The Master Alchemist

Part 4

Voraloxle shifted in the couch, one of his few luxurious accsessories in his hideout. After all, it would be a complete waste should he be caught smuggling and have all of his possesions taken. That was why he and his organization always packed light. For conveinence's sake.

He'd been sitting here for the better part of three hours, listening to an annoying zebra trying to push him into a deal. Voraloxle did not like people who threatened him. This fool was really just pathetic; he had no clue the strength of Voraloxle's shady empire. At this point, the black-and-purple pony had stopped paying attention. He'd decided this annoyance needed to be made an example of.

Flicking his long, straight white mane out of his eyes, Voraloxle fed magical power into his unicorn horn and snapped the zebra's neck. His wide-brimmed hat left his adversary--if you really wanted to call him that--not knowing what hit him.

"Get rid of him. Preferably by throwing his body at the front door to the Yang Benevolent Association," Voraloxle named this zebra's company, a rather ironically named producer of illegal weaponry.

As his two guards dragged the body out a hidden door, Voraloxle could feel the magical trap he'd set outside the door to his small meeting room trigger, warning him of someone coming in. Who the hell had the doorman let by this time?

Voraloxle was pleasantly--or unpleasantly, he couldn't decide--surprised at the appearance of Zecora and her young apprentice over the threshold to his square meeting room.

"Ah, Zecora. How interesting that we would meet again on such short notice. Please, sit." he indicated the couch across from him. "Now, what is it that you would like to discuss? I thought you had rather vital business here in the capital?"

Zecora's face grew into a scowl. "Voraloxle, end these games that you play! I know that you have involved yourself in this fray," she looked accusingly at him.

Voraloxle raised his front hooves up in a gesture of submissiveness. "Whoa, hey, what did I do?"

"Well, ye gave us those ingredients to the cure!" The apprentice spoke up in her strange, accented drawl. "All aside from one."

"I don't know anything about this specific 'cure' you're discussing. I have extensive medical knowledge, but this definately does not ring a bell," While normally he would probably be lying, Voraloxle was seriously stumped, though he tried not to show it. For once in his life, he couldn't even pretend to know what was going on. "You could at least tell me what it cures," he said, hoping to draw out further information.

"Ya'll ready know what it fixes, doncha?" the yellow pony, not even out of her teen years by the looks of it, threw in a hint of doubt at the end of her words. So they didn't really know. There wasn't any solid evidence.

Voraloxle rose from his perch and stepped down onto his hind legs. "Actually, I know absolutely nothing beyond that there is a cure for something, but for what I know not." He turned his eyes to the zebra. "Zecora, please. You know me."

Zecora's "I-am-not-amused" countenance remained. "Indeed, I do know you, and I know that most of your words are never true."

"Most? I thought you trusted me more than that," Voraloxle put on an obviosuly fake abused face. "No matter. You're not getting anywhere with me until you tell me what you're talking about anyways.

Zecora sighed--more like heaved--out a breath, and began to open up. "I speak of the black cancer. To our questions I hoped you would have the answer."

"Ah. Black Cancer. I've heard of it; but I'm not too familiar with its cure. Enlighten me?" Voraloxle asked with particularly honeyed words.

"There's several ingredients to the cure, and we found a couple of 'em on our way here to deal with the trade routes," The apprentice cut in again. Voraloxle liked her no-nonsense attitude. She still seemed a little soft around the edges, but she was looking to be a good mercenary...

"And I take it you found all but one and you thought I had planted them?" Voraloxle assumed. When the pair nodded in unison, he continued. "I could help you, but... I need a little something in return. The Book of Velnishar," he said.

"That name I have heard before, but what lore it contains I am not sure," Zecora's eyes grew dark.

"Alright, then. Finish up your diplomatic business here, and I think I know who to find," Voraloxle dismissed them with a wave of his hoof.

Once they were gone, he called out, and a pony stepped from nothingness into shadow. "Take care of the place while I'm gone," Voraloxle said, and without another word, slipped off through a hidden door.