Sleep Without Rest

"Brazen"

A word that kept tumbling through Aras' thoughts.  Murder victims with the seven pointed star carved defiantly into their chests in the streets of Magnimar, bewitching a Lord Magistrate, doppelgangers of nobles serving up tea and poison.  These were the acts of someone very sure of their own power.  These were the acts of someone flaunting that power in your face...trying to confuse you and make you feel weak.  It was hard to not succumb to those kinds of thoughts at times like this.

The rogue lay in his sleeping bag at their makeshift campsite a few miles outside of Magnimar.  The moon and stars were bright in the sky above.  It was a beautiful summer night and yet he found it difficult to rest.  His problems were compounding by the day.  Cults, demons, goblins and now the dead mage was not so dead after all.

Luckily he had convinced the others to take the inexplicably kind warning of Trial to vacate the city as soon as possible.  With the bounty on their heads, every assassin in the city would have soon been climbing over themselves to get into their windows.  Seeing Trial with the blade over Garadin's throat put that into a very clear perspective.  Obviously they had been spotted at the market, probably trailed to the estate and then the Kaijitsu manor had been methodically cased day and night to detect patterns and capabilities of those inside.  It's what Aras would have done.  Always go in with a plan.  Always know what you are up against.  That was the most frustrating thing about this whole debacle....he had no clue what he was up against.  There was no pattern, no clear motivation.  Sacrifices of victims tied to old stories of sins.  For what purpose?

His companions frustrated him.  Why was he talking the mage into studying up on the cult and its symbols?  Why was he trying to talk the priest out of selling the masks which would tie them to the scene of the murder in the sawmill?  What had come over them?  Was it fear?  Was it the thrill of the adventure that had blinded them to caution and composure?  They wanted to act on impulse.  Acting on impulse gets you killed.  Aras very much wanted to continue living despite the world, it seemed, conspiring against him.

Was he actually turning into a hero?  The constant din of his subconscious whispering "flee and abandon this lot" was quieting by the day.  He had grown to enjoy their company.  He had actually held his breath when he saw Trial with the knife a the cleric's throat.

The rogue drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep; a sleep filled with blank faced horrors and ancient evils.  He would awake to find himself more tired than when he laid down hours before.