The whole of the cosmos ebbed and flowed with the currents of numina; everything and yet nothing passing through itself and turning back on itself.
"Boss!" Drake's piercing voice cut through Conrad's meditation like a knife. He sighed, opened his eyes, and looked up at him.
"What?" he asked. Drake was curled up on the counter of the back room of Conrad's potion shop, leisurely sprawled out between stacks of coins he had been counting while Conrad was meditating.
"You gonna get to work on finding out who stole the book you were gonna steal?" he asked. Conrad sighed and nodded.
"I suppose, seeing as you've interrupted my meditation anyway." He stood up slowly and stretched. Drake nosed through the coins lightly before fluttering up onto his master's shoulder.
"Also, there's the little matter with the Earl you have to take care of" he added. Conrad groaned softly. The local Earl had hired him to do a series of spells on his estate, and he was expected to arrive that day to do the work. Conrad sighed and rummaged through his supplies before getting a large pack, filling it with his needed supplies, before picking up a small sack off the counter. In the sack was an assortment of carved stone wedges, which he pulled out and arranged on the floor in a circle. As soon as he finished the circle, the floor inside the circle faded into a silvery, shimmering pool. "Neat boss. You never told me you had a set of Portal Stones"
"They're powerful artefacts Drake. It's not something I want to advertise," he said, stepping into the middle of the silvery pool. As soon as he did, the room around him faded into a grey blur, swirling and shifting in a stone-coloured whirlwind. The only thing still solid besides Drake and Conrad were the Portal Stones, which glowed softly before fading. The swirling grey faded into blurs, then shapes, and finally, colours. They were standing in the middle of a dirt road leading towards a stone wall and an iron gate, which fenced off a large property, in the centre of which was an impressive-looking estate; they were outside the house of the Earl. A servant hurried towards the gates, opening the heavy lock and pulling the gate open. The sort of person Conrad distrusted. Not exactly sneaky, but their was a way that he moved that set Conrad on edge.
"Hurry!" The master has been waiting for you!" he said, rushing him past the gate and locking up again. "Filthy street urchin" he muttered, glaring at him as he walked up the path to the Earl's mansion. As he was ushered inside, a particularly unpleasant man greeted him. His hair was blonde, and nearly as thin as the man it vainly grew from. His nose was large and slightly bulbous, sniffing constantly. In fact, the man seemed to be plagued by a constant cold, judging by his sallow complexion and tired, watery green eyes.
"Earl Colombain?" Conrad asked. The sickly-looking man nodded, smiling. His teeth were as yellow and crooked as their owner.
"Master Declan, how kind of you to assist me. Come, I shall explain my plight as we walk the grounds..." he laid a bony arm across Conrad's shoulders and led him out onto the grounds. "As you are aware, Mr. Declan, I am a rich man. But recently several attempts have been made on my life, not to mention my wealth. What I'm asking is can you make it so my grounds are more... difficult to infiltrate?" He asked, flashing him his crooked smile again. Conrad sighed and nodded.
"Yessir. Such work will be easy, and I ought to be done within the day..." He was about to explain when a young lady in a dark red gown ran across the grounds and turned to speak with the Earl.
"Earl Colombain, I have received a latter from my father. He says he will not, and I quote 'lend any of his militia to protect your ill-gotten fortune'" The earl's ugly smile faded into a scowl, an expression Conrad had to admit suited him much more. The Earl turned and smiled at Conrad again.
"Master Declan, allow me to introduce you to Rosmarie Swanhild" She curtsied politely. Conrad bowed slightly, smiling.
"Daughter of Baron Swanhild?" he asked. She nodded.
"I prefer Rose though, if you don't mind." Conrad nodded, smiling. He was not fond of the Baron. He was a drunkard and a bully, and thus, Conrad felt no remorse trying to steal from his Royal Library. The Earl broke in again, smiling.
"Ms. Swanhild is my guest for a few weeks until her father comes back from a diplomatic errand of some manner or another. Until your work is done Mr. Declan, I invite you to stay with me as well." He said, smiling still. Conrad agreed, seeing that it was already late in the evening, and it would be better for him to start his work in the morning. Earl Colombain summoned a pair of servants to carry Conrad's things to his room, where he lay on the bed and sighed softly. The sheets were made of silk, which a wool blanket over top of that. Drake perched on the desk beside the bed, wrapping himself around a silver candlestick.
"I love the rich..." Drake muttered softly. Conrad laughed and nodded.
"A fool and his money are easily parted," he said, laughing. He didn't like to admit it, but he was tired from the Portal spell, and he could use the rest. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and soon, he was fast asleep in the comfortable silk cocoon of the bed.

"Boss" Drake's hissing voice whispered right next to Conrad's ear, and he sat up suddenly. "Somebody's sneaking around. We should check it out..." he said. Conrad sighed and crept out into the hall, looking around. He grunted softly as he was bumped into, then smiled wickedly as he recognised his assailant.
"We meet again." The person was none other than the thief that had beaten him to the Encyclopaedia Arcana. She smiled slightly and pushed him aside.
"Out of my way, amateur." She said. Conrad stopped her for a moment.
"Who are you?" he asked. She laughed.
"Like I'd tell you my real name! You may call me Tare Lacuna..." Conrad paused for a moment, thinking.
"'The void from which all has been removed?'" he asked. She nodded, and in a flash of light, she was gone.
"Well Drake we know one thing. She's got a good taste for victims." He said, heading back to bed; "and her nom de plume. That will prove much more help than she thinks," he said, yawning and going back to sleep. Tomorrow would prove to be very productive indeed.