A companion to owls

Szandor Antonius looked down at the lights of Febril. His summer villa in the foothills above, was comfortably far away from the city itself and the lack of neighbours allowed him to entertain his 'special' guests in the manner in which they were accustomed. He hoped that his small army of servants had completed their cleaning up of the surrounding shrubland. Still, he had arranged for plenty of water in case of an emergency.

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned and came face to face with Bodush. He had often asked himself how he had become entangled with this sorcerer. At first glance, he was no different from a score of others like him, callous, reckless, and drunk with the possibilities of his own arcane power. Szandor would have killed him in a heartbeat, but Bodush' concern for his friends, which seemed to be the only redeeming quality the sorcerer had, made him easy to manipulate.

"Perhaps we should warn Eolar and the others?" Bodush' tone was strangely apprehensive.

"Why? They are already on their way, and what good would this warning do them? Febril is already doomed. You wanted the Church of St. Cuthbert humbled, and this is the only way." Szandor smiled magnanimously as he walked to rejoin the party.