Danandra paid the driver and stepped out of the carriage at the main entrance to the Royal Free Magical College.

The Royal Free had originally been established by a gaggle of charitably-minded wizards to train those who were gifted in the article of magical talent, but less gifted when it came to having any money. It had gained the 'royal' part when the king of the time (before his descendants had decided that ruling just the one country simply wasn't doing it any more, and 'imperial' had started being bandied about instead of 'royal') realised the value of having a cadre of capable mages who weren't averse to earning army pay. It had carried on that way for a number of decades until the 'free' part became just a meaningless name: now everyone paid, same as any of the other magical colleges.

It now occupied a sprawling mess of buildings centred around the original, quite modestly proportioned four-storey structure. An ill-advised jumble of columns had been retrofitted around its entrance at some point in it's history when it had a bit of spare budget, some pretensions, but not much savvy when it came to hiring architects. Danandra stalked past them, through the ridiculously-small-by-comparison doors and up to a clerk. The clerk looked down on the world from an elevated desk that placed him high above everyone that came to him for directions or assistance, and this seemed to have affected his personality.

"And what do you want?" He asked Danandra, barely glancing up from his work.

Danandra had been all ready to make a stab at 'polite': she abandoned that ambition now.

"To see Adept Talius," she said curtly.

"Students should apply to their house clerks, you ought to know that," the clerk told her, his voice putting across precisely what he thought of both.

"I am not a student," Danandra told him.

The clerk sighed. "Contrary to common belief, I am not the social secretary of every Adept from every faculty. He is not in, and I do not know when he will be back."

"Then perhaps you will take a message?" Danandra asked, her teeth on edge.

"Is it college business?" The clerk asked.

"Forget it," Danandra snapped at him, turned and left. As soon as she was out of the door, she headed right, towards the halls of residence. She knew which room was his - she would seek him out herself, and if he wasn't in, well, she would wait.

- o O o -

Beggars did not hang around outside Aghkar's Den of Sin, Iniquity and Dark Delight for several reasons. The first was the presence of Iyanus and his fellow trolls: beggars were an urban troll's natural prey, and the smart ones learned to avoid places where they might be regularly encountered. The second was that they would be chased off, probably ungently, by the casino's security. The third and most important was - like many businesses - Aghkar's paid the beggars' guild to keep them away.

If one did turn up, then, it was probably on official business - and they always used the tradesman's entrance. It was in this light that the guard tasked with keeping an eye on said entrance regarded the man who approached him. He was one-eyed, walked with a pronounced limp, and, over rags, sported the moth-eaten remnants of what must once have been a very fine silken dress cloak.

While the guard didn't immediately tell him to get lost, neither was it necessary to be polite.

"We're paid up for this month, or have you fuckers put the rates up again?" He asked.

"Our rates, good master guard, remain fixed at the very reasonable settlement what we arrived at with the late and lamented Mr. Aghkar. It is on other matters what I must speak to your employers - I have a tale to tell what your Mr. Iyanus might be wanting to hear," the man said, in a rough voice.

The guard had been told that Management had feelers out for various things - the main one being the whereabouts of Aghkar's killers - so if anyone a bit odd came calling with information, they were to be referred up the ladder until either told to fuck off or rewarded and then told to fuck off. It was in this manner that the beggar found himself, a few minutes later, in a small office in the presence of Makhrup - who was in charge of Iyanus' magically-gifted employees - and Raniks, who handled the bookkeeping and pretty much any other detail. The beggar was known to the latter as Master Quickwit - if the Beggars' Guild had possessed such a thing as a Customer Services Manager, then Master Quickwit would be it. It was Raniks' task to pay the monthly bribe to him, and - as was happening now - he also occasionally heard interesting tidbits from him. Raniks got the man a stiff double - of which he drank two, before he started speaking - and then listened politely to what he said. A bag of coins then changed hands, and Master Quickwit left, a little drunker and a fair bit richer.

"Does it sound like him?" Raniks asked Makhrup.

"You saw as much of him as I did." Makhrup shrugged. "But yes, it might be him."

"I suppose we ought to tell Mr. Iyanus, then," Raniks said, shifting uncomfortably.

Makhrup sighed. "Yes. I suppose we should. I take it you don't want to volunteer?"

Raniks shook his head. "I'm sorry, Makhrup. It's just not been the same since Aghkar was assassinated. Iyanus always had to leave me alone before because Aghkar knew how essential I was to the business. Now-"

"Iyanus knows that as well as Aghkar did," Makhrup said.

"I'm not so certain of that - and I don't like the way she looks at me," Raniks shuddered.

"She's a troll. She looks at everyone that way." Makhrup shrugged.

"I know, but I always get the distinct impression that, well, that given the slightest excuse from Iyanus, well, she'd..." Raniks trailed off.

"Grab you and eat you?" Makhrup supplied.

"Yes, not to put too fine a point on it," Raniks said.

"There's a reason for that," Makhrup told him.

"Is there?" Raniks asked.

"Yes - it's because she would," Makhrup told him, with a certain amount of wry amusement at the man's reaction: he was very nearly sick. "She's only about two steps up from a wild troll, that one. As our leader apparently appreciates only too well." The mage's meaning was twofold: since the she-troll's arrival, Iyanus had done precious little but spend time in his private chambers with her, leaving orders not to be disturbed except on the 'current business'. His new team of protectors from the Assassin's Guild were enforcing this edict assiduously.

It was this, and the earlier incident with the prostitute and her handler, that was making Raniks nervous - and despite Makhrup's affectation of dry unconcern, he wasn't happy either. This was uncharacteristic behaviour for Iyanus, who had always held his trollish appetites more-or-less in check before. Now that Aghkar was no longer holding Iyanus by the collar, Makhrup was starting to rethink his choice of employer, and many of his associates were too. This dissatisfaction had not gone unnoticed: Makhrup had had a very interesting chat with someone earlier, someone who wanted him to know he had options, should he want to transfer his allegiance to another organisation. He would be welcome, he'd been told - especially if he brought something valuable with him.

Well, he hadn't said anything one way or another, and right now Iyanus needed to be told.

"I'll do it," he told Raniks.

"Thank you, Makhrup, thank you." Raniks' gratitude was almost comical.

Makhrup snorted and made his way upstairs, past the usual guards, and then to Iyanus' personal quarters. He was stopped quite some distance from the door by one of the guild bodyguards, though - the one he'd come to think of as Mr. Wall.

"Reason for access," Mr. Wall grated out, in his - Makhrup smirked internally - gravelly voice.

"I need to see Mr. Iyanus," Makhrup replied.

"About what?" Mr. Wall grated.

"The current business," Makhrup answered, more than a bit resentfully. He was not accustomed to being questioned, and definitely not accustomed to having access to his boss controlled by an outsider.

Mr. Wall moved aside, allowing Makhrup to approach the door. He could hear trollish laughter from the other side, followed by a stifled scream. The house slaves are providing entertainment as well as dinner, then, Makhrup thought to himself, trying to be darkly humourous about it, but he failed, and shivered.

He knocked. The laughter stopped, there was some muffled grumbling, and then the door opened slightly to reveal six inches of Iyanus' face. It didn't look particularly happy.

"Makhrup," Iyanus said. "This had better be good."

"Good morning, Mr. Iyanus. We have a-" Makhrup turned to look at Mr. Wall's back. This shouldn't be discussed in front of him, and the gods alone knew where the others were lurking. "There is a matter that requires a few minutes of your attention."

"Oh there is, is there?" Iyanus said. "You'd better tell me what it is, then."

Makhrup coughed, and nodded meaningfully towards the assassin.

Iyanus either didn't interpret the gesture, or was in no mood to let anyone in, and simply stared at Makhrup.

"Please help m-" There was a shout from inside, which was suddenly cut off.

Makhrup suppressed another shudder. "Sir, with the greatest of respect, this isn't something that should just-"

"When I want your thoughts on what I should and shouldn't discuss in public, Makhrup, I'll fucking tell you what they are," Iyanus interrupted. "Now, as you can hear, I have guests for dinner - and if you knock on my door again without a fucking good reason, you want to think about whether you want to join the party. Now off you fuck."

Now off you fuck. Makhrup decided, then and there, that he would do exactly that.

"I'll take care of it myself, then," he said.

"Good." Iyanus slammed the door in his face.

Makhrup strode out past Mr. Wall and straight down to the casino. Raniks came bustling up.

"How did he take it?" Raniks asked. "Are there any orders?"

Makhrup shook his head. "No - I'm going to take care of it myself."

"Best of luck then," Raniks told him, and turned to bustle off again.

"Raniks," Makhrup said.

"Yes?" Raniks turned back.

Makhrup paused, wondering whether he should be told or not. The man was sort of a friend.

"Keep your head down," he finally said.

Raniks smiled, nodded, and once again went off about his business. Makhrup went to find his associates, and a private corner to talk in.

"Are we off, then?" One of them asked, once this had been accomplished.

"Yes. I've had enough. We've had a tip-off about Monday. The cleric and the elf might or might not be with him. I'm thinking we follow it up, if we can grab one or more of them, great - either way we take the deal I spoke to you about earlier," Makhrup said. "Who's with me?"

He received three nods in return.

"Good. We'll need thaumatonets, and I'd bring your best anti-clerical charms to mind too."

The mages nodded again, and one of them swished off towards the casino office, returning a moment later with a pair of large black bags slung over his shoulder.

"Will they stop the demon?" One asked.

Makhrup snorted. "Demon. Hah - I doubt he's that. Whatever makes him so strong is magical, I'd bet. The net will work."

He looked up in the general direction of Iyanus.

"Well, I was told to fuck off," he said. "Let's all do it, shall we?"

- o O o -

Got to fucking start somewhere, Sharinta thought, suppose it might aswell be the brothel.

She finished the short walk across the square to the Unsheathed Dagger.

After Danandra had left, Sharinta hadn't been long in coming to the conclusion that she wasn't coming back for quite some time. If there was one thing that Sharinta hated, it was to be stuck inside while everyone else was out having fun, or if not fun per se then at least doing something. McKenzie had to be found, and Sharinta decided that she would find him. He stuck out like a loud, arsy, irritable sore thumb everywhere he went: how hard could he be to find?

Knocking on the front door of the Assassin's Guild didn't strike her as sensible or even particularly sane, and there was no way she was going back to the warehouse by herself - but then she had recalled something McKenzie had said while he was arguing with Danandra earlier: he had an open invite to go back to the Unsheathed Dagger - presumably he'd caught the eye of one of the girls there. Sharinta, of course, thought it utterly impossible that McKenzie would resist her advances as many times as he had and then jump into bed with the first floozy that happened across his path, but then again he was somewhat random, and it wasn't as if she had any other ideas.

So here she was, knocking on the front door of the Unsheathed Dagger.

The smile on the girl who opened it faded quickly when she saw it wasn't an early customer.

"We're not hiring," she said. "Sorry."

"Good guess," Sharinta said, "but not quite right."

"Well whatever it is you're selling, we don't want any of it, and before you get pushy, you should know the Assassins Guild runs this place, so why don't you-"

"I'm a cleric," Sharinta cut in.

The girl snorted. "Clerics don't hold with our line of work."

"This one fucking does," Sharinta said. "My goddess practically invented your line of work." She fixed the girl with a look: a persuasive look: "Now take me to your leader."

The girl blinked, as if she'd just realised something.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Yes mistress cleric, of course." The girl nodded, and opened the door.

This is a mistake, sister! The whisper was practically audible, as Sharinta put one foot across the threshhold. She blinked: she hadn't expected to start hearing her sister's voice yet. There was a mirror just inside the door: Sharinta paused to have a quick look at herself. She had lost her tan, it was true, and her clothes were a little looser recently, but she had not yet developed the pallor and emaciation that heralded the change.

Just as well, she didn't have any ideas on how to deal with that. Would Callena go running back to Lemuel and have herself immediately re-cursed? She hoped it wasn't possible.

"Mistress cleric?" The girl was still holding the door open.

"Lead the fuck on," Sharinta ceased her self-examination, and stepped inside.

- o O o -

The door closed. Two men in dark clothing exchanged looks. One of them took a piece of paper from his pocket which, amongst other information, contained three sketches.

"Number three?" One asked the other.

"So it would seem."

"Well then - let's go."

- o O o -

"Madame Listra?" The girl asked, after knocking at a door.

"Yes Kelena?"

"A cleric to see you, madame," the girl explained.

Sharinta clearly heard the exhalation of irritation from inside. "Very well. Enter."

The girl opened the door and held it for Sharinta. Sharinta walked into a pleasant chamber, where a calm, collected looking woman was just beginning to stand up. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Sharinta.

"Leave us, Kelena," the woman said. The girl obeyed silently, and closed the door.

"Your holiness," the woman said, and performed a deep curtsey. "To what do I owe this honour?"

"Erm, what the fuck?" Sharinta asked, taken utterly aback.

"I am a devotee of Tantalia, Your Holiness," the woman replied.

"Oh!" Sharinta replied, so surprised she forgot to swear. "Right. Of course you are. I'm Sharinta. Hi."

"I am Madame Listra, proprietress of the Unsheathed Dagger," the woman replied.

Tantalism was not a widespread religion, which was, frankly, one of the reasons Sharinta had chosen it: well, that and it chimed quite well with her natural inclinations. She didn't really have a lot of patience for being called 'Your Holiness' and for people looking at her expecting to be told what to do. In this particular case, though, it might prove to be useful. Sharinta had entertained some sort of vague idea about posing as McKenzie's lover, desperate to learn his whereabouts, but that wouldn't be necessary now.

"Okay," Sharinta replied. "I'm not exactly here on temple business. I'm more sort of looking for a friend."

"Mr. Monday, I presume," Listra said, indicating a seat.

"Yes, basically. Please believe me when I tell you he's a friend of mine. He's - we - are in danger. He was sent here for some tests in order to become an assassin. He doesn't need to do that now. I got the distinct impression that one of your girls developed the hots for him while he was here, so basically I'm really fucking hoping that you're about to tell me he's upstairs right now with her," Sharinta said, being about as subtle as McKenzie himself would be.

"He is not, Your Holiness," Listra said. "Would you care for some tea?"

Sharinta sighed. "It was kind of a fucking long shot anyway. I'll pass on the tea, but if you've got some wine knocking about somewhere then that would be just fucking great."

Listra rose and pulled a silken cord near the door.

"Thanks - oh, and may Her dark beauty be with you, obviously. Wouldn't want to forget that."

"Thank you, Your Holiness," Listra said.

"And 'Sharinta' will do just bloody fine. I don't know what the priestess who initiated you into the faith was like, but I'm not big on formality," Sharinta told her. "Can you tell me anything about how to find McKen- Monday? I'm pretty much out of fucking ideas myself."

"If you ask, I will tell you everything I know, but please consider the safety of my girls and I before you ask. This house enjoys considerable protection as a result of it's association with the guild, but they are not lightly betrayed."

"Never mind then. I already know he's gone there to join up. I might aswell-" Sharinta began, then looked up as the door opened, expecting a servant bringing wine.

What she saw was a man dressed in black, bearing a crossbow. He entered without fuss, as if he was supposed to be coming in the door, as a matter of course: he didn't break it down, force it, or swing it open overly quickly - he just walked in, and in doing so achieved greater surprise than he would have with a battering ram.

Sharinta wasn't as accomplished at protective magic as her sister, but she was capable of shielding herself, at least. She flung up an arm, and a light blue wall of energy shimmered into being between her and the crossbow.

The assassin, who was under orders to capture her, misinterpreted the gesture as an attack, and fired.

The bolt twanged out of the crossbow, sparked off the shield, and was deflected sideways where it ended it's journey with a sickening thunk in Listra's midsection, who cried out, and fell from her chair to land on the floor.

"Fuck!" The assassin and Sharinta said simultaneously. A second assassin pushed his way in from behind the first, and added his own 'Fuck!' when he saw Listra gasping on the floor in a pool of blood. They weren't particularly bothered by collateral damage in the normal run of things, but there was an Arrangement with this house, and people who broke Arrangements often ended up with the sharp end of an Appointment.

"You fucking assholes!" Sharinta swore at the men.

The crossbow-wielder was reloading by instinct - it was a fancy piece with a rotating cartridge that supplied new bolts on demand.

"You're coming with us," the second assassin told her. "Quietly, or the difficult way. Your choice."

Sharinta smiled at them. "But guys, there's two of you and only one of poor little me. That doesn't work, does it? If you want me, prove you're worthy of me."

The two assassins blinked, and then the crossbowman brought his weapon around to train it on his companion. The second assassin responded with instant violence, knocking the crossbow up and out of his hands. It discharged into the ceiling with a twang.

"She's mine!" The first assassin said, drawing a dagger.

The second drew his own dagger: "You wish."

Under Sharinta's influence they might have been, but they were still highly trained warriors and neither of them wanted to engage each other in such a small room. The second one backed out of the door, the first one followed, and then there was the sound of screaming girls and the clash of metal on metal.

Sharinta sagged visibly - influencing such ruthless, single-minded men had not been easy - but rushed to Listra's side.

"I am so, so fucking sorry," she said.

Listra attempted a smile. "So you should be. Quick - run, before they recover their senses."

Sharinta tore Listra's dress away from the wound. The bolt had lost some of it's power when it was deflected by the shield, but the wound was still deep, and Sharinta could sense the malign influence of some sort of narcotic, too.

"Go. I am past help," Listra said, then coughed up blood.

"No, you're fucking not," Sharinta said. "This will be fucking agony, but hold on for just a few moments."

Then she gripped the crossbow bolt, and pulled it hard out of the wound. Listra was made of stern stuff: she merely gasped softly. The bleeding doubled, but Sharinta put her other hand over it, closed her eyes, and poured everything she had left in her into healing. There was a flash of blue, and Listra drew in a breath.

The wound was healed.

"Such healing!" Listra gasped, then got to her feet and extended a hand to help Sharinta up. Despite the fact that she herself was covered in blood, Listra was shocked at the priestess's appearance: she was ghostly pale, and seemed to have somehow lost a lot of weight in the past few seconds: her clothes hung off her. "What has happened, Your Holiness?"

"That wasn't fucking easy, put it that way," Sharinta gasped, and fell against the desk, still holding the crossbow bolt. "Oh, shit. This is going to fucking complicate things."

At that point a short, red-haired girl entered the room: she was clad only in a silken nightgown but armed with a very large axe. "Madam Listra! Come with me, I'll hold them off while you esc-what?" The girl looked at the bloodstained pair, one of whom was holding a crossbow bolt.

"I am unhurt," Listra told her.

"Well there be a pair of men who've gone upstairs now, but they was fighting in the hall and-"

"They're no threat to us, Hennara, calm yourself," Listra said. "But you should still leave, while they are distracted." She addressed this last to Sharinta. The sounds of swearing and fighting could still be faintly heard.

"Oh, I'm fucking about to. I'm going to have to trust you to pass on a message. Tell my sister we're in danger."

"Your sister? Another priestess? Shall I try to-"

Sharinta gestured her into silence. "No, actual same-mother sister. You'll see what I mean. Tell her we're at the Trader's Rest in the Factors' District," Sharinta said, then seemed to suddenly remember something important. "Oh shit! Of course. Also that the fucking c-"

And then Listra saw about the strangest sight she had ever seen. The priestess was simply replaced, in less than a heartbeat, by a different woman. No flash, no sound, no smoke: just an instant transformation.

"Gods deep!" Hennara exclaimed.

The different woman pushed herself up off the desk, looked around at the very odd scene, looked at Listra in her bloodstained clothes, looked at the crossbow bolt in her hand and said: "Oh."

Listra came to her senses.

"Hennara, close the door. Both of you, listen. Hennara, this is a cleric who you saw passing in the street and summoned inside to help me. You, whoever you are - if you want to help the woman who was, was just here, then you will play along with this deception. Are you both clear?" Listra asked.

Hennara nodded. So did the newcomer, although she looked fairly stunned, as well she might.

"Um, did my sister just use this on you?" She asked Listra.

"No, she just pulled it out of my chest and healed me. Hide that axe," Listra told Hennara. The girl quickly stashed it behind a curtain, and not a moment too soon, as the two assassins burst in a heartbeat later. Evidently whatever influence Sharinta had placed on them had disappeared when she did.

"Where is she?" The first one demanded.

"Gone, as you can see," Listra answered them. "As I would be too, if one of my girls hadn't had the presence of mind to fetch a cleric while you were destroying my lobby and terrifying everyone. I had thought that the Arrangement with the Guild conferred protection, not additional danger!"

They didn't wince: not quite. "Our apologies. We are here to intercept a dangerous rogue cleric, Madam Listra. Did you see which way she went?" One asked.

"No - I was too busy lying on the floor bleeding with one of your crossbow bolts in my chest," Listra answered flatly. "Believe me, I will be taking this up with Nightwing."

"Nightwing is no longer in a position to handle problems on your behalf - she has enough of her own, now," the first assassin told her, with a smirk. "Perhaps the High Assassin will hear you out on this matter."

Listra stopped herself from blinking in surprise, but only just.

"Then I will direct my complaints to him." Listra forced a snarl - but in truth what she had just heard had shaken her.

"Calm yourself, madam," the newcomer said, playing her role with admirable aplomb for someone who had, apparently, not existed a few seconds earlier. "You are in no immediate danger anymore, but newly healed wounds can easily be reopened by undue exertions or raised tempers."

Listra brought herself under control.

"Our apologies once again, Madam Listra, but we had to act to neutralise a threat," the second assassin extemporised. "I am sure the High Assassin will see this incident in a similar light, although it is, of course, deeply regrettable. It is fortunate indeed that a cleric was close at hand."

Listra sniffed. "Hennara - help these Guild gentlemen to organise a thorough search of all rooms. I am sure their concern for our well-being will permit nothing less."

"Yes ma'am," Hennara curtsied. "Should I send one of the servants in, ma'am?"

"No, but I believe the cleric and I will take tea in the Lilac Room: gentlemen, please be so good as to search there first, so we know it is safe. The opal tea service, I think, Hennara. My office will need redecorating, I suspect, before it is fit for habitation again."

"Then we will take our leave, Madam Listra, mistress cleric," the first assassin said coldly, with a minimal bow. He shot a searching glance at the newcomer, but she was clearly not the cleric they'd come in here to capture - the men left, and Hennara followed them, shooting a glance backwards over her shoulder. Listra put her finger to her lips. Hennara nodded.

There then followed what could only be described as an awkward silence. The newcomer seemed to realise that Listra could not safely tell - or ask - her anything while the assassins were nearby.

"Well, I am actually a cleric," she said, placing the crossbow bolt down neatly on Listra's desk. "Let me examine the wound."

"Of course. Thank you," Listra said.

"It is well healed," the cleric said, after examining the area where Listra had been shot.

She was taller than her sister, if sister she was, Listra thought. She was also very beautiful, with a figure that any one of the many very desirable women Listra employed would be deeply envious of, an even tan and a great deal of golden-blonde hair, which was currently tied back in a ponytail. She had eyes of a very dark blue, and around her neck she wore the symbol of Arctan the Protector. Her robes were blue, with a white cloak over the top, and she was wearing well-made riding boots.

"Well, I am glad to hear it," Listra replied. "Excuse me a moment while I get changed.

A few moments later, after Listra had stepped behind a screen and quickly pulled on a different dress, there was a tap at the door.

"Come in," Listra said.

"Tea is ready in the Lilac Room, Madam Listra," Hennara said. She had found time to wrap a dressing gown around herself.

"Thank you, Hennara. This way, mistress cleric."

The hall, Listra was chagrined to note, was a riot of upended furniture, smashed china and fabric torn by dagger slashes. Some of the girls who had fled outside were starting to return, though.

"Eledia," Listra hailed one of the older ones. "See to cleaning this mess up, will you? Hennara, will you take tea with us?"

"Yes, thank you, Madam Listra," Hennara said.

"Lock the door, please," Listra added, as they all filed into the Lilac Room, which was just across the hall. Hennara closed the door behind them, and turned the key.

The Lilac Room was one of the Dagger's several reception rooms where clients were met and entertained before being led off to rooms equipped with a bed, but unlike the others - and like Listra's office - it had a few spells against eavesdropping woven into the walls. Listra bade the newcomer and Hennara sit at the table, and began pouring tea from the tray that had been placed there in readiness.

"We can speak now without fear of being overheard," Listra said. "Firstly - thank you, Hennara, for being the only person to come and actually check if I was hurt. Sugar?"

"Erm, you're welcome, Madam Listra. Two lumps, please. And if it please you madam, what just happened and who is this?" Hennara asked.

"Very good questions, Hennara," Listra said, placing a cup before the newcomer. She did not offer her any sugar, although she did put one in her own cup.

"My name is Cal-, Caltera," Callena tried, and pretty much failed, to not give her name. "I believe you have met my sister. The reason that I am now here and she is not is...complicated. Thank you for the tea, and please accept my apologies that my sister's presence here has apparently brought with it her customary amount of chaos and destruction. She really isn't very good that way."

"You are hardly responsible for events that happened before you were actually physically present. Am I to assume that what we just witnessed was an act of clerical magic, taking your sister to a place of safety, and bringing you here?" Listra asked.

Callena sipped her tea. "Sort of like that, yes. I don't suppose that there is, anywhere in this, erm, establishment, some friends of my sister? A she-troll, a lady elfmage and – possibly - a man of a somewhat, um, forthright nature?"

"I believe I have met him," Madam Listra said. "Do you know why your sister came here?"

Callena shook her head. "I don't, I'm afraid. I've been asleep for a while. We sort of share a place in the world, you see - when she runs out of power, she disappears and I take her place. When the same thing happens to me, she reappears, perfectly restored to health. It's the result of a battle between us, a long time ago, and-"

"What did you say your name was again? The names of your other friends, too."

Callena showed no sign of being offended at the interruption, although she did take the opportunity to drink more tea. "Callena, my name is Callena. This tea really is lovely."

"Here, let me fill that up for you," Listra refilled Callena's cup.

"Thank you. My other friends are Violentia, Danandra and the man is called McKenzie - he's from another dimension, or possibly planet - Danandra used some very powerful magic to summon him here to kill the undead mage Mahrak, although I believe that was mostly orchestrated by our master Lemuel the White. They seem to have some sort of history together. McKenzie seems to be nigh on indestructible, and, would you believe it, can wield the quintessence too," Callena laughed. "As if he wasn't unpredictable enough already - Danna says that if he doesn't keep it under control he could very well destroy the whole city!"

Hennara gasped. Callena laughed. Listra raised a eyebrow.

"This is quite a tale, Callena," Listra said.

Callena laughed. "Hah! Isn't it? I suppose I should be grateful that I have an interesting and unusual life, rather than being stuck in some village, somewhere. Do you know where my friends are, by the way? I really ought to find them. You said you'd met McKenzie?"

"We both have. He was kind to Hennara, here," Listra said. "I do not, however, know where he is right now, except that he was in the process of becoming a guild assassin."

"A guild assassin!" Callena said. "We're in Vyrinios, then?"

"Indeed."

"Haven't visited for years! When I live anywhere, I suppose you could say it was Melindron, although we're usually out on the road somewhere, on some quest of Lord Lemuel's. I imagine that's why McKenzie was becoming an assassin. We're cursed, you see, to do what the Lord Lemuel wills us to, so if Lord Lemuel told McKenzie to become a guild assassin, then he wouldn't have any choice in the matter, although I suspect it would go against his nature. I only knew the man for a couple of days, but he struck me very much as more of a warrior than an assassin, although he did seem to have quite a streak of ruthlessness in his nature, too. He didn't take to Violentia at all. He's quite handsome, isn't he?" Callena blurted, then laughed.

"Oh yes, mistress cleric! I thought the same thing," Hennara agreed. Listra shot her a quelling glance.

"Do you have any idea where we might find your friends? Does your master keep a house in Vyrinios, perhance?"

"I don't think so," Callena said, draining her second cup of tea. She was slurring her words.

"Mistress cleric, are you quite well?" Hennara asked.

"I don't know. I feel a bit light-headed," Callena said, then looked at the cup, and then at Listra. "What is in this tea?" She asked, coming, too late, to the realisation that she'd been drugged. Then she dropped the cup and attempted to stand. This didn't work out too well - she got caught up in the chair and started to topple slowly backwards.

"Hennara," Listra said.

Hennara - a solid sort of girl - darted out of her chair and caught Callena before she could fall to the floor, then placed her back into her seat. The cleric immediately slumped forward onto the table, out cold.

"Madam Listra, you've drugged her!" Hennara exclaimed.

"Quiet, girl," Listra said, thinking and frowning.

"Have you-" Hennara looked at her own cup.

"No- the antidote is in the slightly brown-coloured sugar lumps. We will be unaffected. She, on the other hand, will sleep for several hours at the least," Listra said.

"Madam, I don't really feel very...good about this," Hennara confessed, feeling doubtful. She had quite liked the enigmatic assassin-who-wasn't-an-assassin, this McKenzie, and if this woman was a friend of his then Hennara thought she should help her. She was also a cleric, and although Hennara wasn't particularly pious, it was considered very bad luck indeed to cross a cleric.

"Do you think that I am particularly overjoyed?" Listra asked her. Hennara shook her head. "There are twenty eight women in this house whose safety is my responsibility, Hennara. Bringing down the wrath of the assassins guild upon us all would not be concomitant with that duty. On the other hand, it has just been heavily hinted to us that our friend within that particular organisation is no longer in favour. I do not expect that McKenzie going there, one of his friends coming here urgently seeking him, and assassins apparently seeking her to be unrelated to that news: so we may already be past the point where this situation is recoverable."

Listra sighed. "When the assassins have finished their search, put our guest in the room normally reserved for Lady Stranios - use the restraints, but make sure she is comfortable."

Hennara gulped. "Yes, Madam Listra."

Listra stared at her tea, and tried to decide what to do.