Volume 2, Part VII: Those Wicked Luskan Ways
The rest of the afternoon passed without incidence. They stopped briefly for dinner, pulling out dried meats and fruits and drinking water from a waterskin before being quickly hustled onwards again. Now it was night. The moon outside was waning, the sliver of silver barely casting any light. The driver slowed the carriage down and gave a sharp whistle. From somewhere in the trees, a response was returned and a second carriage pulled up. Immediately, there was a bustle of activity as bags and equipment were hurriedly removed from one carriage and shoved into the other, no words being exchanged between the two parties. The sooner they were on the road again, the less of a chance a Luskan spy would spot them.
It went on like this; always moving, never stopping for anything longer than the time it took to transfer baggage, passengers, and drivers, and continue on the road. They traveled north in a haze of fitful dozing and wakefulness; the air gradually became colder, a sharp saltiness in the air telling them that the road through the woods was taking them closer to the great expanse of water that was the Sea of Swords.
It was late afternoon on the fifth day when their final carriage pulled in sight of Luskan. The water glittered before them, stretching out to the west, while the City of Sails hugged its edge greedily, long spindles of dockworks stretching out into the water like grasping fingers.
Torio pressed herself back against the bench, but she couldn't help her eager eyes...it had been so long since she'd seen it, though now the urgent nervousness that was their mission began settling on her at last as they approached. She glanced over at Sand, her forehead furrowed with a frown.
They were approaching the South Gate. Sand couldn't help scanning the Luskan skyline for his old tower. There it was: the Sea Tower, sitting on Cutlass Island, out in the water. He remembered nights of roaming the hall, furtively, on some errand or other. He remembered forcing himself to ignore the occasional bodies that were hurled out the windows into the water or grounds below, in various states of being charred, dismantled, decomposing, polymorphed, transmuted, enchanted...
His eyes went automatically to the other tall tower on Cutlass Island: the actual Host Tower. It rose up in the night sky like a dark twisted tree. Even staring at the Tower, Sand felt the irresistible urge to huddle up besides Torio and hide behind her, as ridiculous as it sounded. It had been years since he was last here and yet it was like it was yesterday.
He swallowed nervously and reached out for Torio's hand. "Well, my dear Nagendra. Are we ready?"
Her mind uttered, No. She was suddenly and irrationally longing for her cramped, shabby, familiar room back at Crossroads Keep. But she schooled her face into a calm mask and squeezed his hand. "We are, Tanith," she said evenly. "We have to be." She glanced out the window. "Hist, here come the gates..."
The carriage clattered to a halt before tall, barred gates; she watched as a dark-uniformed and armored figure approached the carriage, gesturing for the driver to step down. A heavily metalled fist clamed down on the door handle and yanked it open. "Out," ordered a voice hidden behind a helm. "Papers."
Sand's heart nearly leapt into his throat.
Oh gods -
They were really here.
They were really doing this.
They were really going to die...
He stepped out of the carriage, trying to keep his legs from shaking too badly. He handed the forged paper over to the guard before turning around and offering his hand to Torio, the way a good husband would.
Torio stood ramrod straight, a slightly bored expression on her face as the guard scrutinized the forged identification papers, as well as their invitation to Orban Asrar's auction. He seemed to be looking at them for an impolite amount of time.
Finally he said sharply, "Tanith and Nagendra Couleuvra? From Waterdeep." The helm snapped in their direction. "There are rules here that you must abide by, foreigners or no. Ignorance is not an excuse, and a personal invitation into the city is not justification. Obey them, or you will be thrown in prison." The guard seemed to squint down through the eyeslit in his helm. "This seal seems funny to me...Captain!" He turned his head back towards the guard tower by the gate. "Come here and have a look at this!"
Sand wondered briefly if killing the guard and the Captain would be a good start to their foray into Luskan. He could try casting a Daze or a Sleep spell...
Instead he said passively, "Then tell me the rules and let us be on our way. It is late and my wife and I have reservations at the Inn." He shot a discrete look at the Captain approaching them.
The Captain gave the seal a cursory look, studying Sand and Torio's faces a moment. "Aye, funny indeed but not so funny that some gold wouldn't help me forget it..."
"Ah," Sand said smoothly. "Then let me impair your memory and that of your guard here..." He reached for his coin purse, dropping 10 gold pieces into the Captain's hand.
The Captain handed the documents back to Sand. "Rules are simple. Stay away from the Throat - that's the main watertower - on the North Bank. You will be shot on sight. Same goes for the Whitesails Harbor. Oh and I shouldn't have to tell you to stay away from Cutlass Island. Conduct your business then get out. We tolerate visitors, not loiterers."
Torio curtsied stiffly as the Captain and his guard moved back towards the tower, the former thrusting the papers back into Sand's hands before moving on. A hue and cry went up, and then the gates slowly began creaking open; the driver came back to help her climb back the carriage before taking his place again behind the reins.
Once Sand was seated next to her, they heard the crack of the whip, and the carriage pulled into the city; Torio peered out of the curtained window as they rode by, keeping her face hidden behind the roughspun cloth; signs and buildings passed by them. "Let me see that invitation," she whispered to Sand, and without further ado, pulled the parchment from his grasp, inspecting the writing. "The Reach district," she said automatically. "Asrar seems to have a temporary home there; the auction is being held there late this evening." She looked out the window again, narrowing her eyes at the passing streets. "I believe it's the Seven Sails for us, Tanith."
Sand watched the carriage move up Reavers Run, the buildings in Luskan drab, squat, depressing. They were heading towards the northeastern parts of the city. Sand could see the large Inn come into view, built of large pieces of timber to resemble a shark's fin cutting through the water. There were multiple flowerboxes decorating each window, the pink and yellow flowers a strange contrast to the earlier gray colors.
The carriage stopped in front of the Inn and the driver opened the door. Immediately, the serving staff from the Seven Sails convened around them. "Good evening, sir. You are?" A butler gave Sand a short bow before helping Torio down from the carriage.
"I am Tanith Couleuvra, and this is my wife, Nagendra." Sand gave him a dismissive look, before watching the hurried unpacking of the carriage by the staff.
"Ah yes yes. We have been expecting you. Your room is ready. Your horses and servants will be housed at Baliver's stables by the North Gate. If you require them at anytime, please, feel free to use our runners and they will be most happy to fetch them for you." The butler gestured towards the main entrance. "Please, follow me." He turned with a flourish and entered the Inn.
As Torio stepped down out of the carriage, her face was calm; but her mind was working furiously. Ware this place; the Hosttower keeps spies here at all times. Even the servants can't be trusted. Try not to use magic; you should already know that any spellcasting within the city walls can open the door to scrying.
She took Sand's arm coyly. "Shall we head inside, Tanith?" She gave him a nudge, and they walked through the front door.
A cheerful looking woman greeted them, her apron spotless and her voice hushed; there was almost no one in the common room, but many servants could be seen carrying trays laden with food or drinks up the stairs towards the rooms. She smiled. "Will you please follow me, my lord and lady? I shall show you to your rooms." She turned and walked up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder to ensure they were following.
Sand blinked at the sudden barrage of information from Torio but simply thought, Thank you. The less they used the telepathic bond, the better. Sand led her slowly up the stairs and followed the woman down a well lit hallway, to a door towards the end. She unlocked it and then handed the bronzed key to Sand. "A bath has been drawn for you. What do you wish for supper? We have a lovely salmon butter cream sauce on greens tonight."
Sand nodded, "That sounds excellent. Send up a bottle of the house wine as well." He stepped through the door to the room, examining it quickly. The main entrance led directly to a large sitting area, with a divan and a dining table. Beyond, through a set of thin curtains was the sleeping area with a large bed and desk. To the right, behind an elegant wooden divide was a steaming bath, the shelves of the wall nearby lined with bottles of oils and perfumes. The servants had already brought up much of their bags.
Sand closed the door, locking it. He turned to Torio, "Nagendra, if you wish to have a bath, I shall await my turn and the food."
Despite the stiff, inherent nervousness that trilled along her veins, the thought of a bath after five days on the road was overwhelmingly tempting. "Of course, Tanith, I shan't be long." She tried not to full out sprint towards the wooden divide; she carefully peeled her travel stained dress off of her body and stepped into the water, nearly moaning in relief as she felt the days of travel and road dust wash off her skin.
As she washed, she heard a servant enter once again with their food; she heard the pop! of a cork being removed from a wine bottle, and the servant politely asking Master Couleuvra if he or his wife needed anything else.
My gods, we're really going to do this.
She stood out of the bath when the servant left, daintily picking up one of the available towels and wrapping it around her as she stepped out of the tub. She squeezed out her now long hair...gods, but wasn't it easier when it was short...and coiled it into a knot at the nape of her neck, keeping it off of her face for now.
She stepped around the divide, her stomach feeling suddenly queasy. "It's all yours, dear husband."
Sand poured himself and Torio a glass of wine. He sat at the table, sampling the salmon sauce. It was pleasant, rich but not too salty, and he picked through a bit of it before he found himself too anxious to really enjoy and eat. Instead he picked up the goblet of wine and drained it completely, pouring himself a fresh glass just as Torio stepped out from the divide.
He looked up. She was standing there, her blonde hair dark from the water, her skin still damp, her body barely covered by her towel. He allowed himself a moment to study her figure, her revealed legs under the terrycloth, the droplets of water on her collarbone... He picked up her glass of wine and handed it to her. "Cheers, wife. To Luskan." But instead of drinking the wine, he kissed her mouth, smelling the perfumed soap. "The food is here, my love. Go ahead and eat." He took a sip of the wine and then stepped behind the divide.
Placing the glass on a shelf, he quickly undressed, tossing the clothes on the floor. He climbed inside the tub, the warm water soothing his aching muscles. The bruise on his shoulder was nothing more than a light greenish mark. He picked up his wine again, swirling the glass thoughtfully as he sat in the bath. Asrar was having a social gathering before the auction but he would not likely be carrying the map then. In fact, he probably would not have the map on him at all. They would probably have to win the auction to see the map; otherwise they'd have to retrieve it from who ever won. And that still left the problem of how to dispatch of him.
Sand finished his wine, putting the glass back on the shelf. He closed his eyes and sank beneath the water of the bath. It was dark under the water, the sound of the water low and humming and soothing. Peaceful. Sand held his breath as long as he could before coming back up for air, gasping. He finished washing and then stepped out of the basin, wrapping a dark towel around his waist and walking around the divider.
Torio had sat down at the table, the towel snugly around her body. The food looked delicious, smelled wonderful, but her stomach wouldn't stand still. She drank the wine, swishing it around her mouth as she set the glass down. She could hear the soft splashing noises of Sand moving about in the tub, and picked up her utensil; she prodded through the sauce-covered greens on her plate, shutting her eyes, and tried to imagine him lying in the tub, water running across his body; her ragged nerves ebbed slightly as a flush ran across her skin, her stomach quieting and her lips parting as she drew in a steady breath. Well; hopefully imagining Sand naked in a bath tub will help calm you down for the rest of the evening...
When she opened her eyes again, he was standing there in a towel, the fabric hugging his narrow human hips just below his naval; the soft hairs on his body curled damply against his skin. She stared at him...her hand had stopped in mid-motion over her plate, and after a moment her fork scraped noisily against the plate as her weight pressed against it, breaking her out of her reverie.
What's gotten in to you, girl? Relax, relax, relax...
Her heart thudded noisily in her chest, and she looked away from him, feeling the careful knot of hair at the back of her head beginning to uncoil and drip in wet strands down her neck. She refilled her wineglass, glancing archly at him, her mouth pressing together to hide the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "You seem to have lost your wineglass, Tanith."
Sand sat across from her. "No, I've already had two full glasses. Anymore, dear girl, and I worry I won't be able to control myself. We mustn't have a repeat of the Library, now." He leaned across the table and brushed her cheek with his lips. "If you're done with the food, love, bring the bottle of wine to bed and join me. I need sleep." It startled Sand slightly how easily he had slipped into playing Torio's husband, even calling her 'love' with the casual conviction of one who has done it for years. "I need to refresh my spells list. Asrar is not expecting us at his home until sunset tonight for the social." He stood from the table, and walked toward the curtained divide. Glancing coyly over his shoulder, he let the towel drop before moving to the sleeping area and climbing into the bed
Torio watched him unabashedly as he walked towards the bed, admiring his tautly muscled backside, the ripple of his human shoulders...
"It amazes me that you will do the gods know what in a carriage of all places, my dear, and yet when presented with a perfectly respectable bed you would rather sleep on it." She haughtily picked up the bottle and twisted a bit, letting the towel fall back against the chair as she stood. She followed him to the bed, walking across the room and pulling back the covers, the fabric soft under her fingers and against her skin as she slid into it.
Sand laughed, "Oh but my dear, beds are so boring. One must keep marriage interesting, wouldn't you agree? We must continue to be adventurous." He resisted flashing the image of them on the throne at her again. Sand pressed his naked body against hers, trying to keep the feelings of desires suppressed. He could feel the amulet with the ariik stone lying coolly against his chest. He pulled out his spellbook from the small personal satchel that had been placed beside the bed and began flipping through, looking for spells that would best suit them this evening.
Life or death decisions. Literally.
She set the wine bottle next to the bed on the elaborately carved nightstand and curled against him, looking over his shoulder into the spellbook; she didn't understand any of the runic words printed onto the page; she would recognize a symbol here or there, but mashed together they made no sense to her. "Ah, but beds have their uses. Rather sturdy anchors when it comes to silk bindings."
He was aware of her soft skin on his, he could feel her steady breathing as he studied and he glanced up warmly at her. "As strange as this sounds, wife, but...I'm enjoying this moment with you."
She absently ran a hand back and forth across his chest, her damp hair sliding coolly across the backs of her shoulders as she laid her head against the pillows. She laughed lightly at his comment. "As strange as it sounds? You mean you don't normally enjoy my company, husband?" She pulled her mouth into a pouting frown, her fingers tip-toeing across his chest
"Oh wife," Sand chided her softly. "You know what I mean. A moment together where we're not arguing or tearing into each others' clothing." He kissed her puckered lips. He wondered vaguely if the room was being scryed by the Arcane Brotherhood. He wouldn't put it past them. "You know, your pout makes you irresistible to me, dear girl. It's no wonder I can't resist buying you things, priestess of Sune be damned." He winked at her and then put the spellbook down. "I'm done for now."
He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Wake me in 4 hours, Nagendra, my love."
She chuckled against his mouth. "There is no clothing to be torn, and I am much too comfortable to argue with you now, beloved." She huddled down against the bed, pulling Sand's arm tighter around her waist.
He fell asleep quickly, his breathing deepening; she felt the soft, gentle fluttering at the back of his mind as unconscious thoughts struggled to form and then collapsed into nothingness against, never taking shape. She pressed herself against him, feeling his side push gently against her breasts, all the way down to where her toes lightly touched his; she reached down and pushed gently into his sleeping mind, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt…
Being human apparently also meant having human dreams.
He was walking down a long basement hallway. In his dream, it was the basement in his shop except that he knew his shop didn't have a basement. His dream also told him this hallway was in Luskan and Sand recognized it as one of the halls of the Sea Tower. But how could it be both the hall of the Sea Tower and his shop? It was a dream, and so his mind accepted this fact and rejected it at the same time.
He continued walking. There was a door ahead of him and he tried to get there faster but it was as if his muscles were fighting off the effects of a paralytic spell; each step was slow, as if through mud. Sand looked down and noticed he was carrying a silver tray, like the trays of the servants at the Seven Sails Inn. Whatever was on the tray was large and round in shape, but hidden by a white cloth. It was eerily the same size and shape of a human head.
Suddenly he was before the door and it opened. Inside was Garius and Sand knew he had to give him whatever was on the tray to get the map. Why did Garius have the map? But he couldn't give him the tray; his arms wouldn't go forward and his throat was constricting with a sharp bolt of desperation and sadness. Suddenly in his dream, he knew whose head it was.
Sand sunk to his knees, the tray mysteriously out of his hands and gone from the dream. When he looked up again, the paladin was standing besides Garius. Casavir? Sand tried to speak but his mouth wouldn't form the words. The paladin was saying something and without even hearing the words, Sand knew what he was saying.
"Betrayer!"
He looked down at his own hands again and this time it was covered in a thick layer of sticky warm blood. But it was his blood - the omnipotence of the dream gave him this. There was so much blood; more blood than the time he was attacked by the Hellcat. Where was he bleeding from? Was he dying?
Oh.
A wicked silver sword (the Githyanki silver sword?) was protruding from his stomach. It had run him right through and yet there wasn't a drop of blood staining the blade. All the blood was on his hands. He rubbed his hands together, the red viscous liquid making it slippery. He found it more fascinating than frightening. He supposed he could pull the sword out of him but for some reason it didn't make sense to do so. He understood that the sword needed to be inside him. But why? He wasn't the Shard-Bearer.
There was a flurry of activity in front of him again and he looked up, confused. They were now in the Sunken Flagon (why?). Casavir and Garius were gone. Instead, Torio, Kelia and Negendra were all standing before him and his face broke into a wide grin. She was alive! He tried to wave at her, tried to stand - all three of them were saying something, yelling to him but he couldn't understand...
Torio followed along; she recognized the tower they were in, though she had only been there once, briefly; was this where Sand had spent his time in Luskan? He had a tray in his hands, and as he passed into a room where Garius stood waiting, she felt a wash of dismay as she realized what the object on the tray was.
Sand fell to his knees. The paladin, of all people, appeared next, and then blood saturated the wizard, a long, delicate looking sword protruding from his waist. Torio felt panic lance through her, tried to rush to his side, throw her arms around him, do something; but her role was merely observer, and she could only watch as Sand rubbed his hands together almost curiously, blood sticking between his palms and fingers.
No, no, no, no, no...she wished he would pull it out of him. It was just a dream, wasn't it? And yet the sight of the elegant silver sword driven through the body of her lover, even in a dream, made her heart seize with a merciless cold, and she felt a strange, odd sense of foreboding as she watched him.
A strange hiccup, a mental sigh, and then the scenery changed; they were in the Sunken Flagon and she stared at three versions of herself, two of them personas she had taken on, different women and yet all facets of her...they were shouting; an echo of her own thoughts as she realized the very obvious fate, the only one, that could await Sand at the end of this road of shadows he traveled with the Shard Bearer...
Don't go. Stay…
Sand woke up with a start, sweat covering his body, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding. He sat up in the bed, looking around wildly.
Where was he?
He looked down, besides him. Torio was there, staring at him with a strange expression. He sighed and rubbed his face. "Sorry, dear girl. Just a nightmare. Not used to sleeping as a human yet, I suppose."
Just a nightmare.
Torio reached out and pulled him down against her; it was a strange feeling, knowing what he had been dreaming about and seeing his drawn, tight face when he had awoken. "A nightmare, dear?" She guided his head against her shoulder, pressing her lips against his forehead, feeling strangely protective; she curled a leg around him and hugged him to her, feeling the last traces of the desperate panic that had filled her while watching Sand dream tug at her.
Her heart felt heavy and cold as it beat against her chest, pressed evenly against his. She bent her head down and brushed her mouth against his eyelids, her arms holding him snugly. "Go back to sleep; you've got a bit of time yet and you don't look rested."
Sand nestled against her, pulling the covers up to his chin, feeling a bit like a child. Torio was holding him to her with a novel sort of tenderness. "I don't feel rested," he admitted. "But I'm sorry if I awoke you, dear girl." He closed his eyes again and fell into a dreamless, fitful sleep, reassured only by the warmth of the human next to him.
She lay awake for a long time, watching the shadows stretch across the ceiling as the sun advanced in the sky, hearing Sand breath against her body and trying to pretend for a moment that they were really some extravagant couple on a trip.
Her mind went to the poisoned comb in her cloak, the dagger attached to her garter. You're not a woman who receives relaxing vacations, Torio.
She stroked Sand's short human hair absently as she lay there for an indeterminable amount of time; and when she heard the bells ring at a certain time, she shifted, tapping Sand's cheek.
"Wake up, 'husband.' It's time."
Sand opened his blue eyes. The sun was beginning to dip in the western skies. "So it begins. Truly begins." He sat up, stretching his arms forward, the amulet with the ariik gem tapping reassuringly against his chest. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against Torio. "We can do this, dear girl. We're the best and the brightest in both Neverwinter and Luskan; if there's a team that can do this, it's us." If only he could convince himself of that fact.
He slid out of the bed and over to the clothes trunk. He pulled out a richly woven, dark blue robe, embroidered with golden threads, a silk black undershirt and black trews. He tossed these onto the back of the chair and then rummaged through the bags of rings until he found a Ring of Clear Thought. He slipped this onto his finger, next to the ring Vale had given him for Torio's bracelet.
Torio had slipped out of bed and began rummaging through the trunk, finding multiple items of fine clothing sifting between her fingers... She pulled out a fine, deep blue gown; the sleeves were no more than mere formalities, gauzy, draping things that fell in three looped ropes of fabric from the bodice. She turned to spread it out on the bed, and caught Sand rubbing his chin ruefully.
He touched his chin, realizing he had about a 5 days growth of hair on his face. "Dear wife, I don't suppose you purchased a razor for me?" He glanced at his appearance in the mirror.
Definitely scruffy, would likely give the ranger a run for his money in the unkempt facial hair department.
Sand realized he had never had to shave before. "Wonderful. I'm going to show up to this social looking with I've been mauled by dozens of tiny mice."
She laughed despite her growing nervousness as she realized Sand had never shaven in his life. "Come, sit, bodaes...I have just the thing." She moved to where her travel pack was thrown against the dresser, and rummaged through it until she found the razor and small clay jar of foaming cream she had bought in Port Llast.
She pulled a chair around by the sink that was next to the standing tub, and patted it invitingly, flicking open the razor. An eyebrow rose jauntily over one gleaming gray eye. "Have a seat, dear husband. I promise I won't hurt you."
Sand raised his eyebrows in reply, looking at the chair and then at Torio. She was standing confidently, holding a very sharp razor in her able hands, still naked. He was still naked as well. The whole affair was ... formidably risky.
The whole affair was tremendously erotic.
"All right, dear wife." He walked over, brushing by her nude body as he sat down. He tilted his face back and looked up at her and the mean glint of the metallic razor in the candlelight. "Be gentle, my love."
Torio nudged the chair back slightly with her knee as she stepped forward; it scraped roughly against the wooden floorboards, moving with protest underneath Sand's weight, its back coming to rest against the sink behind it. She placed the small jar on the edge, peeling off the wax sealing that kept the contents inside, and scooped the foam out with her fingers. She set the razor down for a moment, and began spreading the light, fluffy substance over his face, her fingers rubbing it across his skin with slow strokes. She pushed his head back, exposing his throat as she spread the foam down across the bristles growing in on his upper neck, feeling his pulse pushing against her fingers.
When Sand's face was evenly administered to, she picked up the smooth, pewter pitcher next to the sink basin and stopped the plug, pouring the water down into the sink. She rinsed off her hands, and then dipped the razor into the water before lifting it over his face.
For a moment she stared down at him, feeling a dangerous thrill of power run through her veins; she could feel the closeness of his body, the heat of it inches from the sensitive mound between her legs. The blade gleamed wickedly as the setting sunlight caught on its edge...All she had to do was bend her knees to drop her weight onto his lap...All she had to do was flick her wrist...
She felt a faint, protesting tug in her mind as the thought crossed it. The vows. Of course, she wouldn't really have done it, even without them. Not really...
She pushed her hair back over her shoulder with her free hand, and bent down, placing the razor at his throat. She watched him, eyes narrowed, her lips parted slightly as her breath sucked quickly into her lungs and out again; she drew the blade across his neck, its edge barely touching the skin, hardly even breaking the layer of foam that covered it...and then she angled it, flipping it in her hand, and began gently scraping it along his skin, shaving the bristles from his neck and face. "I would hold still, Tanith," she said almost cheerfully. "I wouldn't want to have an accident."
Sand kept his eyes trained on her, keeping his breathing as steady as possible. He tensed his whole body as she began moving the blade across his face, feeling the slight resistance of the edge of the razor along his skin. He was painfully aware of how his head was tilted back, how every time he swallowed his throat was totally exposed to this...Luskan. He felt himself begin to harden under the cool touch of the metal and the sight of Torio leaning over, tending masterfully to him and his breath quickened. "Yes, Nagendra - it would be quite...unfortunate to have an accident this late in the game..."
She smiled slyly, her eyes focused on her work as she scraped the blade over his skin. "It would look a little odd, I suppose, if you showed up to Asrar's home with a brand new breathing hole in your neck." Her voice was low, almost purring, as she positioned the blade delicately underneath his nose and flicked at the bristles above his lip. "Although, while odd, it would be a wholeheartedly Luskan thing to do."
She shaved the last of the stubble from his skin slowly, almost lovingly, and then dropped the blade into the sink, her reaching fingers grabbing a soft, clean towel. She rubbed the last traces of foam from his face, pressing her body forward and leaning against him. "See? You survived." Her voice trailed off with an obvious suggestion; This time...
Sand reached out and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close so she could feel his arousal. "Thank you, wife, I enjoy surviving every encounter with you. I appreciate your restraint in not succumbing to those wicked Luskan ways. What would our friends in Waterdeep think?" He stroked the bare skin of her back, staring up into her gray eyes. "Is there anything you need assistance with? If not, there are some items I'd like you to wear, for your own protection of course, dear girl."
Torio let out a long, low sigh, sinking against his lap; she felt his manhood hardened and engorged beneath her, and her body tightened almost instantaneously in response. "They would think that we are taking well to the city that has invited us into its fold, dear husband."
She ran her hands up the sides of his face, feeling the now-smooth surface of his cheeks. "I think I can manage to dress myself." And arm myself, as well. Her mouth flitted in a particularly wanton smile. "Unless you would like to help me with that, Tanith?" She shrugged her shoulders mildly. "As for the other items, I will bow to your superior arcane knowledge and wear what you deem necessary." She reluctantly stood from his lap, rubbing against him slightly more than was necessary.
Sand stood as well, doing his best to ignore his obviously hardened state. "Then I have just the item for you." He went back to the large sack of magical items he had collected from Vale, pulling out an orangey colored ring. "This is a Lantanese ring. It will help heal you if ever you are hurt and help with your feminine charms. Gods know, it may be what gets us the map."
He ran his hand over his face, admiring the good job she had done, before he began getting dressed. The silk undershirt felt incredibly luxurious against his skin and he had to admit to himself with a wry smile, there was a reason why Torio obviously liked silks. He finished dressing and then went over to one of the pieces of luggage. Opening the trunk, he pulled out a black velvet bag. Inside was hundreds of gems, pearls, diamonds, jewels worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. He hoped Nasher had given him enough for the auction. He tucked the bag inside the front of his robe and then threw on a heavy moleskin cloak over his shoulders. Sand sat back down at the table. "At your leisure, my dear."
Torio moved to where her dress was laid out; she glanced over as Sand finished dressing, and hid a smile as she turned back to her handiwork; there was something comforting and familiar about watching him dress, despite the oppressiveness of their mission; it was something she had seen him do often, in the closed quarters of their rooms (or the compartment of a carriage) and even as a human, Sand dressed in the same fashion, fastidious and carefully. She could almost predict his movements before he made them...
She stepped into her dress and began lacing the bodice together, feeling the fabric pull her breasts tight methodically as she tied the ribbon. She moved to the small dressing table, stopping to pull the comb Gend gave her from her traveling cloak. Bending in front of the mirror, she twisted her hair at the nape of her neck, rolling it elegantly and carefully sliding the poisoned comb into the roll; it held in place, and she straightened, examining herself for a moment; the woman's face that stared back at her was undeniably different from her own, and yet just like her Elven form, there were traces, hints, at her original features, hiding underneath the disguise...
On with the garter and the courtesan blade, and then it was simply a matter of sliding the small toe-knife into the slipper of her shoe before shodding her feet and smoothing out the skirt of her gown. She walked to Sand, turning in a circle. "Presentable, husband? I am ready whenever you are."
Sand stood and took her hand gently in his, kissing it gallantly while admiring her. "You look...beautiful. Asrar may give up the map simply for a kiss from you." He circled her appraisingly: the bodice was form fitting and the sleeves hinted at and revealed the smooth skin of her arms. When she moved, the slit of the skirt taunted him with the vision of her legs, showing enough skin well above her knee to almost be considered scandalous.
He loved it.
Sand kissed her swiftly and then went to where his weapons were waiting. He tucked the dagger in his boot, and picked up both the staff and the invitation to the auction. He exhaled loudly, the only noticeable sign of the nervousness now raging inside of him. "May the gods be with us tonight, dear girl."
Torio took his hand as she walked for the door; pausing for a moment, she turned, and kissed him full on the mouth, plying his lips apart with her tongue; she tasted wine, inhaling raggedly...the faded smell of washing soap and the metallic tang of dormant magic filled her senses, and her fingers unconsciously stroked against his chest as she kissed him, feeling the warmth of his body through the expensive fabric.
When she finally pulled back, she said with more confidence than she truly felt, "May anyone who is watching be with us; we shall need them all on our side."
She stepped back, and slipped her arm through his primly, smoothing her hair with the palm of her hand. "Let us begin this, Tanith Couleuvra."