* * *
Shaidar slipped the scrolls into the dergan's lap, and leapt dextrously onto a nearby chair. "Lady Brigit has agreed to this redesign of the frontier keeps. The scrolls will not be missed for another hour."
The dergan nodded and slipped a knife under the seal. She carefully seperated it from the scroll and set it aside before unrolling the red ribbon used in Alaiin Cuir. She spread the scrolls out on the table and quickly became engrossed in them.
Shaidar was too professional to shift uncomfortably while she went over the scrolls. Watching a Hibernian meddle with the realm war the way she did unsettled him, though. The money was no longer worth helping her.
The white-haired elf touched the parchment with her fingertip. It wavered slightly, settled, then flickered again. When it finally settled, it looked no different from before.
"Hm. They protected it from Glamouring," she muttered. The dergan gestured and a lurikeen servant brought her a fresh scroll. She sharpened her quill, dipped it in black ink, and quickly began to re-sketch the plans.
He noted that she removed the orders for the planting of two gatekeepers at the lord's tower. The outer door was left intact, while the inner door was planed down to fit the lord's tower. The inner walls were smoothed and spells placed on them to keep them smooth. Other details were changed, he was certain, but he hadn't been familiar with the old plans.
Finally, she rolled up the scroll, sealed it with a deep blue wax, and pressed a nearby signet ring into it. "See that this gets to where it belongs."
He reached out to pick up the scroll. He would see that it got to the Alainn Cuir scribe.
"Oh, Shaidar?" The dergan smiled sweetly, her blue eyes bright. The scroll he had been reaching for burst into cold flames. "I can afford to be outlaw much more than you can."
He gulped and grabbed the scroll she had sketched.
* * *
Maliar, called Morerea, cloaked herself in glamour, and dismissed the illusion of being a dergan. For an instant, Lady Faalien ceased to exist. Then Maliar applied the illusion to her underhill. Ambonumutil wandered off, obeying the orders Maliar had given earlier.
The watcher would have something to watch.
A pity Shaidar was having second thoughts. His usefulness would go downstream quickly the less he did the job solely for money.
Maliar tilted her head slightly. This bit of meddling would likely result in nothing and alert Brigit that someone had access to her secrets. But if it did work....
She smirked and channeled a bit of Glamour into the portal medallion. It enveloped her in a swirl of snow, pulling her away from Tir na nOg.
The End