Chapter Text
Now this was how Lyndon liked to wake up: nestled warmly in the downy-soft bed of a beautiful woman with no beautiful woman in sight. Glittering sunlight streamed into the room and cast an ethereal glow on the oak floors of the bedroom. The caterwauling town brats were causing a ruckus outside, but without the accompanying hangover he would usually have after a night of debauchery, he found barely minded the noise. He could hear the ringleader of the children—a boy of around eleven called Roddy—loudly proclaiming himself the hero of Sanctuary. Several nights ago, the ‘Hero of Sanctuary’ and his coterie had slipped a toad into Lyndon’s coat pocket while he was inebriated. Lyndon was unamused, but the toad was unharmed and was hopefully living a bliss-filled life in the damp forest Lyndon had returned it to. The templar hadn’t let him forget the experience though, and thinking of it caused a vindictive streak to creep into Lyndon’s previously idyllic peace. With a snort, he considered seducing Roddy’s mother as payback, before deciding he was beneath returning the petty antics of children. He’d steal the child’s pocketknife instead.
Now the whole gaggle of children were laughing and screaming outside. Truthfully, the racket reminded him of Kingsport and he felt a sad, longing sense of nostalgia. Followed by the self-loathing that accompanied thoughts of Kingsport like a desperate bedfellow. His brother was still rotting away in a dank, moldering prison because of him. Rea still refused to return his letters. But Lyndon had no other recourse than to resume business as usual. He had a prodding suspicion he was forgetting something important, and it was time to slip out before the woman who’s bed he currently lounged in returned. He hadn’t meant to spend the night. Spending the night in the arms of a beautiful woman usually gave said woman the wrong idea about what kind of man he was. Sometimes, like with Sasha, that worked to his advantage. Usually it led to a great deal of crying and screaming and a climactic brisk slap to his face before he made his merry way onto the next town. Such is the life of the gentleman thief.
And his partner the previous evening had been quite the acrobat. He wouldn’t have guessed it upon first sight. She was the meek wife of some poor sod who joined the militia and was still unaccounted for. Although his bedmate (Belynda? Bertruda?) confessed she felt guilty for her disloyalty to her husband sometime between their second and fifth round, Lyndon privately thought she needn’t worry. Her husband had disappeared when the falling star first plummeted from the heavens—several weeks ago now. There weren’t many who could brave the wilds for a few hours and come back healthy and hale. Her husband was dead now, that much was certain. At least, Lyndon hoped he was. Death would be better than whatever could befall a man unfortunate enough to remain alive in the godsforsaken woods of New Tristram.
Lyndon gave a satisfying cat-like stretch and slowly began pushing himself up to a sitting position. Best to make his escape now, he wasn’t one for farewells. Now that she had succumbed to her lust and spent the night with him, he was sure Beatrice was off preparing him a breakfast fit for a king and dreaming of their shared futures. He wouldn’t say no to a spot of breakfast, but he drew the line at having to disappoint a lovestruck woman. Had he been with her, Lyndon would have assured her that his charms were irresistible to nearly all women, and that she shouldn’t blame herself. In fact, best she wasn’t in the bedroom to be consoled. Even with stale breath and unkempt hair fresh from the bed, Lyndon was an undeniable catch. Bertha would probably have thrown herself on him, and then he’d be stuck in that cushiony, decadent bed for the rest of the day. But that wouldn’t do at all. He couldn’t quite place it, but he knew there was something he had to do today. Something of the utmost importance. If he could just put his finger on it…
Lyndon heard a sound, like a crisp snap. It felt as if, for a brief second, all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Out of reflex he pulled the blankets close to him as the bedroom around him warped and books, clothes, and a vase containing a few wilted sunflowers were hurled into the wall. Standing in front of him was the self-styled wizard, Li-Ming. While she tended to be unimpressed with his roughish charm and witty antics, this morning she particularly vexed. A taught frown was stretched across her face, and she rolled her eyes with great exaggeration. Lyndon thought that was a bit unnecessary.
“Although I am more than capable of defeating the spider queen on my own, I do seem to recall you insisting I not venture into her cave without you.” She said, placing her hands gracefully on her hips. Lyndon admired that about her; she did everything with grace and ease. Well, with ease at least. There was nothing graceful about her rejections of his propositions.
He was certain this new display of arcane power had cut his life short at least a decade, but Lyndon was glad Li-Ming had sought him out. The Spider Queen dwelt in an abandoned old cave filled with Akarat-knows what sorts of ancient oddities. Ancient oddities that would—no doubt—fetch a substantial price. Lyndon had to see for himself. He had even let slip the templar’s fear of spiders to ensure he’d be the tag-along for this little jaunt out of New Tristram. Their leader saw through his schemes, of course, but didn’t seem to have a preference which one of them joined her.
“And venture without me you should not! You may be able to defeat the Spider Queen alone, but you alone cannot possibly hope to carry the mountains of coin we’re sure to encounter. I selflessly volunteered myself for this job, and I have every intention of seeing it through. In fact, I’ve just finished gathering intelligence on the area and was about to join you and begin our trip.”
That earned him a wry smile. “Yes” she said, “how noble of you. Although I’d thank you to keep any intelligence you’ve gathered here to yourself.”
Lyndon returned her smile with a filthy grin of his own and looked around for his trousers. Li-Ming followed his gaze and gingerly held a dusty pair of brown trousers between two fingers that he quickly recognized as his own.
“They must have been tossed out the window.” She said, and extended her arm so he could grab them without disturbing the sheets that afforded him a small degree of modesty.
“Come to think of it, wherever is Beverly? I recall seeing her last night. Seeing a lot of her actually—”
Li-Ming gave another unnecessarily exaggerated roll of her eyes.
“—but she was gone when I woke up. Not that I’m bragging, but I’m not used to waking up alone.”
He was bragging and they both knew it, but Li-Ming seemed to be seriously considering his question. Her eyebrows drew down and her mouth was fixed in that precious little frown she wore whenever she was reading a particularly difficult passage in an untranslated text.
“Who now?” She said, one eyebrow rising in a slow, fluid motion.
“Beverly? Or maybe it was Bernice? Alright, I can’t remember her name, but it’s on the tip of my tongue.”
She snorted at that. “Her name is Helen. How you’ve managed to work your way through more than half the women in this town when you can’t even be bothered to remember their names amazes me. I’ve never seen a flirt so shameless, or a group of townswomen so desperate.”
Li-Ming shook her head and surveyed the damage she had caused by teleporting into the room rather than use the door like anyone else. She was always at the ready to scold him for his eccentricities, but she was the real oddity in this hellspan-ridden town. Lyndon had done a lot of traveling since leaving Kingsport, and he’d seen enough to spin some unbelievable tales, but he’d never seen a sorceress so willing to display her power. And what power! Normally, magic practitioners were cautious of the power they wielded. Something about maintaining natural order and the path to corruption being laid by wanton arrogance. But the wizard showed ability he’d never seen the likes of before. She had incredibly control over her magic, but used it in a way he was sure they took umbrage with at the Yshari Sanctum. The Vizjerei didn’t have a reputation for indulging in frivolous displays of magic. Just the other day at Deckard Cain’s study, he saw her conjure a book out of thin air rather than rise from her chair and retrieve it from Cain’s desk. And he was the shameless one! Just as he expected, Li-Ming snapped her fingers and the room was reverted to its pre-teleportation condition, with one exception: the previously wilted sunflowers were revived, the cheerful yellow blossoms once again on top of the nightstand. Show-off.
Whenever Lyndon saw how effortlessly the wizard yielded her power, he was reminded how little he knew of her life. Her strength didn’t worry him—quite the contrary. As soon as Lyndon saw her in the Fields of Misery, her robes a radiant (and in his opinion, garish) shade of purple, he knew she would be a good friend to have. And despite popular misconceptions, what kept any good thief alive wasn’t cunning, but connections. But just because they’d yet to have a heart-to-heart didn’t mean Lyndon couldn’t guess at her past.
Rumors were starting to flow out of Caldeum. A band of young students, rejecting the traditional titles of ‘sorcerer’ and ‘mage’ and calling themselves ‘wizards’, had rejected the teachings of the archmage. The official position of the Sanctum was that this rebellion had been summarily dealt with, and that it was less of a rebellion, and more a bit of youthful indiscretion from the Mage Clans’ most malleable pupils. That was obviously certifiable rubbish, and his sources gave a much more sordid detail of what transpired at the Sanctum. Not only was there a rebellion, but a pupil had dealt the archmage an embarrassing defeat. After hearing Li-Ming repeatedly discuss her love of the gilded streets of Caldeum with Leah and Cain, Lyndon didn’t have any doubts that she was the pupil responsible for the mayhem at the Yshari Sanctum.
After surveying her handiwork, she looked back at him. “Helen went to hear news of the militia. She won’t be back from some time. But we’ve already lost plenty of daylight. If you’re not down soon, I’m afraid I’ll have to pilfer the lair of the spider queen without you.” At this, Li-Ming tossed him his trousers, and left. Gratefully, she left through the door, rather than teleport her way out, as he half-expected. That woman took every opportunity she could for a grandiose display of power. He decided to take her threat seriously and get dressed with rapidity, incase he missed out of the treasures of the Spider Queen. But after shrugging on his trousers, he felt something in his right pocket. He reached down an extracted a beleaguered toad. Lyndon let out a girlish shriek he would later deny, then heard a suspicious cacophony of laughter from the street. He threw open the wooden window shutters to see all eleven of the miserable town brats bowled over with laugher. Li-Ming stood beside them, and when their eyes met she gave him a smile so coquettish he could feel his face redden.