“You look quite dapper Hossain” the voice was slurred and warty, connected to a large beady eyed man with a litter of cheap whores who sat at an alcove near where Balsam had walked in, the restaurants dim sodium vapour lights intermingled with candles placed in little flower covered inlets. it all beading against the man's sweat drenched skin gave it a tarnished gold hue, ‘suitable for a man like him’, Balsam thought

“Hello, Shabitka Roswell is it? It’s good to meet you, and you ladies…” he pushed into the alcove, one of the women moving to give him way getting pulled as she stood, into Shabitka’s lap.

“Call me Shab son, that’s what most the men do,” Shabitka said, grinning as he casually fondled the girl.

“Mind if we have our chat in private?” Balsam smiled ruefully at the whores, “sorry ladies”. Shabitka shrugged, shoving off the girl on his lap and waving the rest away with a distracted hand “come on then, out with it lad” he said, drinking deeply from a flask, gold reflecting through his fingers “I need to find someone Shab, they entered Kisset today” Shabitka shifted in his seat

“Know a name?, description?” his rolls shifted as he talked.

“Aye, a man and a woman. Both middle aged, man’s darker skinned; black hair, green eyes, probably Mitchkan. Girl’s lighter, didn’t get a good look at her much, dark hair, taller than the man, maybe Doeish or Porchine, both of em wear armour, girls’ is more of a scout outfit though. Balsam mused as he tried to remember specifics, Shabitka busying himself by cleaning a plate of the last of it’s olives, he wiped his fingers on the tablecloth as Balsam recounted, “oh, the man’s armour has never seen a day of battle, completely unscarred”

“Well, that’s a useful tip lad, my men’ll find them in no time” Shabitka laughed, tilting his head, “but now to seal the deal. My men aren’t cheap so now it’s a matter of recompense, if you will.

Balsam nodded, “half now half after you’ve got em” he said, putting out several strings of Vennam from his jacket, Shabitka eyed the stacks, thick golden ringlets that looked heavenly under the yellow cast of the vapour lights. Balsam saw one of the waiters nudge another, their eyes glued to the hanging bundle.

“That sounds lovely lad, but I’ll need double what you’ve got there… five hundred for each, makes it a thousand for two.” he took a breath and leaned further back into the cushioned alcove seats. “Making me hunt down one of my own it stings a bit you know, I’m part Mitchkan myself, on my mothers side.”

A thousand? Balsam eyed the sentient tub of fish oil sitting in front of him, losing near enough a whole chest just to find those two wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate. Gritting his teeth he pulled the coins back into the fold of his coat and stood slowly, “well, I suppose I’ll have to go elsewhere then, Shab” he could feel his anger showing, Shabitka seemed unmoved, his head dipped underneath a gap in the lights left his body a turgid headless mass of flesh clutching a goblet.

The hand clutching the goblet moved as Balsam made to leave “you so sure lad?” Shabitka said slowly, “my boys’ve been hearing things, about the thousand hands n such… might not have a chance much longer to get to these lovely friends of yours” Wine sloshed as Shabitka set his goblet down and busied himself lighting a cigar. Balsam stopped ‘the thousand hands?’. The cigar flared dimly as Balsam contemplated what Shabitka said.

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“Why’d the secret police be in Kisset?” he asked.

“Aha, interested again are we?” Shabitka’s grin flashed dimly in the darkness. Balsam ran his fingers through his hair, he could feel the veins in his head pulse as he tamped down his anger, ‘one fucking thousand the reward for their capture better be worth it’.

“Fine…” he said woodenly “have one of your men come by the docks to pick the Nam up. Be seeing you Shabitka” nodding to the waiting whores Balsam left, his chest feeling heavy, the coins slung there making it all the more unpleasant. Making his way back to the docs Balsam pushed through the crowd, knocking people back and forcing others back with the force of his glare, he paused outside the Nightjar bazaar thinking about the slop his men had probably cooked up, Hercule was the only one of his men who had any talent in the kitchen, and he was out with another person-finder they’d manage to meet with. ‘Not as rancidly well known as Shabitka’ Balsam thought darkly. his thoughts were a jumble, he pulled a few fingers through his stubble as he walked through the bazaar.

A shop caught his eye, four tiered pastry stands docked with sweet desserts, others ringed with wrapped up packages of rice in grape leaves shined against the midmorning sun, the shop itself was painted a rosy cream colour, a welcome departure from the dimly lit embrace of the underground brothel. He took a seat next to the window, his plate stacked high and his chest a little lighter now that he had something to occupy his mind. He bit into a bundle and relaxed into his seat.

He was halfway finished when he saw them. Pausing mid-bite Balsam gaped as he saw a large figure, followed by two smaller ‘not smaller, just average sized’ the figures were coming closer, passing through the bazaar in a hurry, he saw the gleam of armour, noted the Mans’ Mitchkan features, the womans pale burgundy gambeson, she was Doeish after all, her face soft and yet longer than normal, delicate features lined with worry as she pulled that man through the crowd, Balsam wondered who the large figure they were both following was, almost lost himself in his musing he cursed, jumped up and ran out of the shop, following them through the crowded maze of side streets.

The curves, bumps and awkward geometry of the city proved valuable as Balsam tailed the three. Beams of dappled sunlight shafting through overcrowded buildings, struck with a different hue as it passed through dyed leather sun-blockers to give the backstreets a mottled appearance, Balsam’s hunters instincts came in handy, though the witches weren’t making much effort to be stealthy a ragged scared group they were. Now that they were away from the main crowd the largest witch let off bursts of black smoke around every other corner, it splashed out of them like they’d been hit by a powder bomb. The sparks of magic popped at seemingly random moments, Balsam’s confidence dipped with each ink black crackle.

They made their way to the edge of the City, passing through the wealthier parts of town the buildings dripped, ramshackle forms supported by rotting wood beams and moss green copper pipes.

A boat was waiting for them, a large almond shaped vessel with a black pitted steel roof and sloped bottle green sides that showed chipped white paint where it met the roof. They boarded slowly the large one waiting at the entrance, they’d stopped sending out pulses when they’d entered the poorer edges of the city ‘could I block them from sailing off?’ Balsam wondered, peering out from between two large pallet crates. it'd be about an hour or so to get to the edge of the city, if he ran. ‘another hour after that to get a boat or something useful out into the water with enough men to overpower them’ Balsam turned, gave the Boat one last glance and ran.