To Snare the Dead
Fourteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
"My lord, the unparalleled Sultan of Brass wishes for nothing more then to see a scoundrel punished for vexing him. The Targaryen, who is your enemy too, has been a nuisance to his servants for too long," you begin hauntingly. No less than one might expect of the efreeti to present the matter in those terms, and good sense besides to make light of the service rendered. After all, the envoy you are playing as would not wish Maelys to demand payment for his aid.
"What he pledges is a small measure of his wealth and favor, coin for arms and armor and the aid of some of his most loyal and prized servants. All he asks for in return is the island of Sorcerers Deep to be set ablaze for a thousand years and the souls of the false dragon, his sister, his thug and his whore. The forges always hunger for the souls of the unworthy," you continue, false insults flowing as easily upon your tongue as false praise had done.
The only distraction is Tyene's mind voice feigning offense:
"So I'm not important enough to feed my soul to everlasting torment, am I?"
"Souls you say?" Silvertongue asks silkily. "We have among us one most concerned with such matters I fear, and the ones you seek to claim have already been marked for their fates." Some unspoken realization passes between him, Maelys and Liomond, but not you note with Spotted Tom or Xhobar Qhoqua. "You called His Grace Dragon Kin. Tell me, what do you know of..."
"Enough!" Maelys roars, a sound of two voices twined. "For one so concerned with preserving your own hide, you are as free as a whore with her favors when it comes to the secrets of others." His voice falls back into what is almost an ordinary tone by the end of the sentence, but it is clear he is not feigning any of it to intimidate you, or prove his power. The anger is real and willing as he might be to deride Alequo, so is the fear behind it. You have an inkling of what secret was about to spill forth from the lich's withered lips, the same that had brought you here, but why did he think this was wise moment to reveal it?
You clear your throat, very deliberately skirting that hornets' nest for now. "It just happens that my humble personage is counted among these most skilled and esteemed servants, and given recent events I will gladly prove the value of my master's favor by aiding you in paying back the false dragon's servants for their deeds. A Saan for a Saan sounds fair, does it not?"
"Well now," Spotted Tom rasps as Maelys continues to glare at Silvertongue, the dead mage silently defiant. "I'd rather have the old Saan as well as the new if you are offering. Bring us the bones or ashes of whatever's left of 'im and then we can kill the new one to get back the old."
"Bastard got himself killed before the Apple could come to his aid," Maelys finally speaks. "We'll make the new one an offer once we've got 'im. Never heard of a Saan whose loyalty was worth snake spit. How are you planning to get him?"
"My lesser servants have appraised me of the lay of the land in the ruin of Gogossos. A small group could easily infiltrate his stronghold beneath the ruins, slaughter his unprepared servants and claim the riches hoarded there. Maybe certain parties would be more inclined to believe me if they saw me butchering their enemies?" With these words you finally turn to the man who had once been the Tyrant of Tyrosh. "Would you accompany me, Lord Silvertongue?"
"Ruins..." the word is a derisive hiss. "Have you no eyes in your head or do you simply lack the wits to use them? The tree is a place of power for Ones with no love of us, nor your supposed master. But do not take my word in matters of gods." His next words are filled with spite and loathing in equal measure, and little wonder for they make up a prayer and you cannot imagine this man praying sincerely even in life. "Mother sweetest some though heed, of your wisdom I have need."
Somehow the darkness in the chamber grows deeper, not merely the absence of light, but a thing onto itself. The Old Mother had come, formless but not voiceless. "Why do you trouble me Silvertongue, can you not advise in matters of magic alone even for a few hours?"
"We have guests,
Mother, one that boldly offers to walk into the falls of the Pale Gods and steal away from them one of the Targaryen's bannermen..."
Liomond does not take the summons well. "Just because you are too craven to take the offer does not mean you have to hide behind her
skirt," he hisses. Turning to Maelys he proclaims boldly. "I will go, Your Grace..." You are not certain but you suspect his offer may be at least in part born of interest, the anger a convenient mask.
"No," Maelys' weight shifts slightly upon his throne with the scrape of steel on stone. "Tom, you shall go with them, perhaps your account will calm Alequo's worries." Whatever else he is, this being is no fool. Of all those here Spotted Tom is one whose death would be the least blow should your offer prove a trap.
What do you do?
[] Accept, removing a piece from the board is useful even if it is not the most valuable
[] Argue that Liomond also accompany you
[] Write in
OOC: The rolls were mixed, but not particularly extreme this time around.