"Well met," Twilight said out of the shadows.
When he looked up, she was sitting there, leaning against the wall, one leg up on the bench. A dozen gazes turned to her, a touch more unsettled, but a tiny shrug turned them away.
"Gods," the man growled in a mixture of shock and disgust. "What are ye about-giving me heartstop?"
"And be deprived of such witty repartee with so handsome a swain?" asked Twilight. "Surely you jest."
With the scar that twisted his lip and the deep pock-marks across his forehead and cheeks, he was more of a handsome swine. Looks deceived, though, as they usually do, for this was Macognac Whisperweb, expert fence, dealer in controlled substances and fleshmonger, and the best informed spy in Elversult-in the Dragon Coast entire, he said. He was, of course, wrong, as they both knew, but that didn't get his ego down any.
"Muck, I need a favor," said Twilight.
Macognac winced. "I wish you wouldn't call me that," he groaned. He was undoubtedly recalling their long and uncomfortable-mostly on his end-history.
"Very well." Twilight shrugged. "Mucky, I need information for some people I'm… doing business with."
"No."
"I'll pay."
"No."
"You need the coin."
"No-I mean, yes, but no. I won't do it."
Twilight gave him a petulant pout. "Oh, Mucky," she said sweetly. "You know what they say. The friend you feed is a friend in-"
"I don't want to have anything to do with your deeds, 'Light," Macognac said. "This isn't Westgate."
"What about the robbery of Arfiel's a tenday past?"
"Mucky" couldn't stop a nicker of recognition. "Don't know nothing about that."
"What about usury with the dwarves of Steel Hollow?" pressed Twilight.
Another wince. "Didn't have nothin' to do with-"
"How about those necklaces back in Mirtul? I heard the countess lost a pretty-"
"All right, all right," Macognac spat. "What do ye want to know?"
Twilight gave him a little wry smile of victory. "A group of cultists-I need to know where their temple is."
"Which cultists? They're a silver a dozen in Elversult." "The Deep Coven."
Macognac blinked and his face went pale. "Ay, lass, ye don't want to be dealin' with that pack. Devil worshipers, they be."
"Demon worshipers, actually," said Twilight. "Speaking of which, I seem to remember something about you and the coven-what was it? Lotus shipments, perhaps?"
Macognac grimaced." 'Gainst me better judgment, but aye, I'll do it." He eyed her with suspicion. "Ye'U be taking something from 'em. How do ye know they 'ave it?"
Twilight's eyes nickered. "Call it feminine intuition," she said. "The thiefly kind."
It was his turn to light up. "Ye're playing both sides," he said. "Again."
Twilight flashed him a winsome smile. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mucky." She got up to leave, but he caught her by one loose white sleeve.
"Now, what's say ye and me go up to my room and play some Lafat together," Macognac offered, citing a strategy card game where players set down cards like units of soldiers. "I'll go easy on yer flanks this time-just charge up the middle." As he spoke, his hand drifted from her arm to her side and over to her firm belly.
Twilight gave the hint of a smile. "Now my dear Goodman Macognac, what would your blushing wife say if she heard this kind of talk?"
"She's a modern sort of woman," he reassured her, drawing Twilight into his lap. "She'd join us, I think."
"And if she heard about the Sunite celebrants on Midsummer?"
"Very open minded, me wife be," Muck said. His fingers played with the fringe of her vest and moved upward.
"And the Loviatans later that night? With the whips?"
The color drained from Macognac's face. "How did ye know… about the…" Then anger flared. "Ye saucy wench!"
Standing, Twilight glided out of reach.
"That's me," she said with a smile.
"I suggest you get a good night's rest before tomorrow," said Twilight that evening over wine in the common room of the Splitskull. She had played more gently with Yldar's coin pouch this eve, insisting on a glass of the house's second best feywine, rather than the first.
"You know where we must go?" Yldar said.
Cythara cast her brother a dangerous glance. "We do not go at night?" she asked. "You mean to steal the Bracer, yes? Is such a thing not done best at night- thief?"
"Not with these clients," Twilight said to Yldar. "Clients?" asked Yldar.
"Our unwilling business associates," said Twilight. "Who until the very near future, have been in possession of a certain relic, of which they shall, in that very same near future, find themselves bereft." She grinned. "And they are the kind who live for the night hours-day shall be much to their dislike and our advantage."
"As you say," said Yldar. Cythara looked askance at him, shocked that he would so readily trust this rogue, but the treasure hunter did not return her gaze.
Twilight continued, "We leave at dawn, when Selune sets and the sun first warms the horizon. Be ready." Finally she glanced at Cythara. "And prepare your spells. They may prove useful."
Cythara glared. — "I find it very convenient," Cythara was saying in imperious Elvish, "that she seems to know exactly who has the Bracer and where to go. Neither did she question us as to the Bracer's nature."
She did not shout, but Yldar knew her fury knew no bounds.
They spoke in the room they shared, Cythara poring over her grimoire and Yldar pacing back and forth, looking up as though carrying on a conversation with the ceiling.
"Mayhap her contact told her where to look," said Yldar. "And as to knowing of the Bracer, she is an elf, is she not? Coronal Ynloeth's fame is legendary. I would look with suspicion upon a mere human who knows the name, but is it so surprising that an elf would?"
Cythara grimaced and chanted the words to a spell.
He looked up again. "Flower of the starless night, or dusk's perfect lily?" he asked. "Which is more fitting?"
The rafters did not deign to show a preference.
"What are you doing, anyway?" Yldar asked his sister.
Ignoring him, the gold-skinned wizardess completed the chant and stared sightlessly into the air for a breath. Then she blinked, scowled, and fell back to reading.
"Attempting to scry youF thiefly friend," Cythara said. "And failing, as though she does not exist." "She is a ghost, then?"
"No, dwarf-beard. She cloaks her movements in magic, or something else does so."
She flung away the lingering scrying magic and turned another rasping page in her grimoire, giving up. "I swear on Corellon's blade, something is amiss here." Another page creaked. "She manipulates us to her advantage, and you-fool that you are-allow her."
"Don't be ridiculous, sister. She's one of the People- surely she wouldn't-"
"Now you speak like her." Cythara went pale with fury, and Yldar realized that he had lapsed into the common tongue without realizing it. "Seldarine, brother! Ever an idiot for a pretty maid."
"So you think she's pretty," Yldar said.
Cythara slammed the spellbook closed. "Good rest, brother," she said as she rose.
"But where do you go? I thought we were making plans for the morrow."
"I see you are not in the necessary state," said Cythara. "And so I go- shall see if this hovel has another room to offer. Sweet water and light laughter."
And with that, she slammed the door shut.
"Thank the Maid, I thought she'd never go," said a dark figure, stepping from the shadows behind the door.
Yldar whirled, sword out, but it was only the beautiful Twilight.
"Aillesel seldarie," he gasped. "Do you always startle folk this way?"
"Only those who amuse me so," she said.
Yldar did not know why he felt so stung. "Upon whom do you swear? Is 'the Maid' our Lady Moonbow, or Hanali Celanil, mayhap?"
"
The Maid of Misfortune." When Yldar stared, she smiled crookedly. "Beshaba and I have an understanding." Then her ears perked up, like a feline's might.
"Besh…?" Yldar let it trail off. He knew better than to try to decipher this strange and confusing maid. He would discern her business and insist she leave him in peace.
"Why, ah-" he started, but then Twilight leaped across the room and kissed him.
Yldar was so shocked, he did not even protest for a breath. Then confusion took over.
"What?" asked Yldar as he fought off her mouth-her sweet mouth. "What?"
"We're about to be rudely interrupted," Twilight informed him. She kissed him again, hard. "Just hold me, eh?" She positioned his hands on her backside. "Like this."
Yldar stammered, shocked, but didn't resist. It provided Twilight an easy target for her lips.
As they kissed and ran their hands over each other- or, rather, as Twilight did so and Yldar stood rather woodenly-portals of crackling darkness opened behind them. There was an awkward silence as the two elves simply stood, exploring one another's mouths rather fully, and the intruders looked at one another, trying to decide what to do.
"Oh, put your back into it, golden boy," Twilight said between kisses.
Yldar stiffened uncomfortably. "Truly maid, you-"
"Ahem," said one of the intruders.
Twilight smiled. "That shall do."
Without turning, she sent a crossbow bolt streaking for the head of the cougher.
There were three of them-two men in dark mail with wavy, zigzagging blades held in both hands, and one in tattered, black robes who stood behind, staff in hand. One of the former leaped into the path of the quarrel-or, rather, was forced there by magic-and caught it with his face. The staff wielder scowled.
"You!" he barked at Twilight. He pointed. "Zsa'kai!" Yldar didn't understand the foul tongue, but the meaning was clear enough, as the remaining swordsman ran at them.
"Goldie," snapped Twilight, "get the mage!"
Twilight drew her rapier just in time to block the advancing swordsman. Her dusky blade sparked as it struck his fiendishly serrated sword and turned it low. Out of the corner of his eye, Yldar thought he saw flames lick down Twilight's blade and electricity crackle down its length.
He had other concerns, though.
"Get the mage?" he asked, confused.
Then the gnarled, darkwood staff glowed with abyssal power, and Yldar gulped. He desperately wove a spellshield.
The next thing he knew, he was pulling himself out of the shattered wall, batting at the black flames that licked at his tunic. His defense had not been enough, it seemed.
"Yldar!" Twilight hissed. "What did I say?" "You sa-" he began, but he saw the necromancer looming over him, chanting darkly.
"In Graz'zt's name," the man hissed, and laid a burning black hand upon Yldar's chest.
Vile magic ripped its way into the sun elf, burning through his blood and seeking his heart. He sensed its purpose-to still that beating organ forever-and fought it with every bit of his strength, every fiber of his vitality. He willed his heart to pump on, resisting the foul magic.
And resist it he did, for the corrupting spell faltered, undone by his robust body. Yldar fell back to the ground, coughing and retching the foul magic out.
"What's this?" the necromancer growled. "Not a mage?"
Yldar smiled despite himself. Without the physical training in his swordsmanship classes-if he had studied only magic, say-he would never have fought off that spell.
"Wrong sun," came a voice from above.
Drawn by the magic thrown about, Cythara floated through the ceiling as though it were mist. The necromancer whirled, calmly intoning the words to a spell, but Cythara was the faster. She threw a beam of shimmering gold at his chest, meaning to reduce the necromancer to dust.
Her power struck a shield of shimmering black and dissipated as though it had never been.
"Imposs-" she managed just before the necromancer's dark bolt struck her. Searing, profane blackness scourged her body and her soul, and while her will kept her life-force intact, her body was weak. She fell and slumped to the ground, still burning with freezing, black flames.
"Such power," Cythara whispered. A glaze that was not unlike lust passed over her eyes, and she succumbed to the demonist's spell.
The necromancer grinned and turned back to Yldar- who promptly stabbed his sword into the man's guts. The mage screamed and twisted, black eating away at the blade as though his blood were acid. Yldar let go in disgust and hurried to his sister, who groaned.
"In Graz'zt's name, I shall slay-!"
The necromancer never finished the threat, for Twilight leaped across the room and plunged her rapier through his side. The man's acid blood didn't harm the ancient steel, however, and he died without protest.
The door slammed open and the burly innkeeper shoved his way into the room, stout club in hand, along with two equally wide bouncers, one holding a thick length of chain and the other a long knife. They looked at the battlefield with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Then Keep found Twilight, spattered with blood, and rolled his eyes.
"Better clear out my room, Keep," Twilight said brightly. "I shall be on my way in the morning."
The burly innkeeper turned the stout club in his hands. "And what about thy tab, pretty lady? I am owed a fair amount of gold."
Twilight shrugged, stood up on her toes, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Oh, Keep," she said. "You know better than to doubt me, don't you?"
"Ahem," said Keep. "Something like that."
Fox-at-Twilight gave him a smile and danced past him, out into the corridor.
The innkeeper and the two sun elves were left in the room then, where silence reigned for a long breath. Then Keep shrugged.
"Quite the fox, that 'Light," he said.
"Indeed," said Yldar, thinking Keep meant her name.
From his slightly raised brow, it was clear he hadn't.
Over "fresh" bread-only two days old! — cheese, and hen's eggs the following dawn, Twilight's face seemed tired, the lines deepened and stretched in a way that did not diminish her beauty but only caught Yldar's notice and concern.
"Are you well this morn, maid?" he asked.
"As well as to be expected," she said, "with so little rest."
Yldar furrowed his brow. "Four bells rang in Elver-suit's square since the attack. Cythara and I found it to be more than enough time for Reverie. Did you not rest well?"
She offered a crooked smile and said, "Something like that."
Twilight spent much of the rest of the meal trading wry repartee with Yldar, even making some lewd comments that made the treasure hunter blush and Cythara scowl. She never declined an opportunity to cast a mistrusting glance in Twilight's direction.
After a particularly witty exchange that left Twilight smiling sensuously and Yldar absolutely confused, the wizardess threw up her hands.
"Can we not simply get to business?" she asked in Elvish. "I grow weary of your child's games."
Twilight rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Very well, Highness" she replied in kind. "You're probably wondering where you have to go to find the Bracer."
" 'Tis the theme," Cythara muttered.
Yldar gave his sister a scolding look and said, "Go on.
"Well-it's in the hands of the Deep Coven." "Who?" Yldar asked.
"A cult of a demon lord named Graz'zt," said Twilight. "Our friends from yestereve."
There was silence, because it was time for Cythara's angry interjection, which didn't happen. Yldar glanced at her. The sun elf wizardess had leaned back in her seat, eyes far away. Yldar wasn't about to guess what she might have been thinking, but he was glad of the respite from her tongue. He liked hearing Twilight's voice rather more, for some reason.
Speaking of Twilight speaking, she did so, explaining a fair amount about the Deep Coven over tea. It seemed they operated from beneath the House of Coins, which wouldn't be holding s
ervices this day. From her calm reassurance, it was almost as though she had already planned to steal the Bracer before she'd ever met the sun elves.
"Are you sure about going there by day?" Yldar asked, reiterating Cythara's concern of the previous day. He looked out the window, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"The cultists are probably sleeping off a ritual as we speak," Twilight said. "Light's always on your side, as a rule, when dealing with demons."
Yldar recognized that she could mean herself by "'Light," but kept his witticism to himself. He looked at his sister. "Cyth, you've been rather quiet. Are you well?"
Cythara stared straight ahead, as though she had not heard him. When he touched her arm, she flinched. Yldar felt far from her.
"Oh yes," she said in Elvish. She concealed her smile. "Yes. I was merely… thinking." She looked at Twilight. "When do we begin?"
"Right now," Twilight said. She took another sip of her tea and smiled through the steam. "Well, soon enough."
When they had finished their meal, paid, and left, Twilight and Yldar's flirtation only continued, much to Cythara's extreme consternation and Yldar's frustrated enjoyment. The moon elf had led them on a twisting route through the streets-to avoid any trails, she had explained-that seemed hopelessly complex and time consuming. From her glower, Cythara suspected that it was only for the sake of continuing her repartee with Yldar, which the latter found himself hoping was indeed the case.
As the midday sun rose overhead, Twilight led them down a dark alleyway beside the House of Coins on
Temple Hill. As Yldar shifted uncomfortably and Cythara flitted about in an unusual surplus of energy, Twilight examined the wall closely.
"Are you sure this is it?" Yldar asked for the eleventh time in about as many breaths.
"Silence, Shiny," Twilight hissed. "Let a lass work."
With a little growl, the treasure hunter fidgeted, unhappy to be standing in such a filthy place, doing nothing. It made him terribly self-conscious.
Yldar had never liked standing still-he had a fundamental lack of patience that had interfered with his myriad studies. According to his masters on Evermeet, he lacked the attention and focus wizardry demands, and could learn only paltry spells. For someone who-in his own mind, at least-had been destined to wield high magic, it had been quite a blow. Then, when he hadn't been admitted to the bladesinger order for the same reason, Yldar had abandoned his elf teachers. Not that humans-or any other race, for that matter-were any better, he had found.
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