Azure bonds - Kate Novak [77]
"Oh!" Lhaeo exclaimed, his eyes lighting up behind the thick lenses. "You're a referral! Well, then we need to start again with a different set of forms. One moment, I'll get them." The scribe put his hand in a drawer and drew out a bird's nest of shredded paper. "No, this can't be them. They must be in that other cabinet."
Akabar counted to ten.
Far below, someone knocked on a door, but in his search for the referral forms, Lhaeo ignored it.
"Here we go," the scribe announced. "Last copy, too, so we need to fill out an acquisition memo to file with the local merchants for the next shipment of parchment." The referral form passed dangerously close to a candle flame. "Oooch, singed it a little, but, uh, we can just, yes, we can just make out an addendum form to explain that the singed parchment was my fault."
From below, someone knocked again, only louder.
"Isn't someone going to answer that?" Akabar asked.
"Well, no."
'Why not?"
'It's way after business hours. We're closed."
"But, I'm here," Akabar said, then nearly bit off his tongue.
"So you are. We'll need another form for that. Nocturnal visitors."
The knocking stopped.
"Now, please, include as much information on the sage Dimswart as you can recall. What you asked him on this line, what he answered on this one, what he didn't tell you on this one. Any reasons you may have to believe he may have been incorrect on this line."
Akabar dipped a quill in the inkpot and began again. He wished he'd brought Alias along. Broadswords had such a nice, satisfying way of cutting through red tape. It wasn't until a minute later, upon discovering there was a form to fill out because Alias, not he, was the sage's real client, that Akabar lost his temper again and renewed his loud verbal assault on the sage's scribe.
*****
Sylune's hut was atop a low rise overlooking the road and the River Ashaba. Alias remembered the dwelling as small but comfortable, covered with vines, with smoke always drifting from a chimney for a cooking fire. She remembered Sylune as a radiantly beautiful woman with shining silver hair. Kith had told her that Sylune was at least a century old but kept young with her magics. Alias had always suspected that Kith planned to use her power toward the same goal, improving and maintaining her looks.
The thought put a smile on her face that disappeared as Alias topped the rise. Illuminated by moonlight, Sylune's hut was nothing but rubble, its timbers and stone shattered and scattered along the hilltop. A rocky stump, once the fireplace, was the only indication that a dwelling had once stood there.
"Bhaal's breath," Alias cursed as she walked through the remains of the hut. The damage had occurred years ago. Her boots struck an occasional flagstone, but the majority of the floor had long since disappeared beneath grass and creepers.
The hairs rose on the back of the swordswoman's neck, and she realized Shadowdale was no safer a haven for her than Shadow Gap had been. She immediately regretted leaving her sword in her room. Then she thought, what difference does it make? The sword was useful against the assassins, but it could never have cut through the crystal elemental the way Dragonbait's did, and only the barbarian's sword could have defeated the kalmari.
Reason told her to flee back to the inn and the safety of her companions, but feelings of pain and anger overwhelmed her and made her fey. I'm sick of retreating, she thought. I want a fight.
"This is as good a place as any," Alias muttered. Her voice rose in volume and pitch. "First, there's the old ruin-an abandoned or burned-out shell. Darkness all around. The stage is set." She began shouting. "What are you waiting for, O mighty masters? Here's where the nasty, creeping horror lurches out at me, isn't it?"
She laughed. "What's the matter? Can't make up your minds what to send this time? How 'bout a beholder, all round with flashing eyes? Oh, no, wait! I've got it! Send a mind flayer or, better yet, an intellect devourer!