The end-fest celebrations where in full force when Tribas announced himself at Cercee's door. The maid insisted that he wait outside, which caused him to be both annoyed and concerned when Cercee came to meet him. She looked tired, her hair was loose around her shoulders and she hadn't bothered to dress for guests. He bowed anyway.
"What brings you here, Tribas," Cercee asked, genuinely surprised. In her concerns over who had invaded the garden and her monitoring Noktip, she had all but forgotten about her evening with the young mage.
He blinked with surprise, "I came to see that you where well. No one has seen you in two days."
Cercee's eyes got wide, she looked at the maid, who nodded, then turned back to Tribas and smiled demurely at him.
"How very sweet," she said. "I assure you I am fine. A little distracted, but fine."
She ignored the maid's grunt of disagreement and turned back into the house. "Won't you join me? I was taking in the garden."
Tribas raised an eyebrow as he followed her out into the little patch of green she was cultivating.
"Distracted?" he asked, "But we should be relaxing," he said. "We will be deep in study soon, and there will be no time for leisure."
Cercee thought that there was already no time for leisure, but she only smiled and asked, "What did you have in mind, Tribas?" She sat on a stone bench. he sat close to her, and rest a hand on her knee. she raised an eyebrow at him. "Quite forward, don't you think?"
He didn't remove his hand, but instead smiled at her and leaned a little closer. "I will be starting my advanced studies," he said, rather pleased with himself, "I won't have the time to tutor you as I have the past month."
Cercee made certain to look impressed. "Already?" she asked, putting her hand on top of his and gently removing it from her leg. "That is ambitious." She stood and walked to a nearby trellis where small purple flowers bloomed.
Tribas frowned at her back in a fit of frustration. "Yes, well, you see how once I begin, there will be no time for trivialities," he said.
She turned from the trellis to look at him, her face flat as she asked, "Trivialities?"
He threw up his hands, "You know that isn't what I meant." He took three large steps to close the distance to the trellis. "I came to see that you are well. I had hoped we could spend some time together before my studies resumed. You said we had to behave as grown people, I am trying to make you aware of my situation."
Cercee smiled and straitened the collar of his shirt. "Of course," she nodded. "I am being insensitive. You are right, of course. We both have studies to return to and it is well that you reminded me so." He reached up and ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, his frustration melting a little. "As it is, I have to speak to Master Thaxeus tomorrow and that may be the end of my leisure time as well." She smiled up at him, "So perhaps we should take an evening to our selves."
Tribas's hands froze suddenly. "Master Thaxeus?" he asked, "Are you in some kind of trouble?" He had heard rumors of Thaxeus's attention toward her but had dismissed it. She was not a student of the arcane and he did not mix with the younger mages anyway.
"Oh, no," she said, "He has extended the invitation for me to study under him and I have decided to accept."
Tribas blinked in disbelief. His jaw tightened. "But," he started, "you are a fire mage. Why would you take an apprenticeship with him?" He dropped her arms, "Why would he offer?"
She shrugged, "I don't know why he would offer, but it would be foolish of me not to take advantage of his gracious invitation."
Tribas took a slow step back from her. His face had lost its charm and his ears where starting to turn red.
"Tribas," she asked sweetly, "are you alright?"
his hands opened and closed unconsciously. "Fine," he said. "I am fine."
Cercee tilted her head, intrigued by his discomfort. "But you are so tense suddenly."
Tribas's eye snapped suddenly to her face, he took a deep breath and settled his hands at his sides. "Forgive me," he said, his voice not recovering as quickly as his body seemed to. He looked her over from head to toe again before bowing and saying, "I'm glad you are better. I should go." He turned sharply, without waiting for her to say anything else.
Cercee smiled a little at his back. Boys, she thought, they are so easy.
She waited until Tribas was gone and the maid had left. She donned a dark cloak and a plain dress, wrapped her red hair in an equally dark scarf and left her home through the garden gate. She had an inkling of where to find the imp. She could feel it in her stomach and she wondered if it had something to do with the blood she had allowed him when she summoned him. It. No need to give it more than it deserved.
Tribas was right, she had been held up in the study, reading everything she could find about imps and shades and other summoned creatures, trying to find a description, and a defense against, the creature she saw in the garden. And Noktip had not returned. Neither had Owwen, for that matter. Her readings led to troll stories and texts that where on the tops of the shelves, but they where all incomplete and more speculative than practical.
Cercee wound away from her home. She wandered through the small side gates that fed the alleys into the bazaar. Revelers passed her, no one took any notice. She finally felt herself pulled toward a wide passage not far from the palace. It had once been a grand row, one could tell. The faded banners and the boarded up balconies spoke to once better days. What it had been called then, she had no idea. Now she knew it only by reputation. Murder Row.
The young mage hesitated. There were no glowing lights here, no enchanted brooms. Light spilled dimly from doors and windows, but it lacked the welcome of the shops she was used to. A cough to her left caught her attention. She stiffened. To turn back now was to give up. She continued, with purpose. Wherever the imp was, it had to be close. Her stomach felt as if it had dropped into the ground. She would have to find a way to abate the nausea if she was to make use of the creature. She moved toward a building that had lights and sound echoing dimly from several open arches. She brushed through one curtain and peered inside.
Silvermoon boasted parlors to suit any taste. Salons for the well to do, where expensive drinks and herbs were enjoyed and deals of state discussed and sealed over wine and water pipe. Dens for the less well placed where no less important, influential deals where made over less acceptable vices. Her entrance drew suspicious stares. She placed her hand on her stomach as the smell of smoke wafted over her. A well dressed elf stood from his position lounging on the pillows, leaving his pleasant company and sauntering his way to her. He waved off a few patrons as he made his way to her.
"Are you lost, love?" he lilted, blocking her view of the room.
"No," she said, "I am looking for something."
He grinned a lopsided grin, "Well, love, what did you have in mind?"
She was about to ask for tea when a hand on the hosts shoulder interrupted their conversation.
"Allow me, Saris," he smiled at the elf, then turned his eyes to Cercee. "I believe I have what she is looking for."
Saris bowed, smiled at Cercee and returned to his other guests. Cercee straitened under the new scrutiny. The elder elf smiled down at her.
"Miss Morningray," he said quietly, "why don't you follow me?"
Cercee was flooded suddenly with doubt. She looked around at the denizens of the lair. Most where half overcome by whatever poison they had picked for the evening. No one took notice of her now that a "regular" had taken over the conversation.
"And who are you?" she asked, her father's pride riding up on her shoulders.
The elf frowned, "You came here to find your pet," he said ignoring her question. Then he turned and walked away.
Cercee flushed with anger, but followed behind him anyway. This, she reminded herself, is what killed her father. False pride. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand and walked a pace behind the elf as he left the den and headed further into the alley.
He led her toward a set of stairs that where cut into the road. He stopped, turned and smiled. She looked at him, an internal debate raging.
"It is what you want," he said. "Or so I suppose. Either way, it is your creature, Miss Morningray."
Cercee bristled, but followed. He led her down the stair and into what, under other circumstances would have been a cozy enclave. Cushions lined the walls. Water pipes where plentiful, the smell of heavy tobacco and other less innocuous substances filled the air. And in a corner, behind a sheer, engulfed in green flame and less than pleased about it, was Noktip.
"You came to retrieve him, I suppose," the elf said casually.
Cercee sucked in her breath. She looked from Noktip to the elf. "I hope," she said through clenched teeth, "He has not caused you any trouble."
The elf laughed. "Sit, Miss Morningray," he said, indicating a low table in the corner of the room. He stared at her, waiting for her to comply. Slowly, she did so, ignoring Noktip's pleas for aid.
She sat, and the elf walked around the perimeter of the table, considering. Finally, he took a seat opposite her, and took a pipe in hand.
"You are very bold, coming here" he said.
She folded her hands in front of her on the table and said nothing.
"By all reason you should be dead," he followed.
She kept her eyes low, as a show of respect.
"Would the arcanum miss you at all, I wonder?" he mused.
"The arcanuim would not," she confessed.
He smiled, "I don't think you understand your position, my dear."
Cercee's jaw clinched. "I do," she said slowly. "You are the one who came into my garden."
He nodded.
"And the master," she guessed, "of the creature I saw there."
He did not nod, but waited for her to continue.
"So you are likely the person, if I wish to learn more, whom I seek."
That seemed to satisfy him, at least for the moment.
"You show a fair amount of promise, Miss Morningray. What is it you want?" he asked.
Cercee looked directly for the first time at the elf in front of her. He was in earnest, it seemed. His gaze was not pleasant, but she understood why he was harsh.
"I want to learn," she said simply.
"You are a student at the arcanum. Go there," he suggested.
"No," she said. "That isn't good enough."
He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"No," she said, leaning forward. "I want to know more."
He leaned back, "Not enough? The finest education Silvermoon can offer?"
She looked at him strait faced, "I find them to be unrealistic in their characterisation of our troubles."
He smiled at her. "Do you know who I am, Miss Morningray?"
She looked at him. He was well dressed, well groomed. Obviously powerful and highly regarded among the underclass in the den upstairs.
"No," she said honestly.
He smiled. "Just as well," he said. "I am content to let you take your pet."
He waved a hand and Niktip, and the flaming cage that contained him, disappeared.
Cercee gasped.
"You may recall him if you wish," he said, his voice low, almost a dare.
"That would seem impolite," she said carefully, "as I am your guest."
The elf smiled. "Go home. Consider what you want, and if you still think it wise, return here in a week. If I do not see you, I will assume you have forgotten this conversation. Consider. I am willing to assume your entrance here was not but youthful folly." He looked her over one more time before he stood. "Meddle with me no more, little mage. I am forgiving no more past this point." he snapped his fingers and a comely elf stood suddenly next to him. "Minnea, Miss Morningray seems to have lost her path. See her home, would you? And leave with her our calling card, so she might find her way back, should she wish."
The lovely elf extended her hand to help Cercee rise from her seat. She accepted. As soon as Cercee's hand touched Minnea's, two things happened. First, the lovely elf's image disappeared. In place of the illusion was a wicked and hungry looking she demon. Sharp teeth grinned at the shocked Cercee. The second was a sharp burning where their hands touched. Without warning, Minnea pulled Cercee close to her, wrapped enormous bat-like wings around her and then everything was black. There was choking smoke, so thick Cercee couldn't breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut against the stinging. Just as suddenly, the air cleared and the smoke was gone. She opened her eyes to find herself in her own garden, Minnea smiling at her, once again the lovely elf, from outside the gate. The demoness blew her a kiss, waved goodbye and walked away.
