Something had definitely happened - out on the street in the Artist's Quarter, the traders and hawkers were hanging back, and people were talking in small groups, pointing to the theatre. A pair of black clad men guarded it's doors. Looked like it was showtime.

"What happened?" McKenzie asked one such huddle of people.

"Men in black," a brush-seller replied, indicating the two assassins. "Dozens and dozens of 'em. They're in the theatre, now - everyone inside has been, well - they were asked to leave and none of 'em argued. Nobody wants to go back in, neither, even if they'd let 'em."

"Right then," McKenzie slung his bag, clanking with armaments, over his shoulder. As he walked across the street to the theatre, bells started to clang dolorously. It was later than he thought - high noon.

Posters on the front of the Imperial Playhouse gave it to be showing something called The Tragedy of Red Veros.

"You are invited to a private performance, Crowbar," one of the pair of assassins guarding the door told him with a sneer, opening the door.

"Har fucking har," McKenzie replied. He stepped inside. It was much like an earthen theatre - inside was a lobby, in plain wood, with a desk that presumably acted as the box office and various doors and stairs leading to, he assumed, seating.

It was empty. McKenzie strode through the pair of doors next to the box office, and found himself in the main auditorium. The assassins from out front followed him through, having secured the door behind them - McKenzie felt a murmur of magic as they did so. There were to be no last minute seats, it seemed.

The auditorium was not empty - it was replete with assassins. The theatre was laid out in a semicircle, with amphitheatre-like seating rather than chairs. The first few rows were packed with black-clad figures. He saw Jadhara up in the royal box, flanked by a pair of troll-assassins. Well, she'd been a queen once, so her seating, if not her retinue, were appropriate. Their eyes met briefly as he walked down the central aisle to the stage. If she was at all concerned, she wasn't showing it.

The only actor on stage was Bladehand, arms crossed and with a bleak expression. There was no set made up, unless you counted the hourglass that had been placed next to him.

"You are late," the High Assassin said, as McKenzie leapt up from the stalls to the stage.

"Fucking sue me," McKenzie told him, shrugging his backpack onto the stage floor. "Let's get on with it, I've got shit to do."

Bladehand regarded him coldly, but made no reply.

One of the assassins in the front row stood up and turned around. "It is the appointed time and the appointed place," he said. Apparently he'd been picked as the master of ceremonies. "Does the incumbent wish to surrender his office?"

"No," Bladehand replied.

"Does the challenger wish to withdraw?" The MC asked McKenzie.

"Like fuck," McKenzie replied. The MC stared at him. "Means no."

There were a lot of assassins in this room - more than there had been in the council chamber. Too many, maybe. McKenzie couldn't think of anything Bladehand could do to beat him - he was a man, not a living statue like the last assassin he'd faced off with - but he was a cunning man. If he had a trick to play, McKenzie didn't know if he'd be able to hold his own against what appeared to be the massed strength of the entire guild: although Statue Guy was notably absent.

"So be it," the MC said. "High Assassin, it falls to you to name the weapons and conditions of the challenge."

"So what's it gonna be, Bladehand? Tell you what, you can have both weapons and I'll just use this," McKenzie held up his fist, and then extended his middle finger.

Bladehand sneered faintly. "Words," he said.

"Yeah - but we'll graduate to actions in a moment and then I'm going to kick seven shades of shit out of you," McKenzie replied.

"No, fool. We will fight this challenge with words," Bladehand said. "We shall each of us address our brothers and sisters of the black - uninterrupted - for one turn of this hourglass. Then there shall be a vote - and before any of Nightwing's puppets raise an objection, there is precedent for this. Heartspear, the fifteenth High Assassin, challenged Deathwind the Bodiless in this way, and the Council ruled it binding."

"Oh," McKenzie said. This isn't going to end well.

There was some murmuring, and then a few low voiced arguments, but it died away. Either this was a quite well known fact, or Bladehand had been assiduous with his PR and it had just recently become a well known fact. Up to this point, Jadhara had looked as impassive as any other assassin in the room, perhaps even serene: now she looked downright worried, as well she might. Bladehand had made the absolute best choice he could.

"I leave it to you, Crowbar, to decide if you wish to go first or second. I care not which," Bladehand told McKenzie.

McKenzie found himself in the almost unprecedented position of wanting time to think.

"After you," he said, stepping back.

The guy doing MC duties turned over the hourglass. Bladehand stepped to the front of the stage.

"Brothers and sisters," he said. "We stand now on the cusp of an important decision - the guild is at a fork in the road. There are those among us that talk of justice, and would slay only those they say deserve it. They talk of 'dark deeds done to serve the light', and redemption, and for those who rightly scorn such weakness, they offer the prospect of the guild as kingmaker, working in secret to wield power for 'the common good'." Bladehand's voice dripped scorn.

Every face he could see was impassive and stony, but McKenzie got the impression that this was playing well to the crowd.

"A newcomer stands upon this stage as challenger - a being of great power, it is true. The council heard of his deeds and they were no lie. Such a man, you may think, would make a fine High Assassin - and I might agree with you, were it himself he stood here for. But he does not. We all know whose creature he is," Bladehand glared at Jadhara, just to make sure everyone knew who he was talking about.

"You may have heard her 'philosophy' from her own lips. Nonsense and folly, all of it. We are an unstoppable force but a neutral one. We do not judge those who seek to form an Arrangement, nor do we judge those who have an Appointment with us - if we start down that path, we make enemies, and our Clients will, inevitably, seek elsewhere - why trust to the caprice of morality, they will think, it could turn on us as easily as aid us! Only a fool pays good gold for a bow which might shoot the bowman should the mood take it. We are death, and death does not take sides. Mistake me not, we are not heroes." Bladehand made a dismissive gesture with his hand, to convey what he thought of 'heroes'. "We do not ride into battle, we appear silently in the quiet of night. We do not swing swords, we slay with cunning, and skill. We do not wear mail, we wear black."

And just like that, McKenzie knew what he had to say. A smile stole across his face - he nearly laughed out loud.

Bladehand hadn't noticed anything - he paused and judged the amount of sand left.

"And heroes," he said, "are poor - I prefer gold to goodwill."

The sand ran out. Bladehand bowed, and stepped back. Jadhara was looking at the black-clad audience, trying to gauge their reaction.

The MC turned the hourglass over. McKenzie stepped forward.

"Um, hi. So yeah, I don't know about any of that," he addressed the theatre, somewhat haltingly, but then he found his voice and reminded himself that if he didn't make a good impression he could just start shooting. "To be perfectly fuckin' honest I have no idea what Nightwing wants to do with the guild and to be extra fucking perfectly honest I'm having a hard time caring. Anyway, I don't like standing up here like a spare prick blathering on about fuck-knows-what so I'll get to the point. If you vote for me I'll probably resign straight away anyway because I can fucking guarantee that I'll be the worst First Assassin ever."

Jadhara literally put her face in her hands at that. The theatre was utterly silent.

"On the other hand," McKenzie said, "I haven't been blackmailing customers like Bladehand has, so you might wanna take that into consideration."

There was definite surprise at that: even one or two gasps. McKenzie looked up to the royal box - Jadhara looked the most surprised of all.

"Lies!" Bladehand shouted. "He's grasping at straws!"

"Am I? I've only caught the edges of this, but I reckon it goes a little something like this," McKenzie said, as the pieces clicked together in his head. This must be how Danandra thinks all the time, he thought.

"You sent seven assassins to off the vampire Lady Jenata, and the only survivor was Nightwing. It doesn't seem like too much of a stretch that the other six were also your rivals in the guild - icing on the cake, for you. Jenata didn't die, though - well, not twice - did she?"

Bladehand was starting to look worried as well as furious, and the audence was paying attention. McKenzie went on.

"She cut a deal with Nightwing over something important - 'a pearl of great price' - and I'm guessin' it was this: Jenata hired you to kill Aghkar, but you didn't. You learnt something damaging, and held it over her head instead. But she didn't play along like a good little bloodsucker, she told you that - let me guess - she had an old, old friend in the guild that she could reveal your dirty little secret to: an assassin that blackmails his clients is downright dangerous to the others. Which brings us back to you sending your seven inconvenient ninjas after her before she could blab."

"Pathetic drivel," Bladehand scoffed. "In any case, your time is up." Bladehand pointed to the hourglass. It had indeed run out. "It is time to vote."

"I move that Crowbar be allowed to tell us the rest of what he knows," someone said, from the audience. Four or five other voices seconded it.

"We are not in session!" Bladehand countered.

"Tell you what, I'll carry on speaking, and whoever wants to try and stop me, can," McKenzie said, yanking the two machine pistols out of the bag. He didn't point them at anyone yet, but there were no takers anyway.

"Well I never, the motion passed. Where was I? Oh yeah. Then, all of a motherfuckin' sudden, Jenata is on the no-kill list, I'm guessin' 'cos Nightwing came back and negotiated a deal where neither of you interfered with the other and she kept her trap shut about what she'd found out from Lady J: I didn't hear any of this shit from her or Lady Jenata, by the way, I had to scrape it up on my own. Anyway, Nightwing was looking after her client's interests, which is a fucksight more than you did. You took the piss, though - after Aghkar's entirely fortunate demise, you stepped in to help Iyanus - I dunno exactly what your angle was, but you knew it'd hurt Jenata somehow. And now here the fuck we are. So was Jenata your first foray into blackmailing clients for fun and profit, or is this a thriving side business by now?" McKenzie levelled the guns, not at Bladehand but past him, up into the royal box. Jadhara merely raised a eyebrow - she'd regained her calm.

"You spin a merry tale, demonspawn, I'll give you that," Bladehand said.

"So shall we have this vote then?" McKenzie asked.

"You seem determined to resolve the matter with alternative means," Bladehand eyed the guns.

"They ain't for your benefit," McKenzie replied.

Bladehand glared at him. It was a complicated glare - it had anger in there, lots of that, and lashings of surprise, but there was a dash of fear too.

He stepped close - McKenzie braced himself for an attack, but kept the guns trained on the royal box.

"Well, this is for your benefit. Retract your words, declare them a mere gambit, and you shall have the trolls' heads on twin silver platters, money and much else besides. If you care for Nightwing, you can have her, too. Take her and go," Bladehand said, in a low voice.

"Well shit, I was actually right?" McKenzie said, and laughed. "You're trying to buy me off: that's cute. It's a no, by the way, if you weren't getting that already."

"Bah!" Bladehand spun away. "Let us vote - I would hear the will of the guild in this!"

"The guild will vote on this challenge. Those who would grant victory to the incumbent, raise your hands," the MC-assassin intoned.

A subset of the assembled black-clad figures raised their hands - many of them hesitantly, as if they knew they had to but didn't really want to. The MC did a tally. "I count 137 votes for the incumbent. Is that agreed?"

It was agreed, after a few other assassins on either side of the hand up/hand down divide did their own count and nodded their assent.

"Very well. 137 votes to Bladehand. Those who would vote for the challenger, raise their hands."

The process was repeated, and the MC did a tally.

"I count 136 votes for the challenger," the MC announced.

Fuck it, McKenzie thought, annoyed. That'd been bloody close. He stared at Jadhara, who shook her head minutely. McKenzie nodded his, and took careful - but casual - aim at the trolls flanking her. They had not voted for him.

"Is that agreed?" The MC asked again.

There was a hiss from one of the back rows on the left - McKenzie took his eyes off his targets for a moment to look. The hiss had issued from a very large black snake with red eyes. It was upright, balanced on a tangle of it's midnight coils.

No hands, McKenzie thought, with an increasing sense of hope.

Bladehand gave an almost imperceptible nod. At the back of the gathered audience, on the right, a cloak fluttered slowly to the floor as it's wearer slipped silently out of it and headed for the rear of the theatre. All eyes were on the snake.

"Brother Strictor," the MC said. "Our apologies - what is your will in this matter? Do you find for the challenger?"

Strictor nodded his head twice, slowly, and gave vent to a quiet but very definite 'yesssssssss'.

"If I ever said anything bad about big snakes in this company before, I take it back. They're now officially okay by me," McKenzie said.

The MC ignored this sally, as did the rest of the assassins. "137 votes for the challenger. I ask again, then: is that agreed?"

This time, it was agreed. The vote was tied.

There then came a pause - nobody seemed to know what to do.

"Oh-kay then. Do we do a recount, is there a tie-break question, do we fight or what? I dunno if anyone else has noticed but it is fucking tense in here right now, so someone say something before it kicks off just by default anyway," McKenzie said.

"You are a fool," Bladehand practically spat at him.

"Whatevs," McKenzie answered.

The MC-assassin cast around for inspiration.

"Brother Reaveheart," Jadhara announced from the royal box. "I would speak."

"Speak, then, Sister Nightwing," the MC directed.

"Hah! More lies, I do not doubt," Bladehand said.

Jadhara ignored him. "There is precedent for this. Razor the Unready and Swordkiss the Fair once held the post of High Assassin jointly. Following an inconclusive swordfight, Razor was voted out – but then immediately afterwards both of them took up the post. They married, shortly afterward, I think, but that is hardly relevant. In any case, I move that we cleave to this," Jadhara said.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Well, the honeymoon's gonna be a bit strained," McKenzie snorted.

"I recall the same," another assassin spoke.

"And I," a third said.

"Since Crowbar assures us he will resign immediately, I am entirely happy with this arrangement," Bladehand sneered.

"For the record, the motion is seconded," Anjarong spoke.

"Also for the record, I said fucking probably, sunshine," McKenzie pointed out to Bladehand.

The MC looked around. "Then let us vote on this. Do we follow this precedent?"

The result of that was nearly unanimous.

"Very well. Let us not delay, then. Bladehand, your term as High Assassin is at an end. Crowbar and Bladehand, your terms as High Assassins have begun. There is neither oath nor vow, but the guild does not tolerate betrayal."

"Good," Bladehand said. "I suppose, brother, that we must therefore come to some sort of arrangement. Let us talk, you and I."

"Let's not," McKenzie replied.

"If it please the guild, I have a matter to put before them of the utmost urgency and relevance," Jadhara spoke. "May I take the stage?"

"Fine by me," McKenzie said.

Bladehand turned to Jadhara. "You cannot," he said. "We have an Arrangement - a solemn oath, on our lives."

Both trolls tried to place a hand on Jadhara's shoulders, but she was already out of their reach, having vaulted over the wall in front of her. She executed a perfect somersault in mid-air and landed lightly on the stage.

"Awesome," McKenzie nodded. He let the guns drop to his side.

"We had an Arrangement, Bladehand," Jadhara told the High Assassin.

"And while I am High Assassin, it holds," Bladehand told her.

"This is brilliant," McKenzie said. "I love it in a play when you think everything's finished and then there's a sudden twist."

Jadhara shot him a look that said 'shut the fuck up, okay?'. McKenzie shrugged and shut the fuck up.

"Not quite, Bladehand," Jadhara corrected him. "The terms of the Arrangement were exactly worded: 'until you cease to be the High Assassin', and you ceased to be so a few moments ago."

"Sophistry!" Bladehand said scathingly, but he was going a bit wide-eyed. He kept looking at the ceiling, for some reason. "I am still High Assassin, and if you open your mouth to speak of this matter, then your life is forfeit. The gods will see to it."

"Let us see what their will is," Jadhara shrugged. "Brothers and sisters, Crowbar spoke truly. I am now free to tell you that Bladehand has betrayed us all by blackmailing Clients - many, not just the vampire Lady Jenata. For those of you who will not take me at my word, I have proof, which any and all are free to examine as they wish." She looked at her arms and hands. "Well, there is a wonder - it seems the gods wish me to live."

"Not for long, Nightwing," Bladehand promised in a growl, and then drew twin daggers from within his cloak. "Hidebow! Now!"

McKenzie noticed Jadhara move first - she spun sideways and away, dodging a crossbow bolt, even while she held her hands out towards the audience. Anjarong was throwing something at her: a pair of chopsticks.

McKenzie started to bring the guns up to shoot Bladehand - Jenata could content herself with his body - but then everything went dark. Something had dropped on him.

At first he thought it was a cloak, until it hissed and stabbed him in the heart, then in the back of his neck and his stomach in quick succession. McKenzie dropped one of his guns and tried to grab it, but couldn't get hold of his attacker - he just felt leathery skin and sinew slipping out of his grasp. McKenzie resorted to beating on his own head with his fist and the butt of the other gun to try and dislodge it. Finally he managed to get a grip on his slippery assailant and tried to pull it off.

He succeeded, throwing his opponent to the stage floor, but on the way down it somehow managed to stab him in the eye. Searing pain erupted and McKenzie could see nothing through his left eye except stars and the hilt of the knife which had been jammed into his right.

He yanked the knife out with a scream of agony and blinked. Jadhara was engaged with four other assassins, Bladehand was fighting someone and shouting orders, and there appeared to be a general melee down in the stalls. Other combatants were leaping up onto the stage. Magic was being bandied about - a red bolt of light flashed across his vision, heading for stage right. He didn't get time to take in anything else before the leathery shape leapt at him again.

McKenzie raised the gun and fired. He got a burst off as it came, but then it was on him again before he could see if he'd hit it.

It tried to wrap itself round him - he felt teeth on his throat and claws raked his face and eyes, making him snarl in pain and anger. McKenzie shrugged it off his arms but it shifted it's grip to his neck - it seemed to be infinitely flexible. McKenzie tried to jam the gun up against it, but it was wise to his weapons, now - it seemed to flow down his arm and devoted all it's strength to wrenching the gun out of his grasp. McKenzie heard it clatter to the floor. He dropped the knife he'd pulled out of his eye socket, and was then able to grab it with his other hand - he slammed it against the stage floor as hard as he could. It shrieked and struggled to get free - McKenzie smashed it against the floor again and then threw it as hard as he could at the wall. It fluttered across the stage - it was mostly bone and wing, it seemed - thumped lightly into the wall next to the stage curtains and was still, either dead or unconscious. McKenzie didn't care which.

He didn't have time to do much except have that thought before he suddenly found himself following it - something had fetched him an almighty whack from behind. He slammed into the wall and landed atop his former assailant, his back aching from the blow and his head reeling.

"The fuck?" He muttered, and looked up. The pair of trolls that had been guarding Jadhara had decided to take a leading role in proceedings - one of them held a huge warhammer, the other a very, very large bow. It fitted an arrow.

McKenzie yanked out the pistol and fired four times. The gun jumped and kicked and the bow-wielder - a female, he suddenly noticed - went down, roaring the blood-curdling roar of an injured troll. The hammer-troll charged him, bellowing defiance and anger - this one was male. Sounds pissed, McKenzie thought, maybe I just shot his missus. McKenzie fired the remainder of the clip at it. The bellow of rage turned into one of pain, but under his cloak the troll was, in apparent defiance of Bladehand's earlier assertion, wearing mail, which probably did a bit to reduce the pistol's effectiveness.

It swung the hammer from McKenzie's left - McKenzie snarled and leapt forward, grabbing for the haft. He managed to get a grip on it with his left hand and hold on tight, but the force of the swing was so great that McKenzie was lifted from his feet. As the hammer came to the end of it's horizontal arc he let go - somewhat ill-advisedly, as this meant he flew across the width of the stage and slammed back-first into the far end.

"Ouch," he muttered, with a murderous look at the troll. It was already lumbering over. McKenzie picked himself up off the floor, clicked the cartridge release and slammed in his spare. Three shots left. The troll raised his weapon, McKenzie raised his, and they both brought their hammers down.

McKenzie was aiming for the troll's eyes, and he hit his targets. One in the left and one in the right, and a lot of meat came flying out the back of it's head. He scrambled off to one side as the hammer came down and the troll bellowed in agony - it fell off the stage and started thrashing about in the stalls, hopefully in it's death throes.

A huge arrow thudded into McKenzie's right shoulder, spinning him around and sending him back to the deck again - the female was back in the fight, and screaming an enraged battle cry even as she drew another arrow from behind her back. McKenzie levelled the pistol to reply with his final round, but before he could fire a black clad figure fell over him: a man,clutching at his throat as he died.

McKenzie stopped to heave the dying man off him, and this earned him another oversized arrow, this time directly into his forehead - the force of it snapped his head back onto the stage with enough force to splinter the wood and cause his vision to flare and blur.

"Fuck this!" He swore, and rolled across the stage, knocking a couple of duelling assassins over. This time he managed to avoid a third arrow.

One bullet wasn't going to do it against a troll where four had already failed. He saw one of the submachineguns on the stage a few feet away and sprang for it, but he never reached it. Instead there was a loud staccato burst and suddenly McKenzie was down in the stalls in yet more waves of agonising pain - someone had used the other one on him.

"His own weapons ought to finish him for good!" A vaguely familiar voice said. McKenzie looked up - the elven assassin, what was his name? Oh yeah, Ellipsis, the one who'd tried to kill Narra back in Melindron. The pale-haired elf was pointing the gun at him.

"Aim for his head!" Bladehand said - he was fighting with a pair of assassins who were presumably supporters of Jadhara, but holding his own.

"Christ on a crutch, will that ever stop?" McKenzie muttered.

Ellipsis did a fair job of aiming the gun at McKenzie's head as he got to his feet, but when he pulled the trigger, there was nothing but an empty click.

"That one's empty," McKenzie said. "This one ain't."

He raised the pistol - Ellipsis' eyes widened and he began to twist around to avoid the shot, but bullets move faster than arrows. McKenzie's last round took him in the neck and practically severed his head - blood sprayed everywhere, and Ellipsis joined the growing cast of Assorted Corpses on the stage. That's for what you tried to do to Narra, you ruthless fuck, McKenzie thought.

He wasn't given much time for satisfaction, though - the last troll was aiming another arrow. McKenzie threw the now-useless pistol with all his might, and it flew butt-over-barrel to take the troll between the eyes. She growled and staggered, and the arrow flew upwards to bury itself in the ceiling.

"Time for act two," McKenzie said, as he jumped up back onto the stage. The empty submachinegun was on the stage next to Ellipsis' body, but the spare clip was in his bag and there was no sign of that or of the other gun. Instead he made a beeline for the warhammer. That might deal with the troll and her fucking arrows.

The next example of said arrows thunked into the wall beside McKenzie as he bent to pick up the hammer - the fletching was covered in blood, and as McKenzie turned to charge the troll, he saw two assassins collapse dead to the floor - the arrow had passed through them both.

"That's some fuckin' bow," McKenzie said from between gritted teeth as he closed the gap between the bowtroll and himself. The haft of the hammer was substantial and metallic, and miraculously free of anyone's blood. McKenzie swung it has hard as he could at his assailant.

The bowtroll did something surprising for a creature her size - she jumped backwards out of the arc of the hammer. The momentum of the swing was such, though, that it couldn't be stopped.

"Shit!" McKenzie swore, as he spun, lost his footing and, for what felt like about the fiftieth time in two minutes, hit the stage with a thump. He ended up on his face, still clutching the hammer with one hand.

The troll reached for a dagger instead of an arrow, took a step forward and brought it down extremely hard onto McKenzie's spine. McKenzie screamed as fiery hot pain blossomed from his lower back and seemed to expand outwards to every limb and joint, filling his entire being.

The troll bellowed in a vengeful rage and struck again, between his shoulderblades, this time. McKenzie groaned and tried to get up, but the pain was too intense, and his body wouldn't respond.

"Crowbar!" He heard Jadhara call. Apparently she could be mindful of naming conventions even when crying out in fear for someone's life.

The troll struck again and again - neck and back, then abandoned the dagger and wrenched the hammer from his grip instead.

Oh fuck, McKenzie thought, through a haze of agony.

The first blow took him squarely in the back of the head. There was a flash of light, a moment of total silence, and then the next blow landed on his upper back. McKenzie pushed himself up and away, but the third hammer blow slammed him down to the stage again as it took him in the lower back.

She's working her way down, McKenzie realised dimly, she'll hit that bloody heel if she carries on. He got his arms underneath himself and managed to flop onto his back, and, for his troubles, received the next hammer blow directly to the face. Everything flashed white again.

"Get up!" Jadhara shouted, from where she was fighting a group of enemies, her blades flashing impossibly fast. She was trying to get to him, but her enemies were skillful, and held her back. "Crowbar! Please!"

McKenzie heard, and snarled. The warhammer was descending again - he brought his hands up to stop it, grabbed the hammerhead, and wrenched it from the troll's grasp.

"Fine!" He shouted back. "I'm up already."

The stage underneath him was solid, well-supported wood, so when he threw the warhammer up at the troll as hard as he could, he had a good, unmoving base to push against. The stage floor creaked and splintered even so, but the full force of the throw was imparted to the hammer and thence to the troll. The haft crunched through mail and went right through the troll's heart - then the hammerhead made contact and the troll's corpse flew fifteen feet up into the air before crashing down into the stalls.

McKenzie got to his feet. An assassin fired a crossbow at him - he ignored the bolt, and looked calmly around. The full submachinegun had been kicked to the side of the stage, with his bag. He walked over to it. An assassin swung a sword at him - McKenzie ignored the blow but jabbed his fist into the man's face. He went down with a crunch.

McKenzie picked up the gun, aimed it at Jadhara's assailants, and cut down three with a burst at each one. That left two, but they didn't last long. Bladehand was fighting, too - McKenzie aimed for his legs and pulled the trigger, but he hit the same problem as Ellipsis - the gun clicked empty.

McKenzie bent to get a full cartridge from his bag, but as he did so, a bolt of fire hissed into it. The bag, and the last remaining ammunition on the entire planet, were incinerated so neatly that the rounds didn't even go off.

"Well shit," McKenzie sighed, and looked up to see a black-robed mage a few metres away across the stage, his hand still raised from casting the spell.

The man sneered. "How will you use your fire weapons now, demon?" He asked.

"Like this," McKenzie threw the empty submachinegun with great force directly into the mage's face. Blood exploded from the man's nose and he collapsed to the stage floor.

Jadhara was fighting alone, now - although there were pockets of violence all over the theatre, the assassins loyal to Bladehand had her surrounded. McKenzie snatched up the nearest weapon - a sword - and, roaring, charged into their midst. He swung wildly, nearly shearing a man in two, and shoulder barged another out of the way. This got him through to Jadhara.

"Back to back!" She shouted. McKenzie took her advice.

He could hear ultra-fast ringing of steel on steel from behind him as she fought off her attackers. A pair of Bladehand's assassins charged him.

McKenzie grunted, and brought his sword down. His assailant was good - he parried the blow neatly - but his blade wasn't of equal quality. McKenzie's blow shattered it and then continued down through the man's head and body, shearing him in two before thunking deep into the stage. McKenzie's other opponent took this opening to stab him neatly in the throat: McKenzie made a coughing noise, swore, and then punched the guy. His blow didn't connect - at a command from Bladehand, all of his followers were edging back. McKenzie felt Jadhara back up against him. He yanked his sword out of the floor and shoved the two halves of the body away.

"What happened to you?" Jadhara asked him quietly. "You used to wield a sword like an artist, to watch you fight was to behold martial perfection. Now you look like a gorilla waving a club."

"Ouch!" McKenzie protested. "I might be a bit out of practice, I suppose."

"Now would be a good time to rediscover your skills," Jadhara advised. "The odds are fourteen to one."

"Wow you can count quickly," McKenzie replied, genuinely impressed.

The mage had got to his feet again, with a bloody nose - he approached now with Bladehand, and McKenzie could feel the magic shield protecting them both.

"Do feel free to break your way through this, Crowbar," Bladehand said. "But I can guarantee that by the end, you'll be leading a charge of one."

There was much creaking of bows and crackling of readied magic. It certainly looked like nearly 30 adversaries surrounding them. The fighting seemed to have died down everywhere now - all eyes were on Jadhara, McKenzie and Bladehand.

"You evidently have something to say, Bladehand, otherwise this battle would still be raging. Let us hear it," Jadhara said.

"Yeah, come on, out with it. I'm starting to get bored," McKenzie added.

"In a stroke of irony, it would seem as if brute force has carried the day for me instead of you, Crowbar," Bladehand said.

"Really not getting that," McKenzie replied. "I might very well end up leading this charge of one you're on about, but it's fucking guaranteed to end you anyway - and you fucking know it, too, otherwise you wouldn't have called a time out."

"Then let us not go down that path, Crowbar," Bladehand said. "If you renounce this farcical joint leadership, and both swear not to move against me again, you may leave the city in peace, and this pointless violence can cease. If not, then yes, perhaps I may die this day: but Nightwing certainly shall."

McKenzie glared at the man, then turned to Jadhara.

"Your call," he said, and meant it, too. Yes, if Jadhara chose to walk away he would have a monumentally pissed off vampire on his hands, but he'd just have to deal with it.

"I-" Jadhara started.

She was interrupted by the far door slamming open as something hit it hard enough to overwhelm the magical seal. It was the living statue - he thumped down the central aisle and up to the stage. Absolutely everyone got out of his way. He went down on bended knee in front of Bladehand with a splintering crack of wood. His clothes had been reduced to a few tattered rags stained with dust.

"Allshield!" Jadhara exclaimed. "What has befallen you?"

"I have a submission to put before the Council," Allshield intoned. "I humbly request to be destroyed. I have failed in my duty. Iyanus is dead."

"Really? Fucking best news I've had all day! How?" McKenzie asked.

"We were visited by a mage, powerful beyond description. I was thrown through a wall-"

"Oh you were, were you? Yeah, it fucking smarts a bit when someone does that to you, doesn't it?" McKenzie interrupted him.

"-and landed several streets away. By the time I returned, Iyanus had been killed and partially skinned. Survivors identified the culprits as the Azani and his men. Thus I have failed, and humbly beg to be destroyed as worthless."

"The hell you say," McKenzie said. "Motion denied or disapproved or whateverthefuck. No way. The scumfuck had it coming and there was no way you coulda done anything against the Archmage."

"It was not the Archmage of Melindron, Brother Crowbar," Allshield answered.

"Really? Tall woman, black hair, maybe? Or a short ginger elf? A blond elf guy, kinda scary and gothy?"

"It was not one of your associates. They did not harm me, although I earlier allowed them to take the troll female and leave."

"Oh," McKenzie said. "He's here already, then?"

"You know the mage of which I speak?" Allshield asked.

"Only too well. Don't say his name if he happened to introduce himself. He'll hear," McKenzie said. He could practically feel Jadhara vibrating with curiosity.

"This discussion is pointless!" Bladehand snapped. "Crowbar does not sit on the Council."

"Do now," McKenzie said. "I just got voted in as joint First Assassin, didn't I?"

"High Assassin," Jadhara corrected him wearily. "High. Not first. High. Try to remember?"

"High. Okay. I'm the joint High Assassin then."

"Only for the next few moments," Bladehand retorted.

"It is only the next few moments which concern me," Allshield stated. "I must again ask to be destroyed for failing in my duty. I am worthless."

"Oh, Allshield my friend," Jadhara said. "This is not your fault. There is no more worthwhile or honourable being in this Guild than you."

"Silence, Nightwing," Bladehand snapped. "As much as Allshield might politely listen to your claptrap, he takes his commands from the High Assassin and always has." Bladehand turned to the man of stone. "This is indeed a grave matter, Allshield. With regret, I feel I must accede to your request and allow you to-"

"Nope, fuck off, no way," McKenzie cut in. "Listen up, Statue Guy. One, I know who did that to you and you never stood a chance. Two, Iyanus was a prime bastard and had it coming. Three, this fucker's just trying to get you out of the way because he knows you're on Nightwing's side and, as you can see, we're currently losing," McKenzie argued back.

Allshield seemed to like lists. "Point three is irrelevant to the matter currently under discussion," he said. "Point two: the Client's morality or ethical stance was not a factor in this Arrangement. Point one: no extraordinary clause relating to the covered threat level was stipulated in the Arrangement. Thus my request stands. I await the decision of the joint High Assassins, or, failing that, the decision of the surviving High Assassin. The current tactical situation would seem to suggest that will be you, Crowbar, as despite the disparity in numbers you cannot be harmed by any power Bladehand can bring to bear. Nightwing, it was an honour to know you. I deeply regret that I cannot intervene at this moment to prevent your death."

Jadhara took Allshield's judgement of the situation with equanimity. Bladehand didn't look particularly pleased with it, but despite that managed to dredge up a sneer.

"The situation is unchanged," he said. "Your answer, Nightwing."

"Fuck's sake. Allshield, if you're all about doing the honourable thing, it might interest you to know that the motherfucker currently trying to get you to push the self destruct button has been blackmailing his clients," McKenzie snapped.

Allshield made no reply. Bladehand laughed: "You have placed your trust in the wrong assassins, Nightwing. It would seem that your two indestructible guardians are either unable or unwilling to protect you. Now, your answer."

Jadhara looked, for a moment, as if she was about to tell Bladehand to go fuck himself.

"Divine intervention," was what she actually said.

McKenzie snorted. "It'd be great right about now, but I reckon we'd all die of old age waiting for any deities to show up."

"No," Jadhara said. "Allshield, the mage who defeated you was no ordinary mage. He is a god, or at least a demigod."

"Hah! Sheer desperation," Bladehand sneered.

"Tell me his name, Brother Crowbar," Allshield demanded.

"Erm, really not a good idea just yet," McKenzie said, with a worried twist of his lips.

Bladehand laughed scornfully.

Allshield ignored him. "I must know his name," he said.

"He's known as the White, apparently," McKenzie said. "Will that do?"

"No," Allshield replied flatly.

"Lemuel," Jadhara said. "The white god of ancient times."

"Oh shit," McKenzie muttered.