Tamael returned to his room and began fastidiously packing his travel bags. So intent was he, that he did not notice the figure standing near the hearth until she spoke.
“Going somewhere?” Came a throaty, feminine voice, full of suggestion. Behind her, in the fireplace, a blue flame hungrily consumed the last bit of what appeared to be a parchment.
“Mistress be merciful!” He shouted, dropping a pack of salted pork. “Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” the visibly shaken priest managed to demand with a small level of composure.
“Mistress will do. But I’m not exactly the merciful type.” she said as she closed the distance between them, putting her straining leather bustier at his eye level. She bent forward suggestively and pick up the package he’d dropped, then placed it in his hands. “You ought to be more careful with how you handle your meat… Servant Talstag.”
At this he blinked and stared at her, searching for some flicker of familiarity that perhaps he had missed in his surprise.
“No. You don’t know me.” She said, answering his unspoken question. “But you are travelling to Red Lark, in the Sumber Hills. And I just so happen to need an escort.”
Tamael tilted his head. “Uh, I think you mean Red Larch. But how did you-”
She placed a delicate finger on his lips to silence him. “Doesn’t matter. You have a mission for your Mistress. That is all that matters.” A blue spark jumped from her fingertip to his upper lip, causing him to blink and jump back. By the time he had regained his composure, he saw a black leather boot disappear out the door, followed by the mysterious woman’s fading voice. “I’ll be downstairs. Be sure to bring your meat.”