"Aegy? I talked to Xzar. Lemme tell you, that was a weird experience in itself; think I could have a whole chat with you about just that- is he getting less crazy?"
The ranger blinked at her. "Less crazy? He's a necromancer. More resilient to splintering, maybe..."
"Well, anyway, are you sure about the permanent ink tattoo thing? I saw the design and it's... fine. It looks good, actually."
"Does it really? Huh! I'm impressed, then. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect."
"Yeah, but, why do you want it, Aegy? I'm pretty sure the process involves you letting a crazy person stab you repeatedly with needles, which doesn't seem wholly advisable. I just asked Minsc and he says it hurts, and it's going to be big, too, all over your back."
Aegis shrugged. "I didn't ask for it, but I told him I'd let him do it as long as it looked fine."
"But why?"
"I don't know. Why not? It seems kind of important to him. Like leaving a memento. The crazy person version."
Imoen hesitated. "Are you sure you want a memento of Xzar for the rest of forever?"
Aegis looked at her sister and only then recalled that the two of them weren't telepathically linked. They ought to have been having more one-on-one gossip time. Somehow the two of them had never spoken at length on this topic .
"Erm..." the ranger said slowly, considering her lunch for a moment. Then she looked back to her perplexed sister.
"Ew, you do?" Imoen winced. "Aegy, I just don't get you about this. I mean, I don't mind Xzar at arm's length but... well the whole rest of what you did's got me downright confuzzlated, to be clear."
Aegis smirked, lifting up her mug. "See, I'm only just wondering why you haven't pestered me about the matter more. Since when do I initiate these kinds of conversations about boys?"
"Boys! Blah." Imoen made a dramatic tongue-sticking-out face that actually reminded Aegis of Xzar. Or maybe it was Xzar that reminded Aegis of Imoen... "I was pretending it wasn't happening!"
"Really? Cause in retrospect I was sort of expecting to be swarmed by all sorts of questions about my first paramour. Questions like: What's sex like? What positions did you do? Were those special books in Candlekeep accurate? Why do you like him? What is romantic about all this? What's it like having a boyfriend? What's the best part? How's the snuggling? Does he sleep talk?"
"Ugh, and if you were with anyone normal I would have been swarming!" Imoen moaned. "The way it was, I didn't want to know! Aegy," she suddenly realized, "this is serious? This isn't just some weird little 'remember that one time when you!' story that we'll tell years from now? This is... like going to continue onward and be a... a thing?"
"This is most definitely a thing. A long-term thing."
"Aegis, he's nutters! And probably evil. What? I'm just saying. I don't think he's the type of, er, boy, that you are supposed to take home with you. He probably gets much worse when left to his own devices, actually.
Aegis leaned her chin on her hand and listened to her concerned sibling. "Most likely."
"Okay... so... I really think it's unfair of me to say this, but I've gotta, so brake yourself: What would your dad say?"
The smile left Aegis' face immediately. She gazed at her sister without speaking for awhile, and though she didn't call Imoen out for punching low, the violet girl still felt her pain and winced all the same at it.
"He would be very concerned," Aegis answered at last. "And though he wouldn't push me aside to act in my stead, he would be very hostile and paranoid about the matter. And protective. He would give me a book to read, ask me to reconsider, wait until something happened to prove his point, rescue me, and then just stare at me... Till I opened the topic myself. And..." she added, taking a sip of her drink," in the end he would leave the decision up to me. Though he'd only be happy if I were also happy."
Imoen fidgeted. "I thought... I thought maybe you were just letting it all happen. But you've actually thought about this a lot, haven't you?"
"Every day," the ranger agreed. "And every day I reach the same conclusion by one route or another."
"Which conclusion?" the violet girl asked curiously.
"I still want tXzar," she explained. "I'm happy to have him. Haven't looked twice at another man since. I don't really understand why, but I accept him being around makes me happy."
"... So... erm... just to make sure we're on the same page finally... This is the sort of 'serious' that, if followed to its least morbid conclusion, results in my nieces and nephews not only bringing home stray animals, but reanimated roadkill, too? Like, you are legitimately going to try and bank for the long haul and see how far you get?"
Aegis made a face. "What the hell are you-?! By Ohgma's giant ass, one step at a time, Imm! Hoi, I'm still working on the logistics of how to prevent him from randomly despleening orphans in the streets! I'm not thinking about anything past that! Hmph! Although... on reflection... at least I would never have to explain to the kids why old Mrs. Mitten would 'run away' and abandon them. She would just become their next arts and crafts project."
Imoen blinked slowly and got a far-away look on her face. "Ho. I'll never forget that conversation. My da was trying to put things delicately. You lifted your head up and looked at us and said as plain as day: "No, she's dead, and you buried her. She visited me in a dream to tell me, but her eyes were gone and her skin rippled like fountain water with maggots. It was okay, though, because I got to kiss her goodbye." I was like four, and I will remember that word for word until the day I die. I had nightmares for years."
Aegis gave Imoen a meaningful look. The thief was sifting through very old memories, but as she came back to her present she returned her sister's gaze knowingly.
"You won't start getting all incredibly creepy-morbid again, will you?" she asked, worried the necromancer could become a frighteningly bad influence. "Cause I was kinda happy you grew out of that."
Aegis shook her head. "I was just a kid. Now I know who I am, better than ever. The weird parts... the important ones..." she smiled faintly. "I miss my father," she realized weakly. "Badly."
Imoen siddled closer and rubbed her back. The two were quiet for awhile before the thief spoke at last: "You really feel a lot for Xzar? Well... I guess you are really good at handling him. Huh. Maybe you're actually more like Gorion than anyone realizes. Wise, I mean."
Aegis glanced at her. "What do you mean? Heh. Don't let Jaheira overhear you; she'd smite us dead for profaning the name of a friend..."
"Jaheira didn't have to grow up with you as a kid. You're lucky I loved you so much cause you were the creepiest girl ever! But you know, no matter what you said, old Mr. G. would just pick you up and put you on his lap and tell you a story. And by the end you'd be all normal-person-y again and he'd hug you and tell you how much he loved you and send you back to play with me."
"He was very... patient," Aegis said, looking back at her food, her older memories now colored differently by new-found knowledge.
"I always thought he must have been incredibly wise," Imoen decided. "It didn't seem like anyone else ever knew how to say things to you right, and you were always so frustrated until you went to talk to him. He knew what he was doing, Old Mr. G. I can't help thinking maybe he even knew what he was doing that... that night we lost him. "
Aegis glanced at her sister. "I hope so," she said quietly. "I really hope so."
Montaron and Imoen played poker at the Belching Dragon that afternoon, and summarily relieved everyone of their coin through one means or another. Edwin was down for the count, giving Imoen plenty of time to spend with her gruff companion. Khalid and Jaheira planned to take one more day of rest on the morrow and then leave in the early morning hours on the next day.
Aegis explained to Montaron the terms of the arrangement Xzar had made on their behalf, which was to leave on the day after. The halfling hadn't been happy. Imoen figured cards and ale would be a good way to calm him down.
Though Aegis had been the one to suggest the five days of debauchery, she herself stayed at the inn and did not actually go to the tavern itself. She kept within eyesight of her friends, wary of another assassination attempt. She just wanted to enjoy a space that felt remotely like a 'home' for a few days; it wasn't so much to ask!
Garrick was earning his keep playing for the inn. Minsc had gone out to practice sparring on his own. Dynaheir was studying her newest scrolls. Aegis was tending to her gear. It was becoming painfully obvious she needed to upgrade her things, and that included buying a full battleaxe. Hopefully something with a magical enchantment. Still, she polished her own hunting axe lovingly until it gleamed.
Xan had returned absolutely exhausted with a thrilled Branwen in tow. The cleric was happy to tell everyone the elf could beat her in a throw down- for the first ten to fifteen minutes! Xan's stamina was terrible; though his ability to use magic to supplement himself and stand tow-to-tow with a war priestess had most certainly garnered his companion's respect. Xan was not as happy about this as Branwen was.
Sore from head to toe, he could only moan when she put his lunch in front of him, and stared at the bowl as if the entire universe had conspired to make him miserable regardless of his current state of freedom. He was bruised, achey, slightly nauseous, a little anxious from having just sparred with a woman who may possibly have liked him, and still heavily shaken up from his ordeal. Life was not feeling incredibly good at the moment, for all that he'd finally gotten some real sunlight.
Branwen took a good long look at him, curled up like a shriveled organ player with his ears deflated in a way that ought not to have been physically possible. Then she rolled her eyes and dragged a chair up behind his. "You ought to have stretched before hand. I told you so, I did."
He looked at her uncertainly, as if wondering what new torture she had in mind for him and she chuckled. "You're so tense, it's no wonder you feel terrible. Let me help; I'll be gentle with ye. Hey, Dynaheir! Come make sure I do this right!" she called, moving her hands to clasp his shoulder and shoulder blade.
Xan was not up to resisting, which was fortunate because a few minutes later he was leaning against the table with his cheek on one elbow as she worked out the knots in his other shoulder. It took Branwen awhile, but she elicited a very satisfactory crackle when she was finally able to push the shoulder back into proper alignment. Dynaheir had come up and was offering directions and assistance.
Khalid and Jaheira were busy plotting their journey, although Khalid did at last come over and verbally ask Xan: "D-do you want to be r-rescued from your w-womenfolk?" The enchanter looked up at him bleakly.
"Flee. Save yourselves," Xan told him. "And do not grow out your hair." He winced and then sighed in relief when Branwen managed to get his other shoulder into place. She released his arm, which he shook once before folding it under his head as well. The cleric winked at Khalid and then felt gently along the sullen elf's prominent spine.
"He's just a big baby," Branwen told the half-elf with a chuckle. "Don't be worrying about him none. He-" Xan flinched at where she had put her hand. "Ho, that's a bruise is that? Really? I naught but bumped ye with me forearm out there. Mm. Well wait a moment." She placed both hands gently against him, calling on the energy of her diety. The elf relaxed a little.
"The cloth is making this difficult," Dynaheir muttered. "It would be ideal if you could see the flesh. Perhaps some privacy-"
"Shh-shush!" Branwen exclaimed loudly, covering Xan's ears as if she could prevent him from thinking about what he surely must have heard. "What the hells? No! Are you daft?" Khalid winced, reaching forward to stop Branwen but then coming up short when he realized the action was already done.
"Ah," the Wychlaran realized. "Of course. I apologize. I forgot who we were talking about for a moment."
"B-branwen... you haven't met m-many elves, correct?"
"Nae," the Northeim woman agreed.
"I-it is considered a little t-taboo to touch a-another elf's e-ears. Inap-propriate."
"What? Why?"
Khalid looked piteously down at Xan, who had his eyes closed and whom was clearly counting or reciting something under his breath to avoid shrieking at the top of his lungs and bolting out of the room. He didn't look particularly upset, but then he was an enchanter; and such individuals were a rare breed of wizards. Khalid had known a few in his time, and he had found them to be usually skilled at mental discipline and at times even capable of compartmentalizing their minds. "Um... they are, eh, s-sensitive," he said delicately with a warm blush.
Branwen stiffened and looked down at her charge. Then she winced and released him. Xan blinked his eyes open, calmly coming out of whatever trance he'd gone off into to avoid moonblading both women. "Thank you," he said politely, but then made to stand. "I think I need to retire for a few hours."
"O-of course," the cleric stammered. "I'm sorry.
"It is forgiven. But I find myself comfortable and... very tired."
At least his posture had dramatically improved as he glided away. He encountered Xzar on the way to his room, and nodded politely to the necromancer. Branwen waited till he was gone and then cursed and rubbed her face. "Kay, well. Someone educate me about elves so I don't do something like that again on accident!"
Xzar came up behind where Aegis was tending to her gear and chatting with Jaheira about everything from weather to wolves. He leaned over the back of her chair and greeted her with a kiss on the top of the head, slipping his arms around her shoulders. As usual, the druid was offended.
"So, Imoen gave her verdict?" the necromancer asked with a purr.
"That she did. If you're leaving in just a few days, did you want to rush to fit it in?"
"Does starting now work?" he asked her. "I had a good nap, but I'm still calm enough. I wouldn't want to try otherwise. I checked and crosschecked and I have everything."
Aegis considered and then nodded, getting up to follow him away from the common room. Jaheira watched them suspiciously, but by now she knew no one was going to listen to her if she said anything. She'd just have to keep her eyes and ears open so that she could act in the event of an emergency.
He could hear the door shut quietly, though not the gentle pad of swift footsteps. The candle light fell over his face. {Psst! Edwin? Are you asleep?}
The Red Wizard shifted slightly and then looked up at her. She had quite a number of items in her hands, including a plate with a meat sandwich, which one supposed he stood a chance at successfully eating one-handed. {I am now,} he muttered, trying to prop himself up.
Imoen set down some of her burden on the edge of the bed and leaned over to help him situate his pillows. It was harder than it ought to have been on his own. {I got the spellbook for you! But now suddenly there's a caveat.}
Edwin frowned, looking up at her and rubbing sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. Even a big-bad scary Red Wizard could look cute and human when weak and tired, apparently. {What caveat?}
{It turns out that Xzar knew I was stealing the spellbook,} Imoen explain, looking a little weirded out even as she said it. {I am not sure why, but he permitted it. I believe he let his guard down only because it was me borrowing it, and for some reason he didn't find me threatening.}
The Red Wizard lifted his good hand incredulously, eyes squinting in bafflement. {He has been letting you take it? What spell did you weave on two wizards to get both the madman and the witch to let you look in their spellbooks?}
{Beats me. Maybe I just come off incredibly harmless?} she sat on the edge of the bed. {It might have something to do with keeping me happy so I don't say things to Aegis about him. Anyway I asked him how he had known I had taken it, and he said the book felt my touch, my skin, or my pulse; or something like that.}
Edwin's gaze darted to her hands as she produced the black leather spellbook. {So I cannot touch it. You will hold it so I can study it?}
{Of course,} she agreed. {Before I serve as your glorified lectern, however,} she put the book temporarily away and then reached over to pick up a few packages wrapped in red paper, {let us see how I fared as your laundry maid.}
She settled the packages down and tore open the first one, pulling out his mended robes and examining the shoulder and the repaired seam. The cloth was flawless again. She passed the fabric to him for his assessment and he nodded, so she rolled it up into a doughnut.
{The injured arm first,} he suggested, and then tried to be patient with the pins-and-needles sensations as she eased his hurt arm out of the sling. She guided it through the proper sleeve and then slipped the robes over his head and pulled them down to his waist. She readjusted the sling and got the injured arm secured back against his chest. Then she sat back from him. The Red Wizard shifted a moment, fussing with the hem. Then he gave her a heavy-lidded look.
Imoen tilted her head to the side. He stared at her for a moment, almost glaring if not for the otherwise resigned expression he was wearing. Then he sighed.
{Don't make me say anything,} he told her irritably. {Just read my mind and obey me, serf.}
The thief grinned and shifted the blankets. Reaching under the edge, she seized hold of the hem and then helped him shimmy it down so he was properly dressed. He grunted and did not otherwise voice his appreciation. She settled back down, considered him for a moment, and then reached forward and pulled the hood up and into place.
{There, now you are mysterious and unknowable and terrifying again, nasty dragon. Feel better?}
He sneered at her. {Just show me what you stole for me, little thief.}
Instead of sitting there like a decent and obedient pawn, she turned about and settled in beside him, crossing her legs, and then pulled out the spellbook and held it open before him so he could see. The unsolicited human contact, however slight, was annoying more than anything else; but given that he could immediately tell she'd brought him quite a valuable treasure he elected not to protest.
The Red Wizard made a small gesture with his good hand, and she dutifully turned the page. {I recognize some Thari, elfish, dwarvish, some Infernal...} Imoen observed aloud, and tapped on a few words. {But what is this?}
{By the shape? Zhentarim Argot.}
Imoen perked up. {Can you read it?}
{No. It is a very carefully guarded language. Even those who use it routinely may only know a few select words. It is not something taught at random. Each word has a price on every black market in the realms.}
{What? These aren't a few select words. These are sentences.}
{Never trust anyone to be what they appear, Imoen of Candlekeep,} the Thayvian advised. {You and I are both lucky the necromancer seems to underestimate you.} He gestured that she should turn the page. {Whatever wretched creature he is now, he was someone once. Scavenging his leftovers will prove useful to me.}
{The book does not seem to be organized logically,} Imoen told him. {It isn't neat or cohesive. The start almost feels like he was vomiting out information.}
{It is an original work, not an optimized compilation,} Edwin explained. {It is laid out for research and spellcraft. Skip to a spell.} She obeyed. The first spell was Chill Touch. Edwin studied the pages around it and then nodded. {He is good. Look. See the notes? He did not scribe this from another spell book or scroll. He worked it out from memory. That takes a rare skill level.}
Imoen blinked, looking at the Red Wizard. {What does that mean?}
Edwin smirked.{It means he's trying to remember a spellbook he no longer has. Or an entire library of them.}
{What could have happened to that spellbook? To him?} she wondered.
{If you were a little less naive, I would say your guess is as good as mine. It may have been the Time of Troubles. The Zhentarim was once predominately Bane's. When Cyric slew the Dead Three, there were a lot of power shifts, assassinations, and slaughters the whole Realms over. Thay was no exception, either.}
Imoen considered this and realized it made a perverse sort of sense. Then she looked at Edwin curiously. (Who do you worship?}
The Red Wizard glanced at her. {Are you entirely sure you want to ask me that question, little girl?} he asked haughtily. {What if it shatters your make-believe innocence?}
{Well, you also could have been a Banite,} she wagered. Pages turned. {Except now he's dead. And you don't strike me as the sort of person to worship a dead god or a crazy one. And despite your barbed temper, you don't strike me as having an interest in Loviatar. But your robes and favorite spells are a clue. Kossuth?}
{Clever girl.} Pages turned.
{Suits you. Hey, what did you mean about it being a rare skill to work a spell out from memory?}
{Draconic and an understanding of its connection to the weave slip from the mind easily,} the Thayvian reminded her. {Like words from a dream. Recalling a spell without deliberately preparing it using a personal spell book is not easy. It is even incredibly difficult to prepare from another wizard's spell book. Likewise, recalling enough of a spell's form over the long term to be able to spellcraft it to completion later on, with no references, is no easy task. Retaining with precision even a few sigils at a time during faithful scribing can even be difficult. (Why am I bothering to say this, surely she knows.)}
Imoen considered this. {Are you... sure?}
He looked at her. {What do you mean, am I sure?}
The thief seemed confused. {I could probably recall your acid spell from memory.}
Edwin was surprised by her ignorance, and he laughed. {A spell you have never once so much as cast or scribed once? (I see I did need to explain; she is less advanced that I had thought).}
{Well I remember reading it! I did pay very close attention to it, I examined it thoroughly to make sure it would work for burning through those rocks. I could do it!}
{No, you could not. (That is a mistake for the lowliest of novices!) The magic is not in the words; they but call it form from the mind. I would invite you to try and then enjoy the privilege of watching your first major magic-related-maiming, if you were not sandwiched up against my side and likely to injure me as well. Put the thought out of mind.}
Imoen looked at him in bewilderment. Then she settled down the spellbook.
{What are you doing? What-?} His eyes widened. {Do not! Do not play with acid! Imoen-!} He grabbed at her arms.
"Lozuk hanzin haalvut kresel," she enunciated clearly with terrible pronunciation. There was a shimmer of green energy, and then Imoen calmly held up a hand limed in a thin sheen of acid and showed him.
Edwin stared in disbelief for a long moment. Then he looked up at her face. {When did you practice this?}
{I didn't, just like you said. I've never cast it,} she said triumphantly.
{You filthy liar. When did you copy it? While I was unconscious and you had access to my spell book?}
Her face dropped. {Copy- I've never copied-} she said, her eyes widening. Then she frowned at him. {You don't believe me,} she realized.
{Because it's impossible, you twit. When you think to lie, strive to know the realm of reality first!}
{I'm not lying!} she exclaimed. {Why would I make up something like that? My patron is Oghma!}
{Whom you clearly do not take very seriously. Dismiss the spell, fool girl. I told you not to pry your thieving eyes in my spellbook, and it seems you are keen to ignore me at every turn! I did not take action against you for what you did in the cave-in, or for the scribbles you left the evening the witch tried to burn the spellbook; but I am getting sick of your blatant disrespect!}
"You-! You! You are like the worst, suckiest failure at being a decent human being ever!" she sputtered indignantly. "Do you think I need attention that badly that I'd make up nonsense about spells!? I can't dismiss it. I don't know how! How could I? I understand how it works, but I didn't even write it myself!"
He laughed angrily at her. {You are an incredibly inane child. No, clearly you are not bright enough to have figured out how the spell worked if you could have scribed it without learning its counter. Fine! If you are so incompetent as to learn a spell you cannot control, go smother it in a bowl of water!}
Imoen scowled, getting up irritably and going over to pour a basin of water. She smothered her hand in the water, chewing back on angry insults. Edwin watched her childish body language with a haughty, hateful, and predatory grin. She disgusted him in the moment; enough that he was willing to rub it in her face. After a few seconds, he pulled out his own spellbook and flicked to a cantrip, recalling it to memory. Then he turned to a fresh page. When Imoen returned she found him drawing out sigils with his fingernails, the claw-like tips leaving behind ink under the effect of some minor spell. She frowned and watched him uncertainly. "What are you doing?" she asked.
{Proving once and for all that you are a consummate liar and a thief.}
{I am not a liar,} she told him angrily. {Stop saying that!}
{You are. And I shall demonstrate how you are Cyric's and Mask's more than you will ever be Ohgma's.} He finished what he was doing and then lifted up the spellbook and offered it to her.
{What do you- You just said I wasn't supposed to touch your things-}
{Take it now, fool girl, before I lose patience with you.} Imoen frowned, taking the book from him and looking hesitantly down at what he'd scribed. {This is a spellcraft of mine. Have you seen it before?}
{No,} she admitted, confused.
{Exactly. Because no wizard has but a single spellbook, and I- like our necromancer acquaintance- have the skill level to work out old techniques I no longer have current written access to. I know you have never seen this spell before in your life, so you can't have transcribed it and you can't have prepared it. So study it. How long did that acid spell supposedly take you? Fifteen minutes? And you remembered it a week later?}
Imoen looked at him with a pout. {Like five,} she admitted.
{Take fifteen!} he laughed. {Take as long as you want. It's not a scroll, after all; It's a raw spell book inscription. It's not in your own hand, and you aren't even a wizard. You can't cast it. And you certainly couldn't cast it a week from now!}
Liquid brown eyes stared uncertainly at him a moment before lowering down to the book. He grinned smugly, watching as her eyes traced over the inscription. Her lips moved and the skin around her eyes tensed as she parsed the draconic and roved through the runes to find meaning. Then abruptly she snapped the book closed and tossed it to the bed.
{So you give up?} he drawled {Are you ready to admit the truth?}
Imoen turned and left the room, and he laughed good and hard after her. Served the violet harlot right. A pity he'd lost her hands, however. He looked down at the black bound tomb and then sighed, beginning a cantrip to turn the pages for him. It wouldn't last forever and it was going to be a drain on his strength, but at least he'd get some reading down in case the twit refused to steal it for him again.
A few minutes later, the thief returned. Edwin glanced up at her, surprised she'd given in so easily. {Well?} he asked, and then blinked when she came up beside him holding paper, quill, and ink. {What are you doing?}
Imoen glared at him and then pulled up a chair to sit at the bedside table. She set her supplies down and then quickly began to write. Edwin frowned, trying to get a look at what she was doing. Holding focus for a constant prestidigitation spell was proving... tiresome... perhaps he should do something to get her to... what was she doing?
Imoen finished her writing with a decisive slash of her pen and then she stood up and presented him with the finished document. Looking uncertainly from her to the written page, Edwin slowly took the leaf from her hands. Then his eyes widened.
{You copied it. From memory,} he said, and his voice conveyed complete and utter disbelief. Such a feat should have been impossible; magic simply did not permit itself to be remembered like a poem or vision. It needed to be understood; appreciated; decoded; it needed to be placed into the memory as a long and complex sequence of almost spiritual sensations. Alone without that understanding, the draconic characters would elude the mind like wisps of smoke.
"Snuk gel ahrk shik," she said, lifting her hand, and the holiday firecracker spell simmered out between her fingers, dancing with light and magical wisps of smoke. Edwin lifted his gaze from the sheet of paper and stared at her. She held the cantrip long enough for it to be very clear she had prepared it on the fly. Then she let the magic fade. "Edwin Odesseiron, don't you ever call me a liar."
The Red Wizard was silent. His mouth closed and he stared at her with an unreadable but highly focused expression. A long moment passed in silence, and then at last he nodded, chuckling softly. {Well, I can honestly say I did not see that coming. Very well, Imoen of Candlekeep, you win. I retract my accusation; You are not a liar. And you never transcribed that acid spell, either? You recalled it faithfully, a week after you read it, etched in another wizard's hand? And you prepared it from that memory, spontaneously?}
She nodded. "Damn straight, nasty man."
{I apologize for doubting you,} he said quietly. Then he tilted his head to the side, considering her. {But... If I may entice your forgiveness oh truthful one... I am having difficulty reading a book I cannot touch,} he gestured to the tome.
Imoen crossed her arms over her chest and affected to still be very mad with him.
{I will answer any questions you have about it,} he promised her suavely, seeing through her act. {Please, Imoen. Help me?}
A wry smile twisted across her lips. Then she sighed dramatically, dropping her arms and rolling her eyes. {Fine. But only because you asked nicely,} she yielded. She went to clean up the quill and inkwell and did not see the intrigued and greedy way he watched her. His expression had smoothed out by the time she turned around, and she reclaimed her position and seized back up the spell book. {Let's see if I can find this spell you want.}
{Many thanks,} he murmured quietly.
An arcane eidetic. Untrained, in the rough. He smirked to himself as she quickly flipped through the pages. Hundreds of Harpers around you all your life and not one notices. And I stumble upon you on a ill-defined mission to kill a Wychlaran whore. What to do with you... What to do with you...
{Edwin?} He blinked at her. {I'm not retarded. Next time you want to scheme and plot, don't do it where it's going to show up so obviously on your face.}
The Red Wizard's eye twitched. Ah. How could he have ever forgotten he was talking to The Lady Annoyance Incarnate?
