Neither of the moons bothered themselves to peer through the thick, dark clouds. The Urmlaspyr streets were almost eerie in their empty silence. Planted neatly in the Elven Quarter was a lovely stone built home that looked old enough to have been part of the rebuilding atop the embers of Urmlaspyr's first incarnation. Mimsa climbed the small, but straight cut stone steps outside. She looked briefly around herself first, then down at the circular brooch half hidden by her cloak.
It's irritating, not to mention painful, to have to make these little "sacrifices" every time, she thought to herself. Jindranae must think I need to wear gloves when I sew, at this point.
Firming her lips into a thin, pale line, Mimsa unlatched the brooch and pricked her right ring finger with its point. For a few moments, she pressed at her finger with her other hand, pushing enough blood to the small puncture to get the smooth, featureless plate of slate rock that pretended to be the door's keyhole to respond. When she touched the blood of her finger to it, a low, soft tone sounded, as though someone had struck a deep piano note from a far off distance. Moments later, a tall, slender, ivory skinned woman with purple robes and flowing dark hair opened the door with a smile.
"Ah, do come in, my lady," she cooed sweetly. "I'd wondered when you might decide to pay another visit. I'm afraid you won't care for my answers this time any more than you did last time, however."
The woman closed the door behind Mimsa and began walking away, and Mimsa wordlessly followed her to the modest sitting room. A few servants, clad from head to toe in black, scurried to and from the kitchen with ripe fruit and dark tea to offer the ladies. Mimsa shook her head to indicate that she didn't want anything, but the woman accepted a juicy looking plum.
"I'm still working with the information given me about the little dark quarter mascot," the woman said pleasantly. She held her spider-boned hand out toward a comfortable chair across a low table from the one in which she clearly intended to sit. Mimsa first drew the indicated chair closer to the table, then sat down. "I'm afraid the disappearance date will have to be pushed back a bit, due to being unable to secure a reliable alibi."
Mimsa did her best to keep her face plain as she spoke. "Well, time is running short for the completion of the task. I hope you don't intend to wait around until a no-confidence vote goes through, so that you can keep my coin without having done any work for it."
The woman nodded once, but grandly, as though she were a queen. "I do understand your concerns, good my lady. However, quality work absolutely cannot be rushed. Are you quite certain that you do not wish to have a piece of fruit, or tea? I don't want to let it be said that we are short on neighborly provision here."
Mimsa's cheeks began to redden with the strain of holding her temper. "I don't see how this can be called quality work, since no results at all can be shown for all the blood and gold that I have paid," she managed at last. "I wonder if I shouldn't cancel the entire arrangement."
"Oh, be certain that work has been done," the woman replied. Her smile widened until it became a sickening grin, and Mimsa lost a bit of her temper. "Please, accompany me."
The woman rose, setting her untouched plum on the low table. Without a word, she swept open her left hand, and a servant stepped forward to hand her a dark metal candle holder with a lit candle. Mimsa got up and followed the woman out of the sitting room, past the kitchen, and down a narrow hallway to a small room in the back of what used to merely be a house. The room was entirely without lamp or light of any kind, so Mimsa stood in the doorway and waited. The woman, unabashed, walked into the center of the room and lifted the candle above her head, so that small bits of glass and metal throughout the dark space glinted in response. Mimsa couldn't see whatever item belonged to her- or perhaps belonged in her- in the faint light, but a dull ache of loss rushed through her being as a wind might whistle through the bleached bones of a skeleton in a desert.
"Your blood and gold absolutely were not wasted, let me assure you," the woman repeated as she lowered the candle again. "And it would be poor form for you, a noblewoman, to break a contract."
"I... I never agreed to become a lich," Mimsa whispered, feeling all the warmth drain from her face.
"Why would I want to make you a lich, my lady?" the woman laughed gently. "No, no; if you were to make an... unfortunate decision... concerning our agreement, I have the power to find you. No matter how you travel, the plane on which you travel, or how far in that plane you choose to travel, I would be able to quickly find you and... help you to... rethink, let's say, your default. Of course, you gave me this power with your own hands- and even if I choose not to use it right away, there's always the court of hearsay to judge you for me. Imagine if it ever came to public knowledge that you, a seated council member, bought the assistance of a priestess of Shar, merely to be rid of the first captain's little hedge witch wife. Now, when you do the fair thing, which is to see the bargain through properly, every drop of your blood will be returned, in a tasteful, decorative vial. You could certainly make your own phylactery if you so desired, but more importantly, your bond to this place- to me- would be dissolved. You could destroy the vial and pretend that you'd never so much as spoken to me; there'd be no proof to the contrary. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Mimsa nodded quietly. "I look forward to it," she agreed. "And to that end, I concede a point that you made in an earlier meeting."
"Oh?" the woman asked with a note of actual surprise.
"Yes," Mimsa breathed, deciding to get on with the matter without giving herself time to change her mind. "You were right about my original request being unrealistic, so I'd like to recant it. Instead, get rid of Imaraide in whatever way is most easily accessible, by this time next week."
"That... gives me much more latitude," the woman purred. "Are you... quite certain that you'd like to be that open with your terms?"
"Quite certain," Mimsa said firmly. "The fastest, most immediate way. Next week, at the latest. And I'll take the tea, just as black and bitter as it comes."
The woman blew her single candle out. And in the all-enveloping darkness, she smiled truly, surrounded by the whispers of approval from the phylacteries that surrounded her.
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