been there.
'Well met,' Twilight said out of the shadows.
When he looked up, she was sitting there, leaning against the wall, one leg up on the bench. A dozen gazes turned to her, a touch more unsettled, but a tiny shrug turned them away.
'Gods,' the man growled in a mixture of shock and disgust. 'What are ye about-giving me heartstop?'
'And be deprived of such witty repartee with so handsome a swain?' asked Twilight. 'Surely you jest.'
With the scar that twisted his lip and the deep pock-marks across his forehead and cheeks, he was more of a handsome swine. Looks deceived, though, as they usually do, for this was Macognac Whisperweb, expert fence, dealer in controlled substances and fleshmonger, and the best informed spy in Elversult-in the Dragon Coast entire, he said. He was, of course, wrong, as they both knew, but that didn't get his ego down any.
'Muck, I need a favor,' said Twilight.
Macognac winced. 'I wish you wouldn't call me that,' he groaned. He was undoubtedly recalling their long and uncomfortable-mostly on his end-history.
'Very well.' Twilight shrugged. 'Mucky, I need information for some people I'm… doing business with.'
'No.'
'I'll pay.'
'No.'
'You need the coin.'
'No-I mean, yes, but no. I won't do it.'
Twilight gave him a petulant pout. 'Oh, Mucky,' she said sweetly. 'You know what they say. The friend you feed is a friend in-'
'I don't want to have anything to do with your deeds, 'Light,' Macognac said. 'This isn't Westgate.'
'What about the robbery of Arfiel's a tenday past?'
'Mucky' couldn't stop a nicker of recognition. 'Don't know nothing about that.'
'What about usury with the dwarves of Steel Hollow?' pressed Twilight.
Another wince. 'Didn't have nothin' to do with-'
'How about those necklaces back in Mirtul? I heard the countess lost a pretty-'
'All right, all right,' Macognac spat. 'What do ye want to know?'
Twilight gave him a little wry smile of victory. 'A group of cultists-I need to know where their temple is.'
'Which cultists? They're a silver a dozen in Elversult.' 'The Deep Coven.'
Macognac blinked and his face went pale. 'Ay, lass, ye don't want to be dealin' with that pack. Devil worshipers, they be.'
'Demon worshipers, actually,' said Twilight. 'Speaking of which, I seem to remember something about you and the coven-what was it? Lotus shipments, perhaps?'
Macognac grimaced.' 'Gainst me better judgment, but aye, I'll do it.' He eyed her with suspicion. 'Ye'U be taking something from 'em. How do ye know they 'ave it?'
Twilight's eyes nickered. 'Call it feminine intuition,' she said. 'The thiefly kind.'
It was his turn to light up. 'Ye're playing both sides,' he said. 'Again.'
Twilight flashed him a winsome smile. 'Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mucky.' She got up to leave, but he caught her by one loose white sleeve.
'Now, what's say ye and me go up to my room and play some Lafat together,' Macognac offered, citing a strategy card game where players set down cards like units of soldiers. 'I'll go easy on yer flanks this time-just charge up the middle.' As he spoke, his hand drifted from her arm to her side and over to her firm belly.
Twilight gave the hint of a smile. 'Now my dear Goodman Macognac, what would your blushing wife say if she heard this kind of talk?'
'She's a modern sort of woman,' he reassured her, drawing Twilight into his lap. 'She'd join us, I think.'
'And if she heard about the Sunite celebrants on Midsummer?'
'Very open minded, me wife be,' Muck said. His fingers played with the fringe of her vest and moved upward.
'And the Loviatans later that night? With the whips?'
The color drained from Macognac's face. 'How did ye know… about the…' Then anger flared. 'Ye saucy wench!'
Standing, Twilight glided out of reach.
'That's me,' she said with a smile.
'I suggest you get a good night's rest before tomorrow,' said Twilight that evening over wine in the common room of the Splitskull. She had played more gently with Yldar's coin pouch this eve, insisting on a glass of the house's second best feywine, rather than the first.
'You know where we must go?' Yldar said.
Cythara cast her brother a dangerous glance. 'We do not go at night?' she asked. 'You mean to steal the Bracer, yes? Is such a thing not done best at night- thief?'
'Not with these clients,' Twilight said to Yldar. 'Clients?' asked Yldar.
'Our unwilling business associates,' said Twilight. 'Who until the very near future, have been in possession of a certain relic, of which they shall, in that very same near future, find themselves bereft.' She grinned. 'And they are the kind who live for the night hours-day shall be much to their dislike and our advantage.'
'As you say,' said Yldar. Cythara looked askance at him, shocked that he would so readily trust this rogue, but the treasure hunter did not return her gaze.
Twilight continued, 'We leave at dawn, when Selune sets and the sun first warms the horizon. Be ready.' Finally she glanced at Cythara. 'And prepare your spells. They may prove useful.'
Cythara glared. — 'I find it very convenient,' Cythara was saying in imperious Elvish, 'that she seems to know exactly who has the Bracer and where to go. Neither did she question us as to the Bracer's nature.'
She did not shout, but Yldar knew her fury knew no bounds.
They spoke in the room they shared, Cythara poring over her grimoire and Yldar pacing back and forth, looking up as though carrying on a conversation with the ceiling.
'Mayhap her contact told her where to look,' said Yldar. 'And as to knowing of the Bracer, she is an elf, is she not? Coronal Ynloeth's fame is legendary. I would look with suspicion upon a mere human who knows the name, but is it so surprising that an elf would?'
Cythara grimaced and chanted the words to a spell.
He looked up again. 'Flower of the starless night, or dusk's perfect lily?' he asked. 'Which is more fitting?'
The rafters did not deign to show a preference.
'What are you doing, anyway?' Yldar asked his sister.
Ignoring him, the gold-skinned wizardess completed the chant and stared sightlessly into the air for a breath. Then she blinked, scowled, and fell back to reading.
'Attempting to scry youF thiefly friend,' Cythara said. 'And failing, as though she does not exist.' 'She is a ghost, then?'
'No, dwarf-beard. She cloaks her movements in magic, or something else does so.'
She flung away the lingering scrying magic and turned another rasping page in her grimoire, giving up. 'I swear on Corellon's blade, something is amiss here.' Another page creaked. 'She manipulates us to her advantage, and you-fool that you are-allow her.'
'Don't be ridiculous, sister. She's one of the People- surely she wouldn't-'
'Now you speak like her.' Cythara went pale with fury, and Yldar realized that he had lapsed into the common tongue without realizing it. 'Seldarine, brother! Ever an idiot for a pretty maid.'
'So you think she's pretty,' Yldar said.
Cythara slammed the spellbook closed. 'Good rest, brother,' she said as she rose.
'But where do you go? I thought we were making plans for the morrow.'
