Chapter 9 - part 11

“If you can’t tell me why you’re so pissed, can you at least tell me what we’re going to do about it?” the younger, red-haired Medani asked his second cousin.

“There are some things I don’t share with anyone,” Parnain told him. “Don’t take it personally. You’re my closest living kin in the House, you know far more than any other.” The two were sitting together in a second-story room, drinking tea and eating sandwiches while looking past heavy curtains to the street below them. A illusion spell had been cast on the front of the window, making it appear as if the curtains were drawn tight, and the room had been rented through a series of double blinds.

“We have six more changeling heads in that chest over there,” the younger half-elf said. “We were going to move on anyway, but then you go see a druid who gave you some intel and come back mad as Khyber’s whore-spawned goblins, demanding that we get to Aundair of all places by magical transportation, but we can’t use a teleporter. What’s going on?”

Parnain stirred his tea, and watched the street below. Some petty criminals had been impressed into doing public service, and they were raking pebbles and clay into the street in an attempt to even it out from the damage that the heavy rain did to it. From here he could count the sacks and guess their weight. It was a primitive way to do street maintenance. “So I wanted to leave before and now I really want to leave,” Parnain said. “What bothers you?”

“We don’t have a gig in Aundair, and they’ve got to be irritated that we butchered their agents here,” the red-haired Medani pointed out. “But we’re going there? What did this druid say to you?”

“This is the druid that saved us from a nasty ambush and let us trip up the gnome’s double-cross,” Parnain pointed out. “Let’s just say the druid has a nasty habit of unearthing facts that others prefer to stay buried.”

“He gave you a job in Aundair?” the red-haired Medani told his cousin. “Is that what this is about? And it’s a high enough target that you think that the Orien teleporters will be watched as a matter of course?”

Parnain sighed. “I’ve taught you too well it seems,” he said. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said, peering carefully at the younger half-elf.

“Parnain, you can trust me,” the red-haired Medani said, an affronted tone coming into his voice. He set down his tea cup and caressed Parnain’s hand. “What haven’t I given you? What haven’t I let you do? Who have I told?”

Parnain jerked his hand away like his cousin’s touch had burned him. “We don’t talk about that unless I bring it up first,” he hissed.

The red-haired Medani hung his head. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Parnain’s eyes coldly watched the younger half-elf, and a painful, awkward moment passed. The younger half-elf looked up, blushed, and then looked away, shamed that his mentor and lover was angry with him.

And when his attention was so diverted, Parnain’s fingers passed over the other half-elf’s teacup.

“Think nothing of it,” Parnain said after a while. “My temper got the better of me. How about we figure out another way upriver, then once we’re out of this town I’ll tell you everything?”

The other Medani grinned and took a big swallow of tea. “Thanks, Parnain, I’m sorry I – talked about what I will never talk about again. Okay?”

Parnain gave a half-smile.

The younger half-elf paused, his face wincing in pain.

Parnain’s half-smile evaporated as the younger half-elf then gasped, and dropped his tea cup.

“You made the mistake of thinking that because you were useful, because I enjoyed using you, that you were my friend,” Parnain told him. The blonde half-elf stood, cold eyes on the cousin that he had just poisoned, as the red-haired half-elf fell off of his chair and onto the floor. The younger man’s eyes rolled wildly as his tongue expanded, blocking his airflow, and his heart slowed.

The red-haired Medani was tough. It took him a good three minutes to die. He spent most of the time paralyzed by pain, crying wordlessly for mercy. He got none.