All in a night's work.

[Andron Farael]

Andron crept into the small, hidden room.  It's entrance was secreted behind a bookcase, a cliche' that nearly forced his eyes to roll hard enough to peer back at his own brain.  The interior was quite comfortable, with a large, ornate desk and a padded leather high backed chair.  The fireplace was stocked with wood, and candle holders were found in abundance, ensconced on the walls.  And then, there were the books. 

Though the room wasn't very large, it's shelves had been built into the walls with master craftsmanship, allowing it to hold many rare and valuable tomes.  From floor to ceiling, there were hundreds of them.  The private library of.. who, again? 

Andron scowled as he closed the door behind himself and quickly began the search.  The mimetic effects of the room would be upon him soon.  At most, he had half an hour.  Lord Whoever had been cunning enough to have this particular room enchanted.  Any who entered, other than himself or those of his bloodline of course, would soon begin to forget the reason for their visit and the details surrounding it.  Eventually, they would wander from the hidden library and forget it's existence all together. 

"Where did he say it was?"  Andron muttered to himself, as he began to scan the titles.  After having infiltrated the manor under the guise of being a new servant, he had cornered a few members of the staff, probing their thoughts with no luck.  After a time, Andron finally encountered Jeffrey, one of the Lord's children.  It was from Jeffrey that he learned the location of this particular trove of treasures, and of the ill effects of the room on tresspassers.  He had been about to drag the pompous little twit along to make this easier, but the lad had been called away for his lessons, and it simply wouldn't do to create a hostage situation. 

This was a mission that required stealth, after all.  Wait.  What was the mission again? 

"Forth shelf up, two right of the fire place."  Athrillax mindspoke in a rather annoyed tone.  The spidery, ectoplasmic limbs carried the violet psicrystal from within it's pouch, where it moved up and along his back, until it was perched on his shoulder. 

"Right, right."  Andron said, nodding as he followed his companion's directions.  Scanning the tomes to the right of the fireplace, his finger tracing along the covers, he finally came to it.  A Planar Treatise by Odaron Alacairn. 

Plucking the book from the shelf, Andron moved to the desk and took a seat as he opened the tome.  The psicrystal jumped from his shoulder to stand over the book, shedding a soft violet illumination on the ancient pages. 

"It wouldn't do to return empty handed."  Andron muttered to himself, as be began flipping through the book.  "Or, with the wrong information." 

"Right."  Athrillax chimed in, sarcasm dripping from every mindspoken word.  "Because now, you're following orders from the Vixen.  One without the Will.  One without even the slightest hint of knowledge concerning the Way." 

"You're being bigoted, Athrillax."  Andron scolded his psicrystal, all the while scanning pages of the book.  "One does not need to be psionic to be a valued ally."  He stopped then, a confused look on his face.  "What.. was I looking for?  What was I doing?" 

"The Planes!"  Athrillax snapped.  "Incarnum dragons!  You know, the kind you'll be hatching any day now, that you'll need to know how to raise!" 

"Oh.  Right."  Andron nodded, returning to his search of the tome. 

"And they can be useful tools, but allies?"  Athrillax said, dubiously.  "No, you cannot trust them fully.  Those without mastery of the Will are unworthy.  Those without knowledge of the Way are mere savages, no matter how clean they appear, no matter how well they've learned to speak." 

"I don't believe that!"  Andron snapped, turning his narrowed eyes briefly to the crystal.  "I may have, once, but no longer.  Besides, it's not as though I.. wait.. here it is." 

Andron then reread or paraphrased some lines from a few of the passage he'd just passed over, aloud.  "Incarnum dragons adopt an extreme alignment along the law/chaos and good/evil axis... they're opinionated and fervent in their own beliefs...  they find a cause to champion, going to extremes to win...  Their breath weapons are cones of energy...  They're carnivorous, but prefer Incarnum energy." 

Andron frowned.  Just where in the Nine Hells was he going to find that?  Wait.  Find what?  Andron found himself staring forward in a cloud of confusion for several long moments. 

"The book, you fool!"  Athrillax hissed through their link.  "Close the book and pick it up.  Rise, and leave this room!  Now, before you get yourself killed!  Or worse, get me killed!" 

Andron merely nodded and followed the orders of the crystal, closing the book, picking it up and carrying it along back toward the entrance.  Athrillax had scurried up his arm, along his shoulder, and down toward his waist, returning to the pouch that hung there. 

The two moved through the secret entrance and returned to the main library with the door closing behind them.  The instant Andron was clear, the mimetic effects of the hidden room began to fall away, leaving him free to recall the most important fact:  The room was rigged with an alarm that would alert the Lord the instant the door was opened.  This was the very first tidbit of knowledge any unauthorized intruders were doomed to forget.  Rather than simply rush and grab the book, Andron had spent precious time bantering with his psicrystal. 

"Damnit!"  Andron cursed. 

At the far end of the library, a loud battering hammered the door he'd barred previously.  The loud banging continued, with the sounds of splintering wood adding to the chorus.  There was only one door leading into the main library, without a proper escape route from the hidden room. 

"What sort of rich man doesn't have hidden escape routes?  Wealth wasted, if you ask me."  Andron said, as he paced around the room, looking for options.  There was a fireplace among the shelves, but he imagined that not even a child would fit.  The moon shone in through the stained glass windows, which depicted battles and the Lord's religious patron. 

Andron sighed heavily. 

"We're going to jump, aren't we?"  Athrillax mindspoke with a deadpan tone.  "Rather than fight, we're going to have to jump.  All for this Vixen?" 

"I can't very well fail at my first assignment, now can I?"  Andron said.  He backed away from the largest window, to give himself plenty of running room.  "Damnit, Athrillax!  This is going to hurt something fierce, but I can't risk getting caught.  Can I?  We could easily escape, but we might lose the book."  He really wanted to talk himself out of this foolish course of action. 

"We jump."  Athrillax answered, resigned.  "Or, we fight.  I much prefer to fight, but you've chosen stealth over bloodshed, so we are committed." 

"Yes."  Andron said, rolling his shoulders as if to loosen them.  He was trying hard to psyche himself up, but his body was reluctant to get moving. 

"Aim for the bushes."  Athrillax offered. 

"Fuck you."  Andron spat, charging.  He jumped at the last moment, his body crashing through the large window in an impressive display of destruction that would send shards of glass raining down to the road four stories below.  The instant he was through the window, now covered in small cuts on his hands and face, with his clothes also quite shredded, time seemed to slow down for the first few moments.  Andron looked across the night's horizon, before peering beneath him.  The tome they'd came for was clutched even more tightly against him as they made their descent. 

This had really started to seem like a stupid idea when he noticed the wagon of hay across the way, near the stables.  Of course, he had not jumped nearly far enough to reach it, and Andron had only moments to react. 

His eyes filled with the light of psionic manifestation as Andron reached out for the wagon with all of his might, grasping hold of it's bulk.  With all of the force he could muster, the wagon was jerked across the road, it's wheels skidding on the hard ground until they all four shattered.  The frame had just slid into position as he hit. 

Despite the inertial armor that Andron continuously projected, despite the tactile barrier he had manifested just before impact, and despite the mound of hay that helped to soften his blow, Andron had been right.  Jumping from the window had fucking hurt. 

He rolled back and forth in the hay, clutching the book even more tightly against his ribs, groaning and trying to suck in a breath from the impact.  He was also trying to focus on something else, to be able to put aside the pain.  Andron was having little success at either. 

"Get up, Andron!"  Athrillax said. 

"Nnnngh!"  Andron gasped, eyes clenched tightly as he fought to gasp for air. 

"GET UP!"  The air filled with psionic energy, building up near the side of the wagon before being unleashed by the psicrystal.  The concussive force turning the already damaged vehicle over onto it's side, sending Andron rolling out onto the street, covered in hay. 

"Augh!"  Andron coughed, finally pulling in that much-needed breath of air.  Though his back and sides ached furiously, he forced himself up and onto his feet, stumbling towards the nearby alley, between the stables and the blacksmith's building.  As he rest against the stone wall, fighting to recover his strength, he could hear the guards at the window high above.  They were shouting and blowing whistles, but he had gotten out of the building quickly enough that escape was imminent, so long as he could force himself to get moving. 

Andron pushed off the wall with a heavy groan, limping at a slow, but steady pace toward the end of the lane.  There, a comfortable seat in a carriage awaited, manned by a driver that would awaken in the morning with a full coin purse, and no recollection of how he'd earned it.