intention of losing the two latter.