Zak Crimsonleaf knew he was dreaming because he didn't have Echoing Courage in his hand. Instead, he was holding his previous weapon, a dull Chondathan steelsword engraved Flashfyre that was possessed of a few nicks in the blade and didn't shine when placed in bright light. It wasn't much, but it had been his. He was standing outside the city of Scardale, in the midst of falling rain. There was no thunder or lightning, just the unceasing patter of the raindrops to keep him company. His leather jacket was already soaking wet, and his boots were fast beginning to leak, but he scarcely noticed. He remembered this occasion well. It was when he had been shown the gate out of Scardale because of his first killing of somebody in the city.
He closed his eyes, remembering how the fear on Kyle's features had been permenantly frozen there by death. For a moment, the rain running down the length of the blade turned deep red as he recalled how his weapon had gone right through the man, sinking in to the hilt. How Kyle's last breath had rattled it's way out of his chest, flecking his lips with blood. How a silence had descended upon the crowd. He opened his eyes, shaking his way out of the shadows of guilt and sorrow. The long road south beckoned ahead of him, and the stout log gate into the city proper was closed behind him. He brandished his weapon at the unfeeling timber, and rasped quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion,
"I swear here and now, I'll be back, and all Faerun will know my name, and respect it. I swear on my sword. Zak Crimsonleaf's word is given."
Sheathing the weapon, he turned on his heel, and trudged off southwards, his boots sinking into the muddy ground with each step. The rain intensified, turning the dark green of the woods into a unending gray mist. Wiping the traces of tears from his eyes, he refused to let anything dampen his anger or his sense of purpose. This was a setback, a mere setback. No one could deny him forever. A niggling thought in the dim corners of his mind whispered that he was lying to himself, and that maybe everybody else was right, but he shoved it away with such violence that small pinpricks of pain blossomed at his hands, where his fingernails were biting into the palms. Unclenching his fists with great strength of will, he spotted a figure ahead, standing under a tree. He should've known he couldn't leave without speaking to her. She was probably the only person in the town he held no ill will against.
His mother, Talia Crimsonleaf, watched him approach, with sad brown eyes framed in a face that was set in a semi-permenant mournful expression. Her black hair fell to shoulder length and stopped. The feature that was most striking about her, was that her right arm ended at mid-bicep. The hideous scar that she had gotten when the arm was lost was hidden from view by a pinned-up sleeve, but Zak could picture it well enough in his mind's eye.
"Well?" he asked, unashamedly.
"Afraid to look at me?" She shook her head.
"No," she murmured.
"But I am afraid of what you have become." Stepping under the tree with her, Zak threw back his hood, and smoothed out his own unruly locks.
"What I have 'become', as you say, is what I should have been all along but was too scared to be. What I have 'become' is a man that takes no insult from anyone. But what I remain, is someone who believes in doing the right thing." The moon elf spread her hand helplessly.
"You are set on this course, then, I see. I can only guess what drove you to it, but I hope it was not me."
"It wasn't." Zak reassured her, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.
"Never you. I'll be back sometime soon with some money to go towards…" he trailed a trifle self-conciously as he glanced towards the remains of her arm. He made a few meaningless gestures, and chuckled a tad, the sound blending bitterness and humor.
"It's strange really, how we contradict ourselves," he considered ruefully.
"I…" he tried to start, but couldn't think of anything to follow. Perhaps there was nothing else to be said. His hand hung in the air like a dead thing. But he couldn't just leave without not saying anything more.
"I-" he began again, but this time it wasn't lack of things to say that made him stop. He heard the distant twang and instant hiss that marked an arrow being loosed. Moving faster than he had ever moved in his life, he grabbed Talia's shoulders and flung her slight frame to the ground. The arrow had been meant for her heart, but Zak was facing forward, not backward, and it took him in the right ribs, piercing the chain shirt he wore and knocking the breath out of him. A fiery explosion of pain seared through the point of impact, and each breath he took hurt. As he felt the impact of the ground, the pain spread out to overwhelm his senses. His dream world dissolved into a blank white space.
"Ah……mornings." Zak slowly sat up, holding his head. He had a throbbing headache, which wasn't surprising. He had only been in reverie for four hours, and that wasn't nearly enough time to work off the effects of the strong drink he had been imbibing before he nodded off. He had gone back to the tavern that he had previously been at, and gotten the rest of his five coppers' worth and a few more besides. He often wandered through the memories of his times back in the Dalelands, and once he came out of it, resolved once more to win the respect of the world at large. But that didn't mean he'd smack someone down just for a casual joke. Not if they knew each other. Contrary to popular belief, he had some, well, all right, just one friend, who, as it happened, he was traveling to meet. But until then, he was stuck with a Tyrahae, Arakanzar, Devlar, and the bill for company.
Standing up from his cross-legged stance, he stretched his aching muscles, and yawned. The sun hadn't yet risen over the horizon, but the eastern sky was lightening. Dawn was near. He supposed he might as well head off and see about Arakanzar's progress. He knew that the half-drow only 'slept' four hours too, so it would be a good time to catch up on things. Also, Devlar would be asleep, and Zak wouldn't have to listen to the rogue's endless banter. Devlar's zest for life reminded him of himself at a younger age, when he thought he could take on the world. Now that he had the skills to back up that statement, things changed. Taking up his equipment, and retying his headband, he cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair a couple times to get the worst of the tangles out, and, stepping out the door, stumped off down the stairs of the inn he was staying at. Ah! That was right, he had to rob the strongbox with Devlar. That meant the thief probably would be awake and waiting for him. Bloody Hell.
Tyrahae's awakening nearly resulted in the death of Devlar. The thief had gotten up early, and, stretching and picking grit out of his eyes, came over to Tyrahae, and after a short consideration on the relative merits of letting her sleep and waking her, decided it would be more fun to wake her up. Clearing his throat, the rogue took a feather out of Arakonza's satchel of spare spell components, and scrolls, which he was tasked with keeping track of, and tickled Tyra's ear. She made an unhappy noise and shifted position, but Devlar kept at it, and she started to giggle, a smile creasing her face, where it seemed out of place, but lit up her features all the same, then passed to wide waking, and, jerking her head away from the source of the annoyance, immediately spotted the feather in Devlar's hand.
"Arise, and face the day!" the rogue proclaimed, gesturing grandly at the windows, which showed that it was still mostly dark. Tyrahae's reply was to lunge at the thief with a raised fist, but she was still half-asleep, and he ducked it handily, assuming a comical boxing pose, batting at the air.
"Oho! So it's fistcuffs you're after, eh? All right then, let's see what you've got! Ho! Ha!" He made a few theatric jabs, but now Tyra was fully awake, and she fell into a deep sonorous chant. Devlar stopped his posturing and dived for cover, but there just wasn't enough cover for him to hide behind. Holding her holy symbol of Cyric with one hand, she gestured with the other hand, and a wave of sonic vibrations leapt outward, sending shivers through the floor. The center of the vibrations focused on Devlar, blasting him in the ears with deafening force. He was thrown backwards across the floor, and lay there groaning and holding his hands to his ears. With grim satisfaction, Tyra hefted her dire mace, and casually walked over to where the thief was trying to recover.
"Do that again, and I'll make your brain explode out your ears." she warned him, giving him a none too gentle nudge with her boot. He must have guessed her words, even though his hearing was temporarily gone, and replied,
"I'll have to take that into account, but give me a few minutes to scrape my brains off the floor."
"Your brains are quite intact, little thief, but the rest of you soon won't be." Tyra murmured in sadistic delight, lifting up her foot again.
"Excuse me." Arakanzar smoothly interjected from behind her. The wizard had stepped in from the outside, where he had presumably been out conducting business. The chain shirt slung over his shoulder was proof that he was keeping his promise to replace her protection, if nothing else. Idly, she wondered if he had planned this encounter to reassure her that he was trustworthy.
"As much as I appreciate your plight, Devlar retains some value to me, so please refrain from giving me another thing to charge you for. You already have enough as it is." Lowering the weapon, and settling the shaft into the crook of her arm, Tyra turned around, and, casting a dark glance at the wizard, murmured sulkily,
"I know that. Is Crimsonleaf dead yet?"
"Very soon. Would you like to watch?" Arakanzar asked, not sounding at all excited nor sad at killing Zak, which Tyra found a little unusual in a half-drow. But then again, wizards were notorious for being detached from many moral perspectives, having to study at their magic for most of their lives, and not considering much else worth bothering about. Well, obviously he cared about gold more, but still, the principle, despite being what many would call generalization, had worked quite well for her. Devlar staggered up, and shook his head vigorously.
"Ah….Did anybody see where that club-wielding maniac went?" he groaned, sitting down heavily.
"Excellent. You're forming complete sentences. You should be all right in a few minutes." Arakanzar congradulated the rogue.
" Just stay put for now while out guest and I go out and conclude a part of our business agreement."
"No worries…"
Kimdezar Z'tran strode through the streets of the little town like a king. Arakanzar's brother was possessed of a commanding presence, mainly achieved through his mode of dress. The elaborate wizardly robes that shifted and rippled around his slim figure, the iron staff topped with a glowing crystal, and a bandolier of wands displayed very conspicuously all indicated a mage of truly impressive magical might. What was more, he knew it. It had certainly taken him long enough to get the combination right! But all the hours of trial and error were worth it right now, when he would call their errant relation into account. It wasn't that the family really cared about Arakanzar's antics outside of Dambrath, but if they weren't benefiting from them, and indications were that the little exile's profit margin was quite high, then it was an annoyance. It had been about fifteen years since Arakanzar had left Dambrath, so Kimdezar figured that a visit was long overdue.
The only problem was to actually find the object of his search. At first, he had tried asking around town, but either nobody cared, or those who did had been paid off. While in a different situation, Kimdezar might have tried to overrule his brother's bribe with one of his own, he was somewhat in a hurry. Finally, abandoning the effort, he had just divined Arakanzar's location with a spell. He was a little surprised that the other wizard hadn't hidden himself from scrying, but supposed that he didn't think anybody worthwhile would spy on him. The half-drow allowed himself a little smile at that. Receiving many stares and hearing many whispers flitting about around him, Kimdezar came to a halt at Arakanzar's door. Pulling out one of the wands from his bandolier, in this case, the wand of hold person, he knocked on the door three times, slowly.
Hearing the knock, Arakanzar frowned. He wasn't expecting anybody at this hour. That didn't bode well at all.
"Devlar, stall him for a minute," he ordered, stepping quickly to the stairs and proceeding up them at a fast pace. The rogue took out one of his daggers from his sleeve, and holding it behind his back, opened the door a crack.
"Who goes there?" he asked in a sharp, challenging tone. Tyra heard a somewhat nasal voice from outside lazily speak a word of arcane power, and Devlar went rigid. As the new arrival pushed the door open, the thief fell to the floor, frozen in place. Tyra gripped the dire mace tighter at the sight of the half-drow, and began to mumble a prayer.
As his brother's lackey toppled over to land facedown on the floor, Kimdezar noted well the dagger he had been concealing. He had expected resistance, and this was proof his expectations had not been inaccurate. The only other opposition was a woman in tattered leather armor who appeared to be muttering to herself. Just in time, Kimdezar realized she was casting a spell, and activated his ring of spell shielding. But the spell was not a directly offensive one, so his protection remained intact. Instead, a tan stone wall, matching the hue of the walls of the building, shot up in front of him, forcing him to take a step back, and effectively sealing the way in. Putting the wand of hold person back into his bandolier, he decided to dispel the barrier rather than shatter it, for he was out to do as little damage as possible.
Running through the necessary incantation, he was pleased to see the wall fade into nothingness. The crowd that had gathered was backing away swiftly now, in anticipation of a spell battle, but Kimdezar didn't intend to give them the satisfaction of such a spectacle. The woman that had cast the wall of stone spell was bent over the paralyzed minion, and was reaching into her shirt with one hand while holding the other over the hapless fellow. With a flash of insight, Kimdezar realized she wasn't a wizard or sorcerer, but a priest of sorts. Even better!
"I'm sorry if I seem forward," he called. The cleric didn't reply, but finished her prayer, and the knife-thrower's limbs relaxed, and he got to his feet, a somewhat abashed look on his face. Shrugging, the half-drow continued.
"I'd just like to talk to Arakanzar. I don't want to kill anybody unless I have to." As he expected, the now unparalyzed minion took a step forward, and bowed low. "Our mistake, O mighty wizard. For indeed, your appearance was unlooked for, and my master is a most cautious man. I'm Devlar. This is Tyra." The lady in question was fuming at him, and just gave him a nod. Kimdezar entered the room again, shutting the door behind him. Thumping his staff on the floor, he announced,
"I am Kimdezar Z'tran, of Dambrath. My brother, Arakanzar, is your master, I believe."
"Aye," Devlar replied casually.
"He should be down in a bit. That's his real name? I've heard him use about fifty different names since I started working for him. It might be better for you not to spread the kind of information around."
"I wouldn't think of it." Kimdezar assured him. He had finished thinking about it, and was now thinking about how much to extort out of Arakanzar for his silence on the matter. That, in truth, was what he was here for. The family, while not caring much about the wizard's wanderings, expected to see something out of it for them.
Zak strode down the street with his fast rolling pace moving him along quick enough to reach Arakanzar's place in only a minute or two. He'd have to check in with Brenim before too long, or risk being counted absent. As he neared the place, he noticed an unusually large concentration of people crowding around it, rapidly dispersing. Tapping one of the lot on the shoulder, he asked,
"Did something happen here?" The man shrugged him off, muttering,
"Some kind of drow wizard. I would've put a blade between his ribs if I was a bit braver." Zak's brow wrinkled in confusion. Another wizard of dark-elven blood? Must be some kind of relation to Arakonza.
Arakanzar came halfway back down the stairs, holding a intricately carved staff of ebony wood. Twin brass caps on the ends were also deeply graven with magical glyphs, and the whole item seemed to radiate mystic power. The half-drow's hands were steady as they leveled the staff at his brother.
"Kimdezar," he murmured, loud enough for the room to hear. "If you're here to kill me, you've made a grave mistake," he warned darkly, bringing to mind the command word that would unleash a wave of killing cold from one of the brass caps. Kimdezar bowed deeply.
"As always, brother, you assume too much." Arakanzar remembered the last time he had seen that smug smile, when he was informed he had become a liability to the family. Such thoughts filled him with a desire to snap out the command word anyway, but with an effort, he calmed himself.
"If not to kill me, then what for?" he asked guardedly, coming the rest of the way down the stairs.
"I sincerely doubt that this is a social call." Kimdezar laughed heartily, helping himself to a chair and sitting down, placing his own staff across his knees. Devlar, without being asked, took up his position at the back of the room, while Tyra continued to stand, keeping one hand close to her neck, and the other on her dire mace.
"Arakonza, don't forget about our agreement," she reminded him, her tone one of harsh command. The wizard almost rolled his eyes at that, but replied,
"Of course, Tyrahae. But such business as Kimdezar brings here must take precedence. You understand?" Tyra scowled, and backed into Devlar's corner, moving her hand away from her holy symbol.
"No I don't, but I'll wait for now." Arakanzar took the second chair, and propped his staff up against it. Folding his hands in front of him, he was about to say something when someone sounded the sequence of knocks required to gain entrance from his door. Rising and taking up his staff again, he nodded to Kimdezar.
"Please excuse me for a moment," he apologized.
"I do a great deal of business here." His brother nodded, waving him off, as if giving him permission to go. Another flash of anger swept over him, but this time he retained his composure and clarity of mind, and opened the door a little ways. Zak Crimsonleaf's frowning face stared in at him.
"I've only got a few minutes, so are you ready to leave?" the half-elf demanded. Arakanzar smiled at him indulgently.
"Naturally. But I find that some terribly urgent business has come up, and I'm afraid I'll be a few moments longer than I had planned. Tyra is ready, though. She'll be out shortly." Without waiting for Zak to answer, the wizard attempted to shut the door in his face, only to find that Zak had lodged his foot in the interval between the door and it's frame while Arakanzar wasn't looking. Without showing any discomfort, the mercenary continued, giving him a dark look,
"I'm not especially patient right now. Nor am I in a mood to be as indulgent as you. What I am, is extremely pissed off at this whole affair, so if you have a mind for your health, you'll let me in before I relieve your shoulders of your swollen head!" The last few words cracked like a banner in a strong wind, and Zak put his hand on his sword hilt. While Arakanzar was reasonably sure that he could use his staff to stop the half-elf, he wasn't entirely sure, and hedging his bets was how he survived. Besides, if Kimdezar tried anything, Zak would probably help him in exchange for a promise of coin. But outwardly, he sighed, and made a show of reluctance.
"Very well, if you insist, but do take care to comport yourself with some manner of dignity." He opened the door all the way, and Zak stepped in, taking a passing glance at Kimdezar. Arakanzar's brother scrutinized the half-elf for obvious threats, and found plenty. Arakanzar shrugged.
"I must offer my apologies, dear brother, but my client insists that I delay as little as possible in the completion of our bargain. Now, you were saying?" Kimdezar reached into his robes slowly, and took out a small folded sheet of parchment, sealed with the emblem of the family Z'tran, an ornate and gaudy thing which depicted a coiled whip overlaid by a staff-crossed-by-sword, with the whole of the design encircled by the greatly enlarged forelegs of a tiny spider which made up the pinnacle of the mess. Arakanzar had hated it then, and had found no reasons to change his opinion. He idly wondered if the message had been written with explosive runes, or perhaps a deadly poison had been used to soak the paper. But a full battery of detection spells would take too long for comfort…his, Zak's, and Kimdezar's, so he merely broke the seal and unfolded the missive.
"A note for you from our esteemed patriarch. This is at least partially, a social call, as you put it." Kimdezar explained as Arakanzar digested the contents of the message at a rapid rate, his eyes flicking over the paper at great speed. Finishing his reading without bothering to glance at the signature, he re-folded the message, and tucked it away into an inner pocket. Kimdezar shook his head wearily.
"I told them you would never live up to the terms," he said,
"But they insisted, and so here I am." Arakanzar considered his family's proposal. In exchange for limited sponsorship and informal repeal of his exile, they wanted fifty percent of his profits, plus complete details on all his plans, projects, and schemes, which they would take a hand in directing so as to make his operations complement their own. While the prospect was appealing, Arakanzar had always been taught that familial bonds counted for nothing when the potential for gain was involved. Little good it had done him, but the teaching held true.
"Well?" Kimdezar asked.
"Shall I inform them that you refused, and I was forced to disintigrate you?" Arakanzar smiled slowly. Quite coolly, he said,
"That won't be necessary. I agree to your terms with one condition." Kimdezar's voice turned suspicious, for Arakanzar had managed to pull off a few operations in Dambrath before he was caught, and he knew just how well his sibling could twist truth and divert one's attention for just the one critical moment he needed.
"I don't think that they'll be accommodating of any 'condition' that you make, so you'd best make it a small one. What is it?"
"That they also supply me with a complete set of black studded leather armor, and a magical dagger, preferably one that will radiate cold if it can be found. The armor need not be magical. And before you tell me that magical items are out of the question, you can tell them that I will trade them the names and locations of some of my sources of information that I no longer use, which I can promise will be much more profitable then what they are trading. And I'll need an answer within the hour." Tyra looked thoughtful at his mention of possible replacement armor for her that was actually what she preferred, but within a few seconds, she went back to a sneer. Kimdezar's eyes widened. He sat silently for a moment, pursing his lips, but finally, he said,
"I"ll deliver your message, but I don't make any gaurentees. If this is a trick," he promised, "You'll suffer for it." Raising his staff and speaking a word of power, he vanished with a small pop! Zak snorted.
"Trouble in the household, huh? I know the type. And I suppose that I'm obliged to wait for another hour for him to agree or disagree. Well I find that I don't care for that idea too much at all." Tyra seethed silently in the corner, arms folded across her chest. If only the wizard would fulfill his end of the bargain and smite the wretched mercenary down right in front of her! Devlar stowed his crossbow, and clapped his hands once, rising up from his seat with his usual enthusiasm.
"That was some right fine negotiating, boss. You knocked'em dead."
"It wasn't all that difficult." Arakanzar demurred mildly.
"Kimdezar was greatly limited by the scope of his orders, and he knew it. I was never in any danger. As for the actual bargaining, I stand only to gain from it, for if one is skilled enough, it's a small matter to report a bit less income than one actually takes in. They'll get some of my profits, but not quite as much as they may have thought."
"Spare me the details," Zak snorted.
"Just tell me how much I've spent on this gods-cursed situation. And," he added, casually, with a sidelong look at Tyrahae,
"Do please tell me how much the lady offered you for my death, so I can top it." He had guessed that, while on his way here. While he knew that the cleric didn't have any coin, her smoldering hatred of him was so intense that he knew she would get the agreement from Arakanzar any way she could. Tyrahae jumped up, her face turning bright red.
"Kill him now and get it done with!" she demanded, holding her dire mace in a defensive stance. Arakanzar looked to the ceiling.
"I'm sorry, but if he can top your offer…not too hard…then I'm obliged to alter my plans. Don't worry about it too much," he assured the outraged cleric.
"Should he pay something above your price of taking on an additional two jobs for me, which together, might amount to…twenty gold pieces, I'll not kill him, but neither will I kill you. If he wants you dead, he can do it himself, unless he wishes to contract for my personal services as a wizard. That, I can reasonably say, is quite above whatever he will wish to extend to me." At hearing how small a value the wizard placed on her service, Tyra reached for her holy symbol again. Devlar cleared his throat conspicuously. Looking over, Tyra saw he held up his trusty crossbow, loaded and aimed. While she might have been willing to take the hit in a different situation, she knew that it could be an great asset to give the appearance of giving in. But she wouldn't be expected to give in easily. By now they probably figured that she was just a hot-tempered cleric who could be easily manipulated. But revenge was all the sweeter when you had to wait for it, as Arakanzar could probably tell her. She smiled inwardly at the thought of goading the half-drow about his family. Bereft of emotion, Zak reached into his bag of holding, and counted out exactly ten gold pieces. Arakanzar frowned, looking confused.
"Why ten?" Zak pushed the pile across the table, the gold winking in the brightening light.
"Because it's worth a half of Tyra's promised servitude. I'll be taking on the other half, namely, I'll work for you once, without pay. That's not an offer that Zak Crimsonleaf makes everyday, so either take it, or I might just kill you and take my coin back." An infuriated scream sliced the air as one end of the dire mace crashed down in the middle of the table, scattering the pieces and coins across the floor. Zak threw himself backwards, unlimbering his crossbow, as the other end came around in his direction. He glanced over at Devlar, but the rogue continued to hold his fire. Holding his weapon steady, Zak inquired,
"You would prefer that things went otherwise?"
"Why won't you just die!" spat Tyra, trembling in impotent fury.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" Zak met her glare with one of his own.
"Because maybe, just maybe, I'd like to continue living, not to mention find out what it is that you were sent to find out, and how much you did find out," he bit out.
"And…" he began, but paused a moment, and instead of saying what he had originally planned, And maybe I just happen to understand your perspective, with,
"And maybe I think I can help. Do you think the fact that you worship some dark god matters? Hell no! Since I worship Tymora, you probably think that I'm not allowed to associate with you. Tymora will just have to get over it. Ask me if I care! Zak Crimsonleaf does what he wants." Finishing his little rant, Zak fell silent, and lowered his crossbow. Slowly, the red drained out of Tyra's complexion. Slowly, Arakanzar let the spell component he had been holding slip back into an inner pouch. Devlar gave a low whistle, looking at the crossbow he held in his own hand as if he didn't know quite how it had got there.
"Sorry about the table," Tyra said to the wizard, though there wasn't even a trace of guilt in her voice. Arakanzar looked a little impressed as he answered,
"Don't worry about it. We'll be leaving now. Here, I've purchased a chain shirt that should fit you." He motioned to Devlar, who dug out the armor in question from Arakanzar's satchel, where it had been stored and tossed it over to Tyra, who looked at it with something approaching distaste. After all, that kind of armor wasn't very comfortable in the heat, and it would show off more of her figure then the studded leather had. But she threw it over her shoulder and headed for the upstairs.
"I'll be needing another ten gold pieces to pay the combined cost of the armor and getting all three of us onto the caravan."
"That's all it cost?" Zak asked, raising an eyebrow. He was suspicious of a catch.
"Nine for the armor, one to the caravan master. I might have paid more for the latter charge, save that your superior was disinclined to say 'no' to me."
"Did you harm him?" Zak demanded. Arakanzar sniffed as if offended. Patrician, Zak thought, irritated beyond reason. You can just smell the aristocratic stench.
"Most certainly not. He's perfectly fine. Go and see for yourself. I'll come with you as soon as Tyrahae comes back down."
"What about when your brother comes back?" Zak asked wryly. Arakanzar held up his hands in helplessness.
"He'll won't find me for some time once I've left. Did you really believe I was serious?"
"For a bit."
"Good! Then he'll have too. Of course, Kimdezar believes that my magic is weaker than his, so that he'll be able to track me down again with some divinations. And he's probably right."
"I'm sensing a but coming here," Zak muttered. Ignoring him, Arakanzar continued,
"But fortunately, I happen to have three skilled people in my employ. All of you," he waved his hand to encompass the room.
"Are now responsible for protecting me from Kimdezar for as long as it takes me to reach another city and settle down. Let's make it two tendays."
"Fine. The sooner I can discharge this debt that isn't mine, the better." Zak grumbled, and turned towards the door.
"This means our deal is off, Arakonza. This job is the only one I have to take on." Tyrahae declared sullenly as she came back down the stairs. She had probably been listening in on the conversation. The chainmail's dull silver was hidden beneath her traveling cloak, but looking closely, Zak could see that she had kept the bottom half of the studded leather, which was damaged less then the top half had been. The overall effect was decidedly disreputable. Zak liked it. One corner of his mouth curved upwards in a lopsided half-smile that went thoroughly ignored by Tyra. Arakanzar's eyes gleamed in the growing light. His tone was final.
"So be it. But should you wish to renew our deal, you may buy it back at any time. However, should Crimsonleaf do the same, before I can kill him, you won't get a second chance. There's a limit to the number of times that I'll backstab somebody and leave them alive. Do you understand?" Tyra nodded once in acknowledgement.
"So be it, wizard. And as for you," Her gaze flicked over to Zak's murky brown eyes.
"This isn't over."
"No." Zak agreed,
"But soon enough, it will be." For a moment, the two of them stood silently, then Tyra looked away. The foursome stepped out of the door, leaving the house deathly still. Only a minute after the dust from their footsteps drifted back to the floor, the first rays of the sun spilled over the top of the windowsill, casting long shadows from the bits of the broken table, and bearing silent witness to Kimdezar's sudden return.
"Arakanzar…" he began, but upon seeing nobody there, he angrily kicked at a chair.
"Loviatar's lash, but he did it again!" he shouted.
"He did it again!" His eyes narrowed, and he squinted at the sunrise, the light making him very uncomfortable.
"Pah! I bet he thinks that I"ll deal with him personally for his insolence. I'll show him just how little the family thinks of him. Armand's very close by. I'll send him in to do it instead." He spoke the same command word that he had a few minutes ago, and again, the room was occupied only by the dawn.