Trevin nodded, apparently satisfied. “It was nothing fancy, just keep food. Tomorrow night, though, we shall have a true meal. We are going to have a combined welcome and farewell feast to celebrate this rather ad hoc adventure.” She smiled. “There will be a number of delicacies humans rarely get to sample, along with satyr beer and honey wine, as well as alvaren frost wine. You’ll want to eat and drink fully; it may be the last feast we get for quite some time.”
“Sounds good.” Gastropé nodded to her, his eyes trying to keep contact with hers as she slid into the room to rest her hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to seeing the Grove,” Gastropé said nervously, trying to eye her hand.
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. I’m sure you’ll find it quite... provocative.” The enchantress was really standing a bit too close for comfort; Gastropé was getting a very strong dose of her perfume. He smiled and tried to scoot away slightly. This only caused the councilor’s gnarled hand to slide down over his right deltoid and grasp his bicep firmly. He felt a small bit of panic as he realized that his movement could have been interpreted as making room for her to sit down beside him. He glanced to the bed beside him and then back to her, hoping she was not taking the wrong kind of hint.
She simply grinned at him, sliding her hand down his bare bicep a bit more. Her gaze moved to what appeared to be a few inches in front of his chest, or was it his lap she was looking at? She got a slightly puzzled look for a moment and then a bright smile as she tightened her grip slightly on his bicep.
“Very impressive,” she said.
Gastropé got a panicked look on his face and turned pale, glancing down to make sure he was not showing anything in his lap. The old woman could not be that crude, could she?
“I imagine that very few young wizards your age, fairly fresh out of school, have the skill and ability to locate and bind a fiend. A rather powerful one at that, it appears. That binding could probably hold a major demon,” the enchantress said, still staring in front of him.
What was she talking about? Gastropé wondered if she had lost her mind. He was at a loss for words until he remembered that he had told people in Freehold that Tizzy was his bound demon. She must be referring to that. He relaxed a bit.
“Ah, so you saw my demon in Freehold?” Gastropé asked.
Trevin blinked and shook her head, looking him in the eyes again. “Uhm, no, afraid I didn’t. I was just noticing the binding link you had extending off into the nether regions and into the Abyss. Very skillfully crafted, I must say. I can honestly say, I am impressed.” She grinned at him. “In any event, sleep well tonight. We’ll be rising early, before dawn. A servant will wake you in time to do your morning ablutions before we break our fast with some fruit and bread. We will then take the lift up the cliff side. Unfortunately, the view won’t be ideal in the predawn light, particularly on this side of the mountains, but for some that’s a blessing.” She tilted her head. “Being a fellow Turelanean, however, I’m sure you are comfortable on carpets, so heights won’t be a problem?”
“Uhm, no, no problem,” Gastropé replied, still quite nervous and reeling from her statement about a binding link extending from him to the Abyss. What was she talking about? He had never, would never, put any sort of binding spell on Tizzy!
“Excellent then.” Trevin let go of his bicep and patted his shoulder again, before spinning away to exit the room. “Sleep well!” she said as she glided from the room.
Gastropé shook his head slightly as if to clear it. He quickly spoke the words necessary to invoke his wizard sight and stared down to his chest. He had to focus it a bit, but the enchantress had been right! There was some sort of link spell emanating from his chest and extending off into the aether.
He probed it, trying to determine what exactly it was and where it was going. He frowned; it was clearly a binding spell, from him to someone else. He was on the controlling end and the link clearly went off plane. Gently touching the translucent black cord, he suddenly got a whiff of unusual smoke. A very identifiable smoke; it was the same smoke he smelled when Tizzy was puffing on his pipe. He did not recognize the exact binding — it seemed a bit archaic — but it was very clearly a lower third-order binding from a conjuror to an enslaved demon.
Where the hell had it came from? He knew for a fact he had never cast any spell on Tizzy. There was no way he could have — he didn’t even know the demon’s true name. How long had it been there? Who had put it there? Was it even possible for a third party to create a binding linking between a conjuror and a demon? He had never heard of such a thing. It really should not be possible. Something very strange was going on, and once again it felt like things were spinning out of his control.
