3:33 Three birds.

Crimson eyes looked out over the marketplace from the conveniently high roof of some witless noble's manse.  A few building rooftops to point position's left, Cloud seemed to be distracted by a strolling guard.  A few buildings to point position's right, Cypher herself held an alley's shadow as any disinterested alchemic pusher might.  True to cover, she had in fact moved a few elixirs and herbs, much to the relief of the users who had become to finding her a few streets farther away from the suspiciously heavy Purple Dragon watch that had taken up position in recent weeks.

Neither Niku nor Silveredge were anywhere to be seen.

Mi'ishaen, who was holding that center point position with a focus that she wondered if she had to thank Stone or Dark for, sighed within herself.  Other than watching the market day after day for new Sunfire movement, there had been no other Greyscale-sanctioned jobs for her.  The restless Tiefling had picked a few pockets in the meantime, and a few third-floor break-ins had occurred, but the guards' city-wide hunt for the Tiefling who had assisted in the murder of a Purple Dragon had prevented any other real work from getting done.  It had also prevented her from even casually swinging by the Sunfire courtyard, where Silveredge and the incredibly talented dark Elf commonly trained.  She'd only gotten away with it once, and the Coalwater operative who was actually assigned to watch the Sunfire had very nearly noticed her hawk-like perch at the corner of a nearby rooftop.  The only good that had come of that was that the operative had first noticed the strange female that looked as though she were about to pounce on the dark Elf.  There hadn't been enough time to watch the ensuing encounter, but Mi'ishaen would have put her money on the strange female.

This day, the Tiefling waited.  Sure enough, the mouse-brown haired woman made her way slowly into the market, her empty woven market basket hanging from her right forearm.  She was, at first, accompanied by a male that Mi'ishaen identified at once as Iordyn, but after a brief kiss and a send off, the young Human archer turned around and moved away.  It was interesting, however, that as he moved, a young woman that Mi'ishaen immediately recognized as "her" plainclothes guard decided that this was a great time to go shopping.

It's like they know it's going down today.

Mi'ishaen had been on market watch duty long enough to have first noticed when Ironcastle failed to show up at her stall.  After two days standing empty, the stall was claimed by a soft-spoken fisherman's wife.  The word was that Ironcastle- a notably prosperous woman previously known for having a personality like the softest piece of flint- had abandoned the country, too terrified to go on living in a place where she'd nearly been kidnapped in public.  The other woman- Sloop- who'd been nearly taken away from the door of her home still lived in the city, but since she was some kind of petty noble, clearly identifiable Purple Dragons shadowed her every step.  According to Silveredge's information, which Mi'ishaen worked hard to overhear, the Sunfire had come to an impasse with whomever it was that was ordering the kidnappings.  On pain of betrayal to the courts, or at worst, elaborately organized deaths, they were being compelled to capture and turn over the one remaining item on the wanted list.

That "item" was the soft-voiced, slow-moving Susanna Raibeart, whom by now, Mi'ishaen almost pitied.

Just one week had swollen her belly, her breasts and her cheeks to proportions previously unimaginable for the Tiefling, and it was obvious that walking around in a crowded market was an uncomfortable thing for the long-suffering Human female to do.  Yet day after day, walking around in a crowded marketplace is exactly what she did, buying the same perishable items- milk, eggs, cheese, bread- as though she couldn't have just sent some little street rat to get them.  Mi'ishaen couldn't imagine standing still on those puffy feet and ankles to listen to some pitiful vendor's hopeful vomiting of words, yet Susanna thought it not robbery to do so.  The woman's forward motion was a pitiful waddle, turning around seemed annoying at best, but dizzying and disorienting at worst, and recovering any dropped item was a tedious ordeal.  Although Susanna seemed to bear these and other limitations with an unquenchable fountain of patience, Mi'ishaen purposed in her heart to never allow herself to become such a bloated, ungainly creature.

The Tiefling had to assume that the Sunfire operatives were just as observant as she was- that they knew that the woman was now more easily noticed by others in the market, that there were covert guards tailing her, and that one assassin's guild and one other mercenary company was tailing them.  According to Dark's example, she even figured that they might know about the Coalwater detail as well.  That made this particular assignment unnerving, especially without Silveredge present, but it could hardly change how it would be run.



Mordren looked over the letter that Silveredge handed him, then compared it to the one he held in his right hand.

"It's quality work," he noted at last, looking as though the compliment had pained him to give, "but it took you quite a while longer than I thought it would."

"I am most sorry to delay my lord," Silveredge replied from her kneeling position, "but the handmaiden must admit that it was difficult work."

"Difficult?" Mordren spat, unaccustomed to hearing the Shadar-kai so much as breathe a complaint about anything.  "Difficult how?"

Silveredge raised her gaze slightly, so that she could see the hem of Mordren's heavy robe.  "My lord did realize that what he gave his handmaiden to copy was itself a copy, of course.  I worked hard to appear not as careful as its first forger."

Mordren stared holes into the top of Silveredge's head, pored over both letters, then stared at Silveredge again.

Look at me.

A pair of limpid platinum eyes fixed their sights upon the master mage's radiant green orbs at once.  But Mordren couldn't divine an intention, and therefore, couldn't tell what had to be done to warp it to his own will.  The Sunfire mage turned around and moved away from the kneeling Shadar-kai without a trace of emotion.

When he had disappeared into the hound's room, closing the door behind him, Silveredge sat down on the tops of her ankles.

Niku?

Ma?

May I borrow your hearing?

Love.

Silveredge smiled to herself.  Niku's interpretation of the word "love" meant that his unquestioned compliance would meet her every request.  It was born of a loyalty the Shadar-kai had never expected another living creature to understand, let alone afford her.  It also invariably made her think of Mi'ishaen, whose presence she sorely missed.



"No, no thank you," Mama Raibeart said again with a smile and a shake of her head.  The stray curls that had fallen out of her bun were plastered firmly with sweat to the back of her neck.

"But it is so good!" the Shifter vendor insisted.  Mi'ishaen realized that she couldn't tell if the creature were smiling back or not, although the tone of voice seemed to imply either continued amiability or pity.  "You are sure you do not even wish to smell it on the female's fur?"

"It may not be the best time for that," Mama Raibeart said with a rare trace of sadness.  "I haven't even done well with my own perfumes lately."

Mi'ishaen felt a still-familiar pricking of the skin, and forced herself to stop quickly changing her focus from one vendor to the other, opting instead to truly take in the information that their physical presentations were giving her.  Meanwhile, a stirring moved the flow of the market from an unusual angle.

I don't like that, the Tiefling thought.  She abandoned the profiling of each of the people that were already within ten feet of the pregnant Human and focused on finding the source of the abnormal shift in market movement.

"This is understandable," the Shifter nodded, answering some other comment that Mi'ishaen hadn't taken care to actually listen to.  "The cub is coming soon, yes?"

After fifteen seconds that felt more like forever, Mi'ishaen caught the eyes of Cloud.  The Tiefling gave the Gnome a signal requesting that she move up two buildings to counter the market's unexpected motion.  Cloud flat out refused.

I ought to whoop her ass again, see how she likes that.

"The midwife doesn't agree with the healer," the brown haired Human woman smiled, her cheeks flushing even more than had become normal.   "And naturally, the healer wants to insist that the midwife doesn't know what she's talking about.  But she's been my good friend for many years, and was the one who helped me bring forth every single one of my children.  She knows my body nearly as well as I do!"

Mi'ishaen's plain clothes guard was dragged- rather obviously unwillingly, in the Tiefling's not-so-humble opinion- into a dull conversation with some semi-interested young Human male that forced her to turn half-way away from Susanna.  The other plain clothes guard stood on the far other side of the market, rendering himself completely useless by actually attempting to buy a new flagon from a vendor who was obviously a friend.

How are these idiots still in crown-sanctioned jobs? Mi'ishaen asked herself, utterly annoyed at having to do the guards' work for them.  These fools will pay me one day.

"The blessings of your gods strengthen you," the alchemic vendor smiled, putting her perfume to the side and gently taking the Human woman's hand.  "This female is not able to have cubs herself, but is always pleased to see the joy of others."

"Oh, maybe one day you will!" Mama Raibeart comforted immediately, laying her other hand on top of the furry paw-like hands that had clasped her basket-bearing hand.  "Mother Chauntea grant you a powerful alpha male and a safe den, I pray."

"This is very kind," the Shifter replied, not without a distinct note of sadness.

By this time, Mi'ishaen finally attracted the gaze of Cypher, who also denied her request to move two alleyways farther up.  She asked if she would at least change level, and watched Cypher signal that she wanted to keep eyes on the alchemist.  Utterly frustrated, Mi'ishaen abruptly moved out of point position, surprising the Human female on the ground so badly that she almost shouted at her to hold her place.  Mi'ishaen, however, was all eyes on the black-clad figure that the market people had respectfully allowed to slice a path that had brought her within five feet of Mama Raibeart.



"Well, that archer made waves, Mordy," Bann sighed, opening his letter.  "Big ones.  There's a summons for her now."

"Rather well timed," Mordren scoffed.  "Clearly, the Dragons are in our handler's pocket, too."

"Told you," Kronmyr warned sharply, putting the two front feet of the chair down so that he could reach Niku's head.

"What handler?" Bann rumbled, putting the letter down on the table in front of him so that he could properly focus on the defiant dark Elf.

" 'What handler,' he says?" the mage smiled darkly, revealing his copy of the letter that Bann held.  "This secret correspondence, the book-end contracts, the splitting of our organization into a Cormyrean front and a Semmite tunnel- all the fault of powerful outside pressure.  I don't blame you Bann- but I can't say I care for being treated like a child."

"Got you," the dark Elf grinned, slapping Niku on the side of the belly with glee.  "Your peeping witch's finally got you dead to rights- and with an actual, natural paper trail!"

"It was only a matter of time," Mordren shrugged.  "You're hardly masters of subterfuge."

"I suppose you rifled through my paperwork as well?" Bann sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back from the table as he looked over at the mage.

"Unnecessary," Mordren offered, putting the copy back into the sleeve of his robe.  "I noticed that something has been off with you some time ago.  I set Rasha off to find out why, and not only is she good at getting at into your things, it just so happens that she is also a fabulously effective forger.  I might thank you for handing me the key to your own unraveling, ser."

Bann merely laughed bitterly in response.  " 'Might,' he says."

"We're not in court, Bann," Kronmyr reminded the Human fighter in a calmer tone.  "Still here."

"And I intend to stay," Mordren said after moving to the table and taking the seat between the dark Elf and the Human, "so, what's the chain-holder's connection to this Dragon summons?"

"He's too busy using his various 'underworld connections' to have anything to do with any Dragons at all, let alone the Purple Dragon Oversword himself," Bann replied in a morose tone.  "Can't imagine them being too friendly."

"Coin makes plenty of people friendly all the time," Kronmyr chuckled, tipping his chair back again.  Niku got up momentarily, but sat back down.  "Rasha Dragon-snared a Fire Knife-"

"And I'd very much like to know where she learned to do that," Bann interjected, with a meaningful look shot at the dark Elf.

"-and ran a Zhentie out of the courtyard, both of which that bastard sent.  You don't think he wants her out of here any way he can get her out?" the Drow finished with a raised eyebrow.  "We've been ignored by Dragons of all colors for years, Bann.  Why else would they suddenly start growling at someone they know?"

"They don't know me anymore," the Human merc replied, getting up from the table, but stopping short before walking to the window.  "This isn't about me anyway; it's about the Tiefling.  According to that summons, she's obstructing justice, which means first, that the Dragons want that Tiefling badly, and second, that Rasha likely knows where she has been all this time."



"It's a lovely pie, thank you," Mama Raibeart smiled brightly.  "You really didn't have to do this."

"It's my pleasure!" the dark-haired woman replied with a sweet smile of her own.  "I just wanted to show that I've-"

By this time, Mi'ishaen had positioned herself one building farther up from where Cypher had been- the Human female had scurried down an alleyway in response- and frowned when she looked down from that vantage point.  How could Cypher focus on that prattling Shifter and just ignore that?




A silver knife sung straight through the confection that Susanna had just received, profoundly terrifying her.

"Murder, murder!" she screamed, unable to think of anything else to say.  Worse was the fact that Dame Hophni, who had just handed the pie to her, could not say anything at all.  The dark-eyed woman, still clad in mourning black, crumbled to her knees, then collapsed on her left side in front of Susanna, who had every opportunity to see the river of blood that ran from her right temple.  A small stone, kissed with some of that same blood, thudded to the ground on the victim's right.

At the sound of Susanna's second, much higher screech of panic, the market melted into chaos.  The vendor who had just spoken to Susanna bared her claws and leaped to her side at once, snarling at everyone.

"Calm yourselves, calm yourselves!" an armored Purple Dragon called, entering the fray immediately.

Another tried herding the frantic people away from the concussed body and the dizzied pregnant woman.  "Get under the eaves of-"

"Mind the rooftops!" another called.  "We've got movement up there!"

"Archers, at ready!"



Mi'ishaen watched Cloud back roll away from her post and flip off the side as though the building beneath her had been on fire.  She herself didn't have the luxury of dropping position just yet.  She watched her points- hit that corner, catch that angle- and stole glances at the chaos below her every chance she could, making sure that her third target hadn't moved out of his own position.



Cypher, pushed way back into a dark crawlspace between two buildings, watched in absolute horror as the dark figure ran, leaped and swung her way all the way around the market into Cloud's old position in less than four minutes.  What the hell is she looking at?  What the hell-



Iordyn's eyes strained until his head hurt.  Valeria panted excitedly at his side, but made no move, because she could not detect a mark either.

Suze's right, he thought.  Has to be.  Angles don't lie.

But no dark Elf.  No sign of anyone, save a small, dark figure that had flown off the side of a building some minutes before.  The only properly posted archer had dismissed it as a large bird- possibly wounded somehow, considering that it did not rise above the level of the buildings around it.

And then suddenly, there was a third strike, immediately below him.  At first, he saw neither the source nor the weapon, but a wave of screaming went up into the heavens, and he struggled to focus.  Valeria was completely distracted, unfortunately, and missed what his Human eyes could not quite confirm- a second dark figure, much larger than the last, seeming to fly from one rooftop to another.  Suspicious, the archer prepared an arrow.



Greyscale didn't see Cypher until three entire hours after sunset that day.  He watched from his normal leaning place next to his office as she shuffled in like a spanked child.

"Cloud came back with nothing but Mishka's prop," the Dragonborn opened, jabbing an indicative thumb up the stairs behind him.  "She made the idiot mistake of licking some of the pie off it, but when she practically collapsed into sleep, at least I knew for certain the thing was drugged.  Mishka hasn't come back at all."

"She probably won't," Cypher spat ungraciously.  "Some really good Dragon archer got a mark on her, put an arrow somewhere in her from half the market away.  By the time I even got over there, the guards were crawling like a swarm of ants- I had to pretend I'd been following up on some lost contract from Ironcastle."

"Good thinking," Greyscale nodded.

"All it scored me was some shitty intel," Cypher shrugged.  "Half the arrow, and a definite blood patch.  She hit the ground.  Hard.  Guards wouldn't say anything, but I know the woman fell two floors and hit solid stone- probably on her back."

"She'll be back.  Give it maybe a day, max."

"Grey, that blood patch was long as half my forearm.  He got her in the shoulder, or the neck, or something up there- that shot was lethal."

The Dragonborn nodded slowly.  "Spatter trail?"

The Human spell rogue shook her head.

And Greyscale sighed.  "If you didn't see a trail, she's either not bleeding out or bleeding somewhere where it wouldn't hit the ground right-"

"She fell two floors, Grey.  This was a huge splotch of blood- I don't know if she- if she can- look, I'm serious.  And it was my fault."

Greyscale shook his head.  "Don't."

"I didn't move when point position said move," Cypher sighed, flopping ungraciously to the floor in front of her partner.  "I mean, she's a rookie, but- but she was point.  She saw something, or- I guess three different somethings, and- how am I going to face Rasha?"

"C'mon, Cy," Greyscale replied, getting to one knee.  "Rasha knows what that woman is capable of- probably better than we do, and maybe even better than that woman herself does.  So, hold the intel.  The Dragons have their sights on Rasha, so she doesn't need the distraction."

There was a long moment of silence between the two during which Greyscale sadly admitted to himself that he wasn't going to be able to shake the fault that Cypher had squarely planted on herself hours ago.

"Was I a distraction to you, Grey?"

The Dragonborn sighed deeply, knowing this question had been in the making since the Tiefling and the Shadar-kai had walked in his door.  "Rasha is different; she doesn't lash out when she's hurt.  It all stays in her head, and she doesn't need the extra noise up there."



"I said I don't know," Iordyn despaired, pulling his hands down his face.  "I never really saw it.  I don't know if it was a Human or a bird- I just- I felt- compelled to shoot."

"What was it, the word of Lathander in your ear?" Garimond groaned, taking his hand off his face.

"Yes, actually," Iordyn replied, nonplussed by the oversword's tone.  "It was."

"I didn't see anything this time," Susanna breathed, smoothing her hands over her belly as she kept her eyes on her glowering brother-in-law.  "That knife was perilously close, I grant you, but it struck only the pie."

"Which has been confirmed as drugged," Garimond sighed, "with terinav root, interestingly enough."

"Oh," Susanna lamented, knowing what that meant.  Garimond, who didn't think Iordyn had explained quite that much back story to his sister in law, eyed the archer with crossed arms.

"Did Dame Hophni know?" Iordyn asked, ignoring Garimond's look entirely.

"She says she didn't, but all three diviners are saying her spirit disagrees with her when she says so," Garimond stated flatly.  "I asked them if her head wound might have caused damage to her mind, and they told me that if that were the case, her spirit would be in calm agreement with her story, believing that the accidental lie were in fact the truth.  So I now have to arrest a Cormite widow for collusion with possible Semmite kidnappers."

"Perhaps they paid her," Susanna suggested, easing herself up a bit straighter in her chair.  "Rather, perhaps they told her they would help her support her family and bring true justice upon our house at the same time- that would move me, were I in her position, to do extremely unusual things."

"Describe the knife again, please," Garimond breathed, looking over to Susanna.

"Radiant silver, light, thin, covered in ancient writing that I know nothing about," Susanna repeated dutifully, unknowingly betraying the fact that the oversword had asked this particular question one too many times for her liking.  "Someone must have picked it up when I dropped the pie, but I didn't see them do it."

The oversword put both hands back over his face.  "According to Voyonov, the Rooftop Reaver is relearning how to walk up and down stairs without the help of his healing ties- hardly one to be darting off the sides of buildings," he reasoned wearily.  "Even so, that's only one creature.  Whoever this was struck both the pie and Dame Hophni at the same time."

"I don't know about that," Iordyn interjected.  "If it were only one person, whoever-it-was began on Susanna's right, as though he or she were no more than two rooftops away from me, then, about five minutes later, struck right below me.  Angles don't lie.  Yet, I saw two dark figures- one definitely no bigger than a raven- and neither of them appeared anywhere else than right in front of me."

Garimond leaned back in his chair in disgust.  "I can't get a single stone to stand upon here.  What is this fresh blight that this unfinished purse has brought upon my city?"

"With respect, Oversword," Susanna corrected gently, "you yourself admitted that it may have been here before he got here.  And since Dame Hophni, the alchemic woman, the Sunfire mercenary and I are all alive to speak to you, it may be that Ser Voyonov and his criminal band are not, in fact, the blight.  It may be that they are fighting it."

" 'Not so dangerous,' " Garimond quoted quietly.  "Thank you, Miss Cheluais.  I am beginning to form druthers as to why Voyonov's trek from Urmlaspyr to this place was so besotted with Semmites."



"The woman is good, Cy, the woman is good," Greyscale nodded, just a few minutes before midnight, as he put the true original letter down on his desk.  "We finally got him."

"Rancelair Illance," Cypher mused.  "The guy's slimy, but I didn't want to believe this."

"Rancid Rancie," Greyscale reminded her, rustling around in the desk only he would call organized until he could find a spare bit of parchment.

"He blackmailed professional mercenaries into bedding half their operation down with Semmites," Cypher shot back.  Greyscale stopped rustling and gave her a look, and she moderated her tone in response.  "There's got to be a worse word than 'Rancid' for this."

" 'Ruthless' would be my contribution," the Dragonborn shrugged, producing a quill and an ink pot from some other drawers.  "He gets money into his house again, makes political inroads with Sembia, the Semmites take out some of the loudest voices against a Cormite-Semmite alliance, and Shade stays off Cormyr's radar while snatching some excellent slaves and testing specimens.  Everybody's happy-"

"Except for the pony that's doing all the legwork," Cypher scoffed.  "The pressure to break ties with Rancid Rancie at any cost is getting mighty powerful, Rasha says.  It says something about these guys- all crooks!- that Fire Knives, Zhentarim, exile, and even very possible death sentences are still not quite enough to get them to stay quietly in this jerk's pocket."

"I'm certainly relieved to hear it," Greyscale breathed, laying the quill down and raising dusty pink eyes to his Human counterpart.  "I remember when Bann still wore the Dragon seal over his heart.  Was hoping he hadn't fallen this far on his own.  I like that he's smart enough to try to do to us what we're doing to him, too.  If I were Dark, I really would be trying to make an ally out of him."

"Hah, that legless 'Coalwater Project' of his, poor thing," Cypher laughed, this time without any tinge of bitterness.  She hopped onto Greyscale's desk, deftly snatching up the ink pot before it tipped over.  "I've caught every one of Kronmyr's rats, and for all his talk about working on it, Mordren was just never on board at all."

"Kronmyr doesn't care if the Sunfire are fully legit or not," Greyscale explained simply as he returned his attention to his correspondence.  "Although I wouldn't have guessed he actually considers Bann an honest-to-goodness ally without Rasha saying so.  That explains why he put that much effort into turning normal mercs into stealth operatives.  Now, when Mishka sprung Shiv, that was their real problem.  They lost their forced informant, and instead of making a mole out of Rasha like Bann wanted, Mordren turned her on them."

"Mordren is their real problem.  He couldn't give a fuck about their agenda, whether it changes or not, because he's always had one of his own.  For as much flack as I give her, Dark is brilliant," Cypher mused.  " 'Put Shiv in there,' she says, doesn't say why.  A week later, she sends this doozy of a sleeper, and you run this nutso counter-operation, attacking her so that the Sunfire get a glimpse of what she can do.  Finally brings Mordren right in line for the fall."

"They don't call 'em 'chessmasters' for nothing, Cy," Greyscale joked, eyes still pinned to his work.  "I'm just another rook- but I'm really liking the way she does things, honestly.  Very different from when I was running the streets.  I feel- I dunno- professional, heh."

"Screw rook, you're a knight," Cypher smiled, reaching over and slipping her fingers down one of the clay-colored fleshy tendrils in Greyscale's hair.  "And you have always been a professional.  Always... on top of things.  Very, very detail oriented, and dedicated to getting the job done, no matter how long it takes."

The Dragonborn leered up at her.



The courtyard was still so dark that all the Purple Dragons in attendance bore torches.  In their flickering light, Mordren swept all of Silveredge's hair over her right shoulder, and the chill of the night air thrilled the back of her neck at once.  He backed up two steps, then held up his well-manicured hands.

"No new piercings, no rings, no spells, nothing," he admitted to the commanding officer.

"Not lying," chirped the young battlemage that had followed the four guards immediately.

"You confirm that you are, in fact, Silveredge bat Ceubel?" the commanding guard asked in an authoritative tone.

There was a terrible pause.

"Tell them your name," Mordren urged, sounding like an annoyed elder brother.

"I am the Silveredge that you seek," the Shadar-kai replied simply, not moving her gaze from the ground.  "The handmaiden shall serve any of your commands."

"Not lying... I think," the battlemage puzzled.  "Something is... I don't know... in my way."

"Get her up and let's go," the commanding guard ordered, not certain how to feel about the information that he'd just heard.

"May the handmaiden make a request of my lord?" Silveredge asked, raising her eyes to Mordren.

"Ask," the mage replied, one brow raised perilously.

"May I touch the hound who came with me?"

"No," Mordren replied immediately, not certain himself why he had been so quick to deny her.

"I see no reason why she shouldn't, do you, Bann?" the guard shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the mage.

"Bring the creature out," Bann ordered, looking over at the still-tired Howler.

It was easier said than done.  Niku was obstinate all the way into the courtyard, forcing Howler to put him on a short strap and drag him.  Upon getting within five feet of Silveredge, the hound inexplicably surged forward past the dogmaster and slashed at her forearms, which she threw in front of her face to block herself.

Gaol, ciad-ghin Niku.

The hound shoved his head into Silveredge, knocking her onto her back, screaming manic, high pitched barks into the still-chilly morning air.

"What's going on, Bann?" the commanding guard muttered to the astonished mercenary.  "I heard about that one that was put down, but... two?  In the same season?"

"There hasn't been anything wrong with this one in weeks," Bann shrugged.  "We must have separated them long enough for his connection to her to... dissolve."

"Down- you get down now!" the dogmaster demanded furiously, dragging the dog back savagely.  Mordren crossed his arms over his chest, placing the knuckles of his right hand under his chin as though he were observing a test study.  Kronmyr turned all the way around and walked a few paces away.

Silveredge rolled over on her side and looked at the glistening tracks of cobalt blood that rose to the surface of her skin.  Her gal-ralan gleamed proudly, as though it were pleased with what had just occurred.  Niku, meanwhile, bayed the most heart-broken howl into the early morning air.

"Something is... off," the battlemage said, shaking his head.  "I... have no idea what it is, but- something is- not right here."

"Probably the thing that's not right is what's currently in our possession," the commanding guard replied flatly.  "Move out."

3:32 Precision strike.

Aleksei lay on his side, back to the doorway of the basement.

"He didn't eat," Druce noted sadly as she walked back out with the tray she had entered with two hours before.  "Didn't even touch it."

Terezio shook his head as he looked at the bandaging on his wife's arm.  "Of course he didn't.  And it will likely be a waste of your time to try convincing him."

Druce thought better of responding.  She simply turned her back on all three males and walked back up the stairs toward the household chores- and Bahlzair, who was likely trying to free his ankle from its binding.

Left alone with each other, the two Human males found themselves gravely silent.  Terezio walked over to his desk, picked up an empty ink bottle, and handed it to Garimond.

"The center of his back.  Higher, and he will awaken thinking he is in the middle of a battle- or perhaps remembering one- I haven't yet determined which.  Lower, and he doesn't feel it.  Whoever trained him to wake up this way was an incredibly good shot."

Garimond marveled for a few seconds, tossing the empty bottle up into the air a few times to test its weight.  "And this will be enough?"

"It's neither the weight nor the actual force," Terezio insisted.  "It's the location.  When I discovered that, I began using weak, but pure bolts of unadulterated magic.  Easier for me to command with pinpoint accuracy."

"I see," Garimond replied, unable to keep the wariness out of his voice.

"Good luck, Oversword," Terezio murmured into his age-mate's ear after nearly a full minute had passed.  "This is not a brute creature, as he appears.  He knows when you underestimate him, and plays to your basest expectations."

The Purple Dragon nodded, knowing that this hint had come with a price.  He turned in one smooth motion, slinging his right arm out to the side, then allowing it to snap like a whip.  The bottle rolled off his fingers as they flicked away from him, and the projectile sung beautifully into the middle of the Dragonborn's back.

Aleksei breathed all the way out, his one functional eye opening and focusing at once.  Behind him, the ink bottle fell to the floor and rolled a few inches away from him.  With a sigh, the Dragonborn sat up and turned over his shoulder.  Upon discovering the oversword's presence, he stood and turned to face him.

"Lady Druce says you have a bottle of frenzywater around here somewhere," Garimond noted as Terezio closed the study door behind him.  "May I see it?"

Aleksei turned and walked over to the corner in which Bahlzair had been sitting two nights before.  Just as the dark Elf had done, he allowed it to sail through the air toward Garimond, and although the Human's catch wasn't as solid as his own had been, the Dragonborn approved within himself.  Garimond moved to Terezio's desk, which Druce had organized and cleared before she brought breakfast down, and sat down.  Aleksei noticed that there was a chair that had originally come from the sitting room upstairs on the other side of the desk, but did not think of sitting down in it until the oversword motioned to the vacant place.  Calmly and slowly, the Purple Dragon produced two small cups from Terezio's desk, then opened the frenzywater and sat it between the cups.

"Rafael attempted to match you for how long?"

Aleksei adjusted in the small chair for the fact that his tail would not fit through the slats in the back, then looked up at Garimond, who had begun studying the water-faded, handwritten label that graced the front.  For the first time, the Dragonborn noted that the label seemed to come with two differently written sets of characters- the set on top looked thickly drawn, printed.  The set underneath branched, arched and looped, and each one seemed to tumble right into another- cursive or italic-like.

Garimond watched Aleksei look at the unfamiliar languages, which were Common and Undercommon, respectively.  Neither of them set off in him any spark of recognition, just some distant, unfortunate interest.  The poor fellow can't read.

"Five times he is drinking," Aleksei finally responded.  "I am asking him to stop after the first one, but he does not seem to understand why am I asking this."

"I bet he knows now," Garimond scoffed, reaching forward and pouring out liquor into the two waiting cups.  "My men tell me when they came to talk to him, he could not sit up, speak his name or stay awake for more than three or four minutes without vomiting.  I discharged him at once.  Sight unseen.  Dishonorably.  That'll stay on his record for the rest of his life."

Aleksei sighed deeply.  "He is not sorry for this."

"Yes, I'd noticed," Garimond nodded, looking at the color of the substance in his cup- or rather, its lack of color.  "That's what worries me.  Such men need...structure, shall we say."

And Aleksei remained silent.  The grey-haired officer, listening to that silence, remained silent himself for a few moments.  That's the end of that.

The silence between the two men stretched from one minute into two.  Garimond sipped at his cup again, watching Aleksei fixedly.  The Dragonborn didn't fidget or look away from the Purple Dragon before him- in fact, it seemed to the oversword that he was creating mental notes about him as well.

"High Captain Sakoda of Urmlaspyr sent me a letter," Garimond continued as he set his cup down and planted his elbows on Terezio's desk.  "Noted that you enlisted yourself in exchange for the Tiefling Mi'ishaen's freedom.  Insisted that she wasn't the Rooftop Reaver- that you would bring that creature to him- and you didn't.  Dozens of people died.  The case against that rampant murderer is still open and on-going."

"Many women are dying in the Dark Quarter also," Aleksei replied with a slight turn of his head.  "Or going missing.  I am thinking Bahlzair is not so dangerous as whoever is doing this."

"Bahlzair is the Rooftop Reaver, then?"  Garimond decided to capitalize upon Aleksei's comment for Sakoda's sake.  "If the murderer was your cross-dressing Drow friend, why didn't you turn him in?"

"I am already telling you why," Aleksei shrugged.  "These people in the burrows, they are more dangerous."

"You said you would bring in the Reaver, and in your delay, a half dozen other people died, that doesn't sound dangerous to you?"

"It does," Aleksei countered.  "But Bahlzair is not in the Dark Quarter.  He is in other places where he is able to be seen.  These people in the burrows are wounding women.  Enslaving children.  Maiming who will not give themselves to them, and killing those who anger them."

Garimond, who had picked up his cup as Aleksei spoke, thought for a few minutes, then set his cup back down without drinking anything out of it.  "What made you think that nothing was being done about them?  Nithraz knew about them, you know."

"And he is doing nothing, out of fear of them," the Dragonborn thundered ferociously.  This said, he first reached forward, tossed his liquor down his throat easily, then sat back and snorted in disgust.  "This is why he is dead."

"Is it that easy to know why a defender of the people has to die?" Garimond pressed.  "Was it that easy to explain away Hophni's death?"

Aleksei snorted again.  "I am saying once that I am never seeing any guard so afraid of evil that he will not do good.  Now I am seeing it twice in one season.  When Rafa speaks, he is right, for all that he is saying, this is what Hophni is doing in my sight.  So frustrated are his gods with his weak spirit that they are causing two creatures that never can think of working together to put this one man to death."

Okay, Garimond thought grimly.  Neither guilt nor remorse, just disgust."Nothing was done about those families that lost people to your friend," the oversword pressed in a gravelly voice.  "Sakoda can only keep them pacified by keeping the case open, pretending to look for someone.  It's killing him; he's usually blunt and up front."

"And there is no reason for him to do otherwise now," Aleksei reasoned.  "It is not he who is high captain when Bahlzair is setting fires to people while they are mourning in the graveyards."

"Life for a life," Garimond answered.  "The same justice Hophni's wife deserves."

Aleksei laughed and shook his head.  "Bahlzair cannot die as many times as he is killing.  And I am not seeing Hophni's woman weeping for him, but for how will her family live now that he does not.  She is not thinking of demanding Mishka's life because much more gold runs in the boy's veins than in her own."

Nope, Garimond thought, vaguely annoyed.  He's perceptive and hard-hearted.  The Purple Dragon paused and took a sip of his liquor before speaking again.

"Iordyn Raibeart the Younger is, in fact, a man."

"Pretending this will not make him so," came the very quiet response.  "Only enduring true pain will do this."

"I'm not certain if your standards of maturity apply here.  Now, in servitude to Cormyr, Ser Raibeart went to speak with the Shadar-kai.  She's in the company of a well known band of dog-breeding mercenaries, the Sunfire Mercenaries."

Aleksei pondered this knowledge for a few moments, then nodded.

"Apparently, the Tiefling was responsible for stealing a few of their items and sending two lit chandeliers of theirs to the ground," Garimond continued.  "Shadar-kai came back with the stolen items before the mercenaries had even had time to properly lodge the complaint with my men, but no one saw the Tiefling again."

"Is Rasha well?" Aleksei asked quietly.

"Being talked down into silence by the mage who is apparently teaching her," the oversword replied, sipping at his cup again.  "There doesn't seem to be any physical violence being done."

The Dragonborn nodded again, then got up to walk away.  Garimond was so surprised at the abrupt movement that Aleksei had gotten halfway back to his original location before he was spoken to again.

"I hadn't dismissed you," came the insulted charge.  "You are aiding and abetting a murderer and vandal, ser."

Aleksei turned over his right shoulder so that Garimond could see his one functional eye.

"I am long in this place.  I am of no help to you."

"Let me be clearer with you," the Purple Dragon began in a sterner tone.  "Bahlzair will be shipped back to Urmlaspyr for proper judgment.  The Shadar-kai- who is Silveredge, not Rasha- will be placed on constant watch, and you, ser?  You will be charged for obstruction of justice, thereby subjecting yourself to further testing.  By none other than Battlemage Ranclyffe who, may I remind you, specializes in divination."

"I do not understand this charge," Aleksei replied, turning all the way around.

"You're not married to these women, yet they are changing their names to what you call them, showing up to join your escort when you alone are being brought to Cormyr, and then attempting to push themselves on Battlemage Ranclyffe in order to keep close to you.  They didn't get what they wanted, so now they're wrecking havoc on my city.  You obviously are running some scam, some strange version of a mercenary venture, and your operatives are all proven criminals.  So you have two choices.  Tell me how to get my hands on your Tiefling, or stand charged."

"If you think that doing all that you are saying will help you, please to do this," Aleksei shrugged, turning back around again.  "I am long in this place, as I am saying before, and cannot help you."

"You know far too much about your compatriots to not be able to give me a single idea of how to get hold of them," Garimond insisted.  "You are a leader.  It's all over you.  Leaders know how to rally their troops."

"Never am I doing this," Aleksei laughed, again picking his gaze up to the ceiling.  "I am sending them away from me, never calling them."

"Then how do they call each other?" the Purple Dragon asked sharply.  "How did they know to all of the sudden show up when you were put in chains to be marched here?"

"I do not know this."

"That is garbage, Voyonov; I don't believe that you don't know how to call two women that you came here pretending to be married to.  Urmlaspyr is small and backward, but not so backward that the movements of the guard can be easily interpreted by two common women.  So how did they know to come for you?"

"I cannot tell you what I do not know," Aleksei spat acridly.  "I am in chains so long that I know nothing of how they are, whether they are together or apart.  It is only when I am seeing that they are still kind to each other on the way here that I am feeling within me that still they are good friends."

"He's not lying," came a calm voice from the doorway.  "But he's not being completely clear with you, either.  I believe I know why."

Garimond squeezed his eyes shut in momentary frustration.

"Voyonov, I respect that you've been passed from one form of incarceration to another for weeks now," Terezio admitted, walking to his desk and taking his seat behind it.  "You have little reason to help us, especially since it is clear that you have an affinity- or better said, a familial loyalty- to this Tiefling.  But let the Semmite threat to all of us move your spirit to consider doing so.  The oversword is not saying so, but this has become more, much more, than vengeance for Hophni's death.  Think on Rafa's words about the Semmites, how certain he was.  You and Bahlzair have not left my home, and further, there is very little danger of you being compelled to do so against your will.  However, Silveredge was very close to an attempted kidnapping- close enough for the victim to recognize her, so it stands to reason that the perpetrators might have as well.  No one has seen anything of Mi'ishaen for days.  For all we know, she may be in the hands of slavers right now.  Do you want that for your blade daughter?"

There was a silence so heavy that Garimond himself felt his heart pound with strain.  Aleksei finished walking to the place where he slept and sat down, back still held toward the Human men addressing him.  There was a very low, inaudible murmur from him, then a deep sigh.

"Return to Rasha, and take her away from this place where you are finding her.  Act as though you will do her harm, but be careful, or Rasha will act accordingly.  If much time passes, and you are not seeing Mishka, this will tell you that it is because something is preventing her from the natural wish to be near her good friend."

Garimond looked over his shoulder at Terezio, who stood up behind the desk again.

"My wife requests that you join us for midday meal, Ser Voyonov.  As a guest of the house.  I might not have agreed, except- my... daughter... was... equally insistent."