This time, it was the who had to sprint to keep up with Lowe. "How did it go, little man?"

"Oh, you know how these legal types are—lots of dull chit-chat which will doubtless cost the city a fortune."

"You know your shirt is drenched in blood and . . . is that vomit?"

"What can I say? Some of the conversation got a bit lively."

"I sense I'm missing something here. Can we slow down a minute?"

Lowe eased off on his pace, drawing to a reluctant halt outside one of the many coffee shops that had grown up around the Tower of Law. Of course, everyone understood that these places provided their clients with a very different substance to coffee, but - oddly enough - the owners were curiously well-defended if ever a case came to court.

Lowe had bounded out of Arebella's office so quickly, he wasn't even sure he'd said a proper 'goodbye'. It wasn't quite that he had had a fairy light moment, but some things had started to click into place, and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot. He was sure she would understand his hasty exit: it was hardly the worst thing he'd done during their relationship.

However, in the cold light of day, he wasn't quite sure what his next steps would be. Once upon a time, he might have had the moxy to rip a Priest of Gravalk a new one for being involved with threatening the wellbeing of his . . . friend(?), but those days were long since gone.

And it went a bit bigger than just the threat against Arebella, didn't it?

He had been, specifically, warned off solving Gianna d'Avec's murder. That it now seemed that one of her priests was involved in that? Well, that only began to make sense to him in a few very specific circumstances. And none of them were good.

As they were standing in the middle of the walkway, Lowe's abrupt stop and Latham's considerable girth were causing something of a traffic jam for the other commuters. With a nod of his head, Lowe indicated they should partake in whatever legal refreshment the owner of 'Drink U Like' was able to scare up.

As it took the quite some time to understand they wanted a beverage rather than . . . something more stimulating, it seemed wise for them to grab a table in the corner while they waited. As the shop had emptied rather abruptly at the appearance of a and a member of the Security Service, there was no shortage of room.

Once they were settled around the small walnut table, Lowe decided it was time to take the plunge with the big man. "Latham, can I trust you?"

The screwed up his face in disgust. "I made the parameters of our working relationship clear when we met. I am to shadow you and keep the Council appraised about the nature of your progress."

"I think that is what I'm getting at. Is it your sense that the Council wants the murder solved? I mean, I have no illusions as to my current standing with those in the halls of power. It hardly seems Soar is giving everything it's got by pulling me off the bench to run the investigation."

"Are you suggesting there is a political desire for you to fail?"

Their coffees arrived. It appeared to be so unusual for someone to actually order a drink in this place that the server almost shook the liquid free from the cups as he crossed from the counter to place them before them.

Avoiding the expectant eyes of a waiter oddly committed to the quality of his coffee, Lowe filled Latham in on his experiences within the Tower of Law—including the threats that had been made to Arebella and what he'd subsequently uncovered about the priest called Setort.

When he finished, Latham stroked his chin thoughtfully. Noticing he had not yet touched his coffee, the stepped forward. "I say, , do you have . . ."

"Fuck off!" The sheer malevolent pressure from Latham's aura created a wide circle around the table at which they were sitting, which no one was especially interested in crossing.

"So the just let someone kick the shit out of you?"

Lowe was a touch alarmed by the effervescent anger fizzing around the big man. "Well, it wasn't like they were standing there holding his towel. I'm fine, by the way."

"Of course you are. You're a fucking cockroach." Latham's reply was almost absent-minded. There was a pause whilst the appeared to be conducting some sort of internal debate. By the look on his face, he wasn't enjoying the discussion. Eventually, it seemed one side won. "Little man, I can assure you that the Council is very focused on having the death of the High Priestess cleared up."

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"How do you know?"

"Because I am not given pointless assignments. They want you free and safe to work."

Lowe added that to his mental list of things to explore further. "Well, your contention you are too important to be wasted having a bum's back aside, what else have you got?"

"No one gets to kill avatars." Latham's furious anger was back. "It doesn't matter whether they agree with a god's views or not, the Council is not going to idly sit by and allow the casual slaughter of a Level 67 High Priestess go unavenged. Do you have any idea how important the gods are to the economy of Soar?"

Lowe thought the question was rhetorical until he realised Latham was staring at him expectantly. "Um, a lot?"

"They are the basis of the entire system of government!"

"Okay . . ."

Latham's voice was loud enough to be heard outside the shop now; people were doing their best not to stop and stare. "No, seriously. The range and variety of Class upgrades available through the patronage of gods dwarf anything any of the other cities experience. You can track a direct relationship between the significance of Soar on the world stage and the growth of the Celestial Temple. The Council - for fuck's sake, even the Mayor himself - cannot countenance this death remaining unsolved. It cannot become known that Soar is not a safe place for avatars. Should the gods choose to explore other options, that would be a disaster on an unimaginable scale."

"Okay. Sold. No worries, I believe you. You can lower your voice slightly." Lowe took a sip of his coffee, which was rancid. He wasn't sure if this was because the had no idea what they were doing or if Mylaf had ruined him for all future drinks. It seemed likely it was a little of both. "But that doesn't answer the question as to why it's me that's been put in the field. I have to say, my attacker's spiel of 'no one gives a fuck, so they've put you on it' rings a lot more true than 'this is the most important event in modern history, let's put the washout on it and cross our fingers."

Latham took a sip of his own drink, winced and put it down. "The Council's memories are longer than a year-old scandal. You may have lost your Class, but you are the best investigator in the history of Soar. Even without the majority of your Skills, there was never anyone else that they wanted on this."

Lowe's head whirled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Latham hushed him with a look. "Little man, I am the last person in the world to blow smoke up your arse. But I've been told to keep you alive and ensure you are able to complete your work. Some powerful people have faith that you're the one to unravel this. And it must be unravelled. No one gets to kill avatars."

"Okay. Fine. Well, I'm off to speak to a priest who appears to be stalking my ex. Do you think you can keep him from cooking me alive?"

Latham smiled wolfishly. "It would be a pleasure."

They both stood to leave and reached the door before Latham stopped and slapped his forehead. "Oh, hang on one moment, little man."

The turned towards the and waggled a finger at him. "Just as a head's up, trying to poison a member of the Security Services, let alone a , is a really, really silly thing to do."

Lowe looked over at the cup of brown liquid from which he had only taken a few sips. "The drink was poisoned?"

"Oh, yes. Quite a nasty one, too. Fast acting. The sort that closes down all your vital organs. If you haven't already, I'd be making sure you purge pretty much everything out of your system. You're clothes are fucked anyway, so it's not like they can be ruined further."

Taking the on trust, Lowe pushed Roll with the Punches to expel all toxins from his system. He chose to believe that the tick, noxious black sludge that emerged from his pores - all of them - was whatever poison he had been slipped. Rather than just . . . well, his lifestyle of late.

Latham gagged a little at the sight of what was oozing out of Lowe but then returned to glaring at the qualing man. "Just so we're clear on your immediate future, I am absolutely going to kill you. However, if you want to let me know who put you up to it, I will put in a good word with whichever god you worship. Which is?"

"Felent," the whispered.

"Fair enough. Let me know who paid you to do something this monumentally stupid, and I will get a message to Felent about where she can locate your soul. If she so wishes. Although I doubt she'd be too wild that one of her followers just tried to kill a , but you never know. So spill."

The young man shook his head. "I can't, they'll kill my family."

Latham shrugged. "Your call."

Lowe was not sure of the Skill that the summoned to vaporise the , but he was absolutely sure it was not one that he would want to see used again.

It took far longer for the screaming to stop, considering the writhing body had vanished sometime before.

"I mean, I have some notes if you're interested? Purely from an investigatory point of view, of course."

Latham turned to face him. What? He tried to kill me! He got off pretty lightly."

Lowe shook his head and moved for the door. "Yes, well done you. However, a couple of questions might have been useful to explore."

"Such as?"

"Well, just off the top of my head. Number one, how did he know we would be coming in here? It was an almost by random choice that we stopped here. Were we unlucky that we happened to stumble upon someone who had been paid to kill us? That feels pretty unlikely. So, what, are all the shops around here briefed to poison us on spec? Or was someone following us and taking the opportunity to slip into the kitchens to offer a bit of bribery to spice up our drinks a bit? If so, who was it? And why? I've just been warned off fairly comprehensively - if they wanted me dead, that was the time to get the job done. So, assuming the dude in the Tower of Law isn't behind this, who the fuck made the poison attempt?"

"Those are all good questions, little man."

"Yep. Shame the guy who could have answered them isn't with us anymore. But at least you got to show what a big bad man you were, hey"