She matched his long strides, this graceful woman with tanned skin and red flame for eyes, this woman whose thoughts were kept behind a wall of unbreakable silence. Her clothing flowed like molten gold, but delicate and lovely. A glance toward her would not have raised the alarm of any strong man. She seemed harmless, but for the presence about her, but for the way the air shifted around her, but for that. Any man who underestimated her, Ilyien now knew, would pay dearly for his mistake.

It seemed that one was soon to do just that.

The plan was his - and it was simple. The lady brought him before Haradan and recommended his skills as a mercenary. But before they arrived in front of the old merchant, he accompanied her to the doorway of her target - the minor lord in service to Haradan himself. She was right to note that his mere presence at her side would draw the attention she wanted. Shine was unconcerned about interference in her plan - apparently most all here in Charisat knew she was not to be trifled with - but Ilyien had no intention of allowing any to stop her or to harm her while she did what she needed to do.

There was a pause at the stone and wood gates of the great merchant's fortress. A pause only, for when the guards saw that it was Shine who had approached, she was allowed through without hesitation. Healers were precious things, especially in the desert deeps, but Ilyien had not expected to encounter so little resistance in her company. He glanced to her quickly and caught a smirk that lived and died on her lips in a matter of a second. Difficult to keep one's mouth in a straight line after that. She had some fire in her, and the phoenix admired her for it.

The direction was hers to set. He walked at her side, silent, allowing her will to be his own -- for now.

He led her on his arm, as was proper, from the tavern and into the noonday dust of Charisat. This Shine seemed somewhat bemused by the offer of his arm, as if it were a rare thing. Ilyien realized, belatedly, that it must be in a place such as this. Strange that he had not considered it before; but it did not change the rightness of its doing. Despite her bemusement, she carried herself the way a lady in high court would - lightly, carefully, with grace that made her movements seem as if she were moving through the air without touching the ground. He wondered what her life had been before she came here. He wondered why she felt drawn to this place at all. The money, perhaps. The money must be substantial. But there was more in her, he sensed, than the desire to become prosperous.

Prosperous was what she was, however, from the looks of her apothecary. The free-standing building she led him to was relatively large by comparison to the other Charisat huts he'd seen. While it did not rival Haradan's home, it was more than respectable for a person who was not a part of the merchant's graced circle. Or was she? He could not dismiss the possibility, as much as he would have liked.

When he entered, his eyes did not adjust from the outside light; it was nearly just as bright and very nearly as hot as the outdoors were. A quick inspection of the main room told him the reason. On the north and south walls, a series of twin mirrors aligned themselves across the room. Before each mirror was some form of light - candelabra, lamps, dishes of open flame in oil - all at varying heights. The overall affect was to banish nearly all shadow from the room. It would make sense that a healer's business be well-lit, but even by those standards, this was extreme. The heat was reminiscent of his home in Ylric. Home. A word that had lost nearly all meaning. Here in this... cozy place, filled with fire and light, it brought to him nearly-forgotten memories of a more peaceful time. The twinge was unexpected.

"Excuse me a moment," Ilyien said, once he had opened the door for her. Leaving the strange woman in her apothecary, Ilyien quietly but quickly made a circuit around the perimeter of the building. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary - no visible prying eyes or eager ears - but it was not necessarily true that there still weren't any. He also checked the outside of the building, noting windows, exits, and the like. Their voices should not carry - and even if they did, the wind from the desert was picking up. It felt as if there would be a storm soon.

When he returned again, he closed the door carefully, and with a questioning glance for permission beforehand, also dropped the bar across it. "You feel the storm coming," he said. It was more a question than a comment... but a question he was certain he could answer already.

The air in Charisat was hard, gritty, and hotter than the sun's rays themselves. Ilyien took one deep, appreciative breath and let it warm his chest. It was almost like home, save for the stench of the city. Almost like Ylric, though his city was far south of here. Troicent, however, was very close. And that was the reason why he was here to begin with.

For near 30 years, now, the mining town of Charisat was held in relative stability by a human merchant who went by the name of Haradan - an elderly man whose mind was hard and sharp as the diamonds that he first sought here at the base of the Theron Mountains. Haradan was neither a good nor honorable man, but he did one thing that Ilyien and his kin were grateful for: he held Charisat to himself with an iron will. For the last 30 years, no traders from Charisat were authorized to enter or leave without his express permission - and no expansion was planned past the western side of the mountains. This meant that the phoenix city of Troicent, secreted away on the eastern side of the Theron Mountains, never had cause to defend itself against foreign invaders. As far as the people of Charisat - and their merchants - knew, there was nothing past the eastern reaches of the mining town.

The Guard had trailed a band of men from Stardriel forest eastward across the Din Lyore Desert. In the hottest parts of the day, when men could not endure the harshness of the sun, Ilyien used his nature to travel farther than they ever could have done during the same time. So when he arrived in Charisat, it was a good day and a half before the men behind him. The tavern where he now sat was littered with drunkards and the hard and hollow women who took their money in exchange for pleasure. Ilyien sat against the wall some distance from the doorway, head down above his nearly-untouched stein of ale. For appearances' sake, he seemed lost in thought. The reality was far different.

Bits and pieces of conversation buzzed around him. So far, he had gathered that Haradan was well aware of the band of men who approached - and he was aware as well that they meant to unseat the old merchant and take Charisat for their own. There would be a war here in this city, and although the phoenix was loathed to take any side in the battle, it was his Praetor's mind that it was better to know the demon in power than to gamble on another who wished that power.

The trick, however, was finding a way of inserting himself into the services of this Haradan without irrevocably binding himself to the man in the bonds that the merchant was so fond of using - slavery. There was no reason that Ilyien yet had found that could be used as a method by which he could gain the merchant's trust. And he needed that in. Desperately. And soon.