The Alabaster Staff - Edward Bolme [15]
Kehrsyn glanced once more at the sorceress, who watched the proceedings with a thin, lopsided smirk. Kehrsyn dropped her rapier with a clatter and dived for the elusive vial.
"Got it!" she said as she broke the seal.
Holding the back of the guard's head with one hand, she pressed the healing potion to his lip, but as she did so, he coughed up the blood that was trickling into his lungs, spraying the precious liquid and spattering Kehrsyn's face and hands with crimson and cobalt.
She flinched, pulled back, and wiped her eyes. She opened them again and saw the guard slump to the side, the shield on his back grinding slowly along the stone wall. He hacked and gasped, his face twisting in agony and going pale with shock. His breathing, what there was of it, was forced and noisy.
Trembling, Kehrsyn tried to force the remaining fluid into his throat, but he flailed his arms, desperately clawing for air. She was able to get the vial to his mouth as his movements faded, but the blue liquid pooled in his cheek and dribbled out onto the grimy alley floor. A moment more, and Kehrsyn heard his dying breath rattle its burbling way out of his lungs, giving up its last shred of warmth to the cold winter's air.
"Great gods!" gasped Kehrsyn, appalled at the turn of events. She glared at the sorceress on the wall. "You-you killed him!"
The woman had pulled her kerchief back out with her free hand and was rigorously trying to clean her nose some more.
"No, hon," she said as she explored her nostril, still gently dangling the dagger between the fingers of her other hand, "you killed him. You took him down. You stopped him from drinking his healing potion. Your dagger slit his throat. Your face wears his blood. Any divination spell will show all that. If the Zhents here don't have a wizard at their immediate disposal-" she shrugged, helpless, and returned the kerchief to its hiding place-"why, I'm sure they can locate a freelance mage somewhere around here."
She paused to clear her throat, then coughed a few times to get something clear of her lungs.
"But I tell you what, hon," the sorceress added with a conspiratorial wink, once she'd gotten control of her cough again, "we of the guild got to stick together against the cold, cruel world." She gestured vaguely around, at once taking in the vast city that surrounded them as well as the chill, gray weather. "I can personally guarantee you that no one will hear of this, no one will find your dagger, and no diviner will offer their services to the Zhentarim. All you have to do is provide us with what we need."
Kehrsyn looked at the blood and liquid on her hands, and, cringing, used the dead man's cloak to clean them and her face. When she was done, she picked up her rapier and looked up at the sorceress again.
"Why don't you just get it yourself?" she asked. "You can walk on walls and stuff. I can't do that."
"It don't work quite like that, hon," the woman replied with a grimace. "I use magic to augment my skills, but, you see, magic is not the best tool for slipping into a manse." She waggled her fingers, sending the blue strands of energy spiraling around. "Little lights, little flashes, little noises of spells or incantations, they all attract attention, and good merchants have wards and other traps to snare those who try to magic their way into a valuable area. No, far better to go tippy-toe like a little mouse, all small and quiet and twitchy whiskers. And that, hon, is something I wager you're darned good at. So confident, in fact, that I'm choosing you for the task."
Since the sorceress had shown spells-wall-walking and a little telekinesis-Kehrsyn was growing bolder. Not only was the woman staying out of easy reach, but Kehrsyn knew that the spells she'd used were little more than minor cantrips. She'd seen magic-real