2:28 Dodging.

Much preparation had gone into this breach.

Mi'ishaen had been happy to learn that she'd be let loose in the very manse that she'd been marking before, but Stone had been concerned.  While the Hawke's gated courtyard and first floor were guarded, there were far too many of them for Stone to simply destroy.  No one would miss four rogue mages in a community where unregistered magic was punished with imprisonment and torture, at best.  People would certainly talk about the death of at least ten good former town guards and mercenaries- it was far too much of a risk, even if the Orc were to accomplish the near impossible task of eliminating all of them alone.  So, Mi'ishaen suggested that she simply avoid the lower portion of the building entirely, heading straight for the second floor and accessing the storage room- wherever it was- from there.  Dark liked the idea, instantly speaking of it as though it would happen, and Mi'ishaen agreed to do some training to prepare for the mostly solo mission.

Dark requested Stone's presence a few nights later, in her "office" under the perpetually dark quarter of Urmlaspyr.  The Orc showed up, thick, tattooed arms crossed over his muscular chest, with a carefully plain face.

"I know you don't like it," Dark began, looking up from the plans for an unrelated assassination mission.  "What I don't know is why."

"She's new," Stone replied bluntly.  "Spectre can spare better."

"I'll make sure that she's aware of what to do with witnesses," Dark nodded, leaning back from the table and focusing her attention on Stone.  "If that's what you mean."

"You're sending an illiterate to find a scroll."

And Dark had reason to cross her own arms.  "You're doubting my ability to see talent levels?  I'm hurt."

"You're Tiefling," Stone said flatly, not taking Dark's bait.  "I got more feel for kin than you?"

Dark shook her head with a sigh.  "I could have sent one of the older associates- even ones who had been in the manse before.  But you'll just have to trust my judgement of the big picture.  As for your inability to cover her- here.  Take these candles."  And from her small desk, Dark pulled out two candles so completely  black that it seemed as though they had been carved out of the solid night sky.  "The Only owes me a favor for Eagle."

Stone contemplated the two candles before accepting them, feeling as though he were taking part in a wicked pact of some sort.  He retained that strange feeling of borderline occult activity all the way down to the agreed-upon night, where he and Mi'ishaen sat in the tower of the temple to an Elven goddess that neither knew, preparing her line.  She wrapped cloth strips around the palms of both hands and gingerly stepped across the rope to a second floor window, and Stone began to count to one hundred.  It seemed unrealistic, to him, to expect a new associate to come up with heavily guarded paperwork in less than two minutes, but he kept that annoyance to himself.  Both Tieflings involved seemed to have every faith that it would work out just perfectly.

At the bare stone window, Mi'ishaen pushed herself into the small opening and checked around herself to get her bearings.  She'd planned to enter the guest room, mainly because there would be little reason to guard an empty and unused room.  However, when she cautiously looked around the heavy wood door, she didn't see any guards on the inside of the manse at all.  She sneaked out anyway, being sure to keep her body below the level of the banister on her left side.  According to the building plans, which Dark had somehow supplied, there was another guest room on the far end of the hall, a master bedroom to the right of that, and then a study room between that and the guest room that she had targeted for entry.  Her creeping position was the perfect distance from the floor to discern that there was a slight glowing on the floor between each one of the doors.  In order to avoid stepping on a trap, Mi'ishaen hopped up onto the banister and moved toward the study room, only to find that there were extensive illustrations on the study room door- there was no way to tell whether it was a concealed trap, or a genuine decoration.

Stone, still sitting on the same roof, had decided to give Mi'ishaen an extra minute or two.  She couldn't be seen from the windows, which was good for her, but bad for him.  With a sigh, he watched the manse guards below him change positions- none of them were looking at him, but he still got the tingly sensation of being watched.  His inability to even give her a sign that she needed to push through the mission weighed heavily on his mind.

Thankfully, the illustration on the door had been just that- an idle decoration.  Once inside, Mi'ishaen was presented with a bare desk at the center of the room, a door on her left and right, and a door in the ceiling that the building plans had not referenced.  There was a chandelier immediately in front of it, but if the intent was to obscure the door, the attempt failed miserably.  The two doors had illustrations on them, as did the floor on either side of the desk.

"It's like you want me to steal your stuff," Mi'ishaen breathed, checking the cloths on her hands.  Pulling the one on her left hand a little tighter, she took two running steps, planted one hoof on the desk and grabbed the chandelier with both hands, using the force of her motion to swing her up to the unknown door.  Fortunately, it was just resting inside its frame, not locked in any way.  It took her a few moments to reorient herself after essentially slinging herself up into it, but she was rewarded by the realization that she'd managed to find a small library of scrolls around her.

Outside, Stone was shaken from his brooding by the mingling sound of voices echoing in the empty avenue.  Carefully looking out of the tower, he was surprised- and strangely gratified- by the appearance of Dresan Hawke and his wife, returning from the docks.

This is not my fault, he thought to himself grimly.  My hands are clean of her blood.  Dark will answer.  

He put his hands into his bag to find the grappling rope that he had used to get Mi'ishaen into the manse before, and hit the smoothness of the two candles.  There was one last thing he had to do before he could claim that he was clear of what would soon be a coterie betrayal.  With a half hearted snort, he began to search for his flint.

Mi'ishaen lit a small candle that she had nicked from the temple on the way up.  The potion that she held, thin and milky looking, was somehow even more concerning than the version coming from Bahlzair had been, even though she knew she should have been more worried about the poisoner's brew.  She downed it anyway, closing her eyes and counting to five before opening them again.  For a few daring moments, nothing happened, and there was a twinge of panic, but then the mists of illiteracy passed like wind-driven clouds, leaving Mi'ishaen with the task of finding which scroll or set of scrolls had been the ones required.

There was no response to the candles- or at least so it seemed.  Stone blew on them in the effort to put them out, but found that he couldn't do so.  Licking his fingers to extinguish them that way only resulted in mild burns, and by that time, the Hawke couple was nearly underneath the temple.  Leaving the two candles precisely where they were in the tower, Stone hooked the grappler onto the other side of the tower and let himself down.  Within a few minutes, he was safe in a sewer, wondering what wickedness Dark and The Only had done to create jet black candles that would not be extinguished.

Elven, Elven, Sylvan, Elven, Eladrin, Elven- oh!  Common.  With a great big dragon on it.  We like dragons.  Mi'ishaen scooted herself over to the scroll rack that had been marked with the large silver dragon of Cormyr.  The rack was alphabetized, and most of the scrolls on it seemed as though they had not been touched in some time.  Each scroll began with a short descriptive paragraph, then listed names and dates.  The Tiefling was prepared to go through each scroll carefully until she heard movement somewhere in the manse. Putting quick fingers into the records, she found one that mentioned deportations to Sembia and another two that mentioned public executions in the top paragraph.  Hoping that she would not have to return and find the second part of the deportations, she began to search for another way out of the attic space.  Below her, two voices became clearer and clearer as their irritation rose.  Mi'ishaen found a crawlspace just as she heard the voices begin to get closer, but was chilled to the bone by one thing-

"I swear it to you- there is another here.  I smell kindred blood!"

Stone entered the Forge with a grim look severe enough to make Hammer stop working and notice.

"No Minx?" the Dwarf asked curtly.

"Don't know," Stone replied, moving through the actual forge room to get to the hallway on the other side.  "Got hot.  Had to leave."

"Left the candles?"

Stone threw Hammer a look, and the Dwarf smiled.

"Old alliance," she nodded confidently, returning to the armor she was augmenting.  "Good investment."

Inside the manse, Mi'ishaen made it to the end of the crawlspace and discovered an attic window, locked with a simple latch, with a spiked balustrade in front of it.  Taking her own grappling rope from her shoulder, she quickly hooked it onto a nearby stone rooftop and tied the other end to one of the spikes.   She rubbed the rope on the briefly, cutting approximately a quarter inch into the rope.  Making sure the scrolls were secure in her sack, she flipped the sack so that it was in front of her instead of behind, then began running across the grappling rope.  Halfway across the rope, she pulled herself into a forward spring, used her cloth-protected hands to grab hold of the rope beneath her, and made contact with the top part of the wall to which she'd grappled.  It took just a few more moments to climb the rest of the way, lay flat on the roof, and reclaim the rope end with the severed knot.

"What was that?" an unknown voice whispered fiercely.  "Quite the daredevil, aren't you?"

Mi'ishaen turned her head to look into the blood red eyes of what once was a Sylvan.  "Who are you?" she asked, readying her rope between her hands for strangling.

"Don't mind that," the masked and hooded creature replied simply.  "  You'll note I'm dressed to hide as well.  I'm Eagle, the emissary of The Only, allied with Spectre.  In fact, I used to be a Spectre operative, so I know the witness rules.  That's what I'm here for, but I had to drop and roll when you picked my roof to practice your tumbling act."

"You had to have seen the hook coming," Mi'ishaen reasoned.  "Why didn't you just move?"

The female's eyes squinted behind her mask, and Mi'ishaen could tell that a fanged smile was happening.  "Not everyone is your kind, young miss.  Where did you learn to be an acrobat like that?"

"You're mad," Mi'ishaen breathed, lying back down and feeling the sack to ensure that all three scrolls had made it with her.  "I'm no acrobat.  All I'm doing is dodging."

2:27 In the threads.

"My lord is not tired?"

"No," replied the smooth, even male voice.  "Again- moving from long range to short range."

Silveredge, still in the tree, watched as Vhalan expertly whipped his chain around his body in graceful, but deadly cross-body figure eights, then- with apparently no effort or feeling at all- wrapped his upper arms in part of it to shorten its reach on either side of him.

"To let her embrace you is to let her taste you; to let her taste you is to let her love you.  And when you love her as much as she loves you-" Vhalan allowed the chain to swing back out of his hands to its full length, whipped it around his leg, turned, then whipped it around his neck, turned again, then returned to the figure eights, slowing the chain's movement until he it coiled around his hand painlessly with its own residual force.  "-she will consume anyone within her reach.  There's no reason I should see the blank of your eyes without you having drawn my blood!"

Shanna rattled the branches of the tree.  "Please, come and try again.  We haven't much time before dawn, now."

"Learn to speak of yourself, and for yourself," Vhalan demanded as he uncoiled the chain and began to get it back to whipping speed.  "Do you know how long it will take a wet wit to figure out that when you are asking him how tired HE is, you are telling him that YOU are tired?  Let us pretend, just for a bit, that I am such a self-centered pudding brain- let us pretend that I am a master, and that I would like nothing better than to drag you back to a vat of vinegar, or a bed lined with ash and salt."  In a flash, Vhalan had swung the chain up and around the bough on which Silveredge had perched.  "Are you going to come down, or am I going to pull you down?"

Silveredge curled herself up and leaped forward, hitting the ground and curling into a forward tumble that put her on her feet a little ways behind Vhalan.  The vampire turned, brought chain and bough down with a resounding snap, and hissed through his fangs.  Within seconds, Silveredge found herself ducking beneath a flying branch, and she had to quickly pick her feet up to avoid their being snatched by Vhalan's returning chain- which still made no sound, for her, as it split the air.  Beyond them, the incoming tide roared its displeasure.

"Brother Vhalan-" Shanna begain, unsure of herself.

Ignoring her, Vhalan advanced against his only full-time student, getting a two step start, then leaping into a barrel turn that curled the chain around his leg and sent one of its weighted tips straight toward Silveredge's face.  Although she felt much more like shying backward from it, she wrapped her fists in her own chain- which seemed heavy enough to be something that would fasten one thing to another instead of an actual weapon- and put her arms forward to parry the incoming spike.  Turning herself underneath Vhalan's chain, she allowed her own to uncoil and attempted to catch either his back or his hips.  Unfortunately, her indecisive targeting showed, and he lifted his body into a flip over her attack, pulling the weight of his chain with him and whipping it around his other arm to pull it into a shorter range.  He slid down into a low crouch, spinning one of the barbed ends of the whip into a speedy saw, then slung it out toward Silveredge, who was preparing a barrel turn attack of her own.  His chain whipped its way up the second leg to leave the ground, was pulled taut almost instantaneously, and caused her to slam onto her back.  Vhalan  moved  forward toward Silveredge, who discovered- when she could open her eyes- that she'd slammed down on top of her chain- but felt the grip of Shanna's own chain whip around his left arm.  It was an augmented weapon that had a rough wood handle at one end, so when Vhalan wrapped his arm in it, pulled himself into a full forward flip and allowed his weight to yank the young woman's weapon forward, he had every idea that he was either disarming her entirely or at least making it very painful to go on restraining him.

Silveredge rolled over and looked briefly at the leg that Vhalan's chain had bit into.  A flash of cobalt blue appeared, and though she wiped it away with her hand immediately, it was enough to force a nearly whispered threat from the creature's lips.

"Such beauty!  I'll have more- pull you into my eternal midnight, where you belong!"

"Vhalan!" Shanna shrieked at once, her bruised fingers clutching the hilt of her chain whip in terror.  "Don't give in to that!"

But just her voice was not enough, and Vhalan's sudden flicker of lust-stained hunger poured an unearthly power into his already considerably strong body. With his left arm still held behind him by Shanna's weapon, he managed to get his own spinning back up again, around his leg, then his neck, then flying toward Silveredge, who rocked back onto her upper back just in time to have it miss the wounded leg.  As she completed the backward tiger roll, she felt the weight of the dragging chain and pulled it back toward her quickly.  A lock of her hair fell free of the high knot atop her head, flapping down into her eyes.  While it burned with sand and sweat, she could not afford to move it.  With her eyes fixed upon the half-caught male, she slid the wrapped chain from her left hand to her right.  He, knowing better than to take advantage of her weaker hand by attacking again, instead worked with distraction, whipping his own chain out toward her side, then toward her face again as though he intended to wrap it around her neck.  Behind him, Shanna struggled to keep Vhalan from shaking off her chain completely, cursing rapidly bruising fingers under her breath.  Silveredge turned away from the first pass easily, then folded her legs down with the insides of her feet on the ground, allowing her body to nearly fall flat to the ground in order to avoid the second pass.  When the chain whipped over, she sat up on her knees, whipped her chain up to speed in two rotations and sent it hurtling toward his one free hand.  Vhalan pulled himself into a backward flip as he pulled his outstretched left arm- along with Shanna's temporarily slackened chain whip- close against his upper body.  He landed on top of the relatively short piece of remaining chain, forcing Shanna to break her grip as she fell forward into the sand.  Without pausing for a moment, Vhalan shrugged Shanna's chain off and began to whip his own up to attacking speed again.  Silveredge got to her feet quickly, but momentarily faded into a ghostly image of herself, showing up behind Vhalan in her full physical form.

"Delicious," Vhalan approved, turning down into a low crouch as he slung his chain around Silveredge's wounded leg.  "Use every drop of your natural talent- don't stop to be respectful."

"I heard the lady tell you to stop what you were doing," a high male voice managed from the part of the beach that eventually led up toward the city.  "I got a staff here says you'll do just that."

Vhalan said nothing.  The only clue that the young one had at all that he'd been heard was the fact that the vampire released the bleeding Shadar Kai, then spun the chain out of his right hand and into his left.  The whirling attack came so quickly that he hardly had time to get his quarterstaff up to block it.  Even then, the chain whipped around it and yanked forward, forcing him to stop the vampire's assault by dropping to both knees and smacking one side of the quarterstaff against his ribs.  Vhalan, winded but on an offensive roll, grabbed the young man around his smooth neck, picked him up and slammed him to the ground, forcing him to look at his rapidly reddening eyes.

"Now let's talk, little fighter," he mused, sounding like a wine connoisseur at a tasting.  "What lovely ink work.  Very tribal chic.  Most other Elves I know look down on Sylvans, but you... you have the hawk, the wolf-"

The young man, clearly confused at the way his opponent seemed to reach into his mind and warp his will, was shocked when he heard his staff drop into the sand.  "What- are you- doing to me?"

"Making a real beast of you," Vhalan hissed back, gradually forcing the young man's head to the side.  "A creature unlike any painted on your skin."

"Oh, brothers- grab him!" Shanna called out.  "Rare form this time- he's got somebody's boy!"

And then there was a deafeningly loud clap that sent everyone's hands to their ears.  For a few moments, no one could move, and when eyes had been opened again, everyone but Silveredge, whose leg was still freely bleeding, had fallen to the ground.

"Yes," the vampire breathed, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again.  "Yes, thank you.  Do that... sooner.  Your magic...is... a gift."

"My lord is unwell?" Silveredge asked at once, rushing to the side of the male who had just attacked her.

"Hey, don't you remember what he just did?" the young Elf hollered, turning on his side in the sand.  "Get away from that thing!"

"He's right, dear lamb," the vampire sighed, throwing one arm over his eyes.  "Your lord is... a little more than merely tired.  Appropriate precautions should be taken."

"Dawn will break at any moment," Shanna managed as she crossed the distance up the beach to physically move Silveredge away from Vhalan.  "You didn't feed yesterday, and with all this training, the new blood was too much for you."

"He reeks of foolhardy bravery with deep tones of fear," the vampire replied, gritting his teeth.  "Your growing confidence is like a mulling cider, lamb- enticing, filling the air.  Even the most pitiful of mortals, who know not what they respond to, throw themselves into the arms of those they would naturally flee, felled by the enchanting power of your scent."

"You're sure you were in the priesthood, Brother Vhalan?" one of the robed males smiled as he gathered up the vampire's deserted weapon.  "Don't know the last time I've heard one of Bert's Blokes extolling the smell of a woman."

"And they are so much the poorer," Vhalan replied with a derisive snort.  "One hasn't lived until they have explored every intimate article of their beloved's flesh.  There is a beacon of divine pleasure, a valley of delight sacred enough to be made a temple, that cannot be imagined by haughty celibates and their slack-jawed, cattle-brained adherents."

"Well, he's sure not a priest now," the man who'd almost been made a thrall breathed.  "What is he to you all?"

"That is the Elder of the Warrior initiates," the second young woman explained.  "The only master chain fighter we have, for reasons that are probably now obvious to you.  That was the bitter end of a lesson."

Vhalan lifted his head as one warrior initiate blindfolded him and the other bound his hands before him.  Silveredge reached up behind her head and pulled the hard working pins that were holding her hair out, allowing it all to spill down over her shoulders.  Vhalan inhaled deeply and smirked.

"Even the stink of your effort is alluring."

"Lesson?" the Elven male sputtered, recovering his staff.  "It seemed more like an all out attack."

Vhalan smiled grimly, but the young woman frowned worriedly as both replied together, "It was."  Led by the two darkly-clad males who escorted the vampire, Shanna, Silveredge, a third initiate and the Eladrin male walked back from the beach to the city's burial ground.

"Are you here to join the path, or only to speak with someone on it?" Shanna asked, looking down at her swelling fingers.

"I'm Oakarm, Deadriver's messenger," the young male replied.  "I'm supposed to be setting up a meeting between Deadriver and whoever sent the clan symbol up from the catacombs, but-"

As the troupe descended into the unmarked entrance to the upper level of the cloisters, they found Aric holding counsel with an Eladrin whose sandy brown hair had been rolled into dreadlocks and one of the warrior initiates.  The two warrior initiates escorted Vhalan to his own room, but Shanna, Silveredge and the young Elf behind them came to a halt at the blockage.

"Fear not," Aric smiled, laying his hands on the two males calmly.  "It is a gladly-made sacrifice, allowing him to remain- ah!  You must be Oakarm."

The young Elf bit his lips and tucked his staff behind his arm a little tighter.  "Sorry, Papa, I sure found the Shadar Kai, but-"

"But she was out training, hey, no sweat, Oak.  The old man and I had a look in his scrying mirror.  You did your father proud, considering you were fighting a brother with about thirty years of experience on you."  The Eladrin scrubbed the Human male's head lovingly, tousling his long, loose hair.  "Meet your cousin."

"We call him Kennig, but before he became an initiate, he called himself Ironfeather, the name his father gave him," Aric explained calmly.  "It seems he has reason to change it back, however."

Silveredge was surprised to note that this was the same warrior initiate who had told her that only Aric should be enchanting the stone.  Ironfeather, noting her look at once, moved past Shanna to get to her, and Aric turned to move after Vhalan and his escort.

"I'm sorry- I just- I was hoping you'd turn around and go get Shepherd Aric.  When I saw- what I did, I just- I didn't know what else to do.  I wasn't thinking things through.  The Firebird sigil is the only thing I could mark the spot with, without actually taking a pickaxe to the thing and setting the trap off myself.  I don't know a lot of magic at all."

"It was the best thing to do," the dreadlocked Eladrin smiled.  "You may not think so, little brother, but it really is.  That sigil is a clan sign- one that only another Firebird would be able to reproduce properly.  See, I believe in your Queen.  I believe she ain't a joke.  If you had any doubts, Ironfeather, you put those to bed and kill 'em in their sleep.  She had you end up here so that one day, when the Firebirds returned, they'd touch base with the Queen's coven and start talking again.  What you did put a lot of bad blood under the bridge, and not a minute too soon."

"Well, now that you're here, you can help us get Elder Svaentok back, right?" Ironfeather sighed.  "The sigil didn't do much for keeping him from setting the trap off."

"Yeah, that's why I came myself," Deadriver nodded, "and nearly alone.  I can use psionics to tell what happened to your big brother, but I can't control who or what finds us because of tracking me.  Here's what I'll need- Oakarm, go back to the city limits and get Smokedog down here.  Tell him I'll do all the talking if he goes beast.  He should be able to sniff out what I see- or at least give the blood brother some fun."

"Fun?" Shanna interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Elder Vhalan is in delicate condition.  It's not fun for anyone."

"There's nothing delicate about the way he'd pull the skin off your muscles, sister," Deadriver shrugged.  "You think he's bad, you see Smokedog on a full moon's night.  But you gotta let 'em do what they do; gotta trust them.  Under the hide is a heart- just gotta move it the right way.  Now, Ironfeather, the sigil's way down in the earth, isn't it?"

"It is, but- Elder Shanna, I think I saw something- to do with one of the older initiates.  I don't know how to put this-"

"Spit it out, Initiate Kennig," Shanna sighed.  "Or- is it Ironfeather?"

The young Human male shrugged, not humoring Shanna's teasing.  "I caught it the minute I got down to the-"

"Shepherd Aric!" Quilafae hollered as she ran up the corridor.  She came to a sharp halt before the gathering, and her raven, which had been flying behind her, vainly attempted to settle on her shoulder.  "Where is the Shepherd?"

"Taking confession," Deadriver replied in a flat tone.  "I'm sure he'll be out in a moment."

"Well, by the time he does, you, your long-lost protege and this other excuse for an Elf had better be gone," the Drow female shot back.  "There was another exploding fiery bird- it almost hurt one of the monk initiates."

"I didn't do it," Ironfeather admitted at once, putting his hands up in a show of surrender.  "I only drew one, and it didn't hurt anybody."

"That's a lie," Quilafae spat.  "Who else in here can do that sign?  I don't know about any of the rest of you, but I actually paid attention in the history courses.  The Coven has been cleared out of this resting space by none other than the Firebirds not more than a decade ago.  I say we get these wild mages out of the sacred halls."

Deadriver looked over Quilafae's shoulder and into the eyes of her raven, who was perched as though she were sitting on hot coals.  He opened his bare arm, and the raven flew to it at once, scratching his skin and drawing blood.

"Mark me.  It'll be the slaver, the blood brother, and a wild mage that saves this place.  Every bone in this place will bear witness; you'll be put out before I am.  Now, when Aric returns, he, Ironfeather, Silveredge and I have talking to do."

2:26 Second time around.

A few "love notes" like the one Aleksei had found just on the inside of the opening under the house had pointed toward the existence of dozens of similar tunnels running under Urmlaspyr.  The Human and the Halfling had limped along at a crushed foot-friendly pace, following the path that Aleksei had done a great deal to mark, until they pushed the fur flap open to find an assortment of dead bodies.  The heavy odors of sweat, vomit and blood were powerful, and the torches smelled even worse, their animal fat cores mixing with the scent of the waxed wood.  At first, Amilie had picked her way across the cluster of cells cautiously to toss a healing potion down the bruised Dragonborn's throat, but after a while of moving between scouring the room, searching the halls and taking pressings, she began to simply hop over the bodies or even use them as stepstools to get to carvings or scrolls that were too high for her to reach.

Udala pressed the torn piece of paper onto the carved letters and scraped the bit of charcoal against it, as Amilie had shown her before they left the house.  The impression was a little messier than Amilie's work, since it was very difficult for her to get to the top of any of the carvings.  Behind her, the busy hag-in-training waded her way back through the bodies, up the charred hallway.

"Here's a third," she managed, holding a poorly bound journal in front of her as she stepped over the last bit of broken pottery.  "So many names- it's ridiculous that they got away with this.  They'd been at it before the war even began."  When she moved past the slumped Dragonborn, she paused to lean in front of his leathery  snout.

"That's- mmff, got it- awful," Udala breathed, turning around on the chair and sitting down.  "Didn't you say yourself that it might be a long wait?  Watched pots don't boil, Ami."

"Don't be silly," Amilie replied, tossing the journal across the room with the other two and hunting in the pouches that hugged her hips.  "A pot will boil whether you watch it or not, and untended fires go out, too."

"What are you trying to say?" Udala demanded immediately, watching as Amilie pulled out a small snuff pot of some substance, dipped her finger in it, then touched that finger to her tongue.  "I know it's hard, but we have to face the reality.  He's passed on to be with his ancestors.  He'd want us to be strong about it- you're doing the right thing, getting the dirt on whatever these freaks were doing down here.  When we've finished, we'll get the Elf, he'll come down and help us move his body."

"See the essence, see the essence, see the essence," Amilie muttered to herself, her eyes closed.  With a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and looked fixedly at the body before her.  "Oh, no- no, no, no you don't, little boy.  Spell, end."

"What's the- are you-?" Udala managed, turning herself around to grab her crutch.  "What witchery are you doing now?"

"Find me- find me something- sharp," Amilie replied distractedly, pushing over the bodies of the Stingers that lay where they'd fallen a day and a half before.  "A sword, a knife, a dagger, anything."

"Well, his sword is right-"

"Yes!  Where?" Amilie pounced at once, looking up at Udala with a nearly ferocious focus.

"Over here, by this second cell," Udala said, signaling to it with the end of her crutch.  "Whoever did this must have kicked it from him or something."

"He might have thrown or dropped it," Amilie pronounced, trying to lift the talon tipped terror from the ground.  "Goddess, the tip's weighted- I can't manage it- search the bodies- quickly!"

"A dirk here- mind the spikes," Udala shot back, picking up the weapon from the body that was closest to her.  "Are you-?"

"No, it's for him," Amilie breathed hurriedly as she nearly snatched the dagger from Udala's hand.  Tearing a strip of cloth from the sleeve of her blouse, she carefully wrapped the spiked hilt until she was no longer concerned about catching any remains of poison from it.  "He's tired of fighting her."

"Who?  You must be unwell," Udala reasoned, hobbling a few steps forward.  "It's the torches, and the gore of all these bodies- we should go.  You've worked hard, but it's all too much for you."

Amilie pushed at the Dragonborn's heavy legs to make as much space for herself as she could, then planted herself as close against him as she could.  "Lyosha."  She pulled at the ribbon that was working hard to hold all her hair back, letting it all cascade over her shoulders, then closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the lower part of his barely-moving chest.

"You can't mean- Amilie, don't!" Udala cried, utter surprise rooting her to the ground.  "You're just upset-"

"No."  Her blood draining from her face, Amilie raised the dirk with both hands, blade pointed toward her belly.  "He doesn't see a reason to return- he can, but he's letting go instead."

"Then let his spirit rest!" Udala screeched.  "He hasn't spoken a word or moved an inch since we got here- he is gone, Amilie, gone, and that hurts me too, but if you go through with this, I will lose you both!"

"Udala," Amilie whispered, tears pushing their way past her closed eyes.  "This could be the only chance the Goddess will ever grant to pay him back for what he did for me- if you love either of us, you'll let me try, but I don't have time to ask your permission!"

"Do it, damn you, do it, then!"  Udala hobbled over to sit on the other side of the Dragonborn's right leg, her form crumpling.  "Quick, before I notice I'm gone mad too," she croaked through her choked throat.

Amilie allowed her consciousness to center itself, imagining that her spirit were a pillar of light- a beacon to split the darkness around the departing soul.  With her hands so tight on the hilt that she could feel the dagger's spikes through the cloth, she pulled the dirk in toward herself-

-and an old soldier pushed both arms forward to catch her elbows, preventing her arms from being able to pull as far inward as she would have needed to connect with her own body.   His left hand quickly dived between her arms, picked the dirk out of her hands and flicked away from her before flopping wearily back to his side.

"Nyet," he breathed so quietly that Udala could hardly hear him, though she was mere inches away.  "Your soul... too much.  Tiamat... cannot have."

Amilie turned her body sideways and curled up against him as though she were a young child, crying uncontrollably.

"Don't you ever do this again," Udala crabbed, mostly to Amilie.  "I'm only mortal; I won't survive."

Aleksei's right eye attempted to open, but only fluttered as it rolled in his barely-conscious head.  The pain that had nearly faded into nothingness rediscovered his limbs and exploded in them, and his stomach cramped horribly.  But life sparked in his heart like a torch suddenly lit in an utterly dark room.  Memories filed back into their places in his brain, and Draconic and Common- such as he had- began to illuminate thoughts, ideas and relationships.  A gratitude stained with guilt began to filter through his being, and he lifted his left arm to rest it a little closer to the ball of flesh crying on his chest.

It took Udala a few more moments to comprehend that the male that she had worked so hard to accept as dead was now struggling to live.  Her eyes stung, but it had been so many years since they had overflowed with emotion that she didn't recognize the sign.  Taking up her staff like a weapon, she began smacking Aleksei in the head with it.

"Damn you!  Gods damn you, damn you, damn you, why did you do this!?" she screeched, tears streaming down her high color cheeks.  "I thought you'd died, you blighter!"

"Ah hah!" came a triumphant female voice.  "Yes, that's the way!  Just through this fur, now, and-"

Suddenly, a light-skinned young woman with her brown hair pinned firmly behind her head popped into the cell through which Udala and Amilie had come.  She was followed by two other Humans and one Elf, all wearing loose fitting clothing and carrying sacks that looked as though a day's worth of produce could fit in them at their sides.

"That's him!" the woman exclaimed to those behind him.  "That old codger was nearly right, but one of these two women is a miracle worker.  You can smell the detect life spell, fresh used."

The band moved forward with the loping ease of a pack of wolves, descending upon the three living creatures at once.

"Say, mountain sister, this foot's bad off," a male clucked to Udala as he sat on the other side of her.  "If it hurts, I can fix that."

"Push off; I've enough witchery in that one to last me five lifetimes," Udala retorted roughly.  Yet, instead of being offended in any way at this blunt refusal, the male merely nodded his shaved head.

"I can dig that, mountain sister.  You're a do-it-yourself type; live your life the way your ancestors would have done.  I read you.  That's alright.  Say, what's your name?"

"Get a load of these log books," a second female called from the other side of the cell room.  "Thousands and thousands of names.  Some marked, some not- can't tell if the marked ones are dead or sold."

"The round character means dead," Amilie sniffled, turning herself slightly in Aleksei's lap and leaning her head back on his chest again.  "The slash-like thing is sold, and the v-like thing seems to mean either no good or escaped."

"You read Draconic," the second female beamed as though she'd just found her best friend.  "Right on.  Say, you want a hand up?  Fairwillow's gonna wanna take a look at the guy behind you, although I say you did a good enough job yourself."

"Oh, I don't mind help," Amilie replied, looking down with surprise as Aleksei lifted a rapidly recovering arm for her to lean on.  "I''m not the best practitioner in Faerun."

"Please to convince her that she is good," Aleksei croaked, finding his tongue coated in a sweet substance while his throat was completely dry.  "As many times as I am saying this, she is not believing it."

"Hey, man," the Elven male shrugged.  "Gotta keep repeating it.  Gotta say, 'Girl, you're tits,' every time you talk to her.  It's the repetition- good for kids, good for bigger kids.  It gets stuck.  You start to believe it."

"Just like you would start to believe you were evil, if someone told you that you were long enough," Amilie shot pointedly, rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand as she started to collect the rubbings.  "If you're going to believe that I'm good at the magic and the potions of my mother and grandmother, then I'm going to believe that you are not an evil person, and that's that."

"Hey, hey, mama, right on," the male nodded, closing his eyes for a few moments.  "I think we found ourselves a husband and wives.  Good to see something positive with all this hate in this place."

"No kidding," the light skinned woman- who was apparently called Fairwillow- agreed.  "You hear they changed the aberration charge from just hanging to public stoning and then hanging?  Place's worse than I left it."

"Don't let Steeleye hear that or he'll take his husband to the center of town and start holding a revival or something," the second female laughed, looking up from the rubbings that Amilie had brought over to her.  "That Dwarf ain't afraid of nobody."

"Who are you people?" Udala finally asked, cautiously turning herself around.  "I feel like I've suddenly joined the circus."

"Right on, mama, you sure are close," Fairwillow smirked.  "We're part of the Firebirds- just a clan of folk that love fighting, love magic, love each other and love love.  All kinds of races, all kinds of talent.  The only thing we keep out is hate."

"Whatever mushrooms you chew, you ought to share," Udala snorted, searching around for her crutch.  Surprisingly enough, when she discovered that the Elf next to her had it, she also discovered that he'd rooted around in his bag to hand her two button sized mushrooms.

"Didn't know you were keen, mama, didn't look like the type.  But I sure will share, if these are your ride."

"Dear gods, I am no one's mother, and please just give me my stick," Udala managed, feeling herself begin to scoot back toward Aleksei.  The male handed over her staff and popped both mushrooms in his mouth with a smile.

" 'Salright, mountain sister, don't wanna rattle the box- just thought you were asking for a lift out of it."

"You seem to be taking that antipoison potion really well," Fairwillow marveled.  "Do you think you can move your majors?"

"I will not know until I am trying," Aleksei grunted, pulling his feet up with what seemed to be four times the effort it should have taken.  "Maybe I am not going very fast."

"Take your time," Fairwillow counseled.  "Meanwhile, meet Greenstar here with your first wife, Snakesoul back there and Darelove over with your other wife."

"We haven't been married," Udala corrected.  "According to this town, he's got to pick one."

"That's nothing but outside law, sis," Greenstar commented airily, having turned sideways to lay his head on a corpse as though it were a pillow.  "You got lotsa love for the big guy, it's like, painted on the walls, man.  Laws can't put that in a box."

"The stuff all over the walls is blood, I'm afraid," Amilie noted, having made it to Darelove to look over the log books with her.

"Please tell me he knows that the man under him is dead," Udala whispered urgently to Fairwillow, who giggled as she moved out of Aleksei's way.

"He might," she shrugged.  "With Greenstar, you can never tell if he knows something and doesn't care, or if he genuinely doesn't know.  But he's quite a seer- sober or not."

"I bet he sees all kinds of things," Udala shot back, getting to her feet and hobbling back over to Amilie's side of the room.  With the dark look settled on both Human women's faces, it was fairly easy to assume that some part of the literature they had gathered was even more disturbing than the realizations they'd already found.

Aleksei, leaning on the wall and shimmying himself upward until he could transfer the weight from the wall, his tail and his back to his feet, gave a deep sigh of relief.  "Vy vernulis' ko mne."

"Vasha zhena pravil'na. Dogovor ne izmenjal Vashe serdce."

And Aleksei reached out to give the woman that he had so recently sent out of captivity ahead of him a hug- even though she could sense that he had not believed a word of what she'd just said.

"Lyosha, did Nithraz act strangely when he discovered that you were working against the Stingers instead of hunting the Rooftop Reaver?" Amilie asked quietly.

Aleksei turned his head to look at her with mild confusion in her gaze.  "He is maybe a little upset that I am not doing as he is asking- many times- but he is not acting out of character.  Always he is very mild person.  Almost too gentle to run guardsmen."

"So then this has to be the one before him- still- Lyosha, get out of the guard at once.  They're turning a blind eye to the Stingers.  They let them take all these people- and sometimes even turned prisoners over to them to avoid having to deal with judging them fairly.  Maybe Nithraz isn't actively doing anything to help, but there isn't any record of him putting a stop to it, either."

Aleksei nodded slowly.  "Perhaps I am leaving guard.  But this is same path your grandmother is walking.  What will you do with this knowing?"

Amilie looked up from the log books and turned all the way around to look at him, biting her lips.  "I'm wrong- you have the right idea.  Stay.  Stay with the guard.  That way, I know at least one guardsman that's to be trusted."

"Karma, mama, karma's beautiful.  Gonna be burning, yeah, mama.  City's gonna burn a little before the seeds can get planted.  And that fire gonna either give that baby Orc a spine, or rip what little he's got right outta his back- right on," Greenstar murmured, smilingly lacing his fingers behind his head and laying back down on the corpse.  "And yeah, I just don't care."