The dust and other debris in the street outside Aghkar's Den of Sin, Iniquity and Dark Delights started to be blown around. A moment later it was being whipped around in five miniature tornadoes, and a moment after that it was settling around the feet of five people.

"A most effective spell, Your Wisdom," the newly-transformed Talius remarked. "I am curious as to how you deal with the excess thaumatic energy generated by the transformation to and from wind spirits."

"Any overflow that does not get channelled back into the core transformational sub-chant manifests as the tornadoes. A longer tornado indicates a less efficient execution of the spell," the Archmage answered. "You have a keen eye for subtleties, Master Talius."

Danandra smiled with an air of proprietorial satisfaction, and Talius inclined his head.

"I was but an Adept, Your Wisdom," he said.

"That was not the insight of an Adept, Master Talius. We will have a conversation about your status later – Vyrinios does not have a monopoly on magical colleges," Xixaxa said, and led them into the Den.

Inside, two large men were drinking coffee at one of the gambling tables. One of them glanced up.

"Not open yet, fuck off," he said, before he did a double-take. "You!" He said to Cally. Both men rose, reaching for weapons.

Xixaxa blinked. Both men froze, as if they'd been put on pause by the remote control of the gods. The first one overbalanced slowly, and thumped to the floor.

"Please lead us to this troll's chambers, Lady Callena," Xixaxa asked. Cally nodded and led them upstairs.

Xixaxa created another half dozen or so living statues on their way into the heart of Iyanus' lair. On the top level, Heska and Cally created shields to fend off some crossbow bolts and throwing knives. An assassin-mage released a crackling ball of green and red energy toward them - it flew down the corridor, making a noise like ripping paper. Xixaxa held up a hand and caught it.

"The execution is good," she said, examining it. "You could increase the yield by eighteen percent if you reversed your polaric couplings, though." She closed her fist around the assassin's spell, and when she opened it she held a shiny green and red apple. She tossed it to the assassin, who caught it with an amazed expression.

"Please be so good as to inform your Client we would like to see him. There does not need to be any further unpleasantness if he is co-operative, but any more spells like that and I will find myself compelled to respond in kind," Xixaxa said.

The assassin mage nodded, backed inside and closed the doors. A few moments later there was a trollish curse from behind the door, and Xixaxa sighed. "They have just attempted to exit through a window of sorts, which I have sealed. I suppose we shall now have to do this the impolite way."

With a flicking gesture, she smashed the doors into a shower of splinters and stepped inside.

Immediately, a mace was swung at her head as a golem stepped out from where he'd been lurking behind the adjacent wall, but the blow did not connect - the mace simply stopped in midair, immobile. The golem tugged at it, but to no avail. It abandoned the mace and drew it's immense fist back for a blow.

"We're here to talk," Xixaxa said. "If I have to do anything to stop you, it's going to hurt you badly, and I would rather not cause injury to such a rare and wonderful example of magical life. Your move."

The golem paused, lowered its fist, and nodded. "Say your piece," it intoned.

"Thank you," Xixaxa said, and entered the room properly.

Iyanus was backed up against the far wall with a few guards and assassins to his left and right - he was using the mage-assassin as a human shield and, somewhat more effectively, Leni as a troll shield. Leni was bruised and beaten - her hands were tied, a metal gag had been riveted around her mouth, and Iyanus held a sword to her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror, whether from her captor or her rescuers it wasn't possible to tell.

"Some fucking bodyguard you are!" Iyanus roared at the golem.

"This is the Archmage of Melindron," the golem stated. "It is my duty to die protecting your life, and I will do so if required, but mistake me not, I would die. There is no mage more powerful. I counsel you in the strongest terms to give her whatever she wants."

Iyanus grunted, but there was as much fear in his eyes as in Leni's. "What do you want?" He asked.

"You will address the Archmage as Your Wisdom, troll, or your tongue will be forfeit!" Heska snarled.

Iyanus paused for a moment, and then: "What do you want, Your Wisdom?" He ground the words out.

"We are here for Lady Violentia. Release her and we will depart in peace," Xixaxa said.

"And if I don't?" Iyanus asked. Heska growled. "Your Wisdom," he added.

"Then I shall turn you into a mouse - a starving mouse - and then feed you to a snake. You'll die hungry, and as prey," Xixaxa said.

"There're no snakes in here," Iyanus said.

Xixaxa pointed at one of his guards, who dropped screaming and writhing to the floor. The man's screams turned into hisses, and a few heartbeats later, a small green snake slithered out of the man's clothes.

Cally gasped, and everyone on the other side of the room from the Archmage began to look even more nervous.

"Don't worry, he's not venomous," the Archmage stated, as if this was what had terrified everyone.

Iyanus swallowed. "How do I know you won't just kill me anyway?" He asked. He didn't enquire as to the welfare of his newly-enreptiled guard.

"Because you are still alive," Xixaxa told him flatly.

"If I give her to you, will your demon leave me in peace, too?" Iyanus asked. Nobody needed an explanation as to whom he referred.

"He's not my demon," Xixaxa shrugged.

Cally spoke up. "When next I see him, I will ask him to let this matter drop. Whether he will listen I cannot say, but I will ask him."

Danandra thought that he almost certainly wouldn't, but kept silent.

Iyanus seemed to think for a moment, and then shoved Leni forward onto the floor. "There - she's a worthless, lying sack of elfshit anyway. Take her and begone."

"There is wisdom yet in trolls," Xixaxa said, and then, in a rush of wind, they were gone, taking Leni with them.

Allshield checked the window and the corridor. "Blackbolt - go and check the outer perimeter, then report," he commanded. The mage-assassin nodded and hurried out the door.

"Leave us," Iyanus growled. There was no need to ask who he meant by 'us' - all save Allshield filed obediently out. Iyanus watched them go.

"Half of them fuckers will leave, alright," he said to the golem when the door was closed. "They'll walk straight downstairs and out the door, and I don't know if I blame 'em."

"A legion could not keep you safe from the Archmage of Melindron," Allshield replied. "They are of no account."

"The famed Assassin's Guild doesn't seem to be doing too much fuckin' better," Iyanus growled back. "Since I hired you death's closer than ever. Will this not convince Bladehand that this ain't a fight he can fuckin' win?"

"The Arrangement has no exit clause. The likelihood of a successful completion is therefore irrelevant," the golem stated.

"It might be if you're made of stone, Allshield," the troll replied, wandering over to the 'window'. "But I am not. A troll knows how easily a life can be snuffed out - I reach out and end them when I wish, if I think they'll taste nice. They're nothing to me beyond prey. Strikes me that you, me or Bladehand are about as important to the likes of the Archmage and that demon - if we're stupid enough to get in their way, they'll snuff us out too."

"This discussion is pointless," the golem said. "I will pass your concerns on to the High Assassin in my next scheduled report."

"You've said that before," Iyanus laughed, but it was a grim, hollow laugh.

"I have not reported to the guild hall since then," Allshield replied matter of factly.

"Come and look at this," Iyanus said, from the window.

Allshield walked over to the torn and ragged hole he'd made when he threw McKenzie through the wall.

Iyanus tried to push him through the hole and out into the street, but it wasn't to be. The golem was too heavy.

"To the hells with you all!" Iyanus roared in frustration, and tried to run. Even without distracting Allshield with a nasty fall, he might make it, and he was desperate in any case.

Allshield had a firm grip on his arm, though. It might aswell have been an actual statue holding him in place, for all the give in it.

Iyanus snarled in frustration. "What will it take to make you see fucking sense?" He raged. "Divine intervention?"

Just then, Iyanus heard a sound he'd heard only once before, but had lived in terror of ever since - the staccato bursts of noise made by the demon's magical weapons.

"He's returned!" Iyanus said. "Get me out of here!"

Allshield moved immediately up to the window, but it had been sealed again with magic - an invisible barrier prevented any exit that way.

"She lied!" Iyanus said, in horror.

Then Darkbolt's corpse flew in through the open doorway. Two men stepped in over it - the first one was pale, and wore a white robe, the second had a weathered look and a beard, and wore a red robe. He also carried something that Iyanus recognised as kin to the demon's weapons, but it was larger, and the man held it in two hands.

"You're not him!" Iyanus said.

"I am sorry to disappoint," the white-robed man said.

Allshield left Iyanus where he was and moved quickly and purposefully across the room. He aimed a gigantic fist at the white-robed newcomer and swung.

The red-robed man raised his fire-weapon, but the white-robed man made the slightest of flicking gestures, and before his companion could shoot, Allshield was swept across the room, out through the wall, leaving another hole, and was gone. Iyanus, wide-eyed, whirled around to watch, and thought he saw the golem fall to the ground several streets away.

"I can only assume that you are Iyanus," the white-robed man stated.

"What the fuck do you want?" Iyanus asked.

"Answers," white robe said. "There is a heroic saga, where I come from - it concerns a great war among the stars. Ever since I first saw it I have been wanting to try this."

Iyanus suddenly felt a crushing pressure around his neck, and he was lifted up into the air. He put his hands to his throat to try and free himself, but there was nothing to grab hold of, nothing to pry away from his skin. The white robe held his hand out in front of him, as if he was raising a toast with an invisible wine glass.

"Where is the assassin that was sent to kill your master, and where are his friends?" White robe asked.

Iyanus gasped and squirmed. "Don't...know," he said. "Wish...I...fuckin'...did. Would...tell."

"If you truly do not know," the man said, "then what use are you alive?"

"Wait! Information..." Iyanus gasped. "Spare...life...Archmage...others..."

"Now we're getting somewhere," white robe said. Iyanus collapsed to the floor, gasping. "Very well, troll - tell your tale, and if I find it useful I will not harm you."

Iyanus nodded. "I had one of his friends here until a few moments ago, when the Archmage-" Iyanus stopped.

His eyes were already wide - they went even wider as another familiar figure entered the room. The Azani, trailed by eight of his men. They all carried heavy hunting bows, half drawn and loaded with broad-headed arrows. The Azani was a tall, spare man - his expression was currently as dark as his skin.

"Uh, boss..." red robe said. He had the fire weapon pointed at the newcomers

"I know, Sergei," white robe replied. "They will not trouble us. A moment please gentlemen, if you would. I will conclude my business with Iyanus as soon as possible."

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Do not rob me of my vengeance, mage," the Azani said threateningly, but - tellingly - he did not raise his bow, and his men followed his lead. Something about the white robed mage radiated danger, and the Azani was not here to make new enemies but finish an old one.

"I shall give your request all due consideration, sir. Iyanus: continue," white robe said.

"I was holding two of the demon's companions here until a few moments ago, but the Archmage of Melindron has them now, along with all the others save the demon, and two other mages besides. I do not know where they have gone - perhaps to the Unsheathed Dagger, the demon had a woman there. Perhaps to the Assassin's Guild - they have the demon's mentor in the guild held there as a captive. She is a hostage, to force him to do my bidding, but he is wild, uncontrollable-"

"I know that only too well," the white robed man said, with cold wryness. "What else?"

"He has been here before, he killed many of my guards, but he could not kill Violentia, although he fucking tried hard enough. I swear I know no more, my Lord," Iyanus said.

"And I believe you," white robe answered him. "A useful tale indeed. Thank you. Come, Sergei, let us to the Assassin's Guild. That is where we shall find McKenzie."

"How do you know he is not gone to Unsheathed Dagger, boss? Is not my first time in town, believe me, Dagger is much nicer place to hide than Assassin house," Sergei said, as they turned to leave.

"The keywords, Sergei, were 'she is a hostage'. McKenzie cannot resist a woman in danger, he's an incurable romantic, at heart - they draw him like a moth to a flame. We will pick up his trail there, depend on it," white robe said.

"My Lord, you promised to spare my life!" Iyanus said, as the Azani's bows creaked taut.

"I said I wouldn't harm you, troll, and I have not," the man replied. "I see you have guests - we'll let ourselves out."

The pair walked past the Azani and his men and left.

"Time to settle up for this morning, Iyanus," the Azani said, as his men spread out into a semicircle with Iyanus at it's centre. "I hear trollish skin makes very good leather, so I'll take yours as payment. My wife will look very fine, dressed in your hide."

Iyanus swallowed. There had been reports that one of The Azani's drang dens had been attacked, and Iyanus had a good idea who was behind it. That fucking demon's sneakier than I gave him credit for. "Whatever you think I did, Azani, it fucking wasn't me. I haven't moved against you. We're bein' set up by-"

Nine bolts of pain lanced through Iyanus' body as nine arrows found their target. The Azani had brought his best bowmen. Iyanus levered himself to his feet and snarled. "We're being set up!"

The Azani laughed. "Maybe - but who cares?" He addressed his men. "Try not to put any holes in his arms or legs, they look a good size for trousers."

Iyanus lurched to his feet and charged, bellowing the roar of the enraged troll, but the arrows flew again and again.

- o O o -

McKenzie was once again riding the Carriage of Doubt caught up in the Fugue of What-The-Fuck-Am-I-Doing - as an added bonus, the guy holding the reins appeared to be The Driver of Pointless Interruptions.

Was this the right thing to have done? Was he being a complete and total idiot? It wouldn't be the first time. In all likelihood Jadhara would be fine, now, he could disappear, avoid Lemuel, and the hell with the assass-

"Old Gavlak the Grey did that statue, sir, quite the controversy at the time, what with her breasts being uncovered. The emperor of the time was a bit of a moralist, y'see, and-"

This was about the eighteenth bit of information the cab driver had volunteered: to no response, so far. McKenzie's patience snapped, but he was in sarcasm mode, not violence: "Not bein' funny, drives, but frankly I couldn't give a shit. I appreciate that you're trying to add value to an otherwise boring journey, that you maybe think a bit of patter is part of a cab driver's job, and maybe even that driving a carriage isn't a particularly social occupation and talking to the customers is the only bit of interaction you get until you go home and bore the wife senseless with your fucking drivel about this statue and that building and whose uncle got caught fucking a goat in the imperial privies or whateverthefuck you were going on about three streets back, but seriously, pretty please, shut the fuck up and just make the fuckin' horse go?"

"It was the Emperor's late uncle, he was a ghost haunting the imperial privies," the driver responded stiffly.

"I'm equally give-a-fuckless either way," McKenzie said. "I'm having a bit of a day, to be absofuckinglutely honest. A bit of quiet time in a carriage between episodes of stressful violence and confrontation struck me as an oasis of calm in the midst of a desert of unpleasant, urgent activity. Great, I thought, some time to collect my thoughts, just watch the city rolling by, take it easy. But no, I've got to get into the carriage driven by the gobbiest man in Vyrinios. Don't know why I expected any different, the way my luck's been going the past few da-"

"Artists's Quarter, sir!" The driver announced, evidently quite keen to now have McKenzie out of his cab. McKenzie, feeling slightly guilty for going off at the guy, gave him twice the agreed fare in silver coins and got out.

The barrage of street traders, poets and artists began immediately, and, equally quickly, faded away as the group performed some sort of mental cost-benefit analysis where they weighed up the benefits of possible business versus the costs of the imminent violence promised by McKenzie's scowl. Only one of them seemed to come to a conclusion different from the others.

"Looking for a model, sir? Velas the Earless and Henricht Grecht themselves have painted me, sir, and found me comely - and very reasonable," a beautiful, black-haired woman asked him. There were several models offering themselves for hire in the crowd.

"Hah, when they painted you did they lay it on as thick as you are?" McKenzie replied: the model was Onza.

Onza stepped closer with a smile, as if they were talking terms.

"I'm almost certainly being watched," McKenzie said quietly, then, louder: "Is it only modelling you do?"

"I guessed, but my face is not known and it's not uncommon for street models to be intimately persuasive with prospective clients," she replied quietly, then, louder: "I offer many services, good sir."

"I need you to get a message to Jenata," McKenzie said quietly.

Onza laughed as if he'd made a hilarious joke. "I think we can come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement. Step this way."

"You're laying it on thick again," McKenzie said.

"You're not one to lecture anyone on being subtle. You're the least subtle person I've ever met," Onza replied. She held her arm out.

McKenzie took it: "Well at least someone seems to have grasped that."

Onza led him along the street, past the Imperial Theatre - all closed up, there didn't seem to be a matinee show, which was probably all to the good considering the performance that had been scheduled for about half an hour from now - and into a shop selling canvasses, brushes, paints and the other necessities of an artistic life.

McKenzie would've laid money that the shopkeeper was a were of some kind – but at any rate, he held a curtain aside at the back. Onza led him along a corridor, through a door, down some stairs, and through another door into what appeared to be a storeroom, full of the shop's stock.

It was dimly lit by a lantern. Inside, Lady Jenata had set up an easel and canvas, and found some brushes.

"Lord McKenzie," she said gravely. "Look to the left a little, if you would. Perfect. Hold that pose."

"Hate to mess with your creative drive, Lady J, but I ain't got time to sit for a portrait right now," McKenzie responded.

"How disappointing," Jenata replied. "When next I saw you, I expected you to have completed your work, and thus to be at leisure," she said, her meaning quite clear.

McKenzie sighed. "Just come out and ask me why I haven't got Bladehand, Lady J."

"Very well - why is my enemy not on his knees before me?" The vampire asked him, laying aside her brush. She did not look pleased.

McKenzie sat down on a crate. "Because it got complicated, like it always fucking does. Anyway, upshot is that I'm fighting Bladehand for the privilege of leading the Assassins' Guild in maybe twenty minutes time."

"Then you should not have come here to report this to me," Jenata said.

"That ain't why I came - I arranged for the fight to happen in the theatre out there," McKenzie replied.

Jenata smiled. "Excellent! I congratulate you on your sound tactical thinking. He will come to my very doorstep of his own volition."

"I hope to win, but he's a sneaky fucker. I don't know how this fight is gonna end, Lady J, so-" McKenzie said.

"So you wish to enlist my help and buy your advancement within the guild with the blood of my weres?" Jenata finished for him.

"What? No, I was just gonna say 'don't get your hopes up'. I don't want to be the First Assassin, let alone drag any fucker else into that theatre!" McKenzie bridled.

Lady Jenata held up a hand to forestall further protests. "My apologies - when one deals with honourless gangsters all day, one forgets that not everyone is motivated by greed and ambition."

"At the moment I'm just trying to stay alive," McKenzie said. "Greed and ambition are all well and good, but there's no point in being a rich and powerful corpse."

"Do not knock it, Lord McKenzie, until you have tried it," Jenata told him.

"Har de har," McKenzie told her. "Unintentional puns aside, I'm not in this to increase the size of my bank balance or make friends and influence people. If I had half a lick of sense I'd be in a different country by now, ideally with a stiff drink in hand."

"Then why not leave?" Onza asked. "I've seen you do very little for yourself, since we met. You always seem to be getting thrown through walls and blown up on someone else's behalf."

"Onza!" Jenata chided her. "Do not give Lord McKenzie ideas! We are dependent upon his sense of honour in this."

"Sorry, Lady Jenata," Onza inclined her head.

"Bloody good point anyway. I've wondered myself several times over the last couple of days. I s'pose Danandra's right and I am a fucking idiot," McKenzie concluded. "Anyway, in half an hour you may or may not have Bladehand. If not, I'll keep at it until you do or I'm dead - a deal's a deal. Oh, that reminds me, Revlius sends his regards."

"I was certain he would," Lady Jenata replied. "How is he?"

"Still standing. Roomy. Tastefully decorated, as long as you like darker colours. What can I say, he's a building," McKenzie shrugged. "Seemed okay."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I loiter down here for a bit? For reasons of my own, I want to keep off the streets until it's time for the ding dong in the theatre," McKenzie asked.

"Certainly. I'm sure Onza will be delighted to keep you company," Lady Jenata said. "I, however, must depart. By vampire standards, Lord McKenzie, this is the middle of the night. Until we meet again."

She rose and left via an exit at the back of the room. McKenzie was left with Onza.

"How's your head?" She asked.

"Fine," McKenzie replied. "Didn't actually drink that much."

"Does it help?" Onza enquired.

"A bit," McKenzie said, wondering what she was trying to get at. He didn't have to wait long.

"It's really not like with animals, is it?" Onza asked. "Lots of people are dead because of something I did, and it hurts, somehow." She looked down at the floor.

Awkward, McKenzie thought.

"All you did is drive a carriage, Onza," he said. "Everything else is on me, and that psycho guy, and, ultimately, Jenata. Not you. If it was someone else holding the reins, everyone who died would still've died."

"Is that really the way it works?" She asked.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, Onza, I'm more of a hired thug type of bloke," McKenzie answered uncertainly.

"I don't know what a sigh kaya tryst is, but there's nobody else to ask," was Onza's response.

"I reckon your brother'd be a good place to start," McKenzie suggested.

"Please," she said. "Just try? Is that really the way it works?"

She looked genuinely distraught. McKenzie decided to relent. He thought for a minute and then said: "The first time, yeah - but now you know what happens in Jenata's name. You've had a wake up call. Listen - nobody talks about this in quite the same way here as they do where I'm from, but people like you and me basically have superpowers. We are monumental fucking badasses. You can turn into a leopard, and you could snap a normal person in half using only your eyelashes probably, right?"

Onza laughed, semi-nervously.

McKenzie went on. "Right. So if Lady Jenata's line about how you guys are just trying to survive in a hostile world is for real, then fine: be a monumental fucking badass, you know you're just doing what has to be done. If you know that not to be the case, though, then you'd best not be a monumental fucking badass anymore, or tell Jenata to go fuck herself and find a different reason for being a monumental fucking badass that makes more sense and does society some good or whatever. I dunno what reason that might be, by the way, but generally if a week's gone by and I can sleep at night, then I always figure my moral compass isn't too far out of whack."

Onza nodded. "I see. With great power comes great responsibility."

McKenzie considered that. "Yeah, come to think of it that sums it up really neatly, but personally I prefer the monumental fucking badass version of the explanation."

Onza nodded, and then surprised McKenzie by giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You're a good man, McKenzie. Thank you," she said.

"Um, you're welcome." McKenzie replied.

Onza stepped back again and looked furtively around the room. "There's something you...haven't been told," she said, reluctantly.

"There usually is," McKenzie responded, with a weary snort. "I stopped taking it personally about two hundred years ago, so don't worry."

"You didn't end up in my inn by accident, McKenzie, my brother arranged it. There's an associate of his, well, I suppose she's like his mentor or something. He talks about her like some sort of visionary - if he wasn't such a scary guy, I'd say he had a bit of a crush on her. I'd seen her meet him in my inn a couple of times - she looked slightly Izmodeian, but not tall enough, more like one of the lowlander peoples of the southern empire," Onza explained.

"I have no idea where that is or what they look like, but I know exactly who you mean. Go on," McKenzie said.

"She came into Lady Jenata's halls a few months ago with six other assassins, and they tried to kill her - that's why you have to be invited in, now. The other six died - only Anj's friend survived, because, well, you wouldn't believe how quickly she could move." Onza made slashing motions with her hands. "Quicker even than one of the vampires, and stronger than you'd think, too."

"Strong like me?" McKenzie asked keenly.

"I don't think quite like you," Onza confirmed, "just a lot stronger than you'd expect for a human her size. She was outnumbered, though, and trapped. She ended up cornered in a room, but nobody wanted to go in there and finish the job, until I said I recognised her and she knew my brother. Lady Jenata offered her safe passage out, then, but only if she swore not to raise stake nor silver against us again. If she did, though, not only could she walk out of there, but Lady Jenata said she would give her 'a pearl of great price', those were her words," Onza said.

"Was she wearing any extra jewelry on the way out?" McKenzie asked.

Onza shook her head. "No. She swore the oath, anyway - she hadn't killed anyone yet so maybe she figured Lady Jenata was in earnest and that was her best shot at staying alive, I don't know. They spoke privately, then: I don't know what they said, apart from one word I heard when I took wine in: blackmail. It was the assassin that said it, but she said it like she was repeating something she'd just been told, and she sounded surprised, maybe even shocked. I didn't see her again until a couple of days ago, when she came and met Lady Jenata, really late at night, almost morning. They spoke privately again, but I overheard them, this time while they were walking down the corridor. The assassin said that she'd "found the perfect chap for the job". The next day, though, Lady Jenata came to me and asked me to talk to my brother. Something had gone wrong, she said. Anjarong was to arrange for you to come to my inn, and I was to offer to arrange a meeting between you and her. Lady Jenata asked me to be as persuasive as was necessary - in the event, we had Danandra, so it wasn't necessary," she finished, and looked down. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

It was all a bit subtle. McKenzie nodded, and thought. Danandra had been absolutely spot on - there had been no coincidence to his meeting Onza.

"Thank you," he said. "You've taken a big risk telling me this. I'll keep it from Jenata."

"No need - I'm going to go and tell her, now. I think I'd rather just run an inn than run her errands any more, but I'm not going to lie to her or keep anything from her. I owe her that much."

McKenzie nodded. "If she doesn't take it well, let her know she'll have me to answer to if any harm comes your way. The chaos you and your fellow weres were causing down there will seem like a quiet afternoon with a cup of tea and a book compared to what I'll fucking unleash if she hurts you."

"I am not worried for my safety, but thank you," Onza said. "Will you still face Bladehand, now? I would not blame you if you did not, and an oath sworn under false pretences is not binding in the sight of the gods."

"The gods needn't trouble themselves anyway, if there're any looking. You can tell Jenata I was in two minds about whether she was being straight with me and was considering fucking off, but now I'll see this out to the end because you told me what you knew." This was a lie, not only was Jadhara's life at stake but he wanted to bounce Bladehand's head off hard surfaces a few times just on general principles, but McKenzie figured that if Onza was determined on levelling with Jenata then this might deflect any anger the vampire might feel. Yeah, I'm doing subtle, McKenzie congratulated himself.

Onza nodded. "Good hunting, then, McKenzie. I hope we will meet again," she said, and left the same way Jenata had. Presumably there was another mirror-entrance back there somewhere.

Blackmail, eh? McKenzie thought. He doubted that the assassin's guild would look too favourably on someone twisting the punters for money - or was someone blackmailing them? As for the 'perfect chap for the job', he had no doubt who that was, he only wondered if Jadhara had considered him for the job before or after she found out he was actually a very, very old friend – and if blackmail was involved why hadn't she told him? Danandra figures this stuff out instantly, he thought. She'd know why Jadhara was being economical with information.

It changed nothing, though: McKenzie didn't want to take any chances with Jadhara's life (although there would be words about her apparent double standards as regarded being lied to, afterwards, he promised himself). His watch beeped - he'd set an alarm for the approximate time of the duel.

"Time for a trip to the theatre," he said to himself, and headed back upstairs.