Arne sighed inwardly as it fully sank in that subterfuge and stealth was not on the horizon if they insisted on working together as a group. The fashionable café with outdoor seating under a red and golden shade-sail, pleasantly decked out with cushioned seats and meticulously watered green plants was not really the best place for keeping neither Toog nor Dia unobserved in their strange mismatched and grubby attire.

Whatever advantage they might have had from not being seen as a group was for sure long gone. …And although he would normally never ever have let that sit on his honour as a professional, he felt like it was not really up to him to herd cats in this case. The Queen had clearly made an odd choice of group and until he saw it in freeform, he pretended he didn’t know what could be done about it.

Besides, was it up to him? Not really, he mused. And what were the chances Dia would accept being told what to do? Or Toog even noticing? Slim to non-existent, Arne guessed.

The café was luckily placed right across the busy street from the large townhouse in southern Zihr district. The only thing obscuring the open double door entrance to the house was the traditional row of market carts in the middle of the street, selling sweets, small jewellery or other trinkets. These were found all over the city of Arabesk, though this iteration was definitely in the more luxurious end of the spectrum. Although it was early spring and not yet that hot, it was still the warmest part of the day, and many of the carts were locked while the owners lounged at nearby cafes.

The second round of tar-bean tea and sweets was brought to their table. Before the server, a middle-aged man left, Arne asked, “That house, didn’t it use to belong to…”

“Scholar Lord Miyann, sir. Yes.”

“That no longer seems to be the case. What is all that activity over there?” Arne nodded to the house.

“Well, it… I’m not one to gossip, but I believe they are a temple, though it seems quite unclear what divinity they worship. And, well, as the story goes, they are quite happy with what they are doing, if you catch my drift, sir.”

“I don’t,” Arne smiled. “How do you mean?”

”Ehm…” the man looked at him, seemingly flustered or embarrassed. “They seem very happy to welcome people.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Somewhat puzzled, Arne thanked him and let him go and the three of them sat staring.

“A happy-cult?” Dia finally said and gave them both a depressed and tired look. “Can’t we just wipe them out and be done with it?”

“Nah, it’s more like a sex cult,” Toog said loudly and nodded wisely, drawing attention from everyone around them yet again.

“You know, I don’t actually think those exist outside the temple of Debauchery,” Arne grinned.

They turned their attention back into the house of the Family, sipping their drinks.

An airy, whitewashed atrium welcomed visitors and the sun shone down on the people milling around in there. They were apparently from all walks of life. In the half hour that Arne, Dia and Toog had been seated here, they had seen everyone from lower merchant nobility to a one-legged beggar enter. Some entered and didn’t come back out. Some entered and came back, looking clean and refreshed and wearing comfortable-looking white robes and seemed to take on a welcoming duty. From the vantage point of the café, those that didn’t come back let themselves be shown further into the building, taking a left at the end of the atrium and disappearing.

“Thanks for the drink,” Toog suddenly got to their feet, lifting the heavy bag. “I will go talk to them.”

“Alright…” Arne said and fished a small, foldable sun clock out of a belt pocket and set it on the edge of a plant pot not covered by the shade-sail. “If you aren’t back in a quarter of an hour, we are coming in to look for you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dia stated.

“If you aren’t back in ten minutes, Dia will come look for you,” Arne corrected.

“Sure,” Toog nodded and set off, entering the house of the Family. A few moments after crossing the threshold, a white-clad member of the religious group had engaged Toog in conversation and they both disappeared into the atrium and out of sight.

“You aren’t the boss. Nobody tells me what to do,” Dia stated suddenly, though in a less murdery tone of voice than Arne had expected.

“Sorry, Dia,” he said.

She turned to face him, brow furrowed, clearly not buying the apology.

“You’re right, I’m definitely not the leader of this group,” he smiled. “How would you like to proceed?”

Dia pointed an accusing finger at him. “This,” she swirled her finger around to indicate time, the Planes and everything in existence, “is exactly why I kill people instead of working with them. Me being here is about the dumbest idea anyone ever had.”

Arne’s hand shot out and caught her finger. “You are probably right. But here we are.” He gave a laugh at the weird tic in her face when his hand touched hers and he let her go before it stopped being funny. “So, how do we proceed? We don’t really have the option of not going in there–“

“You know what, fine! Suck a ferret!” Dia shot to her feet and gave him a rude hand gesture on her way out of the café. “See you inside.”

Arne gave her fifteen minutes. Then he grabbed his sun clock, paid their bill, tipped the waiter and went to meet the Family.