To preface this next part and explain why her viewpoint has not yet been featured, Ara is in her own words “unashamedly illiterate”. She claims to have never understood the concept nor point of reading and writing and so she has never learned how to do either. As such I have agreed to transcribe her story of this disturbing revelation, fresh from the whale’s mouth as it were.

Oh come on you didn't expect me not to get at least one in did you?

“So there I was walking along the waterfront. I know I can't go anywhere near my old home district anymore but come on the seas in my blood! So I’ve started going down to a nice little market I found in the southern dock spur, which is as far as possible from my old contacts. It's a pretty good place. I actually always got some new piece of posh from a distant land like food or fabric or stranger things. I once saw a huge cage with a big yellow striped thing in it that looked a bit like a gryshk but with only four legs. It was on that little stone pillar lookin’ plinth just off to the left of that big public square near the mooring points for the western kingdoms... you know the one right Skull? It’s the really big one with the nice shiny green tiles and that big fountain... Yes I know you're writing this down that's why I’m giving you proper.... fine fine fine I’ll hurry up.”

“So... since I have to make it concise, whatever that means I found a poster and went home at the end. Oh the look on your face... Of course I am enjoying this, what a silly question to ask!”

At this point your faithful scribe attempted to strangle her source, after several minutes of skirmishing Ara agreed to take it more seriously.

“So I was out getting us some vegetables, marrows and tomatoes mainly, all for a big soup I wanted to make that night. Mainly because I was thinking that Blood needed feeding up a bit, I mean she's got arms like a twig and I don't care that she's got super strength she still needs someone to look after her and Bright could do with a few more hearty meals as well she’s far too thin.

I know the current fashion and all but I think she’d be cuter with a little more meat on her bones... anyway I had haggled the stallholder down quite a bit which I was proud of and she wasn't making a stink about my species which is rare for the southern dock spur[125] so I stopped for a chat. We talked about the weather and trade route troubles for a few minutes then she said that I best be careful around the watchhouses on my way back so I, being a conscientious and very much alive smuggler, asked her why I needed to watch the watch all of a sudden *Laughter*. Why are you rolling your eyes at me? That was funny!

Oh come on don't just write laughter that's so boring... fine I give up... anyway she said that she had been detained for six hours the other day because she didn't have the right permit for a bag of imported breads. She managed to bribe herself free in the end but she said that the guards were taking anyone off the streets they could and she could hear their Captain yelling in the hall. Said it seemed like they were being run ragged so I thanked her and told her I’d watch out... then I legged it with my bag of food under one arm. I know a bit more than you posh nobs about stuff like this and when the guard act like that it’s because someone somewhere has pissed off the Arch-Doge and he's out for blood and so every watchman in the city tries to act like the most astute and attentive guard whose ever lived just in case they get a visit from an Inquisition black truth team... and three guesses as to who got on the tyrants knackers this time eh?

I may not have bothered learning how to read or write but that doesn't mean I'm not smart. I knew it had to be us but I didn't know how bad it was until I rounded the corner of the main street, you know the big one with those weird foreign lampposts all bending and melty looking, that leads back to the main gates. About twenty guards were standing around the door... don't matter much to me since I just swim anywhere I need to go but the problem was that one of them was pasting a huge poster onto one of the gates. It was real cheap paper and the pictures on it were more... what’s that fancy expression you use for fake art Skull? Oh right! More “artistic license” than real pictures but it showed a decent copy of all your masks including my bandana and underneath it said Four Rogue Mages – Wanted Dead – Reward: 3,000,000 gold Lire.

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Yeah three million; as in enough to buy a mansion in a gold rated district and a fleet of trading ships... So I swore for a bit and leapt into the river and swam back to our base and you know the worst part? Our supper got wet.”

At this point your humble scribe once again lost her temper and threw her notebook at Ara, after a few more minutes of wrestling for it she was able to retrieve it and write up this... somewhat rambling; but generally useful account of Ara’s big day out.

And now without further ado my account.

It all started in my office, I was standing next to my desk, shoulders hunched and eyes tired squinting around at the deluge of paper that had filled my study over the past few weeks. Shaking my head sleepily I stifled a yawn. I was busy. Very busy. But that was to be expected, it was the end of the season after all. In just a few short weeks the nobles would migrate wholesale to their winter palaces on the southern islands. Now was the time when lovers were jilted, bank managers came calling and the last few great parties were held. Nobles love a good party and these end of the season affairs could forge a dozen alliances and ruin a hundred reputations before the canapés had even been finished off.

So there I was, standing next to my desk, sorting through the ashes of broken lives presented in a million different formats; and I really mean that, if being an intelligencer has taught me anything, it's the sheer variety of writing material available in Prasus. There were tiny scraps of cheap off-white paper covered in nearly illegible scrawling, huge velum scrolls crisscrossed by neat rows of copperplate, towers of badly stacked papyrus dense with foreign pictograms, leather satchels filled with watch dispatches, there was even a long roll of pray paper that I honestly think was stolen from an Inquisition cloister-barracks[126].

I had literally mountains of work so when one of my subordinates slowly creaked open my door and shuffled inside I paid him no heed and continued sorting my piles. He was a servant after all and he would simply wait until I had time for him... or so I thought. As I began to filter through some of the more valuable and damning pieces of private mail delivered to the house Lyteth in the last month the man coughed politely.

I turned around; slowly and gave him my most withering icy glare. He actually backed away slightly and averted his eyes.

“Uh...,” he sounded utterly terrified, “I’m so sorry mistress but...,” in one hand he held a large black envelope embossed with my family's seal which he gestured frantically. “Your father said... I was to... I mean...”

I looked away from the stammering man pointedly but waved a hand at one of the small tables next to the door. This was, I freely admit, just a way to assert my authority. I couldn't have him thinking that he was important enough for me to give him my full attention even if he had a message from my father.

Of course the second that the door closed I was over at the table pulling the envelope open. Less than ten heartbeats after that I swore loudly and at length using words that a woman of my rank is technically not allowed to know, then I punched the wall; hard and dropped the letter into the roaring fireplace. Quickly kicking a hidden switch on my desk a portion of my wall swung inwards, reaching inside the hiding space I pulled out my Blade Brigade costume.

Striding across the room I dragged the shroud off a larger mirror that I had ordered set into the wall. Explaining how I teleport to a non-mage is impossible like explaining boxing to a fish. All I can manage is that my skin became like crisp autumn air, my bones felt very purple and I tasted tomorrow's rain and sorrow.

A second later I was standing in our hideout waiting impatiently for the others and wondering just how in the Abyss were we going to get out of this one.