Lowe was awoken by a frantic hammering at his door.

"What the fuck, Latham?" he said, pulling the door open.

The big man pushed past him, scanning the apartment as he did so. "You okay, Jana?"

Lowe trailed after him, trying to ruffle some awake into his face. "Sure. Why?"

"Nothing happened here last night?"

In response to the noise, Mylaf appeared at the door of her own room. She was immaculately dressed, as usual, Lowe noted. Did the sleep fully clothed in preparation for a moment when she was needed to spring into action and provide sustenance? "Warder Latham. Mr Lowe. Would either of you care for some tea?"

"I think he'd better," Lowe said, closing the door. "Perhaps with something that enhances his chill."

*

Lowe eventually got the story from Latham as to why he was so discombobulated this morning. It turned out someone had done their very best to keep the extremely busy from the moment Lowe had gone through the portal to find Setort's body: a series of random chores and unnecessarily complicated administrative tasks had lasted until just a few minutes earlier.

"At first, I thought it was just the usual Temple bullshit. Even I'm not above being fucked over by the rota occasionally. However, there are only so many times you can be sent out on patrol of an empty floor before you get suspicious. Then one of the others joked about you having a 'bad night', and I put two and two together. From what I hear, you should be a bag of broken bones right now."

Lowe shrugged, "Slept like a baby."

It took Latham around half a bell to satisfy himself that no lurking hoodlums were hidden in Lowe's closet. After that, he sat himself down and tucked into a grotesquely overfilled plate of eggs and bacon.

Lowe watched him eat with fascination. It made sense that someone of the Warder's size would need to consume a sizeable number of calories, but - as Latham moved on to plate two - he hoped Mylaf could produce some sort of statin potion.

Lowe sipped his own tea - a rejuvenating Peppermint that gave him a +10% stamina boost for two bells - and tried to get a word from Latham between munches. "I have to say, mate, I'm flattered to know you cared. I got my arse handed to me in the Tower of Law, and you didn't bat an eyelid."

"Let's say, since you were able to demonstrate that Essence Transmutation Theory has merit, you've gone up a little on my list of people I'd rather were kept alive."

"Honestly?" Lowe thought that sounded a little cold.

Latham chuckled and punched him gently on the arm, making the Inspector very glad for both his tea and the extra mana he had to heal the fractures immediately. "Nah, just joking. You've grown on me. Like a haircut, I wasn't sure about, but others thought was fly. But, seriously, I was pissed someone was playing silly buggers."

Latham's face suddenly became serious, and he put his heaped fork back on the plate. "Little man, it seems some serious people are coming for you. I've been charged with keeping you alive until . . . well, until you piss off the Council enough for them to tell me to kill you. And someone still had the juice to give me the run around last night. That takes balls. You were supposed to come a cropper last night, and whoever arranged it was comfortable in acting against the Council."

"Or it was the Council?" Lowe suggested.

The two of them looked at each other for a few moments, considering.

"Well," Latham whistled, "that's a lovely thought. That means I'm on their shit list too. Cheers for that."

"Just sharing the love, mate."

They both sipped their tea in silence. Mylaf appeared and swapped out Latham's plate again. This time, it was piled high with pancakes and syrup.

"Well, it might just be the tea talking, but I figure there's not much point brooding," Lowe said. "There's just under a week before the deadline from the dude in the Tower of Law runs out. But I cannot see any random fuckers being sent to kick the shit out of me coming from that source."

"How come?"

"Dude who battered me didn't strike me as someone lacking in confidence. He made his point, he threatened Arebella, and he gave me a sevenday to wrap it up. I can't see him sending goons - especially ones that never actually turned up - a day later. What would be the point?"

"Fair enough," Latham conceded. "So, we've got Mr Law as a principal antagonist. . . What?"

Lowe was smirking. "That's just a significantly fancy word for a guy who looks like his forehead could bench press twice my body weight."

"Fuck you very much," Latham continued. "So, we've got Mr Law. And you think we can assume he's not the same person who gave me the run around last night and sent some missing-in-action muscle to your place?"

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I don't see any percentage in him being involved. I figure you need to look closer to home for that."

Latham tilted his head, considering. "To be honest, we could be talking about anyone from the Eight Floor upwards. That's where the movers and the shakers tend to reside. They're the avatars the tend to take notice of. Any of them would have the pull to mess with the rota. And they'd have the power to arrange some goons."

"Goons who never showed up . . ."

"True. So we're probably not looking at an Arkola masterplan here. Although, I doubt they'd bother with intermediaries. The fact all your particles are still in place suggests you've not irritated them sufficiently yet for your death to be desired."

"They just haven't had enough time to get to know me. And you're sure the Council hasn't turned turtle on the investigation? It could have been them?"

"Nope. My standing orders are the same. You're to be kept alive until you make your report. In any event, if they wanted you rubbed out, they'd just have me do it. No point sub-contracting when I'm within neck-snap range."

Lowe would have liked to think the was joking again. He worried he might not be. "So not Mr Law, not Arkola and not the Council. But we reckon it has to be someone within the Temple itself?"

"Only thing that makes sense."

Lowe leaned back in his chair. "Don't you think this is all over-elaborate? Mr Law is connected to Setort via the threat to Arebella, and someone from the Temple - but not Mr Law - is trying to warn me off, too. And then there's whoever tried to poison us in the Coffee Shop. Where does that come in?"

Latham swept the last of the pancakes around the syrup and popped it into his mouth. "Mr Law is either a Big Bad with tentacles that reach into the Temple, or he works for someone who fits that description. He or his boss just wants the investigation to stop. On the other hand - shall we call them Mr Temple? - they are highly enough placed to be able to mess around with the rota, but not powerful enough to have access to hired guns who, you know, actually turn up. But - and trust me, the rumour mill was clear on this - Mr Temple absolutely wants you dead."

"Dead? You said I was supposed to have been turned into a bag of broken bones."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Oh, cheers for that. Much better for it to come out casually in conversation. Informally, like. Right, so Mr Temple is behind the poisoning too?"

"Seems on brand."

"So Mr Temple is more likely to be involved in d'Avec's death? Whoever it is wants me off the case. Permanently. Mr Law just wants the whole thing dropped in a week. That feels pragmatic rather than an act of guilt."

Latham coughed discretely. "Not necessarily. I say this with all love, but Mr Law might just be confident in your reputation as a fuck-up. He might be chilled for you to stumble about impotently for a week."

"Nice. And I made sure you had a nice breakfast, too."

"Just calling it how I see it. But where does the assassin who cut your arm off last night fit in? Mr Law cleaning house?"

Lowe filled him in on his evening visitor, ending with, "But I don't think she had anything to do with the High Priestess dying. Or with Setort. I mean, she was clear she wished she had done and was pretty pissed to have missed out on the opportunity."

"And it was her little group that was sending the death threats?"

"That's what she said."

"Fucking hell. Give me a clean armed robbery any day. You know where you stand when a bunch of guys in masks try to storm the Temple."

"I'm with you on that one. So, we have three interested parties that we know of. Mr Law, Mr Temple and Mrs Tyrant."

Who's you're favourite for d'Avec's murder? And how the fuck does Setory fit in?" Latham asked, brow furrowed.

Lowe finished his tea and pushed the cup away. "I have no fucking idea."

*

"You used my fucking name!" Khalid stormed through the open door of Mdamic's office, his face flushed with anger. "Are you out of your mind?"

Mdamic let the scroll he was reading roll up and vanish back into his inventory. Slowly, he raised a finger to point at the Chosen of Oh. "You, sir, are being impertinent."

"There's four missing . With my fucking name against their requisition. How long do you think it will be before someone comes asking questions?!"

"Questions to which you have no answers."

"As if that's going to satisfy them! What possessed you, Mdamic?" Fortunately for Khalid, Never Surprised kicked in, letting him dive to the floor before a flash of lightning took him in the chest. He rolled left and right, narrowly avoiding follow-up explosions as Mdamic stood and stalked forward.

"Do not forget your place, Khalid. I have more than enough mana to keep this up all day. Certainly longer than your little pre-cog ability will be active. I will accept your apology now."

Still rolling away from Mdamic's lightning attacks, Khalid shouted, "I'm sorry for babbling. I was momentarily overwhelmed by unreasonable irritation."

Mdamic paused in the act of flinging thunderbolts and smiled, the dark clouds over Soar vanishing and the sun breaking through. "Grovel accepted. Now, shall we discuss things in a calm and rational manner?"

He indicated a chair and walked back to the other side of his desk, where he steepled his fingers in a gesture Khalid was coming to despise.

"Now, did I direct some Temple resources to take the investigator into d'Avec's murder off the table? Yes, I did. Did I use your authority to do so? Yes. It seemed prudent to cover my tracks. Do I feel bad about doing so? Not at all."

"But to what possible end? My sources tell me that the Security Service has put their least respected man on the job. A Classless, no less. What did you hope to achieve by this stunt?"

Mdamic's smile broadened. "And I thought you were the brains in our little partnership. Had not Oh whispered to you about the identity of this Classless? Yolgorth has certainly made his feelings clear to me."

Khalid shook his head. "I have heard nothing that causes me concern."

"Then you need to listen harder. There is a concern, and Yolgorth is not the only god to hold this opinion that someone is taking advantage of d'Avec's death to cause trouble. This investigator - this Lowe - has a reputation for following tracks further than desired. We all have things in play that it would not do to have too many eyes upon. Especially," and he pointed towards the floor above, "one particular set of eyes."

Khalid nodded reluctantly. "But using my name . . ."

Mdamic waved away the protest. "You will be questioned and answer honestly that you have no idea what occurred. The more pressing issue - and I would encourage you to discuss this with your god - is how a Classless investigator was able to kill and then dispose of the bodies of four running errands all night, and yet it seems Lowe is still hale and hearty this morning. My attempt may have failed, but it has confirmed Yolgorth's suspicions."

"Which are?"

"Investigator Lowe is going to cause a lot of trouble. That is unless we find a way for him to quickly and quietly stop being an issue.

Khalid stood. "I will commune with Oh over this matter as a matter of urgency."

Mdamic watched him go, letting a flurry of lighting bolts play at his fingertips.