“I suspect that she was quite powerful,” Abato grins, “but let me get on with the rest of the story, hmmm...”
When Argonath nods, Abato continues, “I said my name, but when the boy said the same, she just glared at him and said he was lying. Before I could even react, she turned and started running back up the stairs. It took me a second to realize something else was wrong, but as soon as I did, I charged after her with Hrogarth, Damaranth, and Mendek hot on my heels. I left Ralbi sitting there with a knife to the boy’s throat. I see her reach into her boot and pull out a dagger. She runs into the room, where a cluster of men is gathered around Benger, trying to put a bag over his head.”
“She plows into the fight and throws one of the miscreants at me. I grab him and hand him over to Mendek, who gives him that wicked grin of his and shoves a knife into his ribs to make him hold still. She grabs the next one, spins him around to face her, and throws a left hook that leaves him out cold at her feet. The third one tries to dive out the window, but she stakes his foot to the windowsill with the dagger. The fourth one gets a gut punch and a knee to the groin, before she shoves his head into the bag they’d been trying to get Benger’s head into.”
“Once he’s on the ground, she gives him a few good kicks for good measure. I’m pretty sure I heard some ribs crunch. The one that’s nailed to the windowsill is wailing about his foot when she reaches into her other boot and pulls out another dagger. She waves the dagger at him and tells him to be silent before she gives him something to scream about. He just crouched there on the windowsill, pissing himself.”
“She made him piss himself?” Argonath asks.
“You didn’t see her,” Abato sighs, “She was incandescent, fierce, and furious. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look. If her other passions run even half as hot, she’d be a remarkable partner.”
“I wonder if that’s what Atres sees in her,” Argonath shrugs, “but surely the story doesn’t end there.”
“No, there’s quite a bit more to it,” Abato grins, “and once you hear it, you will understand why I call her my incandescent goddess. Once he stopped his wailing, we could hear the cart trying to leave, so I sent Hrogarth and Damaranth after it. She’s standing there, sides heaving and waiting for something else to happen, when it does. This jackass teleports in babbling about finding out where the bandits she’s kept alive are so they can either spring them or, more likely, kill them before any secrets get out. Before the jackass realizes that his trap has been turned on him, she cold cocks him. That’s when I decided that maybe her theory might have more merit than I first realized.”
“What happened to the men you captured?” Argonath asks.
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“I got to demonstrate my lovely new transport squares for my incandescent goddess,” Abato grins, “I shipped them off to the dungeons where we’ve been questioning all of them. It’s quite a tale. As it turns out, this little lordling had been using the bandits as a way to dispose of unwanted relatives, first for himself and then as a service for hire. Now I have my hooks into dozens of places that I didn’t before because knowing where the rightful heirs to various seats and offices can be found is quite handy. The ones who are uncooperative find themselves replaced by their unwanted relatives, who tend to be rather vengeful and quite grateful. Even the ones who are cooperative are slowly being replaced. Gods! There are so many of them that if we were to do it all at once, it might destabilize the Dukedom, maybe the Kingdom. This thing has been operating for years. She unraveled it in a few days.”
“Did you ever happen to go by the bandit camp?” Argonath asks, “I know that she said there were a lot more bandits than she’d anticipated. The five of you do look quite disreputable when you’re dressed for your outside work, so I’ll give her that much. If I didn’t know you, I might think you were bandits myself.”
Abato recounts his visit to the former bandit encampment and the pile of dead bandits that the temple staff had dragged out of the forest, along with the ones that they’d scraped up out of the roadway.
“How many bandits were there?”
“A little over forty in total,” Abato shrugs, “Almost half of them were in the roadway, trampled to a pulp by a horse. The bloody hoofprints were everywhere. It looks like a few escaped her wrath, according to the trackers, by running deeper into the forest. We’re still hunting those last few. It seems she thought my men and I might have been the ones who had escaped her.”
Argonath scrubs his face, “Gods! I thought she was exaggerating. She was telling the truth.”
“She’s a paladin,” Abato reminds him, “One of her oaths is and I quote ‘Always serve the truth, never uttering an expedient lie.’ When she says something, it’s probably accurate.”
“What were they doing with the bodies? Why not just bury them and be done with it?” Argonath asks, “That would seem to be a lot easier.”
“Because my fierce Pavati,” Abato grins, “is also tender-hearted. She felt guilty about killing them when they might have been able to provide information about those they’d sold into slavery. The clerics were planning something to see if they could get more names to see who else they might be able to recover, but tell me.... what is your assessment of my blazing goddess?”
“In a word, formidable,” Argonath says, “A wolf tried to attack her while she was dressing the last of the elk she’d shot. Instead of doing something stupid, like running, she waited for it to charge her. She kicked it under the chin, got it onto its hind legs, and stabbed it with her sword right through the chest. Then, when she was done dressing the elk, she skinned the wolf too, and took its teeth.”
“That fits,” Abato nods, “with what I’ve seen of her. Nothing much ruffles her.”
“Gods!” Argonath sighs, “Now I wish I had been able to recruit her. No matter. If she’s tangled up with Atres, I’m sure she’ll get pulled into some of the things we do. And as she put it, I’ll be able to call on her without having to pay her what she’s worth.”
“And what is my radiant Radha’s opinion of herself?” Abato grins.
“Worth her weight in gold and then some,” Argonath replies, “and I’m using her words.”
“She’s sadly undervalued herself,” Abato shakes his head, “I shall have to see what I can do to remedy that.”
Argonath gives him a strange look.
“What man? Out with it.” Abato says. “Damned if Atres didn’t say almost the same thing,” Argonath replies.
Why do you think Abato calls her Radha? I'm interested to hear your theories.