Concidet
The dark curtains surrounded the main atrium of the building. It is still over an hour till the scheduled time, but it would likely all be over by then. Asmodean's dark eyes flick about. Lanfear is sitting calmly, and the bait for this trap, the tiny redhead is sitting off, green eyes glazed and empty from the Compulsion in her mind in a chair in the corner. His fingers fidgeted slightly. They should be more than a match for a Ishamael.
That was the problem.
He could not see any flaw in the plan. No matter how carefully he scrutinized the matter, it always worked out. Ishamael even if he thought this was more than a ploy for money would still not be able to find out what they were doing.
This bothered Asmodean.
That was the problem.
He could not see any flaw in the plan. No matter how carefully he scrutinized the matter, it always worked out. Ishamael even if he thought this was more than a ploy for money would still not be able to find out what they were doing.
This bothered Asmodean.