But thoughts of an army of powerful and seductive demonesses at his beck and call gave Aaralon renewed determination to confront the instructor on any grounds. Memp was merely a means to an end, he reminded himself. He would, however, have to play his cards cautiously. There would be no predicting how Memp might react to an outright accusation of the practice of demon summoning, or even an accusation of gathering the ingredients necessary for the task, which would be largely the same thing.
Memp's quarters were located in the student wing. It was a curious living arrangement for an instructor whose colleagues had already constructed small towers of their own on campus grounds. Aaralon rapped on the door twice.
"Open," he heard a muffled voice from inside.
The door swung open silently. The room was the same size as a student dormitory room, but the filth was unlike any student room that Aaralon has ever seen. Pillows and blankets were scattered about the room, along with various books and magical artifacts, and all this covered in a fine layer of cat hair. There was no furniture to speak of, save a single chair and a desk in the corner.
Seated at the desk, Memp applied the finishing strokes of a quill pen to the inside page of a large twine-bound notebook of heavy parchment.
Aaralon thought he caught a glimpse of something that looked very much like a diagram for an extravagant summoning circle drawn on the page before Memp quickly flipped the notebook shut. He swiveled the chair around to see the intruder.
The furry tips of cat ears peeked out from beneath a grey wizards cowl, and exposed a grin that Aaralon could only begin to describe as feral. Although he'd seen the man lecturing on numerous occasions, the incredible up-close magnetism of the instructor struck him unprepared.
"Good afternoon, Aaralon. What lures you to my...quarters?"
Aaralon had a sneaking suspicion that Memp had been about to say 'lair'.
The instructor stood up from his desk and walked to the door. With a clawed hand, he grasped Aaralon's forearm and forcibly guided him into the room. It smelled of unwashed animal.
"No need to be shy. Make yourself at home," Memp's grin grew larger as he positioned himself between Aaralon and the door, pulling it shut with the metallic clunk of a heavy latch sliding home.
Aaralon could feel the feline hair already beginning to gather on the inside of his mouth, and scraped his tongue against his teeth with disgust, but resisted the urge to spit in front of Memp.
With his revulsion for this man growing by the second, and the instructor approaching him like a cornered mouse, Aaralon knew he had to make his proposal quickly. But what service should he offer? And how much of his knowledge of Memp's doings should he reveal? |