“I wouldn’t dare,” she said with a sly smile.
As Danielle left him behind, Jason glanced at the piece of paper. It listed directions to a room on the second floor, one down from the Geller’s third-floor private box. Walking through the hallways was like walking through an art gallery, with paintings and recessed sculptures carefully lit with delicate magical lighting.
He found the room listed on the paper, where a plaque declared it the Edith Vane Memorial Conference Room. He frowned at the name. There was one aura that he could sense within, with the overpowering strength of silver rank. He considered knocking but just went in instead.
The conference room looked like just that, with a long table surrounded by chairs. Soft lamps hung from the ceiling, filling the room with warm light. Along one wall, windows looked out over the city. The guild district was mostly low buildings, with the Adventure and Magic Society campuses looming large, along with the concert hall itself. The sun had set during the first performance and streetlamps lit thoroughfares below, lighting up the bustling nightlife.
The room’s single occupant had her back to him as she looked out over the city. She wore a formal dress in the local style; a loose draping of layered colours, cinched with flattering strategy. Chestnut hair spilled down her back, with a pair of tapered ears poking out to reveal her as an elf. Jason couldn’t have hidden his presence if he wanted to, but she gave no reaction to his entrance at all.
Jason took a bottle and a glass from his inventory, pouring out a measure of sweet, green liqueur.
“Drink?” he offered.
She held out a hand without turning around. The glass tugged itself from Jason’s grip and flew across the room into hers, without so much as spilling a drop.
“Thank you,” she said and took a sip. “This is one of Mr Norwich’s private concoctions. He’s a friend of a friend, yes?”
“He is,” Jason said. Norwich was an alchemist friend of Jory’s who had been trying to brew a drink that would get through Jason’s poison resistance. Norwich didn’t want to turn to bronze-rank ingredients, partly as a challenge and partly to prevent a bronze-rank hangover.
Jason took out another glass and poured a drink for himself, then wandered over to stand next to the woman. He looked out at the city instead of at her.
“Do you know who I am, Mr Asano?”
“I only really know the one elf. We don’t get along.”
“The priestess of Purity.”
“That’s the one,” Jason said. “Very severe woman. Powerful, Aryan vibe. Sexy, but you know you really shouldn’t. Like an evil lady torturer.”
“You think speaking a little nonsense is going to put me off kilter?”
“You think bringing me to a room named after a family I killed half of will do the same to me?”
She turned to look at him, then back to the window.
“Forty-one contracts in eighteen days, if we count adventure board notices,” she said. “You've been a busy man.”
“It feels like I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Can you keep this pace up?”
“Not unless someone makes me a magical scooter.”
“Is that some manner of transport from your world?”
“It is,” Jason said. “I think it would be nice. Riding along the embankment roads, the wind in my face.”
“I did hear about your distaste for heidels. Quite unusual, for an adventurer.”
“Eccentricity is the prerogative of the wealthy and powerful. I barely qualify for either, but I’m working on it.”
“Then you should make more lucrative investments than in a man who has dedicated his life to healing the poor.”
“I’ll muddle through,” Jason said. “Did you want anything more than to point out how much attention you’re paying, Director? This intermission won’t last forever.”
Elspeth Arella was director of the Greenstone Branch of the Adventure Society. Rufus had pointed her out, along with any number of other local notables, during their spate of social outings the month previous.
“You’ll find, Mr Asano, that these intermissions last as long as certain people want them to.”
“I see.”
“I’m satisfied with how you have been conducting yourself since joining the Adventure Society.”
“Awakening stone satisfied?”
“I would not take your self-satisfaction as a reasonable measure of mine, Mr Asano. I especially do not care for some mid-level Magic Society functionary contacting my office to request a meeting with a member of my society, one not even a month clear of assessment.”
“Couldn’t they just come and find me directly?” Jason asked innocently.
She turned to give him a withering glare, her aura crushing his into the floor. He nonchalantly sipped at his drink, still looking out the window.
“Take a break from contracts for a little while, Mr Asano. You've been clearing out the backlog I use to prod some of our members who don't share your work ethic. I will see you are assigned appropriate contracts; just check the desk at the jobs hall. If you do well, you can expect to see a second star in the near future.”
“You’re the boss,” Jason said.
“You don’t strike me as a man who pays much heed to authority.”
“I’m not big on abdicating moral responsibility.”
She drained the glass and handed it back to him.
“You have a taste for the sweet things, Mr Asano. You drink like an elf.”
“You can knock back the plonk pretty well,” Jason said. “You drink like an Aussie.”
“I have no idea what an ‘Aussie’ is.”
“I am, Director. I am.”
“A friend of yours,” Jason whispered to Danielle as he took a seat back in the viewing box.
“A new friend,” Danielle said, “but I think, a good one.”
The art-lined public corridors of the concert hall worked their way around the circular building. There were plenty of concert goers taking in the art during the second intermission, Jason included. Drink in hand, he meandered down a hallway, alone. He stopped to consider a painting of a barren desert wasteland. It was impressionistic in style, reminding Jason of his earliest days in his new world. A woman joined him in examining it. He spared her a glance before turning back to the picture.
He sensed no aura from her at all. His aura senses weren’t the sharpest, but to hide it completely meant she was probably higher rank than he was. She looked to be in her early twenties, by which point any decent adventurer hit bronze rank. Not many got a late start like Jason. She had the olive skin of a local, her delicate features an effortless, dangerous beauty. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders to a gown that was elegance in cream silk.
“Mediocre,” the woman critiqued the painting in front of them. “They hang the superior works in the restricted lounges.”
“I like it,” Jason said. “It looks how the desert feels.”
“You’ve spent some time there?”
“A little. It reminds me of parts of my homeland.”
“And where is that?”
“Very far from here,” he said wistfully.
She turned her head towards him.
“You’re Jason Asano.”
Jason kept his eyes on the painting.
“I’m not sure you understand how introductions work,” he said. “I already know who I am.”
She frowned, and he felt a bronze-rank aura blaze out to suppress his own. He had been told that was the very height of rudeness, but he kept being subjected to it. He thought there might be a lesson there, but he had no interest in learning it. Absently, he wondered if he was becoming a masochist.
“A beautiful woman invading my personal space,” he said, unconcerned. “Should I be scared or delighted?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a sly smile.
“Perhaps,” he mused, “the most delicious choice would be both.”
“Do you want to get slapped?” the woman asked him.