As he eased his aching back into his chair, sore from a long day's ride, a page was scampering about the cliffside villa, looking for Magnus, wherever the manmage could be.
Jorah's study embraced him with the smell of ink, burnt candlewax, and dust. A single window looked out onto the ocean, where the bright eye of a lighthouse blinked in the distant darkness. The dull echo of the waves against rock muttered their power up to this high room. He lit his pipe with a candle, then looked down with concern at the note which greeted him at the entrance to his Vineyard Estate.
Two young crows had not returned from a messenger errand, each sent out on two separate days. They had been sent as heralds to Juan Cortez, a race-horse breeder, and assassin with skills in magic, who led a lower house of crows. Cortez was known for keeping mistresses behind his wife's back and could not resist a gamble. The man's friendship had always been a good distraction from Jorah's own foul moods, however unhealthy the guilty pleasures and sins he fell into. He held much business with Cortez, and more than just crow business. There was wine business and horse business and whore business too.
Your wife no longer walks this earth, so live a little, he recalled the taller man, eyes glazed over, mutter sloppily and drunkenly. He always seemed like another person when he drank.
Jorah sighed, burning the small paper over the candle as is the way of the crows, and set it aside in an ornate tin, closing the lid with a tink. By now, footsteps were around the corner. His eyes shot to the door as he leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, impressive but uncomfortable.
[color=orange]"I've got a situation, Magnus. I fear something has befallen the Cortez family. Have you heard anything?"[/color] he asked, knowing the rhythm of the mage's gait from around the corner.
Jorah's study embraced him with the smell of ink, burnt candlewax, and dust. A single window looked out onto the ocean, where the bright eye of a lighthouse blinked in the distant darkness. The dull echo of the waves against rock muttered their power up to this high room. He lit his pipe with a candle, then looked down with concern at the note which greeted him at the entrance to his Vineyard Estate.
Two young crows had not returned from a messenger errand, each sent out on two separate days. They had been sent as heralds to Juan Cortez, a race-horse breeder, and assassin with skills in magic, who led a lower house of crows. Cortez was known for keeping mistresses behind his wife's back and could not resist a gamble. The man's friendship had always been a good distraction from Jorah's own foul moods, however unhealthy the guilty pleasures and sins he fell into. He held much business with Cortez, and more than just crow business. There was wine business and horse business and whore business too.
Your wife no longer walks this earth, so live a little, he recalled the taller man, eyes glazed over, mutter sloppily and drunkenly. He always seemed like another person when he drank.
Jorah sighed, burning the small paper over the candle as is the way of the crows, and set it aside in an ornate tin, closing the lid with a tink. By now, footsteps were around the corner. His eyes shot to the door as he leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, impressive but uncomfortable.
[color=orange]"I've got a situation, Magnus. I fear something has befallen the Cortez family. Have you heard anything?"[/color] he asked, knowing the rhythm of the mage's gait from around the corner.
03-25-2023, 02:10 PM
