Lost in Realm
9
Jhalnin did not say anything. Instead, he merely chuckled and continued to sip his drink. As time stretched on, Nhilva started to wonder whether he preferred to forgo the job and take some kind of revenge to that grunge in their past. Because what he was doing was to make her bag him to get the answer. She should have known; he was a Drow on the top of everything else, after all. Taking revenge on anything trivial in the past wasn't exactly uncommon. Even she had those traits, and she wasn't even the original host. Letting out a sigh, she raised one hand and started mentally going through the spell options.
There was one spell in her mind. It was pretty basic. Elementary level, even. Some Drow magic users even managed to do it before Tier Breche, their magical school. The real question was whether Lolth stripped her of even that. They said she did. But then again, she wasn't exactly in the mood to check.
She chanted the familiar incantation inside her head and felt a surge of dormant energy inside her body. It was a good sign. It meant she could cast that spell. It was very different when playing games in another life and she was rather looking forward to casting a spell. Swiping two fingers in the air like there was a tablet before her, she read the spell inwardly again. This time, there was a crackle in the air. Suddenly, the confusing words one floor above became clear. Jhalnin noticed what she was doing and his expression turned grumpy. Ha, he thought she got nothing! Picking up her cup, she drank on while they listened to the conversation.
"Where is the boy?"
"In the safehouse, y'know, the usual place."
"...got the money, we can kill him."
The conversation, spoken in a hush tone, went on for a while before it ceased completely. Several kidnappings were being planned in this tavern, yet somehow her intuition told her it was the one spoken in Thieves Cant that she was after. She was rather curious about the safe house they mentioned. Was it close? The merchant's son was last seen around the Rat Alley. Did that mean the safe house was in the Rat Alley? It was worth investigating.
From the floor above, she heard footsteps. Moments later, three hooded figures descended the stairs, and all of them were smaller than the average human. Nhilva wagered these people were most likely Dwarves, Haflings or Gnomes. They could be Goblin, too. There were spells for that. Spells that change someone's physical origins. But she trusted her initial hypothesis. Without saying a word, she slipped off the chair and quietly followed them after they left.
Jhalnin could pay the bill.
Tracking someone in semi-stealth was one of a Drow's many specialities. They were trained from a very young age to do that just in case there was a need for them to extract information or attack their rival houses in the dead of night. Zaknafein DoÚrden, the legendary weapon master of the now eliminated House Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, apparently slaughtered the entire house without alerting a single soul. Darting among the shadows, Nhilva followed the trio at a safe distance. She was correct; they were heading toward Rat Alley.
Rat Alley technically was just a long, narrow alley that stretched between a long line of storage warehouses. With their front doors facing the other way, the place was usually dimly lit and without much through traffic. With wooden crates and broken wheel barrows littered against the walls, it was the perfect location for shady trading. Every city of every world has places like this, and Luskan was no different. Standing at the entrance, Nhilva easily picked out the figures moving deeper into the shadows. She snorted. Her host body was no stranger to this light. Although she wondered if these people knew she was practically a novice on the surface, but this lot, as far as she hazarded, were experienced rogues.
Behind her, Jhalnin caught up.
"You owe me money," he sneered in a hushed tone.
"Necessity expenditure. Get a receipt and report it to the merchant," Nhilva snorted and took her first step into the alley, her senses stretching wide. In her bag, the kitten once again poked its head out. She doubted that Jhalnin had any idea what she was talking about. They were accounting terms. And as far as she knew, getting receipts was something only done among the Merchants Guild members. But it was no matter. The job was her priority. She needed the money.
She was almost halfway into the alley and behind a large crate when Jhalnin was near her again.
"Safehouse?" he asked.
She nodded, shifting away from him discretely.
"Worth checking out the Fried Rat," he suggested.
"But it's a ruin."It was common knowledge. Even the street cat knew.
"I'd bet a silver and a copper it is not."