81
With Neve safe and the evil magister, well, oozing, it’s time for you all to head back to the pawn shop. You shuffle off, exhausted, looking forward to some food and a good long rest.
“Dorian,” says Ashur from behind you, where he’s walking shoulder to shoulder with Tarquin, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but… when is this glamour going to wear off?”
Dorian makes a face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” he says. “I made it rather quickly and the truth is… I don’t know. A few hours? A few days, perhaps?”
Dorian winces.
“Well,” says Tarquin, “I reckon we should make the best of it. Let’s stop and get some food while you’re still incognito. Something fried. Something really filthy.”
Ashur says, “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”
Tarquin shakes his head. “Can I wear the hat?”
“No,” says Ashur.
It doesn’t escape your notice that, by the time you get to Tarquin’s food stall of choice, the hat has left Ashur’s possession and is comfortably settled on Tarquin’s head.