He frowned. He owned no such scent.
"Master Halnian," a smooth voice said.
Rhinzen Halnian nearly leaped out of his seat. He pulled the shade from the lamp, squinting in the sudden light of the glowballs. There was another man sitting opposite him. His hair was oiled back, sleek as an otter's, and the faint hint of rouge stained his cheeks. Virulent yellow lace dripped from the sleeves and collar peeking out of his black stormcloak. His muted red leggings were tucked into bright green, thick-heeled boots. He smiled, revealing two copper-capped canines.
"Enjoying your haepthum?"
"Son of a barghest, Magli," Rhinzen swore. The haepthum, the drug pulsing in his veins, made his heart race and thrust vicious spells to the front of Rhinzen's mind-easy to cast, easy to make the other man pay…
He ran a hand through his fine blond hair, as if to push those thoughts back where they belonged. "What are you doing here?"
"My patron is in the city," Ferremo Magli said, "and I am not looking forward to discussing how you've crossed me."
"Crossed you? Magli, I've done no such thing. Have you told-"
"I haven't said anything. Yet." He pulled a thin stiletto from under his jacket.
Fire, Rhinzen thought, the spell coming easily to mind, more easily than it would have without the haepthum. But the man merely began cleaning his fingernails. Rhinzen cleared his throat to cover his nerves.
"What can I do for you, then?"
"When," Ferremo said, not looking up from his nails, "were you planning on delivering the information my patron paid you for?" "Soon," Rhinzen said. "It isn't as if the spells are all the same. You can't underestimate what a delicate process it is."
"That's funny," Ferremo said. "I believe you told us you knew these particular… spells. Had set them up, in fact."
"I did."
"Seems to me if you're worth even the half you've been paid, you would be finished by now." He looked up at the eladrin. "And I could be out of your hair instead of watching you spend my coin on your filthy habit, trying to build up enough magic to impress anyone."
Rhinzen sneered. "It's a pleasure, not a crutch."
"So you say. I suppose you could also quit whenever you like." The blade flashed in the cold light. "Just like any dreamkisser."
His anger boiled spells through his thoughts. "Who are you to speak to me like that? I am Rhinzen Halnian of the Court of Summer's End, Master of Wizardry, Head of Ritual Studies." The haepthum hummed in his blood, and Rhinzen felt as if the threads of the Weave were becoming his very veins. "I have warded the noblest of Waterdeep. I have cut down mages whose simplest spells would make you weep like a babe. I have culled the weak willed from the mighty and raised the clever above the meek. Do you think I'm afraid of a thug in lady's boots?"
Thunk!
Rhinzen heard the stiletto sink into the seat beside him before he felt the knife slide between the bones of his hand. The haepthum dulled the pain, but Rhinzen still cried out as what it left untouched burned up his arm. His eyes watered. He tried to pull away, but the stiletto stuck, and Ferremo didn't loosen his grip. His eyes never left Rhinzen's as he leaned in close.
"First, I do know who you are," Ferremo whispered. His breath smelled like lemon peel. "I know exactly who you are. You shouldn't doubt yourself. Plenty of people know.
"Plenty of people who would also love to know what it is you're doing down in Mistshore in the evening hours. Think those noblest families would like to know what their scions' mentor is addicted to? I'll bet my whole purse I can tell you how well that would go. Especially when we get to discussing side effects. That little burst of pique, if my understanding is correct, is like a breeze compared to the gale you're toying with."
Blood was pooling beneath Rhinzen's palm, soaking into the velvet seats. His breath shuddered in and out of his lungs. His ears were ringing, but he heard every word Ferremo said. The man wasn't lying. He wouldn't hesitate to ruin Rhinzen's life.
"Second," Ferremo continued, "you've been paid. So I want to see results. If I have to go to my patron empty handed, I'm going to make certain you bear the brunt of what comes next. And I'm sure you can guess how painful that would be for you."
He pulled the stiletto from Rhinzen's hand. Rhinzen gasped out in relief and swaddled his bleeding hand in the hem of his robes.
"Third," Ferremo said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the knife clean, "you should be lucky enough to have these boots. Hydra scale. Hand stitched. They're worth a small fortune." He lifted his foot to show the gold embroidery running up the green-dyed, scaly leather. "And I think they're cunning. So I'd like to hear an apology."
"Sorry," Rhinzen said, trying not to scream.
Ferremo smiled, flashing his copper teeth. "Thank you." He slid his stiletto back into its hidden sheath. "I expect to hear from you in the next few days. Or we'll have to have another conversation."
Rhinzen nodded. Bastard human thought he was so clever.
The man smiled wider and opened the door of the carriage. "A good evening to you, Master Halnian," he said as he descended into Mistshore.
That, Ferremo thought as he walked away, was terribly fun. He seldom got the chance to do the dirty work anymore. The look on that puffed-up eladrin's face when the knife went in had been worth a dozen dragons in his coin purse. He didn't look back as the carriage clattered into the night-Rhinzen would take care of himself now. Time to get out of this cesspool and back to a nice warm Ferremo. The voice slapped Ferremo Magli's well-coiffed head with exquisite vertigo.
"Master?" he said softly.
Have you gotten it? the voice rumbled through his thoughts, deep as a cavern-the voice of his master's true form.
"Soon. The mage is running scared. He won't fail us."
Never underestimate the cowardice of the fey, his master said. Keep after him. The dragonward is more than I expected.
"Of course, master." Ferremo pulled the hood of his stormcloak lower as he passed a group of sharpjaws lurking in an alley, looking rough and reckless. "And the… next step?"
I am preoccupied. You will do it for me. Go to her home.
Ferremo winced inwardly. He was cold and drenched-and his boots were getting muddy-but he could not disappoint, not at this stage. "Yes, master."
I wilt send a carriage to meet you outside the docks. Hurry now. You show yourself too late, and they'll suspect. We can't have that.
No indeed, Ferremo thought to himself. All his master's plans hinged on the next step and a single woman.
There were things in the world, Tennora thought, that defied logic, defied expectation, and made one wonder if anything one had been taught was true after all. She held out hope for those things, the way a sailor's wife lights a candle in the window even when the sea is full of storms-her lost love may come back one day.
And there were things in the world, she thought, that were the fancy of madness or the fantasy of liars and cheats, and that made one wonder why one trusted anybody at all. Things that made one want to snuff the candle out.
"You're a dragon," Tennora said, slowly. "But you turned into a woman when you encountered spellplague."
Clytemorrenestrix rolled her eyes. "Yes. Didn't I say that?"
"Yes," Tennora said. Mad. Mad as the wizard under the mountain, she thought. "I wanted to make certain I heard you correctly." She glanced over the woman's flawless skin. "You don't have a spellscar."
The woman's face contorted in a scowl. "My whole body is a spellscar. At any rate I don't see how it matters. You do not need to know these things to bring me to Aundra Blacklock."