On pure reflex, his hands a blur, the once sleeping assassin spun. Three deadly daggers fell to the ground in rapid succession, bouncing off the wizard's robes like raindrops from a well-shingled roof.
"Please now, none of that, Erinaeus said smugly, flicking imaginary dust from his robes, "I'm not here to kill you. If I wanted that, you'd already be dead."
The assassin regarded the fallen daggers for a moment, and then shrugged. He was a patient man; it was a job necessity. The mysterious wizard had the advantage now, but it wouldn't always be so. If the intruder wished to merely talk, he could consent. Not as if he had alternatives.
Still, something about the wizard unnerved him, something that he couldn't place his finger on, but it was if his basic senses were trying to warn him.
"Nice place you have here," Erinaeus said, pacing the room, "It was a pain to find you, and I'd never have thought to look in this little section of Aralene. Well, I lie. I'd never have thought to look here if I didn't know your quarry was, in fact, a wizard. Am I right?"
The assassin nodded, intrigued. His hands flexed, anxious to grab several of the weapons he hid nearby, but he forced them to relax. Nothing was lost in hearing what this wizard wanted, though he mentally resolved that he'd kill him when the opportunity presented itself. He just wished he could at least see the wizard's face under his veiled hood, something, anything, to explain the sense of impending dread that oozed from the man.
"I've come to offer you a deal," Erinaeus said, the only exposed portion of his face turning into a crooked wizened smile. "You've come here to kill a certain group of people, and I, too, want these people dead."
"I do not need your help to do my craft, wizard."
"Really?" and Erinaeus turned to the daggers on the floor. The assassin conceded the point reluctantly with a nod, "Anyway, I can give you the tools to kill these wizards that killed your comrades, if you're willing?"
The assassin stood. "What help would you give me? Why are you helping me when you can obviously kill them yourself?"
"I don't recall giving you permission to ask me questions?"
"Well," the assassin said, his left finger hooking onto a dagger hidden in the waste of his pants, "I don't recall asking for permission."
The tension vibrated in the humid night air and a single drop of sweat ran down the assassin's face. He tensed every muscle in his body, ready to drive the weapon home if he had to. He sincerely doubted he could touch a prepared wizard, but he'd be damned if he bowed to this man.
The tension broke as the wizard gave a dark raspy chuckle that sent shivers assassin's back. "It's been so long since I've talked to someone who had the fortitude to respond like that. Be relieved that I'm in a good mood, or you'd not leave this room standing. I merely need to eliminate these particular people with nothing that'd indicate magic was involved."
The assassin raised a single eye, "What kind of help could you give me that wasn't magical?"
"There's the trick of it. Assassin's are mysterious," Erinaeus said, laughing darkly, "They'd just write it off as some inner secret of your organization."
He thought it over. The trail had went cold after the ship, and even an intense "interview" of the ship captain hadn't given him any leads other than the educated guess that they'd come to the Academy in Aralene. The wizard's offer made sense, but his gut warned him against it. Something was off about the intruder.
Plus it was a wizard that killed his comrades. Once he killed the ones that did it directly, he'd start slaughtering every damn wizard he could find. Faelon would be a better place for it.
Still, if the wizard gave him the means to kill wizards even with their magical advantages. . . well, the ends did justify the means, right? It'd make it easier to kill this wizard too.
"I accept your offer," he said, and to him, the words came out with a sense of finality.
"Good," Erinaeus said, "Now, there might be some slight discomfort when I do this."
The assassin was about to ask what he meant when the wizard reached up and removed his hood. He tried to see the wizard's face, but the world went black and he felt himself falling in inky darkness, sucked in by a malevolent crimson orb that had appeared like a blood-red sunrise.
Somewhere, far away, he screamed.
Marcius felt like a new man as he walked out. From head to toe he was outfitted in fresh clothing. It hugged him just right, not too loose, but not tight. The cloak was of the highest quality and Marcius had fallen in love with it the moment he had tried it on. The insides were lined with pockets and for a few moments he felt a pang of nostalgia as it reminded him of Antaigne.
"What do you think?" he asked Selene, turning so she could see him from different angles.
She cocked her head, "It is an improvement. No longer do you look like a goblin in hand-me-downs."
"Thanks, I think."
"Battle-Mistress? There is the small matter of payment?" Raloran said, coming out from behind the flap.
Selene rolled her eyes, but unhooked a pouch from her belt, tossing it to the merchant who caught it deftly. He looked inside and nodded with satisfaction.
"We will take our leave now," she said, and Marcius agreed, shouldering the backpack that contained the other things they had bought. Several custom made outfits, a small knife, a spare pair of boots, and extra gloves were all packed tightly inside.
The merchant waved at them as they left the trading grounds. Marcius secretly hoped he would see the charismatic merchant again.
The weight on his back and the feeling of new clothing made him smile. He was grateful for Selene's kindness, and that combined with the surprising information he had gleaned from the merchant made him look at Selene in a new light. Marcius was beginning to pick out her mannerisms, and it all brought the realization as to why they had even come here to begin with.
"Thank you," he said sincerely as soon as they were alone on the road.
She didn't say anything immediately, but he knew she heard him. Finally she glanced back. "Thank me for what?"
"For getting me all of this," he responded, jiggling the backpack for emphasis.
"There is nothing to thank. It is the host's duty to ensure her charge has necessary supplies."
Marcius couldn't help but to grin, letting the elven woman know that he didn't totally believe her, "Well, thank you anyway. . . and I want to say that I'm sorry. For last night."
There, it was out now, hanging between them. He had taken the first step and now it up to her to respond. She opened her mouth several times, but nothing came out. Marcius could see her visibly struggling with herself before her countenance softened.
"I shouldn't have struck you," she said the words in a rush, obviously flustered in a way Marcius had never seen the elf before. He figured the proud woman wasn't used to apologizing.
It was if a dam had broken, the awkwardness drained like water through a sieve. "It's okay," he said, smiling at the visible relief in her face.
He was about to continue when they were both interrupted by a shout. A young, out of breath elf ran up to Selene. There was a smattering of elvish and then he handed her a scroll from a pouch slung across his side. She unfolded it, emerald eyes scanning over its contents intently.
Selene gave a sharp intake of breath, and her face grew hard. Marcius had to stop himself from asking what was wrong. Last thing he wanted was to once again pry his nose into the elf's business and get it bitten off. Still, he fidgeted as she read the scroll.
The elven woman muttered under her breath, obviously not pleased in the slightest. She immediately crumpled up the paper, seeming just as surprised as Marcius and the young elf at her action.
"Selene," he said tentatively, "Is something the matter?"
"No," she said, but her eyes remained clouded. The woman was lost in thought.
The messenger said something in elvish and that seemed to jolt Selene from her reverie. She shook her head and indicated with a slight nod that the young elf should be on his way. It was several long moments before she looked to Marcius again. "Come," she murmured, "There is someone that I must take you to see."
She didn't wait to see if he followed, weaving her way through the moss covered roads and trails. Marcius continued behind her, confusion growing with every step.
He didn't have to prompt her any more, though, because she started talking, as much to herself as to him. "I tried to keep you safe, sheltered from our politics. But it seems as if the move for you has started and there is nothing I can do."
"Move for me? I'm not an object to be possessed." Marcius said, his face heating up with anger, "Anyway, why would they want to control me? I'm just a human."
"Do you remember the two at the trial? The ones that made you uneasy?" Marcius did. Even the memory caused his stomach to twist and turn. "You are to meet him today. He requested your presence at his estate, and the missive was signed by an Elder. There is nothing I can do."
"Why does that make you angry? What is it about him that makes him an abomination?"
"You will learn when you meet him."
Marcius was astute enough to realize that she never answered his question, but he was wise enough to not press the issue. Maybe he would get his answers finally upon meeting this person? It was as if everyone was privy to secrets that he should know, but couldn't be bothered to explain it to him.