Gorgeous! She nodded.
It nodded? Well now Majister wasn't quite so sure. On the one hand the elf looked like an elf of no fantastically wild description, which lent to being it proper to call her a "she." But the way that good man (whose chin now bore the imprint of Majister's fist) had reacted, the little details he stammered out, when Majister demanded to be led to the cell which contained the most dangerous living being here...well, perhaps, appearances
were deceiving, and "she" was not a "she" at all.
Or. Mayhap. There was no deception abounding here, this elf was--in fact--every bit the elf she looked, and she was locked here for reasons more criminal than monstrous. The descriptor of "dangerous" certainly did come in a variety of wonderful flavors, now didn't it?
Regardless. She was capable of at least understanding him, and potentially for communicating back. Fortuitous! Under that purview of "dangerous," as in she being dangerous to those around her, Majister most certainly fell as well. Perhaps she could be persuaded of the merits of
not biting the hand that feeds. Or...Majister would find out why Trajan had not simply done this himself, or sent one of his own men. A most perturbing thought, that.
But, a life lived without daring is a life hardly lived at all! On with the show then!
Majister slipped his non-sword hand into the pocket of the stolen College robe he wore. Produced a lavastone the size of his fist etched with some arcane markings upon its charcoal-colored surface. Trajan's inside man (whose identity had not been revealed nor leaked to Majister--yet) had laid out the groundwork for this whole plan nicely; some good old fashioned sneaking through this corridor and that secret passage and this purposefully unlocked door, combined with a healthy dose of
"I belong here, nevermind me" blending in. Not only this, but he provided a one-time use countermeasure to the wards that--in concert with the mundane chains of steel--held the captives securely in their place. And one-time use meant that he would be betting everything on this elf being every ounce of dangerous that amounted to the pound of the minder's earlier stammering.
"Stand back, if you would," Majister said with a winning grin, knowing full well she could do no such thing.
He placed the enchanted lavastone at the edge of the twin circles on the ground. Fiddled with it. Stood back. Nothing happened. Majister didn't lose his cool; just brushed his hair back and took a moment to think and went back and crouched down by the lavastone on the floor again and touched it and--
A pulse. Like a sudden change in air pressure. Rattling a bit of dust on the floor and from the walls and causing Majister's eyes to dance wide for a moment. Then he looked up and experimentally tried pushing his palm forward, past the edge of the circles on the ground and toward the elf. Nothing stopping him, no blaring noise, no triggered trap. Gorgeous!
He needed to get the keys to the chains from the unconscious minder, but first...
Majister stood and sauntered the few steps closer to where the elf was bound.
He kept his voice appropriately hushed. Said, "Now then. The name's Majister, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,
as always, my reputedly dangerous friend. Perhaps you think I'm here to harm you, but--quite to the contrary--I've the most wonderful news you've no doubt heard all day! Why, I'm here to tell you that today, my apparently gray lady, you have the opportunity to once more make your own luck! Save your applause, save your applause, oh I know, but you're too kind, far too kind. To business, shall we?"
Majister lifted the rapier he held leaning against his shoulder and tapped lightly the muzzle that was bound to her face. One. Two. Then leaned the
weapon against his shoulder once more. "If I remove this, will you die, or something else of an untoward nature happen? And, more pressingly, will you yell, or attempt to bite me, or cast some manner of spell? Oh do feel free to nod or shake your head, the floor is yours."
Aethiri