Uploaded: 15 July 2013
Last Edited: 16 July 2013
The two men in the far corner were not human. Their presence gave the young man a tingling in his spine; which caused him to stand straight and stiff to hide it from his master. The elder priest seemed not to have sensed them at all. As much regard as he held for his master, Arden held the belief that the ability of those in the order to sense magic was slipping. It wasn't the old priest's fault that he hadn't been born with that gift. It was the order that had allowed so many who were incapable of magic.
The acolyte narrowed his eyes and watched them through the slit in his hood. Both of them were tall and, one might say, fair men. But their appearance meant little. It was likely they could change it at will. The dark haired one was chatting animatedly over his pint. The blonde one was stuffing tobacco into a dark wooden pipe. He kept his eyes on that one, the one hanging about the temple earlier. He couldn't read either of them.
"Arden."
It was the rough voice of his master. He looked up at him.
"Mr. Norviske is waiting for me upstairs. I have no further need for you tonight. You may return to the temple."
"Master." Arden said, bowing.
The old priest said a blessing for the innkeeper and made his way up the stairs. Arden waited until he was out of sight. He wondered whether he should leave him there, but even if he stayed there was little he could do against the two men in the corner. Casting one last look at the pair of them, he turned to go. It was possible that neither of them had realized Arden sensed that they were demons--they must be demons, as none of Cyrus's sprits would have cause to cloak themselves in human skin. He wasn't willing to bet his life on it.
It had been long since sundown, but the streets were still lit with gas lamps and the festivals lanterns. The ocean had cooled the night air and there was a salty breeze blowing through the city. Arden meant to make for the temple as quickly as possible. He would wait for his master to return and discus this business there. There was no telling how well those creatures could hear.
About a block away from the inn, he broke into a run. The feeling was gone, but he didn't trust that they didn't follow. He looked up and around but didn't see anything. He kept running. The closer he got to the temple, the darker it got. He stopped to catch his breath. The city was far from silent. In the distance, there was still the explosion of fireworks. There were raucous men and laughing women in the buildings surrounding him. Combined with the wind, the subtler sounds were drowned. He continued on.
Arden's whole body dropped with relief when he stepped inside the temple. The fires were still lit. He made his way across the polished marble floors to the twin altars. It was Hyram who ruled the night. It was with him that Arden would wait for his master.
Arden was correct in assuming that the elder priest did not sense anything amiss. He conducted his business with Tristain Norviske concerned only for the perfection of the last night's celebration. After the offerings have been made, the sky would be lit up with more colors than he could imagine.
That is what the young man said. He was a good businessman and had a fine reputation. By the end of their meeting, the old priest placed a great deal of faith in him and the two men walked outside satisfied with their evening.
"I shall send you word in the morning." Mr. Norviske bowed low.
"Peace be with you." He answered through his mask.
Norviske turned to go. The priest did the same and walked toward the temple. There was a man smoking a pipe, leaning casually against one of the streetlamps ahead.
