Sir Drakaw Hapow stood outside of the Council's meeting room, muffled voices emerging from behind the closed, thick doors. Another guard stood by the other side of the entrance, staring straight ahead.

Sweating despite the relative cool of the council, Drakaw glanced down the empty corridor, half expecting someone to come and call him out. It had already been three days since his meeting with Hiaashaqwi and the fools. He swallowed, cursing the day that pale little ghost had stumbled across his path. But he couldn't deny their request for help. Especially not after reuniting him with his best friend. Besides, they were right about the state of things, and something had to be done before it was too late. He just wished it didn't have to be him. He wished he wasn't up against a mage and horrifying priests. And Hiaashaqwi had a point. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, and things went well, his situation could change. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be forgiven and be able to finally quit as a guard and do what he was meant to do. Maybe.

Unless... Unless I end up as a puddle of slime on the floor. Or burned to cinders. Or some other unpleasant death by magic if Master Owadro finds out.

Drakaw glanced at the other guard again, as if his thoughts had been too loud, and wiped sweat from his brow. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tried keeping his mind away from the myriad of deaths he could imagine magic being able to induce and focused on the upcoming task. In about half an hour his stationary guarding duty ended, and his patrolling began. He'd use that to get into Master Owadro's rooms and find... something. He swallowed. He was fairly certain the Council Master would be busy and absent from his rooms. However, you could never account for exceptions. Drakaw dearly hoped there'd be no exceptions today. He let his left hand slide over his trousers, feeling the key in the concealed pocket he'd sewn two days ago for this very purpose. Reassured the key was still there, he relaxed a fraction. Even though it annoyed him he'd had to use up his favour for the key.

Fast steps approached and he snapped back to attention, focusing on a young man coming from the right. The man was just a servant, hurrying with an armload of scrolls. He didn't even look up as he passed by. Drakaw breathed a sigh of relief, but it stuck in his throat as he met the questioning gaze of his guard-partner for the day.

'Are you all right?' the man asked.

Drakaw coughed and nodded. 'Yes.' The other guard didn't look away. 'I've just had a few nights of bad sleep,' he added. That wasn't even a lie.

'Ah, I see. You seem tense.'

Drakaw forced a smile. 'Just fighting to stay awake.'

'Gods know, that's not easy at times,' he chuckled.

Relief flooded his system. The other guard had accepted his explanation. Mentally, he reprimanded himself for being such an amateur. He should know better than acting like this. But the stakes were high. And he was much better at a straight forward fight. He wasn't some lousy spy.

Later, Drakaw walked down the corridors leading to the private chambers of the council members who lived in the large complex. It wasn't exactly his patrol route, but it wasn't too far off, and if he got questioned, he could always claim he'd seen something suspicious and was simply checking it out. That's what a professional guard should do. He stepped around a corner and spotted a private guard standing by a door ahead. His shoulders tensed, but he made sure to keep walking at an even and relaxed pace.

If you look like you belong, you're less likely to be questioned.

The other guard nodded as he passed. Good. Drakaw continued down the hallways, turning this way and that, a bit unsure of the path. But eventually, he found the door to Master Owadro's rooms. Luckily, no guard had been placed outside. Hopefully, no one was inside either.

Who'd be suicidal enough to break into a mage's rooms anyway?

Drakaw inhaled deeply, glanced around, then carefully rolled up his tunic from his wrist to check the rune Lady Salabil had drawn. It looked pristine. At least, he thought so. He proceeded to fish out the key from his hidden pocket and inserted it into the lock with minimum shaking. The click as he turned the key thundered in his ears. Too loud. He glanced around again, and listened for footsteps. Nobody came to investigate. He pushed open the door.

A big room opened up, full of thick fancy carpets in deep red, bookcases, tables, and a group of couches to the right. On the left, another room opened up. He carefully stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He saw nothing what he thought to be “personal or important” in the room, and so walked further in. The next room was filled with more bookcases, boxes, urns, a worktable with glass bottles and a burner, dried herbs hung from the roof, and in a corner, a tall round table with an open book.

Drakaw inspected it, but had no clue if it was something important. Frustrated, he clenched his fists. How was he supposed to know? Sweat trickled down his back. He decided to check out all the rooms before allowing despair to take hold. Maybe he'd know when he saw.

He found the Council Master's bedroom. Small, cluttered with all kinds of things: figurines, fancy clothes spilling out of a large chest, old worn books on the shelves, and empty ink-horns and notepads on the table. And a comb. He reached out for it when a sharp voice snapped behind him.

'Who are you?'

He spun on a dime, his hand automatically going for his sword, and stopped. A woman stood there. Brown, voluptuous robes covered her thin frame, a flushed red face and feverish eyes stared at him from the shadows of a hood.

Acting out of habit, Drakaw barked, 'What are you doing here? State your name and business. Now!' He gripped the sword pommel harder.

The woman visibly startled, her mouth forming a small O for a second. 'I... what?'

'I'm a guard of the Council. What are you doing in the Council Master's room? I wasn't notified.' Drakaw continued, hoping the barrage of questions and statements would keep her reeling enough for him to make his escape. 'Nobody was supposed to inhabit the room at this hour.'

The woman eyed him up and down, not as intimidated as he'd first hoped. But her hands were clasped before her, not holding anything threatening as far as he could tell.

'Well, well. You seem upset, sir Guard.' She unfolded her thin hands, tucked a strand of hair back in under the hood, then let her hands drop. Near the pouches and bags hanging from her belt.

'Now!' Drakaw ordered, half drawing the sword.

She raised her hands. 'I am a friend of the Master. He lets me stay here. No guards usually enter. So I wonder, what are you doing here? Hmm? Here to steal something?'

Drakaw swallowed, but never let his eyes wander from hers. He didn't dare look away. Who was she? One of the priests? What was their deal?

'Are you accusing me of crime? It's my duty to guard this place. We don't usually enter the private rooms, but I saw a suspicious character sneaking around. Was it you?' The best defence was a good offence, after all.

Her eyebrows crinkled. 'No. Maybe your intentions are good, after all,' she muttered.

'Of course, they are,' he snapped. 'Are yours?'

She smiled then. 'Why don't you ask Master Owadro yourself? He'll be back soon, if I'm not mistaken.'

Shit. He had to get out. But preferably without it looking like an escape. His heart hammering, he released the pommel and tossed back the cape he wore, with a bit of a flourish, snatching the comb off the table as he did so. He hoped the cape would have hidden his deed, even as he gave a slight bow. 'My apologies, lady...?'

'O'harid.' She eyed him suspiciously, a hand hovering near a small pouch.

'Very well, I will speak with Master Owadro. Will he be here within the next few minutes?' He dearly hoped not. He would get killed, he was sure of it. Why had he ever agreed to this stupidity.

'He'll be back within the hour.'

Drakaw snorted and jutted out his chin. 'You think I have time to stand around for a hour? You can come with me to the Watch Captain, right now. Or I'll notify Master Owadro at a later time.'

Cocking her head, she crossed her arms. He wondered what she'd do. He hoped she wouldn't follow, but on the other hand, the other option was probably worse. He didn't want the Council Mage to know his face personally.

'Listen, guard. Your professionalism is admirable, but I am not well and I'd rather stay here to rest. You can stay here and wait, or notify him if you really need his approval. But remember that I'm his guest, and it might not be in your best interest to bother me, or him, with such trivial matters.'

Unwell? She did look sick, he thought. Backing off, he nodded. 'As you wish, my lady. I'll tell my superior about this, and we'll get back to you if there's an issue.' He hoped it sounded reasonable enough. And he hoped her sickness wasn't contagious. What if it was the plague? Suddenly nauseous, he gave a quick bow and walked towards the door, stuffing the comb into his sleeve.

'I'll be speaking of this to the Master,' her voice, barely more than a whisper, reached him as he opened the door. A shiver coursed though him, but he didn't look back. Don't give them the impression they have control.

Drakaw strode off, down the corridor, hurrying his pace once he rounded a corner. He had to get back to his intended route before his superiors found out he'd strayed. It didn't look good.