DoT: The Limits Of Divination

"I think I have her," Donnagun said, half-staggering into Vallista Greycloak's office. The dragonborn was usually showier than this, transporting himself magically and levitating rather than sitting or standing, and Vallista immediately straightened behind her desk. 

"Have whom, exactly?" she asked. 

"Divination," said Donnagun, sinking into a chair, "has its limits. It's good for finding things you know, but not so good for finding things you don't know. I had to contact a godling, which... anyway, the woman who killed your father is probably a half-elf named Rianma Blackblade, who can be found here on Hinnom, working in the library at the Palladium College."

Vallista raised her eyebrows. "Are you well?"

"As well as can be expected after something like that," he told her. "I'd have written it down and called a runner, but I was afraid if I fell asleep I'd forget."

"I see," said Vallista. She knew enough about magic to realize that this was a very real possibility. Contacting the outer worlds was not something that wizards did lightly, and it was only slightly less fraught for clerics.  "You've done well."

"Honor of the Gang," Donnagun told her. "I know you have people looking, but this was... fast. Quiet. Professional. Worth the effort to get a name and a location."

"Indeed. Gazin?" Vallista rose from her desk. Donnagun was on the edge of passing out in the chair in front of her desk, and she had work to do. 

The Lizardfolk woman stepped into the office and nodded. "Yes?"

"Help me get Donnagun to the apartment," she said. 

Gazin looked down at the near-unconscious wizard with something that Vallista would have sworn was genuine fondness. "No problem, boss."

Donnagun pushed up to his feet. "No, I can--" he staggered. "Well, yes, maybe."

Gazin got an arm under him, and Vallista went to open the door to the small sleeping-area she kept for herself when the nights ran long. Donnagun could rest there, while she followed up on what he'd discovered.