Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Mar 16, 2022 10:28:18 GMT
(Following the events of Heal Thyself and Tea & Divinations…)
The recent, unending waves of troubling news has caused a disruption in her inner song: de-harmonised, playing on the wrong key, and wildly off-beat. Every waking moment sees her feeling frayed and every time she tries to think about what’s bothering her, her thoughts are soon discombobulated by the discordant tones. Zola found herself rather gloomy when she woke up this morning in her childhood bedroom. She barely registers the background roar of the raucous patrons in the Moon and Web as she walks past their tables, then using misty step to slip between the huge screen showing a game of hag rugby before they have a chance to protest.
In the Eilistraeean chapel, service is already finished but Sarin, wearing only his loincloth as usual, is found seated on one of the front pews, accompanied by two others — a drow man who appears to be upset, sitting beside him, and a male tabaxi, standing a few feet away but listening in on the conversation. All three look up at Zola as she enters, and a smile breaches Sarin’s beautiful face. “Ah! Zola! It is a pleasure to see you again! Would you mind waiting just a few moments though?”
“It's fine!” the drow man cuts in. “I can… We can talk another time. Hex, we should go.”
The tabaxi nods and the drow man stands. “Of course, the Maiden and I will await your return,” Sarin says, rising to his feet and embracing the latter in a deep hug. He looks incredibly uncomfortable with this turn of events, likely due to Sarin’s near-nudity, and breaks the hug politely after a few seconds. He simply nods and heads for the exit with the tabaxi, Hex, following close behind with a wide grin on his face.
As the pair leaves, Sarin lets out a deep sigh before putting a cheerful face on again and crossing the room, arms open to deliver another trademark hug on his latest visitor. “Zola! To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She wraps her arms around him and sighs. “Sarin, it’s good to see you again. I apologise for interrupting your guest… Who was that?”
“No, it’s fine. They were just here to discuss some wedding arrangements and the young man was upset that some of his plans unfortunately needed to change. Nothing a good night’s rest and some time to think won’t resolve. Anyway, how may I help you, my friend?”
“Oh, I see. Well…” She takes Sarin’s hand as she steps to the side and sits down on a pew, with him settling down next to her. “There are terrible things happening in the Dawnlands, Sarin. The eternal war between the Sisters of Night has spilled onto the doorstep of Daring Heights. There were fiendish agents of Shar burning down farmlands, killing people, and marking adventurers with a strange symbol. It’s horrid.”
“Dreadful… Were many people hurt?” he asks, giving her a look of concern.
“I’m not sure, but last week we had to bring back the half-eaten body of a Selûne priest into her temple in Daring. There have been instances of this in history and it always resulted in mass slaughter and destruction.”
He looks shocked and saddened at the description. “And you’re sure they are with Shar? What were the symbols?”
“Have you got a pen and paper? It was like this combination of arcane and Infernal runes…”
“Oh, of course. Wait right here.”
He hurries off out of the chapel for a couple of minutes. There is some faint shouting heard in the distance before he returns with a pen and a small stack of napkins, using one to wipe some kind of sauce off of his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
With a slight grimace, Zola casts prestidigitation on him to help him clean off. “Such a rowdy crowd.”
She takes the quill and begins drawing the symbol. “Apparently, they mean ‘ash’, ‘blade’, and ‘herald’ respectively… We still don't know what the purpose of this mark is though,” she says as she finishes sketching.
“That is very strange… I hadn’t realised Shar was tied to…fiends was it?”
“Yeah. She isn’t…one of the ‘nice’ goddesses, so it’s not a stretch of the imagination. We researched this matter and found an ancient prophecy or command of some sort from a holy man of Shar.”
Zola takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and recites what she remembers of the Unending Word, “I saw in heaven another great marvellous sign: five angels with the last five torments, last because with them the Goddess’s wrath is completed. They cast their crowns before the throne, saying, ‘Worthy are you, our Lady and Goddess, to receive glory and honour and power.”
She opens her eyes to look at Sarin. “The rest is about…conquering, and eating flesh, and people crying out for help but receiving no answer.”
“Very strange. It sounds very ominous, Zola, like a precursor to something terrible. Have you been able to find anything in its meaning, about these angels and torments?”
“The priest who died said he saw five points of light preceding the fiends’ arrival. Other than that, nothing yet, really. Can you make any sense of it?”
“I can’t say I do, I’m afraid… It’s very strange…and worrying to think it may be coming about.”
Zola sighs. “I can’t help but feel compelled to do something. Aside from the obvious harm being inflicted upon innocents, Selûne is a goddess of the moon, and an ally of Eilistraee. But I’m not sure what to do now. One of the adventurers who was marked volunteered to spy on their ranks somehow, and it is needless to point out how dangerous that is…”
“Well, I mean, yes I can see why you would want to, Zola but… Please be careful. I know you are very competent — the Maiden has truly blessed you — but a priest being returned half eaten is…” He visibly shudders. “But, what will you do? Or, I suppose, since you have come to see me, how can I help you, Zola?”
Her grip on Sarin’s hand tightens a little. “Would you pray with me, Sarin? I wish for some guidance from the Dark Maiden. These are such troubled times…fiends in the Prime Material and someone corrupting the nature spirits here…”
He looks bemused now. “The nature spirits?”
“Yes. Someone desecrated the shrine of the water spirit in Spriteswell Depths and another one in Osarbreach with rotten slaad cadavers. We’re still not sure what it all means. I’ll have to tell Lady Imryll about it after we’re done.”
“Uh… Yes! I should think so! Perhaps the Lady Imryll might be able to do something to help them,” Sarin says, his confusion only growing.
“Speaking of!” she gasps suddenly. He blinks in surprise. “The Chosen of Lolth, Sarin— Well, the former Chosen of Lolth… I heard from Sorrel Darkfire that he rejected the Spider Queen when she commanded him to kill one of our own priestesses!”
He chuckles and pats her hand. “Yes, I heard the same too. He hasn’t been back to visit me in a while but I hear he is still in the court. He may not worship the Maiden as we do, but he has clearly been touched by her light.”
“Yeah, apparently he rejected Eilistraee too. He’s a peculiar one, I don’t know what to make of him, really. But um, what were we talking about again?”
Sarin lets out a laugh and shakes his head, clearly used to and still enjoying the back and forth of these conversations. “Come Zola, let us pray,” he says.
She blushes and grins at him.
They go to kneel down before the altar and the effigy of dancing Eilistraee behind it, holding hands and quietly singing prayers in Drowic. It is a familiar routine to Zola, and carrying it out, getting lost in the hymn as her body sways gently, feels like pulling a warm blanket over herself. Several minutes after the singing is done, they stay there kneeling with their eyes shut, a hush falling over the small chapel. She can feel some thin sliver of Eilistraee’s presence there, as it is with gods and their holy places, but there is only silence. Nevertheless, this silence allows for her inner song to find its former rhythm and harmony, to make sweet, melodious, calm tones once more. A smile spreads across her lips.
“I hear no words from her, though my spirits are lifted,” she murmurs. “Perhaps guidance will come in time. Thank you, Sarin. You are…my refuge in the storm of uncertainty.”
“You are always welcome here, Zola,” he says with a smile, as he stands. “And I trust the Maiden will guide you as you deal with these…troubling events, my friend.”
They embrace once more. “Blessed be, abbil,” she murmurs in his ear before letting go of him.
“Oh, and good luck with the wedding!” she calls out as she makes for the door, bracing for an inevitable pelting of assorted food items from the bar patrons.
Zola flags down a palace servant with a request to fetch the Lady Imryll. “It’s a bit urgent,” she says. Soon, she is deposited in a chamber near the gardens with some drinks, and it is about half an hour until the Queen’s right-hand woman shows up.
A tall, slender spring eladrin dressed in elegant, dark green robes glides into the room, smiling a mischievous grin that looks at home on her sharp, beautiful features, framed by chin-length greenish-blonde hair with a single, braided lock of fiery, copper hair woven into it — Zola, like any other resident of the Witching Court, recognises Queen Nicnevin’s token of favour when she sees it.
“Zola! It certainly has been a while.”
Zola blinks in surprise. She definitely was not expecting the lady to know who she is. In fact, she doesn’t remember having ever interacted with her directly. She stands up and curtsies to her. “Lady Imryll, it is…good to see you again? I bring news from Haspar Knoll.”
She procures a folded and sealed piece of parchment from inside her dress and offers it to Imryll, who takes it and breaks the seal. “So, tell me, how are your mothers doing? They so rarely come by the palace…”
“They are well, my lady, thank you for asking. Mother Pearl has gone to Osarbreach to investigate this further.”
“Then I feel sorry for those in Osarbreach… I’m sorry, she is a delight, of course, just not the most sociable.” She smiles at Zola.
“No, she really isn’t,” Zola laughs. “I imagine the locals don’t need another scare after what happened, but oh well…”
Imryll laughs in return, a light and airy sound, like the spring breeze itself. However, as she scans the letter, her eyebrows shoot up, then her eyes narrow in concern before giving it a once over. “Hmm, so I see you also met our darling Reka?”
“Yes! She’s…huge and beautiful and a little mean.”
“Yes, your dear mother Pearl is practically chatty by comparison. Hmmm. So the spirit has been restored and the body removed, but it seems as though someone has been doing a little…littering around the court, that about right? Was anyone hurt?”
“Only the spirits themselves, I think. Ah, we got into a scrap with it to let our friends cleanse the shrine, but we’re fine.”
“Well, that is good, they are not known for being pushovers… And I see Lillian has tried to see more about whoever is behind this?”
“Yes, she saw in her divination this female figure, who seems to be the culprit. Could it be Unseelie, my lady?”
Imryll looks a little impressed. Zola is quietly relieved that her guess did not sound stupid. “Well, now that is an interesting suggestion… And I suppose it could be, though I’m not sure what they would hope to achieve with this. Seems too out of place for any of the other nobles so could be someone else entirely. It’s a shame there wasn’t more to find by the look of things… Tell me dear, what do you think is going on?”
Zola stares blankly at her. “Um… I… I think…” Her face scrunches up as she thinks hard. “Well, if this is Unseelie trying to cause havoc in our lands, Spriteswell Depths and Osarbreach are a bit lonely and out of the way. Maybe this is just practice? Experimenting?”
Imryll smiles. “My thoughts too… Now, that could be the case. However, capturing, tainting, and dumping slaad is no easy feat on its own, especially if meant as practice.”
The drow nods slowly. “Mother Lillian said she seems powerful. Regardless, I would like to help where I can, i-if your ladyship would permit, of course.”
“Well, I have no problems with you helping, dear, but it doesn’t seem as though there are many avenues to follow right now. Besides, I would hate to cause your mothers any worry.” She folds up the note and slips it into her robes before looking Zola up and down, examining her, appraising her. “I must say, your time travelling seems to have done you well, Zola. I know your mothers missed you but you seem to have grown quite a bit. Especially if you managed to hold off the Spriteswell spirit. I do look forward to seeing more of you.” She winks.
Zola’s cheeks flush and her spine reflexively straightens. “Thank you, Lady Imryll! I am a full-fledged sword dancer of Eilistraee now, and I am at the Queen’s service,” she says, flashing an embarrassed grin.
“Yes, you certainly have a dancer’s poise… Well, I shall pass this onto the Queen for you, but is there anything I can help you with in the meantime?”
“Nothing else, but thank you, Lady Imryll. May the Dark Maiden shine a light on this mystery…” Zola’s voice trails off for a moment. Her gaze fixes itself on the necklace Imryll is wearing — a small, golden shape with a green gem rests on her sternum, and, squinting her eyes slightly, she realises that it is in the shape of a spider, hugging the gem with its long legs. “Oh, if your ladyship would be so kind as to deliver a message to Lord Jaezred Vandree,” she adds, almost without thinking, “please tell him that he’s always welcome at the chapel.”
Imryll’s face breaks into a wide and evil-looking grin. “A friend of our dear Sarin, are we? Believe me, I will most definitely pass that little message on. I had not realised you and Lord Vandree were acquainted though, Zola…”
She hesitates for half a second, having suddenly felt a little surge of nervousness at the sight of that smile. “We are not, though I have heard much of him in the Dawnlands. It seems his lordship’s reputation precedes him,” she replies.
Imryll’s grin only widens. “Indeed, it certainly does…”
Zola lets out a weak laugh as she privately wonders a) what is going on between these two people, and b) what she has done just now.
“Well, it has been a pleasure, Zola. I do look forward to seeing you again, soon I hope.”
“Thank you for your time, Lady Imryll, and likewise.”
She curtsies to Imryll again before the graceful spy swans out of the chamber.
Co-written with the brilliant Anthony.
The recent, unending waves of troubling news has caused a disruption in her inner song: de-harmonised, playing on the wrong key, and wildly off-beat. Every waking moment sees her feeling frayed and every time she tries to think about what’s bothering her, her thoughts are soon discombobulated by the discordant tones. Zola found herself rather gloomy when she woke up this morning in her childhood bedroom. She barely registers the background roar of the raucous patrons in the Moon and Web as she walks past their tables, then using misty step to slip between the huge screen showing a game of hag rugby before they have a chance to protest.
In the Eilistraeean chapel, service is already finished but Sarin, wearing only his loincloth as usual, is found seated on one of the front pews, accompanied by two others — a drow man who appears to be upset, sitting beside him, and a male tabaxi, standing a few feet away but listening in on the conversation. All three look up at Zola as she enters, and a smile breaches Sarin’s beautiful face. “Ah! Zola! It is a pleasure to see you again! Would you mind waiting just a few moments though?”
“It's fine!” the drow man cuts in. “I can… We can talk another time. Hex, we should go.”
The tabaxi nods and the drow man stands. “Of course, the Maiden and I will await your return,” Sarin says, rising to his feet and embracing the latter in a deep hug. He looks incredibly uncomfortable with this turn of events, likely due to Sarin’s near-nudity, and breaks the hug politely after a few seconds. He simply nods and heads for the exit with the tabaxi, Hex, following close behind with a wide grin on his face.
As the pair leaves, Sarin lets out a deep sigh before putting a cheerful face on again and crossing the room, arms open to deliver another trademark hug on his latest visitor. “Zola! To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She wraps her arms around him and sighs. “Sarin, it’s good to see you again. I apologise for interrupting your guest… Who was that?”
“No, it’s fine. They were just here to discuss some wedding arrangements and the young man was upset that some of his plans unfortunately needed to change. Nothing a good night’s rest and some time to think won’t resolve. Anyway, how may I help you, my friend?”
“Oh, I see. Well…” She takes Sarin’s hand as she steps to the side and sits down on a pew, with him settling down next to her. “There are terrible things happening in the Dawnlands, Sarin. The eternal war between the Sisters of Night has spilled onto the doorstep of Daring Heights. There were fiendish agents of Shar burning down farmlands, killing people, and marking adventurers with a strange symbol. It’s horrid.”
“Dreadful… Were many people hurt?” he asks, giving her a look of concern.
“I’m not sure, but last week we had to bring back the half-eaten body of a Selûne priest into her temple in Daring. There have been instances of this in history and it always resulted in mass slaughter and destruction.”
He looks shocked and saddened at the description. “And you’re sure they are with Shar? What were the symbols?”
“Have you got a pen and paper? It was like this combination of arcane and Infernal runes…”
“Oh, of course. Wait right here.”
He hurries off out of the chapel for a couple of minutes. There is some faint shouting heard in the distance before he returns with a pen and a small stack of napkins, using one to wipe some kind of sauce off of his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
With a slight grimace, Zola casts prestidigitation on him to help him clean off. “Such a rowdy crowd.”
She takes the quill and begins drawing the symbol. “Apparently, they mean ‘ash’, ‘blade’, and ‘herald’ respectively… We still don't know what the purpose of this mark is though,” she says as she finishes sketching.
“That is very strange… I hadn’t realised Shar was tied to…fiends was it?”
“Yeah. She isn’t…one of the ‘nice’ goddesses, so it’s not a stretch of the imagination. We researched this matter and found an ancient prophecy or command of some sort from a holy man of Shar.”
Zola takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and recites what she remembers of the Unending Word, “I saw in heaven another great marvellous sign: five angels with the last five torments, last because with them the Goddess’s wrath is completed. They cast their crowns before the throne, saying, ‘Worthy are you, our Lady and Goddess, to receive glory and honour and power.”
She opens her eyes to look at Sarin. “The rest is about…conquering, and eating flesh, and people crying out for help but receiving no answer.”
“Very strange. It sounds very ominous, Zola, like a precursor to something terrible. Have you been able to find anything in its meaning, about these angels and torments?”
“The priest who died said he saw five points of light preceding the fiends’ arrival. Other than that, nothing yet, really. Can you make any sense of it?”
“I can’t say I do, I’m afraid… It’s very strange…and worrying to think it may be coming about.”
Zola sighs. “I can’t help but feel compelled to do something. Aside from the obvious harm being inflicted upon innocents, Selûne is a goddess of the moon, and an ally of Eilistraee. But I’m not sure what to do now. One of the adventurers who was marked volunteered to spy on their ranks somehow, and it is needless to point out how dangerous that is…”
“Well, I mean, yes I can see why you would want to, Zola but… Please be careful. I know you are very competent — the Maiden has truly blessed you — but a priest being returned half eaten is…” He visibly shudders. “But, what will you do? Or, I suppose, since you have come to see me, how can I help you, Zola?”
Her grip on Sarin’s hand tightens a little. “Would you pray with me, Sarin? I wish for some guidance from the Dark Maiden. These are such troubled times…fiends in the Prime Material and someone corrupting the nature spirits here…”
He looks bemused now. “The nature spirits?”
“Yes. Someone desecrated the shrine of the water spirit in Spriteswell Depths and another one in Osarbreach with rotten slaad cadavers. We’re still not sure what it all means. I’ll have to tell Lady Imryll about it after we’re done.”
“Uh… Yes! I should think so! Perhaps the Lady Imryll might be able to do something to help them,” Sarin says, his confusion only growing.
“Speaking of!” she gasps suddenly. He blinks in surprise. “The Chosen of Lolth, Sarin— Well, the former Chosen of Lolth… I heard from Sorrel Darkfire that he rejected the Spider Queen when she commanded him to kill one of our own priestesses!”
He chuckles and pats her hand. “Yes, I heard the same too. He hasn’t been back to visit me in a while but I hear he is still in the court. He may not worship the Maiden as we do, but he has clearly been touched by her light.”
“Yeah, apparently he rejected Eilistraee too. He’s a peculiar one, I don’t know what to make of him, really. But um, what were we talking about again?”
Sarin lets out a laugh and shakes his head, clearly used to and still enjoying the back and forth of these conversations. “Come Zola, let us pray,” he says.
She blushes and grins at him.
They go to kneel down before the altar and the effigy of dancing Eilistraee behind it, holding hands and quietly singing prayers in Drowic. It is a familiar routine to Zola, and carrying it out, getting lost in the hymn as her body sways gently, feels like pulling a warm blanket over herself. Several minutes after the singing is done, they stay there kneeling with their eyes shut, a hush falling over the small chapel. She can feel some thin sliver of Eilistraee’s presence there, as it is with gods and their holy places, but there is only silence. Nevertheless, this silence allows for her inner song to find its former rhythm and harmony, to make sweet, melodious, calm tones once more. A smile spreads across her lips.
“I hear no words from her, though my spirits are lifted,” she murmurs. “Perhaps guidance will come in time. Thank you, Sarin. You are…my refuge in the storm of uncertainty.”
“You are always welcome here, Zola,” he says with a smile, as he stands. “And I trust the Maiden will guide you as you deal with these…troubling events, my friend.”
They embrace once more. “Blessed be, abbil,” she murmurs in his ear before letting go of him.
“Oh, and good luck with the wedding!” she calls out as she makes for the door, bracing for an inevitable pelting of assorted food items from the bar patrons.
Zola flags down a palace servant with a request to fetch the Lady Imryll. “It’s a bit urgent,” she says. Soon, she is deposited in a chamber near the gardens with some drinks, and it is about half an hour until the Queen’s right-hand woman shows up.
A tall, slender spring eladrin dressed in elegant, dark green robes glides into the room, smiling a mischievous grin that looks at home on her sharp, beautiful features, framed by chin-length greenish-blonde hair with a single, braided lock of fiery, copper hair woven into it — Zola, like any other resident of the Witching Court, recognises Queen Nicnevin’s token of favour when she sees it.
“Zola! It certainly has been a while.”
Zola blinks in surprise. She definitely was not expecting the lady to know who she is. In fact, she doesn’t remember having ever interacted with her directly. She stands up and curtsies to her. “Lady Imryll, it is…good to see you again? I bring news from Haspar Knoll.”
She procures a folded and sealed piece of parchment from inside her dress and offers it to Imryll, who takes it and breaks the seal. “So, tell me, how are your mothers doing? They so rarely come by the palace…”
“They are well, my lady, thank you for asking. Mother Pearl has gone to Osarbreach to investigate this further.”
“Then I feel sorry for those in Osarbreach… I’m sorry, she is a delight, of course, just not the most sociable.” She smiles at Zola.
“No, she really isn’t,” Zola laughs. “I imagine the locals don’t need another scare after what happened, but oh well…”
Imryll laughs in return, a light and airy sound, like the spring breeze itself. However, as she scans the letter, her eyebrows shoot up, then her eyes narrow in concern before giving it a once over. “Hmm, so I see you also met our darling Reka?”
“Yes! She’s…huge and beautiful and a little mean.”
“Yes, your dear mother Pearl is practically chatty by comparison. Hmmm. So the spirit has been restored and the body removed, but it seems as though someone has been doing a little…littering around the court, that about right? Was anyone hurt?”
“Only the spirits themselves, I think. Ah, we got into a scrap with it to let our friends cleanse the shrine, but we’re fine.”
“Well, that is good, they are not known for being pushovers… And I see Lillian has tried to see more about whoever is behind this?”
“Yes, she saw in her divination this female figure, who seems to be the culprit. Could it be Unseelie, my lady?”
Imryll looks a little impressed. Zola is quietly relieved that her guess did not sound stupid. “Well, now that is an interesting suggestion… And I suppose it could be, though I’m not sure what they would hope to achieve with this. Seems too out of place for any of the other nobles so could be someone else entirely. It’s a shame there wasn’t more to find by the look of things… Tell me dear, what do you think is going on?”
Zola stares blankly at her. “Um… I… I think…” Her face scrunches up as she thinks hard. “Well, if this is Unseelie trying to cause havoc in our lands, Spriteswell Depths and Osarbreach are a bit lonely and out of the way. Maybe this is just practice? Experimenting?”
Imryll smiles. “My thoughts too… Now, that could be the case. However, capturing, tainting, and dumping slaad is no easy feat on its own, especially if meant as practice.”
The drow nods slowly. “Mother Lillian said she seems powerful. Regardless, I would like to help where I can, i-if your ladyship would permit, of course.”
“Well, I have no problems with you helping, dear, but it doesn’t seem as though there are many avenues to follow right now. Besides, I would hate to cause your mothers any worry.” She folds up the note and slips it into her robes before looking Zola up and down, examining her, appraising her. “I must say, your time travelling seems to have done you well, Zola. I know your mothers missed you but you seem to have grown quite a bit. Especially if you managed to hold off the Spriteswell spirit. I do look forward to seeing more of you.” She winks.
Zola’s cheeks flush and her spine reflexively straightens. “Thank you, Lady Imryll! I am a full-fledged sword dancer of Eilistraee now, and I am at the Queen’s service,” she says, flashing an embarrassed grin.
“Yes, you certainly have a dancer’s poise… Well, I shall pass this onto the Queen for you, but is there anything I can help you with in the meantime?”
“Nothing else, but thank you, Lady Imryll. May the Dark Maiden shine a light on this mystery…” Zola’s voice trails off for a moment. Her gaze fixes itself on the necklace Imryll is wearing — a small, golden shape with a green gem rests on her sternum, and, squinting her eyes slightly, she realises that it is in the shape of a spider, hugging the gem with its long legs. “Oh, if your ladyship would be so kind as to deliver a message to Lord Jaezred Vandree,” she adds, almost without thinking, “please tell him that he’s always welcome at the chapel.”
Imryll’s face breaks into a wide and evil-looking grin. “A friend of our dear Sarin, are we? Believe me, I will most definitely pass that little message on. I had not realised you and Lord Vandree were acquainted though, Zola…”
She hesitates for half a second, having suddenly felt a little surge of nervousness at the sight of that smile. “We are not, though I have heard much of him in the Dawnlands. It seems his lordship’s reputation precedes him,” she replies.
Imryll’s grin only widens. “Indeed, it certainly does…”
Zola lets out a weak laugh as she privately wonders a) what is going on between these two people, and b) what she has done just now.
“Well, it has been a pleasure, Zola. I do look forward to seeing you again, soon I hope.”
“Thank you for your time, Lady Imryll, and likewise.”
She curtsies to Imryll again before the graceful spy swans out of the chamber.
Co-written with the brilliant Anthony.