“Why did I be letting you be talking me into this?” Durrak asked Lorin, “Look at these bedamned fools in their frippery. Do they not be knowing there do be monsters from the Abyss feasting on human flesh above their heads?”
“Durrak, my friend, you need to relax and enjoy yourself,” Lorin said, surveying the crowd. “There are so many beauties here tonight, how can you focus on the problems of the world above with such delectable butterflies flitting about?”
“How do you be thinking of women now?” Durrak took a lit cigar from his belt pouch, puffing a cloud of thick blue smoke.
“One has to enjoy things when one can, my friend.” He smiled over Durrak’s right shoulder, “Like this vision of loveliness for example.”
A woman in a dark green dress with a matching bag incongruously strung on a silver chain that was bound to her wrist was walking purposefully toward them. Lorin thought her a bit slender, but she moved with grace and confidence that he found alluring. The only sign of nervousness was the way her hand clutched the bag’s chain.
“Lord Caverstorm?” She inquired, ignoring Lorin completely and dipping a curtsey to Durrak. “Might I impose on a moment of your time?”
Durrak chuckled at his friend’s stricken expression. He grounded the butt of his Gisarme and bowed with a creak and scrape of armor. “I do be at your disposal, Miss.”
“Apologies Lords, my name is Lady Callindra Sol’Estin.” She curtseyed to Lorin as well, “Would you care to join me at a table so that we can converse with proper refreshment?”
“For you to be using Mithril, you do be showing much caution or that you do value the contents of your pouch most greatly,” Durrak said, glancing at her wrist. “I do be happy to join you Lady Sol’Estin. This do be Lorin, I do be apologizing in advance for he do be a terrible flirt.”
“Please ignore the crude and uncultured Dwarf, my Lady,” Lorin said with an elegant bow. “We would be honored to sit with you.”
Instead of returning to the table she’d shared with a few other courtiers, she led the way to a small table and perched on the edge of a chair. She signaled to a servant who brought an assortment of small snacks and a tray of wine glasses.
After the servant had left, she smiled at Durrak, but the words that came out of her mouth belied the expression. “I hear you have an interest in the dragon Cerioth. If you desire her death as intently as I do, perhaps we can help one another.”
“What quarrel do a Lady have with The Bane of Ignetium?” Durrak asked, “A gentle lass like yourself no do be having cause to be picking fights with dragons.”
“I’ve killed one dragon already.” She said, her voice fierce but calm. “It wasn’t easy, but by all the gods and demons, I intend to do it again.”
“I think we may have misjudged you, my Lady.” Lorin said, “It seems as though you aren’t a delicate flower despite looking the part almost perfectly.”
“I’m flattered that my ruse worked so well.” She said, still smiling as though they were flirting or making small talk. “I fear I’m even less of a Lady that you likely think. I came here to try and figure out what the most powerful city ever constructed had done to survive the hordes of Taken, and instead, I discover a den of petty idiots pretending that someone’s claim to nobility still matters.”
Realization dawned on Lorin’s face. “I remember that name now. It’s not a surname, but a Title from a school of battle magic.”
“It is the Title of a wanted criminal.” A woman’s voice from behind and to the left Callindra’s chair said. “A Title that cannot be rightfully claimed by a half trained apprentice.”
“Come along quietly, child.” Another voice said, this one behind and to the right. “All we want is you to lead us to your Master.”