Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (41 page)

Zyre warned him
as she handed it over, “If I find you know something of Nefarious
and not tell, then I be angry, and you know what happens to demons
that make me angry.”

She didn’t
expect the Poqir to return to brick colouring, but his blanching at
the threat surprised her for little did she know that her battle
appearance had made her legend. Those who witnessed the frightening
Salvae and her open connection to the Xatn of the world had lost no
time informing anyone who’d listen to the gossip.

It was usual
for a Goblin to slink off world immediately after causing a
disturbance and all magical knew this. Her mind had been so filled
with Martyc nonsense this was allowed to slip past her and she
frowned with annoyance. Seeing her scowl the Poqir threw
information he thought would distract her.

“The Xatn is at
Ravulisa and many are claiming the cerilort.”

The news had
the opposite effect as her eyes raged between teal and sapphire
causing the demon to step back. Zyre jumped down to the street
below, which was not something Elves did often as they preferred
the grace of a dissolve, but her strength had come from honey alone
so she was conserving it. If the greedy leaders of various factions
were going to make a claim, then so was she for technically she was
the one who found Taryst—and just in time. How typical of Vampires
and demons to take the credit for everything when she had done all
the work. She stomped down the street and her anger caused the
lights to flicker as she passed them. Zyre knew even as she walked
the foolishness of being near his dark presence before she was
sufficiently detached. She had not completely reconciled her anger
at his whoring, but the drama of the battle had it pinch less. It
was another being—an evil bandit that had her jealousy fight with
desire. If the Elf had bothered with a moment of honesty she might
have realised that her claim for something she had no real interest
in was no more than an excuse to be at the same place of one large,
brooding Martyc.

As Zyre crossed
the city she considered what she would face at Ravulisa, because
despite it being as secure as the Martyc fortress she was not
afraid of the power of the occupants. A club of invitation only, it
serviced the need of high powered creatures from every world.
Demons, Vampires, even humans could be offered the rare privilege
of membership. The Elf knew of it as she knew of most things from
the Reveal because there was a Ravulisa upon every affluent world.
Her unhurried journey gave her time to ponder her next action, but
in the end she found herself standing on a roof at the end of the
street without any plan. Her attention had been caught by the
colour that had been stalking her for days now and she folded her
arms as if catching a child out in a lie.

“I know you be
there—tis not hard see purple.”

The air stirred
slightly and she felt the essence of the being, not demon, not
Vampire, not human.

“I not care for
your hiding come to speak now or I will find you and then we see
who plays games.”

The air
remained silent and Zyre knew this rude observer would be next on
her list of things to tend. Dissolving further down the street she
faced discreet doors closed firmly against the outside world.

She knew that
Ravulisa was a select world of the powerful and was neutral like
the Centre, but for different reasons as influence and wealth begot
special opportunities. Searching her memory she realised that their
security had never been breached and she wondered if their
protection was more rumour than muscle of a spell.

There were a
few instances in the Reveal where true magic was applied since the
ability required transcended even that of a being considered
magical. Chaos, such as used by the witches of Kheleyk, was the
illusion of being magical created by using sigils. The magical
being manipulated the world through thought and true magic was
manipulated using sorcery through both thought and deed. To cast a
spell such as Sere or one that would protect Ravulisa it would
necessitate a combination of incantation and personal power. It was
rumoured that the only ones with the capacity for both were the
Mages of Sor. These beings, neither demon nor magical, didn’t
associate within the Reveal. They were more unapproachable than the
magical, more dangerous than Lazulul, they rarely consented to aid
and hardly dealt in friendship. Zyre knew that if the sorcerers had
cast a protection spell she probably would require more energy than
she had to dissolve inside. Though she would have loved to test the
spell for cracks—her strength wasn’t the best. She had never heard
of a magical being testing the spell of a Mage—only the Seal of
Sere. If Mages had been prevailed to provide a protection
enchantment, then the owners of the club must have had enormous
influence or an opportunity to blackmail. Zyre had rarely seen a
Mage of Sor because they didn’t often travel outside of the Markets
of Prakiesh, communicate, trade, or befriend those sharing the same
universe.

She stood at
the vast door as her mind raced through many paths that she could
pursue because the Elf was not great at deception. It wasn’t that
they didn’t lie, they lied at the drop of a hat, but the problem
was that they couldn’t be bothered to maintain the façade of
dishonesty. Zyre decided there was only one way and that was to
show her intent openly, so she walked up the large steps until she
reached the sombre door. There was no immediate reaction to her
presence, no hushed greeting by a doorman, and she was met with the
impasse of a closed door with no one to appeal. The Elf folded her
arms because if they wanted her to test the parameters of their
spell then this was just the way to do it. She tilted her head and
looking like an escapee from a fairytale the Elf glowered. Bold was
as bold did and so the Elf announced her mission for all to hear,
“I have come to claim the cerilort.”

Continued
silence was the response to her declaration and Zyre found her
already frazzled patience tested to its rather short limits. She
gave those who tended to the entrance one last chance and she
stepped back to glare at the darkened windows on the second
floor.

“You would dare
steal from an Elf”? she queried with great self-importance that no
one would consider taking seriously.

Nothing
happened, perhaps those inside didn’t think she was grand enough to
be granted entry—well that could be easily fixed!

She gave the
door a haughty stare. “You dare steal from Her Royal Highness the
Princess Elfzyre?”

A few seconds
later the large door opened silently and she stepped from the grey
of the shadowy street into the opulence of well lit colour.

Zyre scowled at
the doorman who greeted her and demanded, “Where he be?”

She didn’t
bother to clarify as all knew she was there to confront the Xatn of
the world and none would try to stop her. A uniformed footman
stepped forward to speak only to be overtaken by a stressed Afir
who entered the foyer with a pained look.

Zyre greeted
the demon with a sarcastic, “Ha!”

He motioned to
the footman to stay back as he approached the annoyed Elf.

She snapped, “I
have come to see Dhaigre because the cerilort is mine.”

“So we all
heard.” The Druqe responded drily.

The fuss she
was creating was gathering an audience and he tensely motioned
towards to the doorway. Zyre could have remained in the entrance
foyer causing bother inside the elite club where she suspected no
one spoke above a whisper. However she was determined not to leave
without a good look around, so she obliged the demon. Once inside
the inner sanctum the Druqe directed their path as he attempted to
rush her through the rooms, but the Elf was having none of it. The
inner lobby, the dark wood panelling glistening in the light, was
filled with scattered tables where high ranking creatures from many
worlds sat enjoying a variety of beverages. After giving the
startled ensemble a cheeky grin she continued her journey and
followed Afir into another area. This was furnished in light pastel
colours with several plush sofas where beautiful females from many
worlds lounged as they charmed men with their allure.

Zyre fingered
the tassel hanging from a silk lampshade as she smiled at a nearby
demon whose eyes filled with desire at the thought of a delicious
magical companion. Despite all the wonderful attributes of the
beauties present, there wasn’t a demon there that wouldn’t climb
over their bodies for the opportunity to enjoy an Elf. A discreet
cough brought the demon back to reality once he realised she was in
the company of the Druqe belonging to Vryn Dhaigre. As enticing as
Zyre might appear—crossing the Xatn of this world was a risk few
would be willing to take, especially with Taryst Janeb around.

The Elf gave
Afir a sour look for interrupting her fun because she was well
aware of the effect she had and wasn’t above using it to make the
Martyc scowl. As Afir led her upwards the rooms they encountered
were smaller, lusher, in their presentation and they continued
until they came to a discreet area placed at the back of the
building. This room, while large enough to house a dozen oversized
tables, resembled a personal study more than an area of
entertainment. The walls contained cases filled with books and
armchairs sat in nooks served by small tables for drinks. Larger
areas had tables grouped under diffused light and the entire room
gave the ambience of simple relaxation. Muted voices spoke in
hushed discussions while waiters walked with silent feet upon plush
carpet continuing the distinctly masculine tone to the room. Zyre
gazed at the stern faces of powerful males from every domain and
not only did she understand the basis for the décor, but had a
brief moment of clarity about the universe that spawned Taryst
Janeb.

Afir led her to
the back of the room where a solitary figure sat alone drinking
wine, his large table a barrier between him and the remainder of
the room. The Druqe stood aside and Zyre had finally achieved her
goal as emerald eyes met the burning stare of fathomless black. The
atmosphere had changed the minute she entered, but none were
alarmed for these beings had not reached the heights of power and
influence by being fearful. The air was saturated with responses to
her appearance, some were intrigued, some were perplexed, some were
annoyed, and some even allowed desire to tinge the edges of their
mind. Completely relaxed, the being sitting across the table had
perfect control and as Zyre nonchalantly sat down there was no more
than a brief flicker of amusement to her presence.

“Your
Highness,” the Martyc greeted her with grave courtesy.

Zyre ignored
his referral to her imagined rank for anyone who had knowledge of
her world would realise there was no royal hierarchy. She put her
elbows on the table, resting her face in her hands as she met the
eyes of the one being she should have avoided. The emerald of her
eyes would have warned him that she was up to mischief, but the
Martyc was giving nothing away to his unexpected visitor.

“Beb is gone,”
she announced.

“I know,” he
replied.

“The
Nefarious—one you chat with tis gone away.”

“I also know
this,” he said.

The Elf gave
him a cheeky grin that made her eyes sparkle and the corner of his
mouth twitched slightly. Barely a movement, it was missed by all
but Zyre who knew despite appearances he was not the rock he
portrayed.

“Soooooooo—you
are a Xatn who knows many things, but do you know that you owe me
one cerilort?”

“How do you
account for this?” he raised a brow as if curious as to her
logic.

The Elf
narrowed her eyes at his question because she wasn’t going to let
him play his demon games with her. Reputations could be made and
broken within the walls of Ravulisa and if she stated a truth then
he would have to pay up regardless of personal opinion.

“The cerilort
was offered as payment for Taryst Janeb. I give you where and in
good time.”

Vryn wasn’t
going to allow their interchange to end so easily or so soon and
she could feel his enjoyment of her attention waft across the
table. He might conceal her effect upon him from the rest of the
room, but Zyre was aware of the connection of his emotion. She
suddenly sat up straight as she realised that she had made another
foolish move because while he would do nothing to restrain—her
arrival would only solidify opinion of their relationship. One she
preferred not to exist, but did in the minds of those present
including a big very annoying demon.

“A few days
warning would have been earning the reward, fifteen minutes is
barely revealing her presence. Speaking of warnings I seem to
recall it was a Pixie who granted us this information.”

Zyre heard the
words that should have insulted; instead, her mind wandered over
the breadth of shoulders no suit could conceal. He was so tall,
intense, with a face that made women of every universe look twice
and she quickly shook herself back to reality. He was also
annoying, bossy, dangerous, and now being a typical demon trying to
weasel out of paying his dues! Blue flooded into green and the
demon didn’t move his gaze as he recognised her annoyance and
instead he remained infuriatingly calm.

The Elf
spluttered. “A Pixie I asked to keep look out—me! Not you—you—big
lump of Martyc!”

Zyre caught her
passion in time and after a brief struggle continued stiffly. “I
not remember any time limit on information.”

Whatever
emotion her comment inspired the demon kept to himself. Dhaigre
nodded to the Druqe who looked anything but pleased as he opened
the velvet pouch. The large oval stone rolled into his hand and the
warmth brought out the incredible beauty of the ancient rock. While
her world had intriguing marbles of fluid colour the amazing
capacity of the cerilort was something that caused the observer to
marvel. They were only found at the Markets of Prakiesh, sold by
those who came across them by happenstance since none was certain
of their world of origin.