The thought of returning to the same place that she had been left blinded and force fed for five long days made her blood run instantly cold. Her eyes widened, her breath expelled from her lungs in one quick breath and she pulled back, fear immediately lancing through her body.
"Stare, in your opinion who is more powerful - myself or some dead mage, whom you and your blood mage friend defeated?"
The question made her pause a second, but the fear still remained. Because it was instinctual. It had been felt all these days previous, as well as undying loathing.
His smirk returned. "Exactly. Me. And that is not even boasting at what I am capable of. I may not be the type of deity to hold any omnipotence, and my form may be bound in this stinking form, thus limiting how much power I can truly hold, but I am still a god. My essence is immortal, and harming me is ... Difficult." He grinned broadly and his eyes shone. "You will not be hurt."
"It's not my safety I am concerned about," she murmured. "Rather the ..."
"Memories," he finished for her. "Indeed, but it is either you return with me, or I go with Raevin. And you having actually dealt with the experience, you are the far more intelligent choice. Besides," he shrugged. "I want to look in on my brewery."
Stare breathed in but nodded a little. It was useless even trying to persuade him otherwise, she realised. His mind was quite set.
"I also want you to begin training one of the household staff in the skills you have learnt here," Vitruvion went on. "On the running of the house, the ... Management of my legal companies. It is clear that your use to me is beyond this city, and even Raevin does not meet your organisational and people skills anymore."
Never having imagined herself as a 'people person' Stare frowned in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth but shrugged once more.
"Right, fine," she agreed, "That I get but why do we need to go back to that hovel of a prison? Why not head to Alerar? Where you thought he was from?"
Vitruvion looked at her with a slight crease in his brow. "That was where he was based. The mage. And-" he stopped. "You had the book of demon text?"
Stare suddenly blinked, her train of thought cut off. Blinking a few times she realised precisely what having the book meant and she sat up sharply, turning to look around the room. Her pouch and clothing was strewn over the ground.
"Yes, of course," she said, her voice humming with realisation.
Previously, for another great friendship she had developed, Vitruvion had proved his skill at translation of alternative languages. His ability to read and write almost every tongue had enabled Stare at previous moments to understand as he translated. Without hesitation she pushed herself off the bed and walked over to the belt pouch to open it and tug out the hide-bound book. It was battered and still worn but that would not stop him from being able to read it.
Taking it right over she held it out, lifting her eyes. His hand snaked out and took the book from hers, a pause as he flipped through the pages of dark, horrible script.
"Hmm," he nodded, "Easier than Nosdyn's pamphlet."
After a brief moment he folded it closed. And he looked back up at her.
"We leave at early dawn. Show Druss where the books are, if in dire need he can have Raevin."
Stare parted her beak. "Leave ... At dawn? We don't need to plan or ... Ventrua?"
"After my sister's last demonstration here," Vitruvion curled his lip, "I do not have time for my sister. She has her business, you helped when I gave in and leant that single day. She has her uses, but will never directly obey an order like I can have you do. She will not be coming."
Raising her brows at 'obey an order like I can have you do' Stare opened her mouth to speak after him, beginning the start to tell him just where he could shove that idea - when he flashed out a hand and suddenly shut the two parts of her beak closed. Hard. So they snapped together. When she tried to open her beak it felt like the weight of two tonnes was upon it, even though a single thumb and forefinger was there.
"I don't quite think so, Stare," he smiled. "I don't think so."
