The Mark Of A Fool by Qabian

[Keeper Of Lore]

Qabian was walking absent-mindedly through Tirisfal on his way to theScarlet Monastery to aid with the usual investigations there. The sunalways seemed distant in this part of the world, a curious traitconsidering its nearness to Quel'thalas. He wasn't paying muchattention to his surroundings, seeing as it was Horde territory and hewas very occupied relishing the thought of spending his morning puttinghumans to the flame, even if they weren't Alliance.

His malicious reverie was broken by a sudden sharpness digging into hisback. "Ah!" He stopped in his tracks, didn't so much as turn his head.

"Your money or your life," said a smooth, girlish voice from behind him.

Despite the dagger at his back, Qabian laughed. "Cliché today, aren't we?"

"I don't think this is a good time for you to be making jokes."

Qabian hissed as the blade cut through his clothing. "And I think you picked the wrong mark today."

"Is that s--ow!" Her hand suddenly let go of the knife. Qabian turnedin one smooth movement and kicked the fallen blade away. The metal ofthe blade glowed white-hot where it lay in the grass a few feet away,its wooden hilt charred.

"If you hadn't actually cut through to my skin, that wouldn't have beenquite so easy -- A human?" One of his brows raised in query as he got agood look at her. Her auburn hair was pulled tightly back and her eyeswere distinctly dull compared to his own. She was slim, pale, anddressed in the expected dark leather. "Either the Scarlet Crusade hastaken to hiring children, or you're a long way from home, girl," Qabianinformed her, glaring at her balefully.

The young thief's expression of surprise quickly changed to one ofsheer panic. She slowly backed away, clutching at the wrist of herreddening hand with the opposite. Suddenly, she dipped her good handinto a pouch at her belt and tossed a powder, shrouding herself insmoke.

"Oh, I don't think so," Qabian snarled. One quick gesture and flamesraced along the grass in every direction from where he stood. Thegirl's form reappeared from the shadows and, unable to run for the painas the soles of her feet met fire with each step, was reduced to movingas quickly as she could, which was desperately slow. Qabian stretchedout one arm and a furious blast of flame caught the fleeing girl in theback. She crumpled instantly and lay motionless in the grass.

"Odd. I wonder where she learned Thalassian." He had just assumed itwas one of his own people trying to rob him. Something about theSin'dorei attitude seemed to lend itself to those sorts of rogues. Toturn and see that it was an actually an earless cretin using his ownlanguage had definitely been a surprise, and had ensured that he feltno impetus whatsoever to hold back.

He poked the fallen form with one foot and then roughly kicked herover. He knelt down, took her pouch, and dumped it into his hand,finding a few more smokebags, some poison vials, and a few measlycoins. "Not even enough to pay for the thread to repair my robe," hegrumbled, standing up, rubbing at the tiny scratch along the small ofhis back. "No wonder she was trying to rob me. Oh well. Where was I?Ah, yes. The Monastery."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Qabian sat at his desk as he usually did, several tomes open in frontof him, a few loose sheafs in neat stacks here and there within arm'sreach. The bright morning light from the window was more than enough tolight his work. He was completely engrossed in his study. Since therebuilding, Silvermoon had been safer than ever. The guards dealt withanything. He had no reason to listen for soft padding footsteps or fearthe knife that cut into his throat as he was writing, dropping scarletonto the white pages on which he was making notes. It was a very lighttouch, but somehow enough pressure to draw blood, enough to hurt andwarn, but he wasn't dead yet even though by all rights he should be ina situation like this.

He closed his eyes, probably not the best idea, but it helped him focusand calm the shock of the unexpected pain and interruption enough tocontemplate his next step. Any swift movement would probably result inhis throat sliced wide open. "Do you mind?" he said dryly.

"You should have just given me your money."

Qabian smirked, recognizing the voice from a certain encounter just a couple days ago. "I should have made sure you were dead."

The knife cut a little more deeply. Qabian winced. "I--" He swallowed,causing a few more drops of his blood to land on his desk. "I see youhave a new knife."

"Obsidian," was the response. "Sharpest I've ever owned."

"Obsidian is mere rock. Volcanic, even. Its in its nature to melt, child."

"Not if it's enchanted."

"Ah. Well, are you going to tell me what you want or are you just goingto very slowly ruin my work by bleeding me over my desk one drop at atime?"

"I know you," she whispered in his ear, her breath warm and notunpleasant, but her nearness, the fact that she was human and so closeto him and not on fire, irked him. He shuddered, causing the blade athis neck cut a little deeper again, adding more drops to the growingpool on his pages.

"I sincerely doubt that," he hissed.

"You were in Dalaran. You were apprenticed to a mage who was teaching my father."

Qabian blinked. He had been in Dalaran several times over the course ofhis apprenticeship. This could have happened at any time in herlifetime, or even in the decades preceding if she only knew him basedon things her father had said. The information was useless. He waitedfor her to say something of import, but she didn't continue. Instead,the pressure on the knife released.

He whirled around, standing and knocking his chair over, one armoutstretched, ready to set fire to her and everything in his own roomthat her filthy presence had touched, but before he could so much asgesture she staggered backward, practically falling into the chaiselongue opposite the window. That put him off his guard and reduced thefeeling of need for immediate destruction, although he did note that hewould have to have the chaise reupholstered.

The girl sobbed where she sat, covered her face with one arm, the otherthat held the dagger limp at her side, letting a drop of his own bloodfall to the floor. He'd have to have that cleaned, too. Still reelingfrom the shock of being assaulted at his own desk and then presentedwith a decidedly weak-looking weeping human girl, he righted his chairwithout taking his eyes off her or lowering his arm.

"You sneak past all the guards in Silvermoon, manage to somehow find myapartment, have the audacity to attack me in my own home without givingme any chance to defend myself, assaulting me for the second time in amatter of days, solely to tell me that I'm supposed to know yourfather?" He couldn't help raising his voice the longer he spoke, evenif he was using as much control as he could muster. "I don't know youor your father, and even if I did, why exactly would I care?!"

"I need to find him!" she wailed, dropping the dagger and putting both fists up to her eyes. "I need to!"

Qabian was caught off guard yet again. Now she was unarmed, in themiddle of enemy territory, and making enough noise to call the sunitself down on her head.

"And you expect me to help you?" He lowered his arm and laughed loud and clear.

"I-I'm only out here -- the only reason I even -- I need to find him!"

Qabian turned the chair of his desk around to face her and sat down onit, calmly describing the situation for her. "Listen to me. You'relucky you're not already a pile of ash on my floor. The only reason I'mnot in the process of melting your flesh off your bones this veryminute is because I'm hoping to save myself the trouble of refurnishingmy entire apartment. The smell would be impossible to get out. I'm alsoangry enough that I would probably cause some collateral damage to theneighboring apartments. The people living in them are not unimportant,and I'd rather avoid their wrath just now.

"For the moment, I'm giving you a respite and a choice. You can saywhatever it is your obviously damaged mind led you here to say, or Ican drag you by the arm out into the street and do what I really wantto do without fear of property damage."

She held up one finger and wiped the tears from her face with her otherhand. Her red, wet face disgusted him. His efforts to restrain the needto blast her off the face of Azeroth were causing him to twitch, but hewaited.

She took a deep breath, swallowed, and finally began to speak. "My father was a mage like you."

Qabian blatantly rolled his eyes at that statement.

"We lived in Ambermill, but you came to dinner with my father once,with your teacher and some important people. Daddy went back to fightin Dalaran. When the bad things came and the Grand Marshal put PrinceKael in jail, my father said he was wrong, but didn't want to doanything because he was scared of being called a traitor. After thesnake people freed you, my father disappeared. I wanted to look for himthen, but I couldn't. I had to stay and help my mother. But a few daysago she--" The girl choked. "My mother died."

The girl started sobbing again. Qabian gave an exasperated snort, andthe girl made another effort to dry her eyes. If she was expecting pityfrom him, she'd be disappointed.

"When mother died, I was alone. I had to go looking for him. There wasnothing else for me to do. I was trying to make my way to Quel'thalas,but I had no money. That's why I tried to rob you in Tirisfal. I washoping to pay for an escort or at least some supplies. When you turned,I recognized your face, and I thought you must know! You must knowwhere he is! But I thought you were going to kill me. When I came toafterwards, I knew I at least could find someone to ask about him. Icould track you down. I had to get here by myself without money or abodyguard. I found that knife in one of the abandoned houses in thevillages I passed. I don't actually know what it's made of. I made up astory from something my daddy mentioned once. Maybe it's true, I don'tknow.

"I managed to sneak into your city and find a hiding place where Icould watch until you came by, and then I followed you here. I was justgoing to threaten you until you told me where he was, but--" Her chinquivered and stopped her voice as tears welled up again.

He didn't respond, only smiled at her. It was not a kindly smile, but she didn't seem to recognize that.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because you and your father are both just so... human."

The girl sniffled. She waited for him to say something more, but hedidn't. She broke the heavy silence with a very quiet, "Um, thank you?"

"Ha! Believe me, that's not a compliment." He paused, looking out atthe sunlight in the square as he concocted a particularly deliciousplan for the child. He went to a rack near the door and lifted down aheavy hooded cloak. "You don't know where Kael'thas went after heescaped, do you?"

The girl shook her head.

"The Prince is not in Quel'thalas and where he did go, your father didn't follow him."

"B-but how do you know? He must have wanted to. He must have--"

"It didn't happen, but I may be able to show you what did. Will youcome with me?" With the cloak draped over one arm, Qabian moved tostand before the girl and offered her his free hand. To any who didn'tknow him it may have actually seemed that he was having a change ofheart and had something to show the girl. To any who did, they'd knowthis could not possibly end well, at least not for her.

"Out-out there?"

Qabian nodded, his smile as bland and unmoving as if etched in stone.

"But the guards?" She bent down to pick up her knife.

"Leave it. Walk with me." The blade still held interest. He wasn'tabout to let it go so easily, knowing what he had in mind for the girl.

She frowned up at him.

"Put this on. Keep your face hidden." He handed her the hooded cloak."If you leave your knife, I will keep you safe, and I'll show you whathappened to your father. If you bring it, I won't be held responsible.The cloak will be suspicious enough, but at least they may think I'msimply in the business of seducing some nobleman's daughter instead ofconsorting with the enemy."

She sighed, then smiled uneasily back at him and put her hand in his.It took a great deal of effort on his part not to flinch at her touch,but again, she was warm and not unpleasant, other than the fact thatshe was human and disgusted him to the very core of his being. "Come,"he said, and led her by the hand down into the Bazaar below.

[Keeper Of Lore]

The girl's degeneration from serious threat to snivelling patheticchild had been very quick both times Qabian had encountered her. It wasso typical of humans to have true power at their very fingertips andsuddenly toss it to the winds in succumbing to base emotion. She wasnot without skills. She had done things of which most skilled rogues ofconsiderably more years' experience would not have been capable.Whether that was the result of sheer determination or some other partof her story she had not shared, Qabian couldn't help but acknowledgesome degree of capability in her. However, she was also an idiot. Shehad the opportunity and the means to kill him, but her foolishness ledher directly into his hands, allowing him complete freedom to work hisown plan for her.

Once he successfully led her from the city gates, she stepped up close to him and whispered, "Thank you so much! My name is--"

"Don't tell me your name!" he interrupted. "I don't want to know it andI'm not about to tell you mine if you don't already know." The lastthing he wanted, ever, was a personal attachment to a human.

"But then how will you be able to--" She let go of his hand and stopped following him.

"You'll just have to trust me," he snapped, arm stretched back to her in impatience.

The girl bit her lip, then nodded solemnly before taking up his hand again.

He turned to face the Dead Scar and pointed. "You see that blight on the land there?"

The girl nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"Do you know what caused it?"

"The bad things? The sick people who died and came back? The great evil?"

"That's one way to put it, I suppose. If you had come this way not verylong ago, there would have been nothing for you to find. They destroyedthe source of all good things in resurrecting their Kirin Tor traitor.We have rebuilt this ourselves with the power of our own magic."

He waited for her awe. She merely continued to chew her lipthoughtfully. Qabian rolled his eyes again. "Come," he commanded,pulling her away from the Dead Scar and leading her east up into therolling hills. They crested the last hill and made their way down theroad towards Duskwither Spire and the ocean. "One of our Magisterscreated this tower and spent much time studying here. Unfortunately,most of his apprentices have succumbed to the loss of the Sunwell. Stayclose. We will reach the top of the tower. There I will show you yourfather."

She nodded again, moved her grip up his arm, and stayed close to him.With little effort, Qabian dismissed both mana wraiths and wretchedapprentices that approached them. He touched the teleporter, takingthem up the tower. Finally, at the highest platform, he bodily facedthe girl towards the ocean and the grounds of the compound below. Hehad selected this tower precisely because it was not built out directlyover the water, but was close enough to it.

"Stand next to me." He wrapped one arm lightly around the girl's waist. The wind at this height whipped their hair around theirshoulders. For all the disgust he felt for her, he began to take acertain delight in perpetrating this farce. "Why do you want to findyour father?"

"I need to," she said without thinking. "He is all I have left in the world."

"You miss him, right? You loved him. You are afraid for him. You areafraid for yourself and what will become of you without him? All ofthat is emotion. You have let emotion control you and push you all thisway, instead of harnessing it and using it to make something great outof yourself. That is the mark of a fool. I admit, you are notunskilled, but you are incredibly foolish.

"If you miss your father so much, I suggest you go to meet him."

The girl looked up at him with a glowing, ecstatic smile, and, with thearm he had placed so conveniently behind her back, he pushed her fromthe platform.

Her scream was not the long tumbling one he had hoped for. Withpractically feline reflexes, she flipped her body in the air andmanaged to grab hold of the edge of the platform. Qabian scowled anddropped to one knee. He grabbed her forearm just past the wrist andproceeded to fall victim to the usual habit of the truly villainous --exposition.

"I'm part of a group called the Grim. Perhaps you've heard of it?" he snarled.

An expression crossed the girl's panicked face that indicated thesudden recognition of the terrible mistake she had made. He wasimpressed. Their influence had reached far if even this naive childknew the name.

"No point being afraid now. Your fate was sealed the moment you enteredmy home uninvited. There are a lot of things I could have done to you.My usual response would just be to set you aflame and watch you burn. Icould have released you into the custody of a variety of otherindividuals who could cause you to suffer many long weeks until youbegged for death. I suppose what I have chosen to do is a little lessimpressive, but I admit I'm still going relish it. You will feel fear.That much I know. With fire, sometimes that sensation is missed." Hisvoice was nonchalant, as though describing completing a simple yetfulfilling task that he engaged in daily.

"Why-why would you do this? What have I done to you?" she cried, terrorcombining with a desperate need to survive as she dangled by one armfrom the immense floating tower.

He laughed. "Other than your feeble attempts to kill me? You made themistake of being born to the wrong race. That is all. Do you know thetrue mark of a fool? The one quality that ultimately brings all of usto our ends? Trust." A malevolent smirk twisted his lips as he set thefire flowing from his hand down her arm, ripped the grip of herbone-white fingers from the ledge, and watched and listened to herfall. The cloak she had borrowed caught the wind, one edge smoldering from hisown fire, and floated away out to the sea.

Once satisfied, he took a feather from the pouch at his belt, crushedit between his fingers, and stepped off the platform, floating lightlyto the ground. She would not be coming back. He picked up the crumpledform's charred hand in his own, much less disgusted by it now, anddragged the body to the beach where he let the waves and the tide carryit away.

"Only a fool allows themselves to trust, but I may indeed have shownyou to your father. Peace through annihilation," he said, grinning andtalking to himself in the odd habit he had begun to develop. He dustedoff his hands and began the walk back to the city. Perhaps he'd stop bythe Bazaar and see if he couldn't find some new material for his chaise.