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AndreyichUnfortunate was putting it mildly. Shadowheart sighed softly, trying not to think of what she was missing out on by being forced to deal with yet another Sharran plot. She'd had such high hopes for tonight, and so many nights after this.
"I'll speak with him," she said. "The letter isn't forged, I'm sure it's from Isobel. The priest, though... I think you're right. He's either a charlatan or a victim himself, but either way this feels like a trap. Just need to find out if he's trying to spring it on us by choice or by force." There was a chance he was truly a Selunite, and that Sharrans captured someone close to him as leverage unless he did as they asked. Or they merely let him think he escaped, so they could follow him here.
Or he was a Sharran in disguise, come to lure her and Nuvyen to somewhere they'd be more vulnerable than their own house.
"Be careful," she instructed, though it was she who was volunteering to sit alone in a room with a possible assassin. It was possible there were more hiding in the woods, but she suspected the owlbear out there was part of the reason they were trying this tactic.
She kissed him in parting, then gave their guest some time while she prepared some tea. Time to sit with his thoughts. Time to grow nervous, perhaps. Time to wonder if he was actually a guest, or already a prisoner.
A few minutes later she carried the tea to the guest room. She'd hoped the first guest they'd house would be a friend, probably someone from their adventures, someone they actually invited. Hope was something she'd originally been taught to do without, so she dared not hope that Sef was anything other than her enemy.
"Care for some tea?" she asked, knocking gently on the door. Sef accepted, at which point she made her way in and served, pouring for both of them. She watched carefully as she finished, only for Sef to pick up his cup without hesitation and drink. Trusting, or perhaps too eager to seem that way. She drank from her cup as well.
"Thank you," he said, "the road has been... unkind, to say the least."
"Tell me about this Sharran attack again. You used a scroll to escape, you said. Guardian of Faith?"
He nodded. "They were on me before I could react, I barely managed to get the scroll from my pack, and then lost my pack as well. The one that stabbed me, the guardian took his arm clean off at the elbow. I don't know if he died or not, after he vanished back into the shadows. I put the guardian between me and the other, and ran as fast as I could."
Shadowheart was guessing that wasn't very fast, with a knife stuck in his side. He came across like a novice to her, or rather, a Sharran's idea of a novice. A naive, optimistic idiot, blindly serving the moon witch. She had come to learn that the Selunites could be as clever and cunning as their Sharran mirrors. Isobel was certainly that way, when she needed to be. She was smart enough to know not to send novices to deliver messages to Shadowheart of all people.
She let her polite facade fade away, lacking the patience for it. If Sef were a Selunite acting against his will, he would be more nervous. She would detect a note of guilt. This priest was simply lying. Confidently, but poorly.
"I had other plans for tonight," she admitted. "A walk, a swim, a peaceful rest by the fire. But it seems the Nightsinger still wants me to play her little games. I'd wager I know them better than you do. You're still an initiate, aren't you? Your brothers and sisters sent you here as a test, to see how well you've learned to embrace pain, to tell lies, to lead Shar's enemies to death and darkness. What they didn't tell you is that they expect you to fail. They expect me to ask questions to your corpse, because the knowledge you won't part with willingly is the real bait. Am I close, or...?"
A heavy tension had fallen between the two of them, Sef's mortified reaction revealing that Shadowheart was more or less correct, even if Sef was only just now realizing it. He then shot upright, rearing his arm back to try to strike her. Shadowheart was quicker, darting forward and launching a flat, upward palm into his nose. There was a crack and a crunch, and when her hand came away, Sef's face was red and bloody. A trick she'd learned from her love.
Like any Sharran, he took pain well, well enough that before she could strike again, he'd vanished in a cloud of mist, landing with a thud in her garden outside. He scrambled to his feet and bolted, but Shadowheart could see him out of the window.
"Impero tibi!"
Her enchanting Command spell latched on to him, causing Sef to lurch upright and skid to a halt, only to turn and walk with a controlled pace back towards the front door, where she expected Nuvyen was waiting. "He's trying to run!" she called to him, almost playfully. She was enjoying herself a little. She wasn't going to let Shar ruin everything about this night, after all.
"I'll speak with him," she said. "The letter isn't forged, I'm sure it's from Isobel. The priest, though... I think you're right. He's either a charlatan or a victim himself, but either way this feels like a trap. Just need to find out if he's trying to spring it on us by choice or by force." There was a chance he was truly a Selunite, and that Sharrans captured someone close to him as leverage unless he did as they asked. Or they merely let him think he escaped, so they could follow him here.
Or he was a Sharran in disguise, come to lure her and Nuvyen to somewhere they'd be more vulnerable than their own house.
"Be careful," she instructed, though it was she who was volunteering to sit alone in a room with a possible assassin. It was possible there were more hiding in the woods, but she suspected the owlbear out there was part of the reason they were trying this tactic.
She kissed him in parting, then gave their guest some time while she prepared some tea. Time to sit with his thoughts. Time to grow nervous, perhaps. Time to wonder if he was actually a guest, or already a prisoner.
A few minutes later she carried the tea to the guest room. She'd hoped the first guest they'd house would be a friend, probably someone from their adventures, someone they actually invited. Hope was something she'd originally been taught to do without, so she dared not hope that Sef was anything other than her enemy.
"Care for some tea?" she asked, knocking gently on the door. Sef accepted, at which point she made her way in and served, pouring for both of them. She watched carefully as she finished, only for Sef to pick up his cup without hesitation and drink. Trusting, or perhaps too eager to seem that way. She drank from her cup as well.
"Thank you," he said, "the road has been... unkind, to say the least."
"Tell me about this Sharran attack again. You used a scroll to escape, you said. Guardian of Faith?"
He nodded. "They were on me before I could react, I barely managed to get the scroll from my pack, and then lost my pack as well. The one that stabbed me, the guardian took his arm clean off at the elbow. I don't know if he died or not, after he vanished back into the shadows. I put the guardian between me and the other, and ran as fast as I could."
Shadowheart was guessing that wasn't very fast, with a knife stuck in his side. He came across like a novice to her, or rather, a Sharran's idea of a novice. A naive, optimistic idiot, blindly serving the moon witch. She had come to learn that the Selunites could be as clever and cunning as their Sharran mirrors. Isobel was certainly that way, when she needed to be. She was smart enough to know not to send novices to deliver messages to Shadowheart of all people.
She let her polite facade fade away, lacking the patience for it. If Sef were a Selunite acting against his will, he would be more nervous. She would detect a note of guilt. This priest was simply lying. Confidently, but poorly.
"I had other plans for tonight," she admitted. "A walk, a swim, a peaceful rest by the fire. But it seems the Nightsinger still wants me to play her little games. I'd wager I know them better than you do. You're still an initiate, aren't you? Your brothers and sisters sent you here as a test, to see how well you've learned to embrace pain, to tell lies, to lead Shar's enemies to death and darkness. What they didn't tell you is that they expect you to fail. They expect me to ask questions to your corpse, because the knowledge you won't part with willingly is the real bait. Am I close, or...?"
A heavy tension had fallen between the two of them, Sef's mortified reaction revealing that Shadowheart was more or less correct, even if Sef was only just now realizing it. He then shot upright, rearing his arm back to try to strike her. Shadowheart was quicker, darting forward and launching a flat, upward palm into his nose. There was a crack and a crunch, and when her hand came away, Sef's face was red and bloody. A trick she'd learned from her love.
Like any Sharran, he took pain well, well enough that before she could strike again, he'd vanished in a cloud of mist, landing with a thud in her garden outside. He scrambled to his feet and bolted, but Shadowheart could see him out of the window.
"Impero tibi!"
Her enchanting Command spell latched on to him, causing Sef to lurch upright and skid to a halt, only to turn and walk with a controlled pace back towards the front door, where she expected Nuvyen was waiting. "He's trying to run!" she called to him, almost playfully. She was enjoying herself a little. She wasn't going to let Shar ruin everything about this night, after all.
