Agenar’s journal, page 244

Darian shook me awake. “Why,” he asked, setting a tankard of breakfast before me, “would you fall asleep by the fire with that amazing creature waiting in your bed?” He waved toward the door, where Val, particularly fetching without her studded leather armor, was just leaving. “Unless,” he cast a quick glance at the bar, “you’re already married too long, eh?”

I had no answer. Val is beautiful, in a way that reminds me of Nemeia. She was in my bed, and asked to be there. But she comes to me, a friend with nowhere else to turn. Tymora commands us to aid the desperate, not take advantage of them.

She soon returned, nonchalantly carrying a rucksack I would struggle to lift, and joined me for a morning refreshment. After the second tankard, she chided me for not coming to bed last night; “What did you expect to happen,” she laughed.

I muttered, in Infernal, “The last time I was in a Tiefling’s bed…”

“Sorry,” Val betrayed her Fey heritage by answering in Common, “I’m just not that horny.” She unconsciously brushed her hand across her forehead, revealing the ridges usually hidden by hair above her eyes.

After a fourth ale, I knew we would be safe sharing sleeping space, and why she needed to escape the schoolhouse. I am grateful she could confide in me, and look forward to having her as a roommate. Darian smiled as we took our packs upstairs, pleased to think he has brought us together.

A bit later, as we strolled about town in search of good boots, Val confirmed the others’ intention to visit Dranseri, in hopes of learning about Travis at the Clockwork Construct.

“While there,” I said, “stop a while at the Lucky Penny, across from Fortune’s Will in the fourth ward. I cannot go there, but my mother will be glad of any news. She will be most accommodating.”

“And you,” asked Val.

“I have, ah, other business.” I may have blushed, and Val pounced on the vulnerability. “You really want to know?” She nodded.

The story took us, with me in new tall boots, across town to the smith, where I sold the heavy iron pot and mace I had never used, then bought a very nice dagger at a local artisan premium.

“When I was exiled from the Church,” I began.

“I knew it,” she exclaimed. “We all thought you were a cleric!”

“When I was exiled from the Church,” I began again, “I had nowhere to go. I haunted the Knowing Circle, hiding from Luckbringers in the libraries during day, warming myself in seedy pubs after hours, and sleeping where I could.

“But one night, a horned woman who had watched me across the tavern for several nights approached. ‘You are Agenar,’ she said, handing me a tankard of grog. ‘You study magic.’ I nodded, ‘and you need somewhere to stay. I have magics.’ She grinned, showing sharpened canine teeth. ‘Stay with me. I will teach you.’

“At closing, I followed Nemeia home instead of falling into a gutter. Thereafter, while mornings were still spent in the Pansophical libraries, each afternoon she tutored me in the Infernal tongue and her Mephistophelean mysteries; the nights were devoted to what she called ‘social skills.’

“I stayed with Nemeia until the Luckbringers forced me to flee Dranseri. I will stay with her.”

I put the new dagger on my belt and stepped outside.

“Ha,” Val snorted. “Getting a little tail.”

Nemeia hated that joke, but an unseen knife between my ribs cut short my retort and I collapsed on the street in unbearable pain.

Val screamed, and also got stabbed for her trouble. I struggled upright long enough to try inflicting wounds, but missed my strike at the obsidian elf attacker, who smiled as she dipped her blade in its sheath and then stabbed me again, in the gut.

Fortunately, our friends were approaching – Teal had found a boat, which would shorten the travel to Dranseri, and Travis was holding it for departure. Tilia and Pantaghion took turns tending our injuries, while Wynlynn and Teal eventually restrained the retreating Drow. As Wynlynn bound her, she sputtered, “Agenar, I will kill you. You, and all to whom you spoke of Dagon and the mine.” She laughed wildly. “Or any who are left.”

Val was feeling well enough by then to knock the assassin unconscious and take her weapons – the dagger, a short sword, and three vials of Drow poison. Wynlynn and Pantaghion escorted her to the Queen’s Guard, where she was clapped in irons as a confessed murderer. And for the moment, relaxing on the river feels the safest place I could be.