Maret stood and watched her master, the aged wizard, standing behind a butcher's block, the sleeves on his red robes pulled up over his elbows, a meat cleaver in his right hand, the hock of the hind leg of a butchered goat held in his left. She knew he knew she was there; this was part of the ritual. As rare as it was, she knew he had an errand, and undoubtedly it was a delivery.
Chopping, he separated the goat leg, placing the cleaver on the block, lifting the two parts, occupying one hand each. 'So Maret, I have a delivery.' His voice sounded raspy, as if he'd been shouting. He hadn't; that was just how he sounded. Throwing half a leg into a cage on the far side of the butcher's block, he heard the meat slap to the cold floor, then the barely audible pads of a large beast moving to where it fell.
'There is a Mage, Human Kost to the west, that has secured the tithing for one of my Puppies.' Maret strained to hear what her master had said, his voice barely audible across the room. 'You will take it to him, and return with his Tithe.'
'Which animal, Master?'
'Bargst. He is ready. You've been involved in his training; this will make the trip easier.' Having dispensed the second part of the goat into another cage, Valdris moved towards his servant, looking at her: red-brown leathers of a wizard's thrall, shaved head, and a faded tattoo on her left temple.
It was the tattoo that tugged at his mind at that precise moment, reminding him, not confirming his thinking. If she did this, he would release her to continue her studies elsewhere. He was too old and did not have the energy to train another just now. He would not tell her this, of course.
'It will be a long journey.' He stopped only three feet in front of her, holding her gaze. He admired her as much as he admired one of his puppies; the communication in those eyes, like the eyes of his Emberwights. His puppies told him a lot. She was loyal, not so much to him as to the situation; she needed him, or his situation at least.
'You leave immediately. One of the dread warriors will travel with you to the port; from there you will board a vessel to travel across the Moonsea, into the Sea of Fallen Stars, landing at Westgate, taking the overland to Iriaebor, and down the river to Baldur's Gate, and north to the Triboar Trail, where you will seek out what is called the Old Owl Well.'
'How am I to travel with Bargst, Master? There is no way I could make such a trip with an Emberwight.'
Valdris held forward a gold necklace, the chain grasped in his hand, a black pendant, table-cut, the clasp at its base causing it to hang upside down. 'The Puppy is within,' he let it drop into her hand. 'You'll wear this inside your clothes. None are to know you have it.'
'That trip, Master, is further than I have ever been before.'
'I know. It is all right. You travel a populated route; you will meld into the other travellers. Do not bring attention upon yourself. Your protection is your plainness, your ability to simply be one of the commoners.'
'And if I fail?'
'You won't.'
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NOTE - this is a scene inspired/related to an Emberwight, a D&D 5e creature of my creation.
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