A Broken Bid
Twenty Fifth Day of the First Month 294 AC
The guest unbidden, if guest there was still, had not shown themselves and much as Tyene may be able to get some use out of the odds of the mage whose part you are playing, knowing a poisoner skilled enough to make use of such concoctions are much smaller. Better to let them bid among themselves and hopefully drain their funds deeper. Though you are willing to spend far more than any bid yet made on the rumored final offer, that does not mean you want to. The treasury may be flush with coin now, but there are more causes to spend it on day by day.
Unsurprisingly, the bidding is fierce, such poisons being much in demand, though you are a touch startled at who bids the longest and the highest, the devil of Mammon and the storm-born sorceress who claims to have been taught by the Djinn. That is not to say you do not know any of the sky-spirits who would make use of poison when it suits their aims. Hajar of House Rebys, Vizier of the Whispering Shades comes to mind at once, but still it is an uncommon tactic among the skyholds, a craft few practice and fewer still admit to. In the end Kimu claims her prize for a staggering seven times the opening bid
How can Eshyr even deal in treasures so precious without having his collection 'confiscated for the common good of the city' or some similar thinly veiled state-sponsored robbery? you wonder not for the first time. You do not for a moment suspect the laws of Heaven's Shore of being too just for it. Not after an age as vassals of Baator.
Who does the mimic serve and why is he selling such things on the open market to begin with? Much as you might profit from the fact, you cannot help but ask the questions. The answers, you suspect, lie at the heart of the web of intrigue that surrounds this auction.
You are almost disappointed when nothing moves as the item changes hands, though not so much that you do not pay attention to the auctioneer's much anticipated seventh offer. "Now, this is the jewel of my crown, if I had a crown or a head to put it on..." he chuckles. You smile politely as does Kimu, though you catch a twitch of her holding back the impulse to roll her eyes.
None of the others react.
With more of a flourish than he had given any of the other pieces, the mimic draws from his cavernous maw a book bound in cold iron and runes of abjuration meant to ward the text inside from any who would erase it. Though you cannot see its aura past the protections warding it, you can practically taste it upon the air, writ in blood and silver fire, in tongues infernal and sublime. Before the Mimic even speaks you know the rumors had at least not lied.
Alas, he does not get to speak. Between one moment and the next there is another figure standing behind him, a being of twin forms, above the waist a stately matron with skin of alabaster and eyes black as coals, below it a gown of writhing tentacles already grasping at the startled merchant, pulling into the cage of her form, book and all. A
gylou, one of the Mothers of Pain, you know her at once even through the shock of her appearance. You had not felt any spell cast...
But what of a spell ending, the voice of memory and experience both whispers in the back of your mind? A scroll or artifact to bind time to
stillness, allowing one to cross the span of stone under your gaze unnoticed, allowing her to dash between the guards and now to wrap her tendrils tightly around the merchant, uncaring for the bite of silver teeth.
Space begins to roil and turn inwards as the fiend seeks to
flee into the ether, a dangerous thing in Heaven's Shore, but you have no doubt an attack this carefully performed has some contingency to allow her to navigate the broken paths. By
spell-gifted foresight you try to undo the magic before it can be cast, but the sorcery proves as slippery as its weaver.
The ring on your right hand burns forge-bright and this time the spell comes unraveled.
You have her...
Yet in that eye-blink the foe has one more gambit to play. A jewel among her crown of tentacles shines bright and time once more
bends to her will.
Even as merchant and captor begin to vanish from the chamber and the envoy of Mammon shouts his outrage, the hollow angel speaks, louder than you have ever heard it do so, a
trumpet blast of elder glories still echoing through the ages. The jewel's light dies, devil and captor are pulled back into the chamber.
Through the fugue of time's cost falling upon her, the devil hisses something that chills your blood, "By the will of the Lord of the Ninth this one is my prisoner. Strike me down and bear his wrath!"
She could be bluffing, you know at once. You read the thought in the gaze of everyone else present. She had struck from hiding, expecting surprise to carry the day. Then again it was possible Asmodeous could wish possession of that book and perhaps the merchant also without making his interest known, but would still protect his servant now that she had been unveiled.
What do you do?
[] Demand by what law the merchant is detained, the auction interrupted
[] Strike down the devil where she stands and buy the tome before vanishing from Heaven's Shore, you can afford to lose the false identity and you do not think it has been compromised
[] Wait for the others to react
[] Write in
OOC: Hopefully all the use of temporal powers does not make the update hard to follow. Not yet edited.
