~*-{/=S=\}-*~
Thick foliage hid the platform from view til they were almost upon it; trees and encroaching vines did their best to keep it hidden. Even the base had almost been swallowed by dirt, though the floor had been cleared of debris: magic runes decorated the stone slab in a glowing circle while half-crumbled pillars—and four figures—watched over.
Their red robes flared like beacons in the sunlight; the wizards all turned as one.
"Mi ou ne nai!" a female voice called out. "Mi nim ti-nave emnay?"
"Fay pae monon Odesseiron," said the man beside her.
She turned to him, hands on hips, and contempt in her lilting voice. "Lha, soqg, ti-aemi pi roami en atqom."
Sajantha glanced towards Edwin. Red robes? Could it be? A haughtiness to their cadence that sounded familiar, and that tightness around his eyes could very well be recognition. "Anok moune amoni ouaa," Edwin answered, crossing his arms and widening his stance.
Sajantha took a step closer to him—their shoulders brushed—and Edwin's eyes narrowed in irritation but he did not displace his gaze. Good. Perhaps he would not notice... her fingers stretched out with her magic, reaching...
~*-{/=E=\}-*~
"Finished your business so soon?" Denak asked, in the mocking tone of one who already knew the answer. At his side, Brendan—ever the boot-licker—brayed out a laugh.
"I've made more progress than it seems you have." Edwin eyed the symbols they'd raised on the marble structure. "What sort of insipid ritual is this? Those scribbled lines could have been better penned by a drunken monkey—or, oh, is that Lasala? I should have recognized her handwriting."
In truth, the recognition had been immediate—and rather sour—the tendays since Edwin had seen them last changed nothing at all; picking up right where they'd left of, his fellow Red Wizards commenced grating upon his nerves.
"Odesseiron!" Lasala's eyes blazed. "You worthless prick. Found some locals to muck about with, I see. Your taste was always on par with foreigners.' "
Edwin did not look behind him. Harpers and Rashemi. He would never live this down! Fortunately, however stupid the rest of this group may be, they had brains enough to hang back. If the others recognized Dynaheir, they'd fall upon her with a swiftness and a ferocity that would leave little behind. Certainly no credit to keep for himself! His plans could disintegrate in but a moment.
Of them all, only the sorceress stood near him—unsuitably near, though to remedy it now would only call attention—with far too much curiosity on her face and not nearly enough apprehension.
"Nevron grows tired awaiting your leisure." That upturned nose contributed to Denak's natural sneer. "For your own sake, you'd best have something to report."
"Not that you will hear it."
Denak's narrow cheekbones framed his smirk and kept it small. "Sounds as though striking off on your own isn't going so well as you thought."
"Concern yourself with your own progress. (Limited as I know it is.)" The painted symbols within sight spelled a summoning circle. Had they given up on finding answers upon this plane? Perhaps the witch's protective magics continued to flummox them.
Denak shrugged. "If your insight was worth anything, I'm certain I would have asked your opinion. Ignore mine at your peril: you are the one who ought be concerned, make no mistake." Insults he barely bothered to masquerade as warnings, bah!
"Your presumption tires me." 'Infuriated' was the more accurate word for the heat that roiled in Edwin's belly, but this was not something to admit to the senior Wizard. Nor something to let fly from his fingers, howsoever they longed to twitch. "Must I leave again, to prove it? I do not answer to you."
Denak's mouth stretched tight. "But you answer to Nevron, as do I. We have been lenient, Edwin; you've had three months to play around with this..." his lip curled, limp hand gesturing, "filth. We require results."
An answering contempt stirred within Edwin, rising to his throat and tightening his collar. He settled his hands upon his hips lest they be tempted elsewhere. "And he shall have them. But do not think you will reap the benefits of my efforts."
"How extensive these efforts must be, for you to recruit the locals." Diana's smug smile gave shape to an otherwise bland face. "Is this desperation I smell, or merely their unwashed stink?"
Lasala raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you've not returned to seek out our aid? You've no other to blame your failures upon, any longer."
"My only failure was in waiting so long to be rid of you."
The hands Lasala lowered to her hips were covered in a faint, silver dust. Cold iron. So, their circle targeted the Abyss. "And we missed your paltry wit so much," she said. "At last, you have an audience better suited to your own predilections; no doubt you've kept their simple minds impressed."
"A truly intelligent mind would not dare provoke me so emptied of spells." The rest of the portal's glyph was hidden from view. Just how far into its execution were they?
A deep inhale squared the woman's shoulders, bottom lip disappearing a moment. Defensive. Affirming his suspicion: they'd been at this hours, at least. Nearly Sunsigh, now, doubtless they'd begun the ritual in the morn. And, here—in the middle of this backland sprawl—they'd not anticipated being interrupted.
Edwin smirked. " 'Tis bad enough being left behind when clearly none want you; you'll have no one left to deflect your own shortcomings of the Art upon—as empty as the bed you keep trying to fill. Perhaps more success at one would enable you to less adamantly pursue the other."
A stifled noise at his side caught his attention; the sorceress immediately shifted her gaze and covered her mouth as if in a fit of coughing while a red flush climbed up her neck. Embarrassment. Guilt...?
The meddlesome brat! That tingle of magic in the air might not solely be attributable to the ritual; her earlier brush against him may well have been deliberate—if her blush was any indication—she could very well have performed a spell of divination, which meant their current converse in Mulhorandi would not shield any secrets from her. And, should his colleagues suspect they were being eavesdropped upon...
Lasala's lips trembled. "You dare–!"
Edwin interrupted her spitting. "Ah, such a lovely mouth, Lasala. Pity spellcraft's vocal components were not so easy for it to handle as... other things."
"Bastard son of a Rashemi whore-dog!" she screamed, not missing a beat as she switched to Draconic, "Sia skriiod acht wux!"
"Careful, dear, you might actually hurt something." Her temper compromised more than a little of her skill—but one of the many things she lacked focus on, no reason to fear her aim—although the girl beside him had no such reassurance as the bolt of energy tore towards them. Standing as close as the sorceress was to him, it could easily have hit her, instead, if a shield had not shimmered out around them both; the spell collided in a blinding surge that could not hope to go unnoticed.
Especially when it reversed direction. The bolt careened off, coming uncomfortably close to connecting with its caster; Edwin might have been better able to smother his laugh had the look on Lasala's face not been so perfectly bewildered.
The sorceress's own startled face nearly mirrored hers; wide eyes stared out as she clutched at her necklace. Had her ring in fact stored such a strong spell within it? Only a wild surge could have elevated her own marginal abilities to such a degree. No way to confirm either, presently. With hope, the others would take it merely for an activated trinket and not suspect its origin in her strange power. Edwin did not mean for them to know anything of his find. He was not willing to share.
Lasala, red-faced, had redirected her fury. "You dare?" she seethed. "You meddle with those beyond your ken, little girl! Do you challenge me?"
"No," said the sorceress, "I didn't mean—" But she replied to the Wizard's challenge in the same tongue as it had been issued: Mulhorandi. Nenem wi ne. Lasala's face turned purple, an ugly contrast to her robes.
Oh, the girl realized her mistake quickly enough, but covered her mouth far too late. Typical.
"You dare to spy upon your betters?" The woman's rage turned back toward Edwin (there was more than enough of it to go around), "You allow such gall in your chattel, Odesseiron? Put her in her place, or I will do it for you both!"
He grit his teeth. As if they'd connived together to so completely unravel his plans! "Leave the little fool out of this." He'd not lose this source of wild magic and the witch in the same breath; one was as good as gone without the other. His fingers tightened upon her shoulder—and Edwin added a sharp look for good measure—but Sajantha already looked chagrined. And well she should! There was little chance of this being resolved peacefully, though that did not bother him so much as the idiocy that had made it necessary.
"An offering such as this could only heighten our aim," Brendan suggested, a grin growing to twist his face.
Whether or not Sajantha had understood the meaning, that dark smile was unmistakable in its intent; she took a step back, nearly treading upon Edwin's boot as she jostled his chest. He steadied her with a grimace before she embarrassed them further.
'Twas true enough, a human sacrifice would be a powerful draw, in addition to whatever else they'd arranged to entice this demon. As involved a spell as this took more than mere time: it took concentration. It took energy. It took strength. And they had invested much of each. They'd focused spells to call an outsider—to contain it. Not something to ever be attempted lightly, not something to ever be attempted when other threats loomed larger. Mages lacked the spontaneous flexibility of undisciplined sorcerers, after all, and the spells the Thayans had pored over the previous night would not be of a nature for dueling.
Edwin returned her smile with one of his own.
Lasala's eyes narrowed. "How thoroughly has this land soiled you? Just how much affection do you hold for this filth-blood?" Beside her, Denak crossed his arms.
A matter of pride, now, more than punishment; they meant to kill Sajantha, and he could not convince them the sorceress meant so little to him as to allow it. However he answered, the outcome would be the same.
No need to draw this out any longer.
"It is not a question of how much affection I have for her," Edwin said, dropping his hand from Sajantha's shoulder (would the goose have the brains to determine why he needed his hands free?), "so much as how little I have for you."
He owed them nothing.
~*-{/=S=\}-*~
The blast of heat sent Sajantha staggering back as a rush of fire exploded over the pavilion; the skies poured flame. Arrows and chants flying, the rest of the group had spread out behind them. A sheen of protective spells glimmered in the air around Edwin—half-turned towards her, glaring—and he'd no doubt be shouting, were his tongue not far busier with spells.
She could read enough in his eyes, though, for the same words shouted out from within her mind: 'Get down!', 'Get back!' She was more than happy to oblige. Spells and curses shrieked through the air, a flame flying so near she tasted brimstone, breathed in char. Coughing, she gripped her necklace in one hand and blindly charged forward—towards her friends—with an urgency transmitted to her ring.
Any spell could strike her unprotected back—anything—desperate, she focused on the magic locked within it, not using it in bursts of charges, but channeling: draining it. Another spell bounced off—two in quick succession—and it should not have been possible, but she was still alive, a bit singed, as she ducked behind a boulder, out of sight. Shrieking darts pummeled the surface opposite her, sending chips of stone flying into her face.
Edwin's voice, sure and reassuring, lifted over the cacophony. Sucking in gasps of air, Sajantha crouched; her shaking hand reached for her wand as she took in the battlefield.
"Nil'gnosi nar vis!" Imoen shouted, a streak of magic darting from her hands.
"Nil'gnosi nar vis!" a deeper voice echoed, and several missiles flew, striking Imoen with enough force to steal her footing.
"Imoen!" Sajantha twisted out of cover to make a dash towards her, but Edwin's voice—and his words—froze her.
"He opens a Gate!"
The air itself trembled: hot and chalky in her mouth and filmy grit across her eyes. The ground thundered beneath her feet, a deep, sickening thrum that rose up to churn her stomach; she stumbled.
Stone braced her back, dry and dusty as her tongue. Her heart raced, mind blank of spells—if only she'd studied more!—Imoen had been right. Instead of Miirym, if she'd been studying the spellbook instead of Miirym. No. That wasn't the right thought; that wasn't right at all. Miirym...
If you want to fly, then fly.
Sajantha gripped her necklace: the same soaring certainty that had before flown free of her filled her anew. The energy built, buzzing loud in her ears, a vibration strong enough to warm her hand. Magic sang through the air, a hundred strands of music she could almost see, so strongly did they hum. She filled her lungs; the ring pulsed with her breath. Her eyes rose.
The sky had cracked and peeled, like paper torn away, revealing a dark dimension full of sporadic stabs of light—bolts struck down, outlining some monstrous creature waiting within—a gate to to the Hells—or the Abyss.
Its sickly green light slithered across Imoen's still form; Sajantha's breath caught in her throat. Like all the air was trapped inside her, it shivered down her limbs as she looked up at the shadow fallen across them: before her, the pinched-faced woman who'd sent the first spell at Sajantha had readied another; her fiery eyes promised a death just as hot. "Marfedelom ini ixen," she hissed. The markings upon her bare scalp glowed.
The air took shape around them, edges flared in fire, a burning white heat blurring. Hand clenched around her scalding ring, Sajantha leaned into a wall of wind unleashed as the whole world shook and her legs turned to water. It tore the air gasping from her lungs, and whipped her hair as she squinted into the rising storm.
The barrier before her trembled, flashing white as a gleam of rolling heat grew closer. Sajantha braced herself, though her arms struggled to rise—one hand clasped tight over her ring, and the other stretched out—the second pulse slammed free of her with a reverberation that knocked her from her feet as it sent the spell flying back.
So abruptly did the the battering forces die down, so flat was the air left in their absence, that when all which had bolstered her disappeared, Sajantha collapsed, panting and shaken on the ground—depleted as the ring.
Edwin snapped his head around, looking about to spit something at her, some thought racing behind his eyes, but he held it inside and shouted out a spell, instead.
Beside him, Jaheira raised a hand. The earth lurched in protest; a jagged split ripped through stone and sent the Wizards scrambling for balance.
And the fire spell folded back from her barrier—reflected—released in a shuddering wave across the pavilion, overlapping with another of Edwin's blasts to flood the area in flame.
Above them, the tendrils of magic around the portal tapered off, flickering wildly; the half-trapped creature roared, its bellow echoing even after it and its doorway disappeared.
~*-{/=I=\}-*~
The rest of the group straggled forward: still in one piece, and not afire; these days, that seemed more 'n enough to ask for. Jaheira went around patching everyone up—well, almost everyone—even Edwin looked a bit scuffed, but she didn't offer, and he sure didn't ask.
A healing potion had gotten Imoen up and moving again in time to catch the fireworks. Mostly because it took so long for all that fire to go out. Didn't look like anyone was gonna be moving up on the platform—not much of a platform left, now, anyhow—and thank the gods wasn't no sign of that demon-thing around; Imoen set down her bow and flopped back to the ground.
"Tymora," she murmured, slumping down. Sajantha wasn't too far behind her. "By Tymora, that thing was huge." Her hands fisted into her hair as she lowered her head to her knees. "You Wizards really play around with things like that?"
"That?" Edwin frowned. Straightened his robes and brushed off his sleeves, like it was just another day in good ol' Thay. Probably was, close enough. " 'Twas a lesser demon only. You've seen nothing."
That sorry swellhead. He had to be bluffing it. Had to, had to. Wasn't no way creatures came bigger than that nasty screeching thing; it could've sat down upon Winthrop's inn and squished the building flat to nothing. "So, um." Imoen chewed on her lip. "Can you summon one of them things...?"
"Why?" Edwin gave her something like a smirk, only a little too sharp and pointy. "Did you wish a closer look?"
Imoen leaned back, and her friend scooted a little closer towards her. "What do you suppose that means?" Sajantha whispered. Imoen just shook her head. "I dunno. I don't think I really want to."
Jaheira stepped forward, eyes trailing along the ground, catching along all the red robes, then traveling right up Edwin's. "Look at you," she murmured. "So good at making friends."
Edwin sighed. He crammed a lot into that one little sound: a, 'I can't believe you're bothering me;' a little bit of, 'I can't believe you're so stupid;' and even some, 'I can't believe I'm actually going to reply.' "Red Wizards do not have friends," he explained. "We have only rivals. And alliances... on occasion."
"And p-plenty of enemies, with that attitude." Khalid, with his oh-so-dry humor and upturned brow, was maybe as troubled as he looked, maybe just teasing.
"Plenty, you say? Yet, the dead do not number among them." At least the Red Wizard hadn't made fun of Khalid's stutter; Imoen would've had to slug him. Yeah, good thing he hadn't. Good thing for all of them. Edwin faced the platform and the fallen red bodies all across it, talking over his shoulder as he walked away, "Enemies must not be left free to plot behind your back."
"Wait, hey—where's he going?" Imoen pulled herself to her feet, peering after the Wizard. "Is he looting? Because he should really wait for us."
"Looting? Nay." Dynaheir held her arms close to her chest. "He makes certain they art dead."
Imoen shivered. "But... well, all of this means he's on our side, right?" She looked over at Sajantha, who rubbed at her shoulder, gaze out-of-focus. "That's, that's good, ain't it?"
Jaheira's lips thinned. "It sets you at ease that he does not balk even at killing his own countrymen?"
Imoen swallowed. "I, um." She shrugged, giving the uneven ground a kick. "Guess you just have to decide which way you want to look at it, huh?" She nodded over at Sajantha, who perked up a bit. Imoen's eyes wandered past her, to the platform. Couldn't let this whole mess go to waste; there had to be something left in there. "Wonder if they've got anything good in their spellbooks..."
Edwin looked about to find out, first, something Imoen scrambled to sort out. The ground rocked some more as she stepped onto a slab of stone that hung loose. "Hey—that's party treasure! You saw my missiles, right? Two of 'em! Some of that there's mine; you don't get to call all of it." He just kept ignoring her, sorting stuff into his pack."You don't need every one of them spellbooks; that ain't fair. Edwin!" She hopped up after him.
"What!" He didn't turn around, but his back tensed. "Not that you'd be able to read it," he muttered. "I would be surprised if you proved literate at all, never mind able to decipher the finer points of Mulhorandi; I'd eat my cloak."
"I'd like to see that." And she'd like to see if under that cloak he was just as bald as the other Wizards; did they all look like that? Imoen put her hands on her hips. "I thought you Red Wizards were supposed to be so great." It had been a hard fight, sure, but it should have been near-on impossible. "How come we just wiped the floor with four of you, huh?"
"Interesting choice of words: do you not realize how very near your own innards came to decorating the ground? Best thank your friend for keeping you alive long enough for your own meager contribution." Edwin looked up from the spellbook barely enough to tilt his head at Sajantha as she climbed up what was left of the steps. Her fingers ran along the chain of her necklace, up towards her neck.
"Even at half-capacity, they would have been enough to overwhelm you louts," he continued. " 'Twas only mine own presence that tipped the balance. Be grateful they did not collect your remains for their next ritual."
"Ritual?" Imoen looked down, then. "What ritual?"
"We interrupted their casting," Sajantha pointed out. "They'd been working at this summoning circle." She paused, like she was waiting for Edwin to explain more—or maybe just explain how she was wrong—but he went on ignoring them and turned another crispy page. "See those lines on the ground?" Not so much left of them, now, on the broken surface. "A circle like that takes a lot of energy and focus; they were already weakened."
"Huh," said Imoen. "Think that's somewhere in here?" She picked up the other spellbook—Looked like only two of them had survived; even if they were in pretty rough shape, there had to be a handful of salvageable spells. She flipped through a few pages—really, what was this stuff? Didn't look nothing like the other scrolls she'd seen—before bounding off the platform. Better get as much out of it as she could, before the Wizard noticed and demanded it back. "Hey—hey, Dynaheir! Can you read any of this?"
~*-{/=S=\}-*~
Sajantha carefully stepped across the wreckage of the floor til she found a spot sturdy enough to support her, and turned to Edwin, already perusing through his own acquisition.
"Are you alright?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Grazed, nothing serious."
"No, I meant..." Sajantha gestured around them.
"Am I alright that they are dead, and we are not? Mm," a pleased sound rumbled in his throat as he turned a page. " 'Twas a bit more of a gamble than I would have preferred, but I find it sits quite well with me."
"They were your comrades, though."
He frowned at the page. "Must you insist upon playing stupid? You alone were privy to that conversation."
"That doesn't mean it was easy for you."
"That is exactly what it means! Do not presume everyone is so weak as you. (She would not last a day in Thay.)"
"A good thing we're not there, then. Especially since that's where Nevron is." At least she assumed. The one remaining pillar supported her weight with a small protest as she leaned against it. "He's a zulkir, isn't he?"
"Aye. Of conjuration."
"And, Odesseiron..." It had a ring to it. Or a familiarity? Hadn't she encountered that name somewhere, before? "Isn't he...?"
"A Tharchion." Edwin's gaze snapped up. "Do not try to tell me you are at all familiar with the politics of my homeland."
"Not familiar, no, but I've read a bit."
"Of Thay?" The book tipped down. "Not so much has escaped our borders."
Sajantha tapped Oghma's scroll. "I did grow up in the greatest house of knowledge in the Realms, after all."
His eyes narrowed. "And you read about Thay."
"I read about magic."
Edwin stood. "Is that so?" His voice dripped scorn as though his accent first rolled the words in venom. "And you read so much about us, did you, that you failed to recognize a Red Wizard upon encountering one? Do not think I have forgotten."
This time, the embarrassment surged far stronger than the shock that had overwhelmed her in Nashkel; it sent a flush of heat to her face. "I..." Sajantha glanced down. "I heard far more tales of them than anything real. Like of djinn—or tarrasque—something from the stories." She tucked a curl from her eyes as she peeked back up at his skeptical face. "I hardly expected to ever meet one. And not someplace like this."
Edwin straightened, tossing back his cloak. " 'Tis a far cry from my normal milieus, to be sure," he grimaced at the wilderness around them. Then, looking back to her with a raised eyebrow, "A tarrasque?"
"Not something you'd find every day, is it?" Sajantha fought back a smile. "It must be a grand task, indeed, to see you all so far from home. Even farther than Dynaheir is from Rashemen..."
He gave his head a shake. "Not as contrived a transition as most, but if you are fishing for information, do try to be a bit less obvious."
"I'm just curious. Perhaps I could help you."
"And, you may," he said, moving past her: "relieving me of your presence ought to relieve me of my headache."
"A headache oughtn't be your biggest worry." Nor even Dynaheir. "Isn't this Nevron—isn't he going to be upset with you? For killing his other followers." Only rivals, Edwin had said. But surely his order wouldn't take such a thing lightly?
Edwin's lips quirked up; their deaths did not seem at all to weigh upon him. Indeed, his steps seemed almost light. "And how will he find out? Will you tell him? He would far more likely thank me for taking such incompetents off his hands."
She took a step after him. "You say that as though he's testing you. By throwing you all out here and letting you kill each other." With so little trust between the Wizards, perhaps a truth lay therein.
Edwin stopped, halfway down the stairs. "You have a better method? It ensures those who attain power will be only those whom deserve it. Not everyone is equipped to handle such responsibility. What better way to ensure only the strongest remain? The weak must be culled early on so they do not lessen the herd."
Survival of the fittest? "Did you just use one of your animal metaphors to describe Red Wizards?"
His narrowed eyes didn't find it anywhere near as amusing. "Hesitation is death. It is as simple as that."
"Typical Thayvian attitude," Jaheira planted her feet in the grass behind him. "No regard for life."
Edwin half-turned, hands landing upon his hips as he raised his shoulders. "To prefer my own life over theirs? Where, in your vast order of nature, is this unusual?" He shook his head. " 'Tis simple survival, as practiced by even the most base of life-forms. Are you so deluded by hypocrisy that you claim to feel different?"
Khalid crossed his arms. "Th-there are things I value above my own life."
"You should hope to ever value something so much," Jaheira nodded.
Edwin split an annoyed look between the two. "Ridiculous drivel. Such sentiments serve only to weaken you both."
"But you did that for me." A whisper, but the half-elves caught it, along with Edwin; all three looked up towards her. The others didn't know, hadn't understood the Mulhorandi. If she hadn't spoken—revealed her spell and her spying—might not the Red Wizards have continued on their separate ways? And, perhaps, even have taken Edwin with them...
A sigh escaped Edwin as he rubbed at his forehead. "There you go again, ascribing altruism where there is none. Are you naturally this blind, or do you work at it?"
This might have ended far differently, indeed. The bodies on the ground could very well have been their own, had he made another choice. "You could have turned me over. Let them kill me."
Edwin shifted. "They would not have killed you. Not right away. (Though, the demon might have had other ideas.)"
~*-{/=E=\}-*~
" 'Tis well, then, that they were killed, first." The Harper kept her arms crossed, as though holding back the possibility of actual gratitude; no doubt this was as close as she could ever come to thanking him.
Even such a minor capitulation ought be enjoyed. "Oh?" Edwin alit upon this with a grin. "So, even the druid can enjoy the spilling of blood."
Her shoulders came up in a shrug. "I cannot find fault with slaying Red Wizards."
"Truly, your hypocrisy is boundless."
"Ridding the world of evil is as worthy a pursuit as any."
"Killing those whose views differ from your own? Yes, I can see it." Harpers lacked all perspective, for all that they claimed neutrality. "Call it what you like, you're as selfish as any other."
Her entire bearing stiffened; even her face was tight. "Not everyone is so wicked as you. Do not foist your own shortcomings unto others: there remain those uncorrupted, whether your own cruel eyes can see it or not."
Did her own eyes just glance towards Sajantha? Edwin took a chance, pointedly looking toward the younger woman who'd rejoined her friend up ahead. "You think she is beyond corruption?" he asked the druid.
Her gaze locked onto his with the force of a wolf clamping down its jaws; combined with the briefest flare of his glyph, she seized his full attention. "Keep your machinations away from her! Keep away from her, or I'll—"
Edwin threw his shoulders back, taking advantage of the stone steps to lean over her. "Or you will what, Harper—kill me? I should like to see you try. How much blood will you wade through while still insisting you claim the higher moral ground?" His hand cut through the air. "No one is above corruption." Not even the most holier-than-thou priests, because they were the last to see it—and, even seeing, they refused to believe.
Author's Note: I had a lot of fun cobbling together Egyptian phonetics to make up "Mulhorandi"—since Mulhorand is based on ancient Egypt, I tried to use ancient Egyptian where I could, but filled in a lot of blanks with Coptic Egyptian. Umm in case anyone is curious. x) and then I just made phonetic interpretations...
So, the jist of the conversation-probably not precisely/literally, since I can't find the original file/am doing this based on my recollection + I did most of the translation myself which doesn't exactly guarantee anything haha:
"Mi ou ne nai!" (What is this!) "Mi nim ti-nave emnay?" (Who do I see here?)
"Fay pae monon Odesseiron." (This is Odesseiron.)
"Lha, soqg, ti-aemi pi roami en atqom." (Yes, stupid, I know this unable/powerless man.)
"Anok moune amoni ouaa." (I continue to prevail on my own/alone.*)
* which I was inspired from the phrase "Alavairthae" = may your skill prevail = apparently a Thayvian saying (and sure doesn't sound like Egyptian but mehhhh. x)