The airship broke cloud cover. Instruments were checked, and barrel banks began to be unclipped. The gnome began adding barked commands to hand gestures, and the pre-sighted locations were mapped precisely along with wind speed and direction.
Down below on the ground, a Young Red peered up at the sky. What is that?
What’s separating from it?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Chapter 9 – Part 19
“You didn’t use your mark to detect the poison?” the half-elven woman asked. She kept an eye out of the door crack while her conjured invisible servants carefully removed all forensic evidence that the prestidigitation spells had missed.
“I’d already used it up today,” Parnain told her. He could tell that she believed him. She was a very useful wizard, but her job was cleanup, not sifting lie from truth.
“You could show a little emotion,” she said, directing a pile of ash into a marked bag. The ash was all that was left of a red-haired half-elf, and it would be given a special burial rather than tossed in the general trash along with the other ash from the things that she had carefully incinerated. “He worshipped you, you know.”
“Yes, and that got in the way,” Parnain said coldly. He was expected to be cold, so it would serve his story.
Of course he really didn’t care anymore, so he wasn’t lying.
She shook her head, clearly disgusted. He sensed no fear in her, of course. It was a common belief in his House that he wouldn’t harm one of his own. “You need anything else from me?”
“River crossings,” he said. “East.”
“A changeling got away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want Anita’s Ford.”
“I thought that was summer only?” he asked her.
“The locals call it Phantom’s Crossing,” she said. “Maybe three alive know the secret of the crossing. Four if you count Oalian.”
“I’m guessing that the tree isn’t available,” Parnain stated. The unseen servants finished their work. Nothing remained in the room but the faint smell of something burnt.
“And two of the three are nowhere near here,” she said. “An old orc-blood watching a Gatekeeper seal, and a reclusive shifter prophet.”
Parnain pursed his expressionless lips and considered what he knew of people’s darker natures. “So…what’s the arms smuggler’s name?”
“Don’t hurt him permanently,” she laughed. “He buys from disaffected junior Aundair officers that have been passed over for promotion, and –”
“Name and location,” he interjected, cutting her off.
“I’d already used it up today,” Parnain told her. He could tell that she believed him. She was a very useful wizard, but her job was cleanup, not sifting lie from truth.
“You could show a little emotion,” she said, directing a pile of ash into a marked bag. The ash was all that was left of a red-haired half-elf, and it would be given a special burial rather than tossed in the general trash along with the other ash from the things that she had carefully incinerated. “He worshipped you, you know.”
“Yes, and that got in the way,” Parnain said coldly. He was expected to be cold, so it would serve his story.
Of course he really didn’t care anymore, so he wasn’t lying.
She shook her head, clearly disgusted. He sensed no fear in her, of course. It was a common belief in his House that he wouldn’t harm one of his own. “You need anything else from me?”
“River crossings,” he said. “East.”
“A changeling got away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want Anita’s Ford.”
“I thought that was summer only?” he asked her.
“The locals call it Phantom’s Crossing,” she said. “Maybe three alive know the secret of the crossing. Four if you count Oalian.”
“I’m guessing that the tree isn’t available,” Parnain stated. The unseen servants finished their work. Nothing remained in the room but the faint smell of something burnt.
“And two of the three are nowhere near here,” she said. “An old orc-blood watching a Gatekeeper seal, and a reclusive shifter prophet.”
Parnain pursed his expressionless lips and considered what he knew of people’s darker natures. “So…what’s the arms smuggler’s name?”
“Don’t hurt him permanently,” she laughed. “He buys from disaffected junior Aundair officers that have been passed over for promotion, and –”
“Name and location,” he interjected, cutting her off.
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