Snippet: Admin and whispers

Iskrin finished reading the document, placed it down on the table, and then looked up to the AmranKai who had brought it to him. "Send word to Estril Ventran that it is headed his way, with my strong suggestion that he put it out of its misery," he said. The AmranKai, a small fae girl, nodded seriously.

"Aye, Lord," she said.

"And recover whatever you can of the sarcophagus it came down in," Iskrin continued. "I have word from my people here that Lady Silm has already gotten her hands on at least some of it - possibly all of it. She behaves as though she were High Wizard rather than a mere King's Councillor." The irritation is clearly audible in his tone, but the fae girl only nods, unmoved by his anger. "Oh, and send word to the village I noted in my most recent report that we'd like a word with Sir Byron.... ah, Bryan. Their High Wizard."

The fae girl, Trefillyn, smiles and internally notes yet another memory lapse from the First Estril. "I shall do so," she says softly, offering the man a smile. "Will that be all, Lord?"

Iskrin waves his hand at her irritably. "Yes, yes. Now go."

He doesn't watch her leave, but rather returns to staring at the running water he can see outside the door of his chambers in the Palace. The rushing sound helps drown out the voice of Ke'ntor in his mind, so he keeps the doors open all the time now. Yet still he can hear the infernal blade whispering.

"Here we go, here we go..." it sings over and over.

Iskrin sighs, unconsciously reaching down to his belt to caress the hilt, increasingly aware that he is going to need help if he is to own this blade, and not the other way around.