Prelude 5- Thievery and Sour Pickles
Xanos sat on his bed in his dark room, eyes closed, concentrating on the latent magic that dwelt within his being. Just as Drogan had taught him, he envisioned himself successfully casting a light spell.
A string of ancient words of power. And then, a surge of energy from deep within his body, pouring out of his upraised hands in rays of brilliant light that chase every last shadow from the room.
With a last, calming breath, he opened his eyes and cast.
"Ezzit drae'il noctus, pickle ignestio!"
A single spark fizzled at the tip of one finger. His shoulders slumped.
"Pickle?" he muttered. "What would drive Xanos to say such a thing?"
His stomach gurgled guiltily in response.
"Yes, yes," he sighed, patting it. "Xanos should not focus on his mind to the detriment of his body. Perhaps I could focus better with a full stomach."
He opened his door, careful to keep in from squeaking, and paused in the hall. The doors to the other three rooms were shut, their occupants dreaming the night away like good little children. As usual, Dorna was snoring loudly. No doubt her droning had covered up the sound of his spellcasting. The door to Drogan's room was also closed. Xanos made sure it stayed that way as he walked to the staircase that led to the lower floor. Technically, the students were not prohibited from wandering the house in the night hours, but Drogan had made it clear that certain rooms were off limits unless he was present to keep them from hurting themselves. The laboratory, with its strange chemicals and dangerous machines, and the training rooms, with their collections of weaponry, topped the list. Lately, due to the suspicious disappearance of several sour pickles from Drogan's personal stash, (something that Xanos of course had absolutely nothing to do with,) late night visits to the kitchen pantry were outlawed as well.
His darkvision worked well enough to keep him from knocking anything over as he walked, but he took his time nonetheless. A single loose floorboard could be enough to rouse Drogan from his rest, and Xanos had no desire to be stuck with whatever intolerable task the old dwarf would come up with as punishment.
Xanos had nearly reached the kitchen when he heard a creaking sound. He tensed, convinced that the dwarf had discovered him after all. Then he heard it again, and this time he was certain it had come from in front of him, inside the kitchen. He peered around the doorway, squinting in the darkness. The room was empty, but the window in the far wall was open a crack. Outside the window, the summer night was moonless and black.
As he watched, a knife blade slid beneath the windowframe and jimmied it further open. Soon after, the knife was replaced by two black-gloved hands. Xanos ducked behind the doorway, his pulse beating loudly in his ears. A thief, here in master Drogan's house? Nervousness quickly gave way to anger. How dare anyone seek to defile the chosen home of Xanos?
He heard the window slide open, and the soft thump of boots on the floor. Muscles tense, he waited for the proper time to spring.
The moment the unsuspecting intruder came near, they were plowed to the floor by 240 pounds of angry half-orc. A blade whistled through the darkness, slicing into Xanos' shoulder. Before his opponent could strike again, Xanos caught hold of their hand and bent it backwards at the wrist. They cried out in pain, and the weapon clattered to the floor. Xanos grabbed the knife before the other could recover and pressed it to what he hoped was their throat.
"Stop fighting and perhaps your windpipe will remain functional," he said in a conversational tone, pressing his knee more firmly into his opponent's stomach for good measure.
"Xanos?" A tentative whisper.
A heady combination of adrenaline and elation at his victory made coherent thought difficult. He remained frozen in place as the gears slowly turned in his mind.
"Xanos?" Louder, and accompanied by a grunt of pain. It finally clicked.
"Idiot girl! What in the nine hells were you doing?" he snapped.
"Hush, you'll wake up master Drogan," Aurora whispered back. "And I'll answer you as soon as you stop crushing my internal organs."
Xanos moved his knee with deliberate slowness.
"Why shouldn't I wake the old dwarf? I'm sure he would be curious to learn about the nocturnal escapades of his favorite pupil."
Aurora sat up, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. Even though her face was indistinct in the dark, he suspected she was scowling at him.
"He'd find you, too," she said. Xanos found that point hard to argue. She rummaged through something on the floor, and soon after a small candle flared to life. The weak light played across her vulpine features- and yes, she was defiantly scowling. "Close the door before anyone hears us."
Xanos did so, and felt a twinge of pain in his arm. His shoulder ached where Aurora had wounded it. She noticed him wincing and moved the candle to better see the injury.
"I cut you more deeply than I thought," she said, and Xanos could not tell if she were contrite or pleased. "You startled me. It was reflex. Here." She moistened a corner of her cloak in a bucket of well water, then tried to clean the blood from his arm. He stood her ministrations as long as he was able, then pushed her away in irritation.
"Xanos will not forgive you. This was my favorite shirt."
"If it makes you feel better, you got me just as badly." She held her hand in the light and peeled back her glove. Her wrist was puffy and already turning red and purple. It did made Xanos feel a little better, but his glare did not soften.
"What were you doing down here, anyway?" Aurora asked, apparently unfazed by the wrath of Xanos.
"Defending the school from mysterious, black-clad intruders, obviously."
"I see. And your godlike precognitive powers let you know I would be sneaking through the window right then." She looked briefly around the kitchen, then back at Xanos. "You were going to steal master Drogan's sour pickles again, weren't you?"
"Xanos was doing no such thing," he protested. Aurora shook her head gravely.
"That's very devious of you, Xanos. Besides, didn't you know he would hide them after the first time?" She reached into the potato barrel nearest the door with her unhurt hand, pushing the vegetables aside until she was elbow-deep.
"Perhaps you are hard of hearing, girl. Xanos did not come here to... What in the world are you doing?"
"Ah, here it is." She pulled a large jar from the barrel and handed it to Xanos. He opened it and was immediately assaulted by the sour, briny odor.
"Drogan's pickles? How did you..?"
"You're not the only one who has a taste for them," Aurora said, taking a pickle from the jar. "If we split just one, I don't think he'll notice."
She continued to stare evenly at him as she broke the pickle in half and held a piece out to him. He hesitated to take it, though his mouth watered.
"I find it suspicious that you would break one of Drogan's rules, let alone one of Drogan's pickles, in such a nonchalant manner. You seem too preoccupied with licking the old dwarf's boots to find time to misbehave."
"Damn. I've gone and revealed the black-hearted depths of my evil. I suppose I'll have to kill you now to keep my secret safe." Aurora chuckled without smiling, which was really rather creepy. "Don't worry, I'll have Mischa come up with a proper penance for my sins tomorrow. Now take the pickle, it's turning my fingers all wrinkly."
Xanos relented and did as she asked, making sure that he took the larger portion. As they consumed their prizes, it occurred to Xanos that she had never given a reason for her late night outing.
"Tell me, why did you sneak out tonight? And do not try to evade the question this time."
"I wasn't doing anything wrong," she said too quickly, suggesting the opposite was true.
"I suppose you snuck out in the dead of night to bring food to starving orphans or some such nonsense? Bah!"
Aurora toyed with the edge of her cloak and looked away without answering. Xanos smirked.
"Ohoho! Xanos is no fool! So, your questionable charms have finally ensnared a paramour. Tell me, dear Aurora. Which moon-eyed cowherd's son has, eh, laid his 'rose' at your 'feet?'"
For a second Xanos thought she would slap him, but she only sighed heavily and looked at the floor.
"I suppose you all would have found out sooner or later anyway," she mumbled. "I was afraid that none of you would approve of him."
Xanos laughed heartily, remembering too late that they were trying to keep quiet.
"Well? Tell me who he is so I can send my condolences."
Still, Aurora did not raise her eyes. From the way she was picking at the edges of her cloak, the fabric would not be able to hold out for much longer.
"Well," she said, "he wasn't brought up with the best morals. But he's managed to rise above his upbringing, and now he's a very decent person, really. He's acquired a bit of fame as an adventurer, as well."
"Has he? Xanos should have heard of him, then! Out with it, girl, who is he?" Xanos was leaning forward now, ears pricked lest he somehow miss out on this most valuable piece of ammunition.
"There's one last thing... He's a drow." Xanos's jaw dropped, but Aurora went on before he could say anything. "It's true, what they say about not being able to choose the one you love. But if you find that strange, you should see the way he can wield two scimitars at once."
Xanos stared at her for several long minutes. Aurora stared back blandly.
"You're an idiot," he said at last.
She shrugged.
"Stupid questions deserve stupid answers. Besides, you believed me until– what was that?"
Her usually narrow eyes went wide as saucers. A moment later, Xanos heard it too. Footsteps on the floor above, moving towards the stairs. The two students shared a horrified glance before simultaneously springing to action.
Aurora snatched her fallen pack from the floor and slipped into the pantry as Xanos opened the kitchen door to its former position and blew out the candle. Then, he jammed himself into the small pantry as well, barely managing to shut the door behind him.
Aurora's bony elbows were jabbing him in the side, and he was pretty sure that her injured wrist was pinned between his shoulder and the wall, but there was no time to find a better position. The footsteps drew closer, circling about the common room as if their owner was searching for something. They stopped just outside the kitchen.
"How strange." Drogan's voice, soft and sleepy. Xanos' heart leapt to his throat. "I could have sworn I closed that window before going to bed. I must be getting forgetful in my old age." There was a pause that seemed to last a hundred years, punctuated by the sound of Drogan shutting the window. "And hearing things, too. Never a good sign." The dwarf yawned and shuffled towards the door. Xanos silently released the breath he had been holding.
"One more thing," Drogan said from the doorway, his voice suddenly not tired in the least. "If I find that even one of my sour pickles is missing, a certain pair of misbehaving students will be mucking out the stables for a month."
Xanos hardly registered the sounds of Drogan climbing the stairs and shutting the door to his room. It took several long minutes for him to realize that it was safe to leave the pantry.
They walked up to the apprentice's quarters with the slow, measured steps of condemned criminals.
As they neared her room, Aurora leaned over and gave Xanos a friendly punch on the shoulder right where she had wounded him. He grunted in pain.
"See you in the stables," she whispered, then went inside. It was only after she closed the door that he realized she had never explained the real reason she had snuck out.
"Stupid scarecrow girl," he muttered under his breath. His shoulder was aching, his stomach was growling again, and now he would be stuck shoveling manure for an entire month.
More than anything else in the world, Xanos wished he had another sour pickle.
Next Chapter 'A Very Strange Night': What? A chapter actually containing Dorna? Plus, it's all fun and games until somebody loses a finger.