"So your son isn't green like most ogres? No tusks? Fascinating," Zoroka said.
Then the door opened and a man she'd never seen before scanned the room, obviously looking for someone. She stiffened, ready to jump out of Vashir's lap at a moment's notice. He appeared alone and, when he spotted her, a look of relief crossed his features before he crossed the room in quick strides. She scowled, knowing these were not the actions of one who looked for a fight. In his right hand, he clutched an envelope with a red wax seal.
"Are you Zoroka Roth, ma'am?" the newcomer asked.
Memorizing his face, she gave him a wary, "yes."
"Oh, good. I've a message for you."
"Who's it from?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Didn't say." The man shook his head, shaking the envelope at her. The center of the red wax bore Gile's stamp. "You want it or not?"
Zoroke snatched the letter out of his hand and flipped him a silver for his trouble.
"Thank you, ma'am." He tipped his hat at her and scurried off.
Ripping open the envelope, her eyes quickly poured over its words. Folding it sharply, she tucked the paper away into her belt. Grabbing the hell fire bottle, she chugged three hard swallows before she slammed it on the table.
Wiping her mouth, Zoroka said, "Change of plans. We're not going to Alcarinque. She's in Mione. She's in Regendale." Her lips pressed together in a thin line, her jaw clenched. "We leave in the morning."
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