Wearing a little illusion magic wasn’t a crime, even if Saeldian had sculpted an image that gave them a beautiful disguise. They darkened their skin to gleaming, flawless brown and made their eyes light hazel, and decided on adding a tidy, precisely shaped beard with face-sculpting makeup and silky, shiny brown hair a little darker than their skin. Their ensemble had been shaped bywill instead of a needle. It wasn’t like they’d showed up armed, after all. Plenty of people in Waterdeep might correct an uneven chin or hide another imperfection. And their appearance had caught the attention of their target—a well-dressed, wealthy young man with real silver buttons on his silk brocade doublet.
He would do.
Saeldian quickly glanced away, then looked back, and the mark smiled. Saeldian studied the tablecloth, allowing a little smile as they did. He was human, and he wasn’t bad-looking. His clothes were pressed and well fitted; he had neatly styled hair and a nice smile and the ease of someone who never had to think about how much gold anything cost. Saeldian had a cistern leak that was very helpfully proving that the shingles under it needed patching. Remembering it helped the worry Saeldian let show on their face seem real, and they glanced at the door.
The tea and cakes arrived on a pedestal plate. Saeldian poured a dainty glass cup before checking back on the mark, who smiled the moment their gazes met. Saeldian smiled back and reached for a cake that smelled of violets, popped it into their mouth, and choked.
The little round table rocked as Saeldian shot to their feet. The carved chair tumbled backward. The teacup sloshed an amber stain over the tablecloth, rattling in its saucer. Saeldian clutched at their throat and headed for the comfort room, but the mark leapt out of his seat, getting in their way.
He was taller and stronger, so he easily turned Saeldian away and pulled them so close the silver buttons on his doublet pressed against their slender back.
“Bend forward,” he commanded.
Saeldian squeaked as if outrage were the correct response, but they obeyed. The arm around their waist tightened. Two smart blows landed exactly between their shoulder blades. A lump of half-chewed cake and violet petals landed on the gleaming walnut floorboards.
Saeldian sucked up a huge breath and fell to coughing. The mark didn’t let them go.
“Are you all right?”
Perfectly played. Saeldian raised their hand, asking for a moment, and coughed harder.
“Not yet,” he observed wryly. “Allow me.”
He guided Saeldian back to their table. As they walked, Saeldian glanced at the pale blue tiefling in a fashionable silk shirt and a shiny yellow cravat sitting at the table by the door. Jubilee sipped a delicate cup that steamed with heat and popped a pale yellow cake into her mouth. She watched the spectacle, no more curiously than the others, but Saeldian could almost hear her saying,Good work, Sheld.
Of course it was good work. Saeldian Charmhand never missed a hook. Jubilee hadn’t panicked either. That deserved some praise, once they walked away from this phase of the job and Jubilee would need feedback and reassurance.
The gentleman set the toppled chair on its feet. “Some helmthorn berry tea? A small sip will soothe your throat, but I don’t blame you if you’re wary of the cakes.”
Saeldian gave a shaky laugh. “Perhaps I’ll brave the cakes another day. Thank you for your rescue, even if I’m so embarrassed I want to disappear.”
“It could happen to anyone.”
“Yes, but it happened while I was rudely staring at you.”
He set his shoulders back as he gave a pleased smile. “Is it terrible if I say I’m flattered?”
Hooked. “I’m Helarel Brightleaf,” Saeldian lied.
He was close enough for Saeldian to watch his eyes shine. “Venthar Dornan.”
“Thank you for rescuing me, Saer Dornan.”
The table had been cleared. The lace tablecloth was pristine white. A human server stood a polite distance away, holding a tray with a fresh pot and cups. “My duty and pleasure, Saer Brightleaf. May I sit with you while you recover?”
“Oh—” Saeldian looked to the door and let their shoulders sink. “Yes. I—think it’s all right.”
Venthar looked at the door and leaned in closer to say, “You are expecting someone. How late are they?”
Saeldian stopped stirring honey into their tea. “How did you know?”
“You were watching the door. And forgive me, but you looked worried.”
Saeldian let themself sigh. “I think they’re not coming.”
He’d rescued Saeldian once already. A little more curiosity, and they’d have enough to patch the cistern again. The roof was tomorrow’s problem.
“They’re a fool,” Venthar declared. “Who would leave you so rudely unaccompanied?”
