“Oh I see, so you’re like a stalker now?”
“I seek,” spoke the elegant voice. The voice was slick, crisp with ancient wisdom, articulate. There was still a pause, an exasperation. Areia’s verbal assaults were as quick as her physical ones. He was being assaulted by words, and so his counter attack was quick too.
“Look, buddy, dragon, dragon guy, supreme Kasillian-guardian, he-who-must-carry innocent rogues away, whatever you are, you for the record are far more stalker than seeker. I know, I stalk for a living. Besides aren’t you like, dead? Pretty sure I watched you get toasted by Big Blue.”
“I have no time for this. Give me the lanthorn, Areia. I will not ask again.”
“Give me a break, and I will not ask…” Areia’s voice cut off in the middle of her reply. She moved her lips but no sound came out. She stood there, staring at the robed figure, hunched over, as he moved around her. His hands were splayed together in front of him as if he were in deep thought. The man removed his hood and came to stand before her. He was handsome, regal. Areia had seen his face before. Once, in the sewers under Far Realm. Once, in Enceladus. Now though, he looked older somehow, his movements belied a loss of some grace. An injury perhaps? Areia instinctively reached for one of her hidden daggers, those that his soldiers may not have not removed. But her arms wouldn’t work. She was stunned, frozen. And she was now pissed. Ok, you speech giving, talon snatching son of a snake, I’ve had it.
I will free you, when you have listened to the offer I wish to make you.
Great he can read my thoughts now, So tell me what am I thinking then?
You plan to stab me and take all my possessions the moment I free you. You think that you can use the lanthorn as a diversion and then backstab me with the shadow of the overhang here. You’re guessing I may have an injury that makes me slower than I’d like you to believe.
Wow you’re good.
I am. I’ve had 4000 years to perfect my telepathy, Areia. You should know, you were the one who first taught me.
What in the torch blazes are you talking about? I am sick of this. Either kill me or let me go. I have a whole ship of idiots who can’t protect themselves without my killing stabs. We’re on a mission to save the world you know. One ale at a time.
I know you are Areia. You’ve always been on that mission, even when you forgot.
What in the Ketian hole are you blabbing about with all this crap? Just let me go, I promise I won’t kill you and then take all of your things.
The man actually chuckled out loud. Just some of my things after you kill me? Good. Because you won’t need to Mistress.
Why is that? And don’t tell me you miss stress. Nobody has time for that.
Areia! I am giving everything I have to you! My palace, my treasure. It is now yours.
Why would you do that?
Because it always was Mistress. I am, as I always have been, your servant M’Lady.
The man moved directly in front of the rogue now and pulled his hands apart. His eyes, dark like the bottom of the sea stared into her unblinking ones. And then, the great and mighty Abraxas bent a knee and bowed before her. His shoulders slumped over, he was completely defenseless when Areia felt her muscles able to flex and her voice come back to her throat.
“Yes, Mistress. Me, again.”