Mithran Islean Begrussen. Izzi looked at the name on the piece of paper Bjorke had given her. She giggled a bit, thinking it a bit pompous. But who was she to judge? All she had to do was give him instructions on how to do the job. The elf arrived at precisely the appointed time.
“I trust I am in the right location?” His voice was smooth and silky.
“Good. You know how to follow directions.”
He bowed low in greeting. Izzi couldn’t help but notice his long, shiny hair fall forward over his shoulders. She cleared her throat, and forced her mind to get back on track. “I hear you know how to find things out. Is this true?”
Mithran shrugged nonchalantly. “Some say I do.” He grinned, full of confidence, and Izzi felt her stomach flip flop.
“There is an Orc, a Shaman. He claims he can cast protection spells, permanent ones, in the form of tattoos. My boss needs to know if he really can do as he says.”
His eyebrow raised in surprise. “A form of magicks I have not heard of before. Interesting.”
She nodded. “He also needs to know that he’s being looked into, as it were. My boss has many friends, and it would not go well for him, if he was unable to do as he promised.” She tried hard to make her face look serious, but was not used to this line of work. It was much simpler to use her wiles to get what she needed.
“And just is this Orc, who may discover himself very unlucky?”
Izzi checked her paper. “Akaga Warsong. Oh, and he has a family – a wife, and a baby on the way. You may find that to b useful information.” Her stomach churned at the thought of using a man’s family against him. But she had her orders, as well.
The elf pulled a golden rod from a pocket in his tabard, and used to scribe the name on his arm, in letters of light. “Got it.”
She tossed a heavy leather pouch at him. “Half now, half when you report back to me.”
Opening the pouch, he grinned at the contents. “Sounds fair.” He bowed again, and headed out.
Izzi shivered, trying to shed the feeling of dread that overcame her. She much preferred the import/export business to this type of work. “Come on, Leo. Let’s get back to work.”
