It was easier to show him than describe it, so she loosened her outer cloak and pulled it away from her arm to reveal the mark of chaos. It looked like a brand she'd had on her arm for years, the edges had lost their raw look almost overnight. The weapon smith looked at it and then stood up and went to a large cabinet at the back of the room.
"I normally keep this for client's who've given me a large commission, but I think you need a drop," he said, "and I need a drop too."
He brought back two glasses and a bottle with a label written in the tongue of the empire. He poured her a large measure and then one for himself before sitting down again. He sipped at the golden fluid.
"Brewed by humans and forbidden of course, but so many of the best things are." He said.
She drank some of the liquid and felt herself relax, her problems seemed less immediate.
"So what did the shrine tell you ? Tarin asked.
Nethra held up the mark on her arm and pointed at it.
"This.... This wasn't because of the shrine. I offered my services to chaos...... my lifelong service."
Tarin took another mouthful of the drink before answering her.
"Dear Nethra, if offering service worked everyone in the City would have arms covered in that symbol and I'd be in the Dome and ruling the entire rift. You were told something, something important and someone knows that and the mark is to gain control over you."
"So it's not the Lords of Chaos ?"
There was a noise from the yard of someone knocking on the gate and Tarin walked outside. She heard him talking and then annoyance crept into his voice as he shouted at someone. He came back into the room and pulled his chair closer to her before sitting down again.
"I hope I'm not losing you business ?" She asked.
He took hold of her hand, something he'd never done before.
"I'm the only weapon smith left in the City, he'll be back. Now tell me what the shrine said to you ?"
