2:41 The She.

Not a single candle burned inside the small, cavern-like room.  The light from the oil lamps in the halls spilled about five feet into the room, but dissipated into darkness in the far corners.  From somewhere in the dark areas came the sound of a single flipping coin, which sang like a tiny angel- or cried like an angry pixie, depending on what one's imagination turned toward first.

"Your past casts shadows over your present.  Your present will change the future- for tomorrow, today will be yesterday- but you can never change that past."

"Market report, Dark," a hopeful male voice called into the darkened office area of the Forge tunnels.  "Sleeping?"

"No."

"Planners like you don't believe in luck."

"I beg to differ, Stone," the Tiefling replied, a smile playing on hidden lips.  "It's good practice to take out insurance on card houses built on sand foundations."

"Fine.  Hail Tymora and Lolth."

"And Graz'zt, apparently," Dark breathed, using her coin and a piece of flint to light a candle near her.  When her eyes adjusted, she could just barely see Stone's famous scowl.  "House Darkness bit off more than it could chew in that poisoner they lost so many girls to get hold of."

"Whoever's responsible," Stone shrugged.  "Two males, four females, no mages.  In Nedstra's hole, making plans."

"Of course they're making plans," Dark smiled as she brought the candle to the torches on the walls.  "If they go back with the job unfinished, it's shame and death.  If they go forward without rethinking the plans they had when they thought they were still well, it'll be failure and death.  If they reshape their plans successfully, Spark will have a lot more fun- but they'll still be dead.  I'm certain she and Dodge will help them to make the right choice."

"Dodge?" Stone started, surprised.  "Thought she was at Witchrun."

"She was, until she got bored," Dark quipped brightly as she set the candle at the edge of the desk.  Her office in The Forge, which was older than Spectre, was much smaller than her preferred office area on The Fringe.  Both spaces, however, were very organized.  "But unlike you and Pox, she hasn't checked in with either paymaster, so I'm certain she's still sniffing for a challenge.  She's got a good gut sense- she'll find the action.  And when she gets back, she'll have Stitches."

"Long job for him," Stone muttered, leaning on the entrance way's wall.  "Might crack."

"Not with Spark and Dodge.  Trust me."  Dark walked over to Stone, who unfolded his arms to hand a few sheets of paper to the red haired Tiefling.  "I like these prices- oh, except for in grains.  We must have problems with the trade roads again."

"No.  Seas, for once.  Pirate Isles going hot."

Dark nodded silently, turning around to flip through some papers that were already sitting on her desk.  "Time to get back into that action, then."

"Dodge has history with the poisoner," Stone began, moving into the room to stand next to Dark.

"Neither will budge.  They have history, but it's not as- amicable- a relationship as, say, her semi-friendship with the Dragonborn."

"Don't like it."

"Graz'zt appreciates what he specifically described as our 'organized chaos.'  He, and his favored vessel, may not be directly accessible or malleable, but we seem to have at least a temporary understanding reigning between us, and that'll have to do for now."  Dark sat behind her desk and prepared to draft a letter.    "I thank you, as always, for your time, Stone."

The Orc grunted, moved to the entrance way and leaned on the wall just outside of it.  Dark listened to the low rumble of his exhalations as she penned a first contact.  Just as she was beginning to feel surprised at the lack of interruptions, a slender Elven recruit peeked into the study.

"News from the Palace District," she offered hopefully.

"Excellent," Dark stated, looking up and extending her hand to the young female.  "Let's hear it."

"Ntoru's received word that Sembia would like to reopen trade, seeing as they've got crops they can't sell and somebody's told them we need food."

"Continue," Dark encouraged, putting her elbows on the desk and leaning her chin on laced fingers.

"She's been skipping meals and popping outside at odd hours to do some kind of magic portal or something- I- I'm afraid I don't understand what the watcher said- how she described it."

"That's fine- I'll send you with parchment next time, and whomever you're reporting to can simply write down magic occurrences.  And for further education, you can always stop by The Fringe and sit with Spark.  She's not the best arcanist we've got, in some aspects, but she is the best teacher.  Extremely patient."

The Elf smiled shyly.  "I'd be glad to.  Not a lot of Humans understand an Elf who's bad at magic.  The watcher just kept talking like I understood.  She may as well have been describing the portals to a Dwarf."

"Don't be so hard on yourself- or the Dwarves.  There are few skills in existence that can't at least be understood.  Now- anything else from the north?"

"Ah-" the radiant blonde shifted her weight from one foot to another while she scratched the back of her neck.  "Nithraz.  Yeah- Nithraz is taking a task force into the Dark Quarter, or getting ready to."

"And by 'task force' he means 'cadre of armed men,' " Dark sighed.  "Fabulous.  The second he took that promotion...ugh.  Never mind that.  I haven't anything new for you right this second, so- thank you for your time."

"Um... if you don't mind, I'd like to set up on another rooftop," the Elf managed quietly.  "I don't think that one archer can handle the task force on her own."

"I'm certain that she can't," Dark nodded.  "If you'd like to do some solo work, go ahead.  If you'd like back up-"

"Please," the Elf nodded eagerly.  "I'd like to set up an answering task force."

"Of course," Dark replied, getting up from her desk.  "I remember about your brothers.  There's one operative already in that area, but he prefers to be lone wolf.  If he's not your cup of tea, well... show it.  In whatever manner you think is best."

The young female was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of harming someone who was on the same payroll, which Dark noted as a sign of a deepening trust in Spectre as a whole.  "Can I ask other- um- operatives to join me?"

"Of course.  Organize them as you will, and I'll consider that part of the Dark Quarter protected."

And with a grateful smile, the Elven female nearly skipped out of the office.  Stone barely had to move to turn back around the corner, and immediately leveled a glower.

"What would you have preferred I say, Stone?" Dark laughed lightly.  "I sometimes wonder if I shouldn't have left you in the priesthood."

"Couldn't have dropped a hint?"

"How does one hint about an abduction?" Dark retorted, crossing her own arms for a few moments.  "I told her when she joined that I would protect her people, and I am keeping my word.  When we've put Nithraz away and replaced him with one of the more palatable options, we'll make a small production of getting our operatives out of the house- I was planning to get a few city guards killed in the process, actually.  As far as the operatives know, they're holding two undercover House Darkness fences.  As far as the brothers know, the operatives are unusually sane Stingers.  And as far as our sweet-faced little Elf will ever know, her brothers are safe.  Where's the problem?"

"Hail Tymora and Lolth," Stone grumbled grimly.

"You make them sound so terrible," Dark smirked, untangling her arms and rolling her papers.  "How would you like a bit of escort work?"

"It's not work."

"Oh?" Dark asked, looking up as she stuck the papers into a small pack that hung close to her leather armor-clad side.  "Not challenging enough for you?"

"Too much fun," Stone replied with a shrug.

Dark pulled the black ribbon that had remained on her wrist, but stopped herself from staring at it for too long.  Leaning her head back, she tied her wash of red hair up into a neat bun, then expertly plucked her grey streaks out of it so that they hung about her face haggardly.

"The She walks tonight," Stone chuckled throatily, moving back from the desk area to the doorway.  "Bit more grey every time."

"Thank goodness, yes," Dark smiled as she threw her long, black cloak over herself and pulled her famous black half-shroud up from her neck and across her face.  "Soon, they may try turning me into Master Ranclyffe, but at least they'll stop thinking I'm Hawke's pet mage in female form."

"Why the demon mage would do that, possessed or not, is unthinkable."

"Some demons- M'lord Graz'zt included, I discovered- are quite virile," Dark explained as she put out the light in the office again and moved past Stone into the hallway.  "It's said that Graz'zt makes pacts with particularly handsome men- a sliver of his power for a few glorious physical joinings.  And to complete his end of the bargain, m'lord becomes madam in the batting of an eye.  Of course, such pacts have... lasting consequences."

When she entered Hammer's true forge area, the Dwarf looked up with a half smirk.  Without a word, she held up two severed Human fingers as though they were writing implements or carrot sticks.

"Verdict?" the well-covered Tiefling smiled.

"Zhennie," Hammer stated strongly.  "Squishy, now."

"Good, thank you.  Pump out as much information as is possible before it swallows its tongue or something-"

Dark was cut off by the sound of the stone portal opening, and was amused to watch one of her speediest messengers nearly fall inside.

"Oh!  Glad I caught you!" puffed the sandy-haired Human male.  "Gods, you move too much.  The captain's caught on, I think.  Didn't say anything, but gave me twice as much gold as he promised.  Here's for you, unless you want me to hand it over to Dragon."

Dark accepted the wavering, strangely shaped pack of gold, pulled the note out of it, then handed the sack back.  "Yes, Dragon'll do.  Anything else interesting?"  She scoured the message for a few moments, then began to chuckle.  "Well done, DiCiprione.  We have a future, you and I."

"The Dragonborn can't write either language, and now doesn't even have the means to send fruit and ale again," the messenger breathed, catching his breath gradually and straightening his hunched body.

"That'll be useful, in time," Dark mused, almost more to herself than to the messenger.  Looking up, she smiled radiantly.  "Thank you for your time- and I'd sit down a while, if I were you."

The sandy haired Human, knowing precisely what this meant, nodded and moved out of the smithy area without another word.  Dark, after pocketing the note and giving a gracious bow to a bemused Hammer, put her hand to the stone portal, crossed through, and made her way toward the surface.

Even before she and Hammer made it all the way up, the cries and clashes could be heard echoing in the tunnels.  It seemed every corner, every crevice was filled with the sounds of struggling guards meeting serious resistance.  By the time Dark came above ground, nearly at the Dark Quarter's border, she was prepared for the sight of unarmed bodies piled high, but was pleasantly surprised to note that the bodies were mostly Urmlaspyr guards who had gotten themselves stripped of their belongings.  Bowing her head with a sigh, she moved toward a wall and gently brushed it with her fingers.  Stone knew this particular act quite well, and lagged behind, attempting to blend in with the deep shadows of the houses and taverns.  He didn't expect Dark to be nearly immediately intercepted by town guards, but kept his distance when they did, knowing that she'd probably planned for it without telling him.

"What are you, woman?" one of the guardsmen asked. "Do you live here?"

Dark turned her head slightly toward the sound of the male's voice, but did not look up.  "Speak 'arder, ya muck, won't yeh!  Oughtn't mumble to old women."

"Oh, gods," a second guardsman sighed.  "Going home, mother?" he asked in a louder voice, coming close to her- but still too far away for a good jab in the ribs.

"You tinks I git far from 'ome?" Dark replied in a hideous shriek.  "Go on, you li'ul shits.  I sifts de refuse, I goes to market, I goes 'ome.  What wid your lot runnin' 'round, I wish I could rest my bones in de 'ouse."

"Why don't we just leave her be?" the second guardsman suggested in a quiet voice.  "Not like she's doing anybody any good or any harm."

"Plagues take ye," Dark crabbed, pivoting slightly with her head still bowed, as though she'd forgotten her way.

"We could use her," the first guardsman replied, his voice lowered even farther to ensure that what he thought was an old deaf woman wouldn't hear his plot.  "The archer knows better than to shoot through an old blind bitch to get to us- and if she doesn't, then..."

"That's not-"

"Eh?" Dark egged, feigning frustration.  "Gods box your ears, you wort'less li'ul shits, I knows you talkin' 'bout me!"

The first guardsman took hold of her elbow firmly.  "Sorry, mother- this fool wasn't wanting to give you a hand, but I will."

"Bloody bastard," the second guardsman sighed, giving up on his attempt at an argument.  "Sorry, mother."  Taking a flanking position, he trudged silently along with the plan he didn't quite agree with but didn't want to contest.

"Pox on you both.  I'm on Beggars' Row, where you all leaves mine to die," Dark crabbed, snatching her shoulders away and moving off.  "It's none of you pantywaists got courage to peek you 'eads 'round de corners dere."

"Gods," the second guardsman complained.  "You really want to-"

"She's asking for it," the first replied.  "Creature's a right witch."

"Alright, maybe..."

And for the first couple of minutes, Dark said nothing.  She allowed them to guide her toward the ruckus that she had heard from the tunnels, but began to slow down the louder it became.

"Dis ain't right," she dared at last, when she was certain of her surroundings.  "Dis near de heart of de quarter.  I was closer 'ome afore you all started draggin' me- push off, you jus' turnt me 'round!"  With that sound pronouncement made, she turned herself down the nearest alleyway, put her hand on the nearest wall and began charging down at a great speed.

"Wait, wait," the first guard charged immediately, a concern that wasn't at all for her lacing his voice.  Following her proved to be more difficult than he'd expected, considering that there wasn't even any torchlight in the alleyway.

"We're practically there, we can leave-" the second urged, stopping about a third of the way into the alley, but it was no use.  The first guard, who'd made it half way down the alley behind Dark, reached out and grabbed her arm, and she responded by ducking down and putting her heel to his ankles.  The backward spin was jarring, and the second guard, confused, didn't move forward to help his partner.   The man was kicked over onto his back, then run through the chest with a short sword.  By the time the second guard realized that the female that had reminded him of his grandmum was, in fact, much more athletic than he'd thought, he found himself slammed into the stone side of the building with the same short sword in his guts.

Dark watched the man slide down the wall, a look of shock still painting his face.  Licking her blade clean of blood, she hocked, then spat crimson-dyed phlegm into his face as she sheathed the weapon.  As she removed his short sword with its sheath, she couldn't help but fiercely whisper her disapproval to the corpse. "Coward."  The sword easily disappeared into the folds of her cloak as she moved away.

She stepped over the one that was near the middle of the alleyway and continued down, taking advantage of the seclusion as she listened to the various shouts of fear and frustration just on the other side of what seemed now to be a row of abandoned houses.  Dark made a note of the location in her mind- abandoned real estate was perfect for moving in above-ground bases or providing temporary protection to Spectre allies.  At the other end of the alley, another long row of poorly constructed houses crowded together, close enough to lay wood planks across to bridge the short gaps between the rooftops.  Before the houses lay a lovely assortment of town guardsmen- some in leather armor, some in chain mail, some with or without all of the proper gear- all dead or rapidly dying- with arrows piercing through various body parts.  Dark looked at the way their bodies had fallen, and thought deeply about the positioning on each of the arrow shots.  As she did, a rock smacked her perfectly in the small of the back.  Without a second thought, Dark crumpled down into a ball.  Seconds later, an arrow sung over her head- an arrow that the Tiefling knew would have otherwise caught her in the neck.

Sofiya obviously didn't trust an old woman she'd never seen in the Dark Quarter before.

"Good check, Stone."

Dark counted a few more seconds, then rolled to her right side, avoiding a shot that would have caught her in the top of the left shoulder.  She put her hands in her hair and stood up, pulling her hood back to reveal her half- shrouded face and half of her river of red-and-silver hair.  Picking her head up to the roof of the woe-be-gone home just slightly off to her left, she pulled her short sword and pointed it directly up toward it.

"I know you're there, bitch.  Let's go, you and me."

The street, which had already become quiet because of the recent burst of violence against the guards, grew even more tense, and Dark knew she was being watched.  She was the only Spectre operative who broke the witness rule, but she always broke it spectacularly.  There were so many different rumors about her that any appearance struck greater fear into the hearts of the people of the Dark Quarter than that of the High Captain himself.  Some of the more fantastic ones were born out of performances just like this one.  Shaking the dead guardsman's weapon out of its sheath, she began listening and calculating.  She walked between the bodies with her eyes still on the rooftop, stepping directly carefully between them, occasionally stopping to slap each of the still-living ones with the flat of the Urmlaspyr sword.  Each strike was hard enough to snap the head to one side, but there was no intention to kill at all.

It was as though she was completing a ritual.  The heart of the unknown and unsung watchmen, the embodied criminal soul of the Dark Quarter, was rejecting the Urmlaspyr guard as insufficient.  As weak.  As cowardly and not worth even killing outright.  Not a person who watched her fearfully from their filthy windows could mistake her.  Her senses heightened with the beautiful bloodiness that surrounded her, Dark seemed to feel it in her soul when the archer's bowstring pulled taut.  A beautiful spin won her full readiness.

One arrow, one sword deflection.
Breath, two steps.
Second arrow, second sword deflection.
Breath, two steps.
Third arrow, third sword deflection.
Breath, hold movement action.

The bowstring pulled back again, and by this time, Dark was smiling up into the face of her opponent.

"Let go, Sofiya.  Let it go, see if I'm worth your time."

The bow sung, and in a gorgeous arc of steel and adamantine, the flaming arrow was split completely in half, creating a rainbow of flame over the red haired woman's head and showering the immediate area with sparks.  The Dragonborn archer stood up, her bow at her side, looking down at her opponent thoughtfully.

"What has the She to do with me?"

"Good question," Dark nodded, throwing down the Urmlaspyr sword.  "One that I'll answer, completely and honestly, on equal ground."

The light tan scaled Dragonborn, whose few leathery tentrils hung longer than her raven hair, squatted down and fearlessly jumped from the rooftop- a good two floors up- to the ground before Dark.  Putting her bow in its place behind her and crossing her arms, she gave a small nod of readiness.  Dark, noting the display of trust, sheathed her own weapon, but allowed her cape to fall behind its place so that it was still quite visible.

"So you escape the Stingers and immediately protect the people that they considered toys and dinner?" Dark began, her one visible eyebrow lifted.

"I am not becoming part of Stingers because I am wanting to," Sofiya replied grimly.  "It is miracle that I am surviving that den alive."

"And this is your thanks to your gods, this rain of arrows down on the lackwits that stood by and allowed people to be kidnapped and preyed upon?"

Sofiya didn't even hesitate.  "Partially.  What are you to me, that you ask me these things?"

"An ally, if you would allow it," Dark replied.  "You're obviously not afraid of being caught by the High Captain."

"I welcome his attention," Sofiya laughed bitterly.  "If only he is coming here, maybe he is seeing why his actions are cruel to these people."

"Why don't you just take Voyonov's place?" Dark probed.  "As their protector?"

"Never is Voyonov being protector of Dark Quarter.  He knows he cannot be this.  But I am learning that he is bringing hope, unlike his sword kin, who are not caring who is lost."  Sofiya shrugged.  "This people, constantly in darkness, are much needing hope, no matter from where."

Dark thought deeply about her words, looking down the deserted street at the people she knew were hiding in their homes somewhere.  "Saints and departed battle heroes are to be honored and valued, of course, but they're extremely impractical when your house is being burned to the ground and your children are being dragged off by Sembian slavers and witches."

"You are saying High Captain will kill me," Sofiya interrupted, now raising her own eyebrows as she rested her weight on one hip.  "I am not believing this.  He will come to me, and he will give me money to do as he wishes.  Then I will kill him."

Dark took a sharp intake of breath and let out a quiet sigh.  "Ah- the former High Captain was killed.  By a band of mercenaries who slaughtered the Rattail Clan mercilessly on the docks.  Nithraz is high captain now.  And he's weaker than his predecessor."

Sofiya blinked for a few moments, turning her head slightly as though the information would sink in to her head better that way.  "Nithraz?"

"I think you've been- let's see- he was the lord captain when Cormyr's most recent Azoun died- he had been promoted when the Sembian spy was confined to the tower.  That should sound familiar."

Sofiya shook her head.  "I know King Azoun the fifth, but I am not knowing of his death.  It is years I am spending with the Stingers, many years."

"You should remember the Cormite treaty that allowed Urmlaspyr to become its own sovereign state," Dark offered calmly.

"Yes," Sofiya nodded.  "I am Purple Dragon then, and am assigned to northernmost Sembian border, near council's 'palace.'  But then-"

"But then the Stingers.  Well, in the time that you were down below, the one taking the bribes and turning a blind eye while his cronies did the same was replaced- violently- with a pathetic sapling who merely turns the same blind eye to everything, even the guardsmen who are acting as though the last high captain were still in charge."

Sofiya closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  "Truly that is even worse.  But still I am not regretting what I am doing.  I am sending message.  Someone will answer me."

"Of course," Dark replied.  "Reproach is not my intent.  Granting you necessary information and proper protection is.  The pay is good, but if you favor noble causes over gold, there is a small cadre of associates that would be glad to work with you."

"I am not understanding what you have to do with me," Sofiya stated flatly, redistributing her weight properly.  "I am not regretting how I am doing this."

"Of course not, Soulbow Sofiya Fedotyevna Atlasova.  You are an upright woman, and I seem to you to be quite shady.  I had expected such a response."

Dark turned around and walked precisely four steps before the inevitable question came.

"How are you finding my clan name?"

"I told you," Dark smiled as she stood still for a moment.  "Information.  I know that the Stingers had you for nearly seven years.  I know that they killed two of your Cormite compatriots before your eyes- slowly and painfully- when you at first refused to take up your bow for them.  And I know that when you climbed out of that slave tunnel, you still felt like a Stinger.  You felt like they stained you, and that you could never become again the woman you'd been.  But even with the guilt, even with the dishonor- this feels good, doesn't it, what you're doing to these guardsmen?  You may never have intended to become what you are.  But you don't have to let it remain a curse."

There was a pause that maddened Stone, who shifted from foot to foot, well-hidden in the shadows.

"Or this Nithraz could come and end it."

Dark laughed, shaking her head.  "And end you?  Please.  If he even dared to set foot here, would you let him kill you?  That tenderfoot abhors the Dark Quarter- can hardly stand to walk the streets.  He tries to be a soldier, but he's definitely not a leader.  He's nothing more than a tactical adviser and a planner- practically a nobleman with a sword."

"You dislike his weakness," Sofiya smirked.  "I am hearing it in your voice."

"And you dislike his dishonorable nature.  I don't need any outside resources to tell me that."

"Let me see with my own eyes what you will do," Sofiya stated strongly.  "Many hearth tales are not true, and I do not obey shadows."

"Who said you had to obey anyone but yourself and your gods?" Dark countered.  "You are free to go and to come as you please.  In fact, I expect you to leave, in your own time- perhaps return to Cormyr to rebuild your life.  I'm no coterie queen.  And I don't pretend at complete domination, though sometimes others wish I would.  I don't demand utter loyalty or service to the death.  But as far as it can be managed, I would be a dependable ally.  I would certainly move to prevent most untimely demises."

And it was the Dragonborn's turn to laugh.