Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [86]
Murph saw my concern. He said carefully, "No need for that, Kitten. I think I can now trust this fellow."
Kitten withdrew the dagger and relaxed. In accordance, I did the same with the star.
Murph sighed, and then belched. A grin of satisfaction crossed his lips. "Does it want to know what I know?" he asked coyly.
"What do you know?" I demanded, my stance of bravado resumed.
"It is an exceptional fighter of uncommon training. Despite a certain hardness to its features and its bearing, its breeding and body show few signs of the devastations of poverty or abuse. Fast reflexes, keen senses, good instincts. If I was a bit more confident, I would say it was either a royal assassin or a master thief. Oddly, though, it avoids lethality in its moves. It doesn't kill unless it has to."
"So?" I demanded.
Murph looked to Kitten, smiled, and replied, "So, Murph might have use for it. Kitten can show you to a room I have on retainer. I'll deduct the rent from your first job."
Kitten left his side, opened a previously indiscernible door, and gestured for me to follow. As I passed the tub of lard, who had obviously been entertained by the combat, he volunteered one more observation.
"That mark on its hand. It's a brand, all right, but not of the slave variety. It wasn't burned in. It's of magical origin. Perhaps a marking of some secret society. I wouldn't worry about it if I was it."
The door closed behind me, and I followed Kitten up stairs.
"Quite the job interview," I mused aloud.
"He only brokers the best," she replied noncommittally, and showed me to a room where a meal had been laid out. With nary a kiss or a good-bye, she left me to regain the strength I had not even realized I had taxed.
After a few mouthfuls, I retreated to the bed and was soon fast asleep.
* * * * *
For the first time in my short memory, I dreamt.
I was in a subterranean chamber. My hands were manacled and my eyes downcast. The weight of some unpardonable crime pressed down upon my very being. I tried to raise my head to look around, but succeeded only in seeing numerous robed figures surrounding me. They were talking to each other, but I could not hear any of their words.
The sharp rap of knuckles on a door brought a curtain of darkness to the dream, and myself back to consciousness.
Sitting up, my legs already over the bedside, I answered, "Come in."
I looked up at my visitor and was quietly disappointed. It was not Kitten, but a young lad not quite in his teens.
"Kitten said I should bring this to you," the lad instructed. "She said I should wake you up so you could start earning your keep."
I nodded absently, not quite awake, took the note from the lad's hand, broke the seal, and read the missive.
It,
A client of mine desires a certain manuscript that is currently sitting on a desk at the offices of Tyme Waterdeep, Ltd. It is in a traveling folder in the top office overlooking the street, and the publisher returns this evening. Fetch it discreetly. An emissary of mine will take it off your hands later.
You will be well compensated should you succeed.
Murph
P.S. The traveling folder should have the monogram VG on it. Let me reiterate, discretion is desired.
I looked up, and the lad was still standing there.
"Kitten said I should lend you any assistance I could, provided I don't have to break the law or anything," he offered.
"Of course," I replied, then thought, I guess that's my job.
* * * * *
Dawn was still an hour or two away, and with no time like the present, I set off for the offices of Tyme Water-deep, Ltd. The lad showed me the way, and scurried home once I was firmly ensconced in the shadows of Faerun's most powerful publishing firm.
Not wishing to overlook the easiest and most obvious course of action, I tried the door. It was bolted from within. I would have to find another way.
My eyes were accustomed to the predawn light, and I scanned both sides of the street for another entry.
The