So basically, Assalbi was my problem. Unless that big demon over behind the fountain was who I thought he was.
My heart sank as I saw a bull with the hind end of a lion and griffin wings. Even before I checked the energy signature I knew. Haagenti. The demon swiveled his bovine head, obviously searching the room for something. I’m sure that something was me. That fucking double–crossing elf must mean to turn me over to him. All that rhetoric about helping me with my “vexing problem” was bullshit. Two–timing jerk. Once my initial wave of anger equalized, I puzzled over why the elf lord would have brought us together at a banquet. The elves I knew would never risk disruption to their festivities by setting things in motion that would lead to a potentially lethal brawl with inevitable civilian casualties. It was dicey enough just having demons at a party without throwing a feud into the mix. What was this elf lord scheming? I’d expected the elves to hand me over behind closed doors, or arrange an ambush once I’d left their lands. I looked around for the elf lord, Taullian, to see if I could better assess his motives.
He was at the huge head table, populated solely by elves. No humans. No demons, although one seat remained conspicuously vacant. The guard had meant to announce me, and said I was to be at the head table. Haagenti would have been on me within seconds and probably have pronounced a feud with the elf lord who dared to seat his despised rival above him in status. Who the fuck was this elf lord, and why was he so eager for a fight? If he truly meant to turn me over for the bounty, why would he risk offending Haagenti by having me at the head table?
I watched Taullian politely conversing with a female. Something looked odd about him and it took me a moment to realize it was his hair. He’d draped the wavy locks over his ears in a strange kind of comb over. Elves loved displaying the points of their ears and often arranged their long hair to draw the eye to them. Ears to an elf were like wings to an angel. They were sensitive, personal, individual, considered both an ornament and an appendage of great spiritual significance. Ears to hear the Word of the goddess as she whispered in the wind. Why would a lord cover his ears in such a fashion? Perhaps it had something to do with the theme of the festival? Outside of the weird hairdo, he seemed pretty much like the other elf lords I’d met. Relaxed, arrogantly surveying his surroundings, entitlement in every fiber of his being. He wasn’t particularly watching Haagenti, or looking at the door waiting for me to come in.
I felt a hand slide tentatively up my arm. Kirby seemed to be making a move. He was relaying gossip on how the high lord of Wythyn had lost yet another sorcerer. “If he’d treat his humans better, they wouldn’t be constantly running away,” he told me, his voice full of sympathy and superiority about his own kingdom. “A sorcerer. That’s one of the highest social levels a human can hold. It’s got to be pretty bad for one of them to take their chances and bolt. Especially in Wythyn. Did you hear what happened to the last sorcerer he lost? The lord sent a demon out after him and he came back barely alive. He’d been tortured for weeks, used as a play thing.”
That was a gross exaggeration. At least I hadn’t brought him back dead in a bag. I quickly bit back defensive words and pulled my attention back to Haagenti. I needed to concentrate on the powder keg ready to explode in my face and not on runaway sorcerers or randy apprentices. How could I sneak out of here without bringing notice to myself? I looked down at the hand on my arm and had an idea.
“Kirby? Would you like to fu. . . I mean go somewhere more–“ I wasn’t able to finish my proposition, which would hopefully get me out of the room pronto. There was a ringing noise and we all turned to the head table, wine glasses or hot mugs in hand. Silence fell and
My heart sank as I saw a bull with the hind end of a lion and griffin wings. Even before I checked the energy signature I knew. Haagenti. The demon swiveled his bovine head, obviously searching the room for something. I’m sure that something was me. That fucking double–crossing elf must mean to turn me over to him. All that rhetoric about helping me with my “vexing problem” was bullshit. Two–timing jerk. Once my initial wave of anger equalized, I puzzled over why the elf lord would have brought us together at a banquet. The elves I knew would never risk disruption to their festivities by setting things in motion that would lead to a potentially lethal brawl with inevitable civilian casualties. It was dicey enough just having demons at a party without throwing a feud into the mix. What was this elf lord scheming? I’d expected the elves to hand me over behind closed doors, or arrange an ambush once I’d left their lands. I looked around for the elf lord, Taullian, to see if I could better assess his motives.
He was at the huge head table, populated solely by elves. No humans. No demons, although one seat remained conspicuously vacant. The guard had meant to announce me, and said I was to be at the head table. Haagenti would have been on me within seconds and probably have pronounced a feud with the elf lord who dared to seat his despised rival above him in status. Who the fuck was this elf lord, and why was he so eager for a fight? If he truly meant to turn me over for the bounty, why would he risk offending Haagenti by having me at the head table?
I watched Taullian politely conversing with a female. Something looked odd about him and it took me a moment to realize it was his hair. He’d draped the wavy locks over his ears in a strange kind of comb over. Elves loved displaying the points of their ears and often arranged their long hair to draw the eye to them. Ears to an elf were like wings to an angel. They were sensitive, personal, individual, considered both an ornament and an appendage of great spiritual significance. Ears to hear the Word of the goddess as she whispered in the wind. Why would a lord cover his ears in such a fashion? Perhaps it had something to do with the theme of the festival? Outside of the weird hairdo, he seemed pretty much like the other elf lords I’d met. Relaxed, arrogantly surveying his surroundings, entitlement in every fiber of his being. He wasn’t particularly watching Haagenti, or looking at the door waiting for me to come in.
I felt a hand slide tentatively up my arm. Kirby seemed to be making a move. He was relaying gossip on how the high lord of Wythyn had lost yet another sorcerer. “If he’d treat his humans better, they wouldn’t be constantly running away,” he told me, his voice full of sympathy and superiority about his own kingdom. “A sorcerer. That’s one of the highest social levels a human can hold. It’s got to be pretty bad for one of them to take their chances and bolt. Especially in Wythyn. Did you hear what happened to the last sorcerer he lost? The lord sent a demon out after him and he came back barely alive. He’d been tortured for weeks, used as a play thing.”
That was a gross exaggeration. At least I hadn’t brought him back dead in a bag. I quickly bit back defensive words and pulled my attention back to Haagenti. I needed to concentrate on the powder keg ready to explode in my face and not on runaway sorcerers or randy apprentices. How could I sneak out of here without bringing notice to myself? I looked down at the hand on my arm and had an idea.
“Kirby? Would you like to fu. . . I mean go somewhere more–“ I wasn’t able to finish my proposition, which would hopefully get me out of the room pronto. There was a ringing noise and we all turned to the head table, wine glasses or hot mugs in hand. Silence fell and
Similar Books
