Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [22]
"I assure you, sir," he said to Corin, "the lady is correct. You have no need to stand guard outside her door here. Our inn is the safest in all of Elversult. The doors are solid, the locks are sure, the windows are barred and we have guards who patrol the halls at regular intervals. Whoever her friends' are, they won't find the lady here."
"There," Lhasha said triumphantly, "it's settled. There's nothing to worry about. Two rooms please."
Corin knew they were wrong. Eventually the Purple Masks would figure out that Lhasha hadn't left the city, or gone into retirement. And when they did, barred windows, locked doors and random patrols wouldn't keep Lhasha safe. The best way to protect a client was unrelenting vigilance backed by cold steel-the White Shield way. But Corin knew this was another argument he couldn't win. Not right now, and she'd be safe enough for a little while. It would take some time until word of Lhasha resuming her activities reached the Purple Masks, and hopefully it would be well into the Month of the Sunsets before they managed to track her new location down.
"Two rooms," Corin finally consented, "but make sure they're adjacent."
They agreed to meet downstairs in the common room that first evening, just before supper. That would give them both time to clean up and get settled, and give Corin a chance to take care of any last minute details he hadn't been able to attend to while helping Lhasha relocate.
The pretty half-elf gave serious consideration to her choice of outfit for the evening. She needed to make a good first impression on the staff. She had to be dazzling, but not vain or conceited. A difficult trick to pull off, but she could manage.
She finally settled on a long flowing dress of shimmering violet hues, to bring out her eyes and compliment her silver-blonde hair. She glanced in the mirror, noting with satisfaction how the material shaped to her form when she stood still, and how it billowed and fluttered when she spun-a very important consideration. She planned to celebrate her new surroundings by dancing the night away to the music of the halfling minstrels for which the Glowing Staff was so famous.
Her difficulty in deciding on her wardrobe for the evening had put her a little behind schedule, and she arrived nearly fifteen minutes later than she and Corin had originally agreed on, but when every eye in the inn's dining hall turned to watch her descend the steps leading up to the guest rooms, Lhasha knew the time had been well spent.
She paused a few steps from the floor, partly to give everyone one final look before she took her seat, and partly to see if she could spot Corin. A handsome young man stepped up from a table in the corner and took a step toward her. Only then did Lhasha recognize her hired protector.
In the hours since getting Lhasha settled, Corin had undergone a remarkable transformation. The wild, scraggly beard was gone, and his unruly, tangled hair had been shaved down to the length of a Mace cadet's. He no longer wore his rusted armor, and his yellowish, stained shirt had been washed to a pristine white. The many small holes and rips had been skillfully mended. His trousers had been similarly washed and stitched. He still wore a belt, but the scabbard at his side was no longer shabby, and the hilt had been polished to a gleaming shine. Only the expression on his face remained unchanged: cold, dead eyes set in grim, unrelenting features.
As soon as he was close enough to speak without being overheard he whispered, "You're making a scene. Everyone's watching you."
"That's the point," she replied. "You clean up quite well, Corin. You look like a true gentleman."
It wasn't exactly the truth, of course. Few would mistake Corin's broad shoulders for a pampered nobleman's physique. Fewer still would confuse the aggressive strides with which he had crossed the floor for the gait of a wealthy man of leisure.