"How is he, Agmus? Must be eighteen by now?"

The woman's sultry voice brings back memories of a dark alleyway and the smells of an outhouse. Even then, it's not the most prevalent memory he has of her.

Agmus Makamendius looks over his shoulder after opening the door to his greenhouse. Behind him stands the gorgeous sight of Sarna Wickcutter, the woman who delivered River to him a little over three years ago.

Her silver locks cascade over her shoulders, framing a head-turning face. Only the hint of a scar runs from the edge of her forehead near the temple and down her jawline to her neck. Golden eyes flicker in the late afternoon sunlight.

He waves her in and she steps out of the cold to join him in the warm, glass building. The fur trimmed coat over skin tight black leather armor will eventually be too hot for Sarna, but she keeps it on.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? You know someone who knows someone who is in need of something, perhaps?"

Her golden lips spread into a delectably, mischievous smile, "Always..."

"Don't tell me you've run through four platinum since I last hired you? Haven't I always warned you about frugal spending habits?"

She watches him clip some leaves off of a plant and slip them into a black, canvas pouch.

"Funny you mention money... I've done some work recently with a particular person-- not naming any names-- and they let slip exactly how valuable the boy actually is."

He doesn't deign to look at her, "River?"

"Ho, ho! Look at you, naming him and everything?"

She didn't realize that Agmus Mak wasn't asking to clarify if he was the topic of her statement. He was announcing the boy's presence.

A strong hand lands on her shoulder, gentle, but unyielding. This startles the level forty seven Rogue/Brawler and she stares up at the figure who appeared seemingly out of no where by her side.

"Banished gods, boy, you... Well, not really a boy anymore are ya? Certainly filled out and then some. Looks like you're feeding him then?"

"More like he feeds me." Mak continues collecting ingredients from around the large glass-enclosed garden and the other two follow. "He hunts, cooks, cleans and organizes the tower, helps with ritual spells, does everything really..."

She raises a coquettish eyebrow and smirks at River, "Got a brother, then?"

He smiles back and shrugs his shoulders.

"Still not much of a talker? I thought you were just messed up from the slave pits. That's okay, I prefer men of action. Still, I wager he's got a voice like one of them bards. They've got silver tongues that--"

Mak clears his throat, "You were saying about his value?"

"Whussat? Oh, right. Well, I mean, it did take me a couple of years to find him, you know? Considerable amount of resources..."

"And another three years to tabulate the final bill? Come now, Sarna. What is this about? Is it really about money? I may have some work now that--"

She gives River's muscular arm an exploratory poke and lets out an involuntary coo. Agmus Mak sighs.

"Let's... continue in the tower, shall we?"

"Well, it's been over four years since I've seen the place. River's probably gotten all buff from cleaning it out."

Agmus Mak leads the way out the greenhouse and down the pathway connecting it to the tower doors. Two, massive wooden doors bound and decorated with intricate blue iron designs open without provocation or sound. Sarna stops to gawk in the grand entryway, speaking to her self in a not so low whisper.

"I... I can't believe it. It looks better than it did over twenty years ago..."

River gives her a confused look but Agmus Mak urges them to move along to the third floor. Sarna and the old man make themselves comfortable at the twin recliners and he uses a low level fire spell to light the hearth.

"Where's River?" Sarna asks, glancing about.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Uh... no. You know me, light snacker and all."

Agmus Mak holds a cupped hand to his mouth and speaks into it as it glows a dim yellow, "Two for supper, River. Something light for Sarna. Anything to drink?"

It takes her a moment to realize the question is actually directed at her, "Huh? Oh. Yes! Wine is fine."

He nods his head, "The white wine, something dark elf, I think?"

When he folds his hands together, the yellow light goes out. He sets his folded hands in his lap and sighs.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Sarna looks at him, perplexed, "Are you alright, old man? You seem a little...?"

"Relaxed?"

"I've never seen you like this. Scratch that. There was a night when you teleported in and you simply reeked of booze and cheap perfume. I think you mumbled something about Scylla women and then--"

"Yes, yes, I'm a perverted old man with more money than charm with a taste for halfbreed monster women."

Her face sours and she gags, "No, no, no. Bad images. Must scorch the inside of my brain..."

She points a finger to her temple, "Let loose an ember to burn my foe."

Nothing happens and she giggles to herself. Agmus Mak is not amused as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Anyway... Please, tell me why you're here, Sarna."

She put her elbow on the armrest, using it to hold up her chin while she eyes him up and down.

"You really do seem less stressed out. Was it the mess? Everything leftover from way back when?"

"Sarna..."

"Oh, alright." She sits back into the chair, tapping an octagonal shaped rock embedded in one of the arm rests causing a blue rune to glow and the chair to shift so she can prop up her booted feet.

"My contracts include a secrecy clause, preventing me from discussing specifics such as objectives and names involved. As such, though, the conversation I had in question didn't have to do with the job at the time, the person is still covered by said contract.

"While they did discuss River, his Tarot (finally spoken like arrow) core, and his potential in a candid manner, every time the topic strayed to other things they always seemed to lead it back to him. The rest of what I'm going to say is merely conjecture."

Agmus Mak nods his head and continues to give her his undivided attention.

"This person of great wealth, influence, and notariaty seemed even more interested in River than you did years ago. I know very few people are able to walk in and out of your tower's territory, but a lot of people have tried and more will be trying again soon. Maybe put up stronger wards? Spend some time in your summer tower?"

Agmus Mak lets out a weary sigh. Her words would probably rouse mere curiosity in anyone else, but knowing her, she would only be here if it actually was a very serious matter.

He perks up, however, when River walks in, leading an almost two-dimensionaly thin, floating disk carrying dishes of food, tableware, a glossy black bottle of wine, and two fluted glasses.

With a speed and proficiency that almost blurred the sight of him, River props up an elegantly carved folding table in front of each person topped by a black, silk tablecloth. Pausing for a brief moment: he sets their silverware, plates, glasses; serves their food; pours them a glass of water and wine each; and waves a wand-like device to adjust the ambient lighting.

If River was at this level of ability back in the goblin cave, he wouldn't have had to return twice more to clear it out.

With a curt bow, River takes the disk away, leaving a slack jawed Sarna and Agmus Mak who is already tucking in to his meal.

"Was that...?"

He swallows and looks away from his food just long enough to answer her unfinished question, "Way of Intercepting Hydra? Yes, but I also gave him Hordebreaker to chain so many targets. What do you think?"

He chuckles to himself at his own brilliance and motions for her to eat.

She looks down at the thin, savory crepe with strips of medium-rare meat still quite pink in the middle, but grilled to perfection on the outside. Uniform sticks of grilled red, green, and purple vegetables sit in a short haystack just to the side with a layer of gossamer thin shavings of some kind of creamy white cheese on top.

One bite of her meal is enough for her to slam her eyes shut and crumple her fork in a fist. A memory brings tears to her eyes, her mouth never stops chewing. Each measure of flavor and texture brings another scene from that summer so long ago where that greenhouse now stands.

She can even hear the others talking, laughing, calling out to her.

With her mouthful gone, she uses a sleeve to dry her eyes before she forces them open. Agmus Mak is still sitting there next to her, eating his food with a similar expression on his wizened face. He's older now, but he still looks the same as back then.

She sips the white, pearlescent wine and tries to continue her meal, but her fork is mangled. River is back, walking towards her without the disk. Sarna looks up at him, almost fearful as she presents the disfigured fork.

To her surprise, his warm smile beams back at her and he takes the fork. He shows her an empty hand, reaches behind her ear, and produces a brand new fork. She takes it, completely baffled by the series of events that lead up to this moment.

"Th-- thank you, River."

He nods politely to her and checks on Agmus Mak who just sings his praises for the meal. Resuming her own, she watches Agmus Mak laugh and talk to the younger man who just stands there, silently glowing with pride.

Seeing Agmus like this, I woulda paid five slabs myself, she thinks. Still... Mover's Disk, Hydra, and Hordebreaker? They're third tiers, specific to Caster, Brawler, and Archer. Maybe Lochnea was right...

She takes another bite and her eye switches, a barely perceptible moan escapes with an exhale through her nose.

Screw her. As long as I can keep coming back here, River's not going anywhere else.

That night, after promising Sarna that he would lay low for the next couple of weeks or so, Agmus Mak grumbles to himself before retiring to his floor. She was invited to stay on the third floor after Mak altered the layout to create a private room in a corner just for her.

With stronger muscles and a few more cards in his deck, River is able to move furniture in the room by himself, including a king sized bed and frame, a couple of dressers, and a nightstand-- though anybody could have moved the last thing.

"Well," Sarna says, brushing her silver hair behind her ear, "I wasn't expecting to move in, when I came by to chat, but the whole day's been full of surprises."

She's sitting on the edge of her bed and watching River move a massive, dark wood wardrobe to a satisfactory position.

"I'm gonna need a few personal things if I'm expected to hang around for a while. I didn't exactly pack for a vacation. Care to take a lady out on the town?"

River smiles and points up at the ceiling.

"Wha? Oh, right. Well, I'm sure he won't mind if you did all your chores, eh, youngin?"

He thinks for a moment. From his pocket he pulls a piece of parchment covered front to back with writing and goes over everything.

"I was just... you do all that every day? Seriously, is there another one of you somewhere?"

He shoots her a smile and a thumbs up. Sarna shakes her head in disbelief, her hair slipping past her ear to frame her face again.

Before she can move it back, another hand moves it for her and she looks into River's face. Her eyes get misty and she forces a half hearted smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, youngin. I got you out of the slave pits and you're still doing all the work for someone else. I just made you a slave all over again." Her laugh is hollow and rings with sadness. A tear slips down her cheek.

"I told you I wasn't there to rescue you. Even then I wasn't the hero I was supposed to be..."

Strong arms wrap around her, and her face presses against a muscular chest. It's warm, firm, and more comfortable than any embrace she's had for a long time. Sarna hugs him back tightly around the waist, tears running in rivulets into his shirt.

A voice comes, rumbling from the chest her face is buried in. It's soft and strong, like a distant thunderstorm.

" Thank you..."