“The closer you get to the target, the more pervasive the trollish magic will become,” Xixaxa said.

“I’ll make sure and keep that in mind,” McKenzie replied.

“Yeah, will you though?” Leni asked, somewhat sarcastically. She was curled up in her seat with her legs folded under her – they were big wicker chairs with lots of padding: given her tiny proportions and flower-print dress, she looked a bit like a talking cushion.

“Always saw through your bullshit, didn’t I?” McKenzie shot back.

“It wasn’t my bullshit, McKenzie,” Leni answered. “This particular bullshit comes from a divine source.”

“Well, I’ve got form for seeing that off, too,” McKenzie said, with an emphatic upwards-pointing gesture. “Notice how we’re sat around sipping drinks talkin’ about what we want to do rather than what twat features wants us doing?”

“I have a strong suspicion, McKenzie, that you are envisioning this as something you can physically fight,” the Archmage told him. “You’ll forgive me for noting that you historically have an adversarial approach to life in general – this attitude will serve you well in a traditional battle, but may actually be a weakness in this situation.”

McKenzie was about to dig his heels in, then remembered that Xixxy was a) very fucking smart indeed, and b) he’d called her in, so he should at least do her the courtesy of listening to her input.

“Okay – so noted. Can you hit me with the anti-curse again? I can feed it some volts if I need a bit more power in my corner,” he asked her.

Xixaxa took a sip of her drink. “That was a unique creation of mine: once I cast it on you, it became yours, not mine – and once you forced it into our former master’s curse, the two merged to become the new, altered curse beneath which we all now live. It was decades in the crafting.”

“So that’s a…no?” McKenzie asked, confused.

“That is indeed a no,” Xixaxa confirmed.

“So I’m back to ‘fight it off’. Check.”

“My point is it may not be something you can fight off. It won’t crush your will, as our former master’s curse did,” Xixaxa started to explain.

“Tried to,” McKenzie corrected.

“Tried to,” Xixaxa allowed. “The influence of the troll gods, though, is different. You won’t know you’re being affected. It will come at you sideways, in ways which cannot be predicted. You won’t be forced to do something against your will – you will believe that you have changed your mind.”

“I’ve got an idea!” McKenzie said.

“Oh, this should be good,” Leni commented dryly.

“Are you so desperate to get back in Danandra’s good books that you’re stealing her act now?” McKenzie asked her, diverting momentarily from his idea.

“No – this sense of weary fatigue is all me,” Leni replied heavily.

McKenzie glowered at her, then turned back to Xixaxa. “I’ll write my mission brief down in very permanent ink on the back of my hand – then if I get nudged off course by any troll crap, I’ll see it and remember what I’m supposed to be doing. Saw it in a film once.”

Leni laughed. “Wow – I really didn’t have high expectations for this, but I seriously didn’t expect it to be as basic as ‘I’ll leave myself a note’.”

McKenzie repeated the glower, then cast an appealing look at Xixaxa, who shrugged. “Sorry, McKenzie – remember also that it is not only you that will be able to read what you write on your hands. Having ‘I’m on a mission to expose trolls for what they are’ literally advertised on your flesh for all the world to see may not be concomitant with an incognito approach.”

“That means bad idea, right?”

“It would not be advisable,” Xixaxa confirmed.

“Fuck,” McKenzie said, and drank.

“Don’t worry, McKenzie,” Leni told him. “If you start doing inexplicable things – I mean even more than usual, of course – I’ll slap you round the face until you return to your senses. And then maybe a little longer.”

McKenzie gave her glower number three. Leni smiled sweetly in response.

- o O o -

McKenzie and Shaveen left the cabin in reasonably good order – the paperwork they left where it had fallen, but they set the desk and chair back to rights. The hatch, though, McKenzie left swinging open. It was held shut with an iron bolt – this, McKenzie bent slightly out of shape (concealing what he was doing as best he could, although he was pretty sure Frowny-face noticed). With luck, any investigators would conclude that Frowny-face had suffered a terrible misfortune.

“They’ll never believe it was an accident,” Shaveen had expressed reservations about this.

“Could go either way,” McKenzie had replied. “The key bit is the doubt: like this, they don’t know what happened. Leaves ‘em guessing, off balance – gives us time to figure out what to do next. Also – and I know this is unlikely given her winning personality and charm – maybe she isn’t well liked among the crew and nobody really gives a shit about her anyway.”

Frowny-face snorted contemptuously in response. “It hardly seems that you are a fitting judge of personality and-”

The rest of her response was cut off by McKenzie putting one of the plentiful supply of gags over her mouth.

There then followed a nail-biting minute or so of McKenzie sneaking a struggling Frowny-face – over his shoulder and kicking at his back – through the ship and to Leni’s cabin door. By some miracle, nobody was around to witness this, and the privacy charm silenced the officer’s muffled curses and thumps. McKenzie dropped her unceremoniously to the deck and patted his pockets.

“Oops,” he said.

“Not what I want to hear right now, to be totally honest Weds,” Shaveen told him, with what was most definitely A Look.

“How about ‘oh fuck’ instead?” McKenzie repeated the patting operation- but he could already remember chucking his key onto a table and not picking it up again.

He knocked on the door: then remembered that would produce no audible result, due to the privacy charm. Even Frowny-face rolled her eyes at that.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your key,” Shaveen said, looking shiftily down the corridor.

McKenzie gave her a helpless look. “What do you want me to do, use sign language to convey the concept of not-having-keyness instead? I’ll force the door,” he said.

“No!” Shaveen hissed. She appeared to have a brief internal discussion, and then pushed him away. “Shift out the way a minute and keep a look out.”

She bent over by the lock. Of course – she was part of the housekeeping staff, and probably had a master key. It couldn’t have been a very good one, though – it looked like she had to fiddle with it to get it to turn. After a few quick moments, though, the door clicked open and Shaveen stood up.

“Quick, in,” she said.

“Couldn’t agree more,” McKenzie said, and picked Frowny-face up again. Shaveen closed the door behind them.

The cabin appeared to be empty – wherever Leni was, she wasn’t here. McKenzie offloaded Frowny-face onto the bed and checked the bathroom - which only had a bowl, a jug and what he thought of as an eco-shitter, one of those wooden seat things that you flushed with sawdust rather than water – but what else was he going to call it?

“We’re alone,” McKenzie said.

“Lucky,” Shaveen answered, and after (again, disconcertingly expertly) securing Frowny-face to the bed, she pulled the bed’s curtains, closing her off from view. “So, what next?”

“I’m currently considering several options in light of the available information,” McKenzie extemporised.

“You don’t know, do you?” Shaveen said flatly.

“No – I need more information,” McKenzie replied. “So if you really want an ops plan all laid out for you, ‘gathering intel’ is next on my list.”

“Weds, what aren’t you telling me?” Shaveen asked. “Is this going to stop the voyage?”

“Well, if it does, it does,” McKenzie replied. “The crew are literally disguised...whatevers. Putting in at the next civilised airport and leaving whatever passes for the police to deal with all this shit might actually be a good call under the circumstances.” Then I can nick the airship and just fly it to Troll Central myself, back to plan A, he mentally added.

“I have to get to our destination,” Shaveen said emphatically.

“Yeah, I know we have to, don’t worry, I’ll-” McKenzie abruptly paused. “Why?”

“Why?” Shaveen asked. “Well, because…” she trailed off.

From behind the curtains, Frowny-face laughed from behind her muzzle, with a slightly bitter tone.

McKenzie twitched a curtain aside to glare at her. “Okay, what’s so fucking funny?”

Frowny-face met his hard stare with one of her own. McKenzie tugged her gag aside, revealing a sardonic twist of her lips. “You’ll find out...eventually,” she said.

McKenzie’s internal Danandra simulator chose that moment to throw a useful thought his way: she knows about the trollish influence.

“Helpful,” McKenzie replied flatly, and replaced the gag. He closed the curtain again and turned back to Shaveen. “As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted: why, though?”

“I-I’m not sure, I just, look, it’s very important to me, Weds, okay?” Shaveen replied. “I’ve got to get there.”

McKenzie frowned. “Where’s that again?”

Shaveen opened her mouth to reply, and then also frowned in confusion – and then they both whirled round as the door opened and Leni entered.

Shaveen did a quick curtsey and bob of her head: “Lady Elleniralla.”

“Close the door!” McKenzie said quickly. “Is your fan club with you?”

Leni glowered at him. “No, but what business of yours would it be if they were? Unless you were about to begin something?”

“Shut up and listen, Leni, we have a situation here,” McKenzie replied.

“I’ll say,” Leni crossed her arms: but shut the door.

“Lock it!” McKenzie said, as she started to walk over.

“How about you fucking lock it, if it’s so important?” Leni asked.

“Christ on a bike, just fucking do as you’re told for fucking once,” McKenzie said through gritted teeth.

This exchange had not escaped Shaveen’s attention: “That’s certainly not how a bodyguard talks to his noble elven client, Weds. What is going on here?” She asked.

Leni rolled her eyes. “Well you may ask, I hardly know from one minute to the next with him, either. You know you’ve ruined the whole thing, right?” She shot this question at McKenzie.

“That might not be our actual problem now. Shut up, lock the door, and come and look,” McKenzie insisted.

Leni gave vent to an adorable sigh, locked the door with sarcastic obviousness, and headed over to the bed. McKenzie pulled the curtains aside to let her look.

Leni’s expression changed from one of pale-faced anger to surprise. “Gods’ hunger, Wednesday! What the fuck is a drow doing in my bed?”

“How about we start with ‘what the fuck is a drow?’ and then move on to ‘what the fuck is a drow doing aboard this ship?’ Then we can tackle the bed question.”

“A drow is a dark elf,” Leni answered.

“That’s a thing?”

“No, I just made it up and the actual fucking drow in my bed is just a really weird coincidence,” Leni replied flatly.

“I thought they were just a legend,” Shaveen said, coming to stand beside them.

Frowny-face was glaring at Leni with even more negative energy than she’d demonstrated for McKenzie.

“Elves would like everyone to think that,” Leni replied.

“Yff, uh uhfpect fway whudden whunt huh truth huh hee nummph,” Frowny-face umphed in Leni’s direction.

“Yeah, you can shut up. You’ve contributed fuck all of value to the conversation since we met, you don’t get to chime in now just because you don’t agree with something,” McKenzie told her, then turned back to Leni. “Go on.”

“That’s about all I know,” Leni shrugged. “Elves don’t talk about drow full stop, and the one time I met a drow it wasn’t exactly a long conversation.”

“I’ll bet,” McKenzie said with a grim snort. “Because of the usual reason, I take it?”

“Actually no, this time. It was a...business thing. I’ll fill you in later, in private,” Leni said.

McKenzie let that drop – it wasn’t like they could talk freely.

“But why was she hidin’ then? And why’d she try to kill us?” Shaveen asked.

“No idea why she’d try to kill you, my dear,” Leni answered. “As for him, could be any number of reasons, but the main one is usually ‘he’s a total asshole’.”

Frowny-face gave an amused snort. McKenzie yanked the curtains shut.

“So what happened?” Leni asked.

McKenzie opened his mouth, then looked at Shaveen. “Shav, could we maybe have a bit of pri-”

“Don’t you dare try to keep me out of this, Weds!” Shaveen interrupted, prodding him in the chest. “You dragged me into it, so you’d best start bein’ fucking honest with me now!”

Leni gave McKenzie a meaningful look and indicated upwards with her eyes.

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McKenzie sighed. “C’mon, Leni, don’t try to do subtle with me.”

Leni gave her own sigh, the world-weariness of which was somewhat lessened by it reminding everyone of a pleasant breeze through a forest in summer. “It was 100% futile thinking you wouldn’t fuck this up somehow, wasn’t it? What I was trying to indicate was that we don’t want certain things getting to the ears of the captain and crew via, oh, I don’t know, the maid you’re shagging on the side.”

“On the side? Weds, you said you had an open relationship with Lady Elleniralla!” Shaveen said, eyes going wide.

McKenzie rolled his eyes. “Shav, I don’t have any kind of relationship with Lady Elleniralla, because ‘Lady Elleniralla’ is made up. Not real. Doesn’t exist. Part of a cover story.”

“What?” Shaveen asked, blinking.

“Wow, when you decide to blow someone’s cover you really go all in, don’t you?” Leni asked, furious. “And what are you going to do to stop her blabbing to the captain, now? Tie her up too?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” McKenzie said, with a dismissive wave. “The captain and crew are all drows so we’re probably fucked anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Leni asked. “Can you trust her?” She pointed at Shaveen.

“You’d better,” Shaveen replied, “because I am involved now.”

McKenzie nodded in acceptance of that fact. “Fine. Leni and me have reason to believe that the true destination of this ship is not the nice pleasant island of whereverthefuck but is, in fact, a city full of fucking trolls. We kind of want to get there because reasons, so, um,” McKenzie tailed off as Shaveen’s expression hardened.

“So you thought you’d tag along without letting anyone else know that? Thanks a fuckin’ lot, Weds, you’re a proper gent. Nice to know the Assassin’s Guild hasn’t changed in the fucking slightest.”

“This is personal, not Guild,” McKenzie objected.

“Oh!” Shaveen replied sarcastically. “Well that makes it all alright then!”

“Look, we don’t mean any harm to the passengers and crew, ” McKenzie told her truthfully, for a given value of truthfully. “The intention is zero collateral damage.”

“Zero collateral what now?”

“That nobody who isn’t green gets killed,” McKenzie clarified. “I need a fucking drink.”

He headed to the minibar.

“And lo and behold,” Leni said, “things get difficult and you make for the nearest source of alcohol.”

“I am nothing if not consistent,” McKenzie replied. “You want something Shaveen?”

Shaveen exhaled hard. “Think I might aswell, yeah.”

Leni snorted. “A match made in heaven, you two.”

“Whatever – you want a drink or not?” McKenzie asked.

Leni just glared. McKenzie sloshed a big measure of something golden-brown into two glasses and handed one to Shaveen, then took a sip of his own. Kinda like rum.

“Alright, so, whether this has ruined our long term goals or not, Leni, can you agree that we find ourselves in a bit of a situation here?” McKenzie asked her.

“Well duh,” Leni replied.

“Okay, so I – we – need information. Can you go and get your little witch friend Awks?” McKenzie asked.

“Sorry, who?” Leni asked.

“The trainee mage you’ve been knocking about with. Doesn’t say much, wears a lot of magical bling, always got her nose in a book,” McKenzie elaborated.

“You mean Saliseralla?” Leni enquired.

“Probably. Don’t need the other two though.”

“Hard to keep them separate,” Leni replied.

“Yeah but need to know and all that,” McKenzie pointed out.

“Says the idiot who just spilt the plan to his girlfriend of all of what, a week?” Leni glowered again. It was cute, as was her despairing sigh. “What do you want with her?”

“I dunno, neither of us are looking for a long term relationship but there’s definitely chemistry and warmth there and we’re having fun. I think that’s pretty much it, right Shaveen?”

It was Shaveen’s turn to sigh. “Yes, Weds, but I think she meant what do you want with the mage?”

“Oops. Yeah,” McKenzie said. “Princess Resting Bitch Face on the bed there came complete with a couple of magical gadgets that I thought were just glamour charms, but now I’m not so sure what the second one is. I want Salira-, Saril-, I want Sally to give them the once over, see if she can tell us any more. Also she might have more info on drows, because unlike you she’s a-”

“A scholar, yes, thank you,” Leni cut in, before McKenzie could reveal any more. “If we bring her here, though, that’s one more person in on what’s supposed to be a secret. Maybe I should take the charms to her?”

McKenzie did a quick WWDD. “No – if the crew sees them, or she talks about them afterwards, then we’re exposed. If you bring her here, we can contain it, persuade her to keep quiet.”

“Persuade her how?” Leni asked suspiciously. “She’s barely out of her teens, by elf standards. Let’s not be any shittier than we have to be, eh?”

McKenzie shrugged. “We’ll bribe her, everyone likes money. Anyway, once we show her our captive evil elf, she’ll know it’s in her best interests to work with us.”

“Hmii hmm not evil!” Frowny-face objected from behind muzzle and curtains.

“You were doing a pretty good impression of it!” McKenzie shot back, then made a shooing motion at Leni.

“Okay, I’m going – but I want it understood: we’re not putting anyone else in danger. The plan’s failed – this is a rescue mission now, okay? We’re saving the passengers from the evil dark elves.” Leni insisted. “Our thing we can circle back round to another day.”

McKenzie’s exasperated ‘fuck’s sake’ overlapped with Frowny-face’s muffled but frustrated ‘mmph not evil!’

“Whatever, just go fetch,” McKenzie said. Leni shot him one more glance, but then left.

“I’m supposed to be working, Weds,” Shaveen said, after she’d left. “If – more like when – they find out she’s missing, it’s going to look proper dodgy if I’m nowhere to be found.”

“Stay here,” McKenzie said. “I can protect you.”

“I can protect myself, thank you very much,” Shaveen replied, with a hard look. She soon tempered it, though. “Sweet of you Weds, but are you planning to fight off the entire crew? With no weapons but your bare hands?”

McKenzie thought for a moment. “Well, basically yeah,” he nodded.

Shaveen shook her head. “I think my best defence is playing the dutiful serving girl, at least for now – and bear in mind that we haven’t exactly been discreet, Weds. Lots of people know we’ve spent a lot of time together. If I disappear, the first place they’re gonna come looking is here.”

McKenzie channelled Danandra again, and nodded. He didn’t like it – he was starting to develop a protective attitude towards Shaveen – but she was in all probability completely correct. “Hard to argue with that. If anything goes south for you, though, come here. I’m...good in a fight.”

“And if you’re not here?” Shaveen asked.

“Only reason I wouldn’t be is to be with you,” McKenzie shrugged.

Shaveen smiled at him. “If you hadn’t got me involved in a dangerous...whatever this is,” she said, coming to stand in front of him, “then I’d still say you were a soppy twat, Weds.”

She pulled his head down to kiss him. Frowny-face gave vent to a disgusted ‘ugh’.

“Look after yourself,” she said, as she opened the door and glanced both ways.

“You too,” McKenzie said. “Remember – any trouble, back here pronto.”

Shaveen winked, then left.

Which left him alone with Frowny-face. Threats and anger, he reflected, hadn’t got him very far with her. Perhaps it was time to try something else. He poured a third glass of the rumlike drink, drew the bed curtains back, and loosened Frowny-face’s gag.

“Drink?” He asked her.

“With you? Absolutely not,” she replied flatly.

McKenzie shrugged, and drank it himself. “Suit yourself, Frowny-face. Wasn’t looking forward to you spitting it in my face anyway.”

The drow snorted softly. “I would hardly stoop to such undignified acts.”

“Yeah – that’d be a bit evil, wouldn’t it?” McKenzie agreed.

Another soft snort. “Your attempts at subtlety are as pathetic as your childish insults,” she said.

McKenzie nodded equably. “It’s a fair cop, I don’t do subtle. Bit pissed off about ‘childish insults’, though, that I take pride in.”

“I would advise you not to,” she said. “Although given your appearance, personality, dress sense, odour and general attitude, I cannot see anything else you might take pride in, so perhaps it’s the best of a bad lot, in your particular case.”

McKenzie laughed. “Y’know, this is weird, but even though you tried to kill me with gravity, I'm actually starting to like you. You’re such a people person.”

“You will not, I assure you, like it when I sink a knife into your heart,” Frowny-face told him.

McKenzie shrugged again, then pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down. “At least you’re honest. No casting about trying to figure out what you think of me, it’s right there and you’re always happy to provide a reminder. Not quite sure what I think of you in particular and drows in general, though.”

“Not quite sure I give the slightest, most fractional fuck what you think of me in particular, and drow in general will give even less,” Frowny-face informed him.

McKenzie ignored the insult. “New one on me, your lot. Never heard of drows – which means apart from the sterling start you’ve made with your endless charm and friendly disposition, I haven’t got any preconceptions going in. Since being subtle didn’t work, here’s an explicit offer: persuade me you really aren’t evil, like you seem to want to tell everyone when you can’t speak. Maybe you get a better outcome than ‘tied up and probably killed’, then.”

“No. Could I interest you in more insults, though? I’m working on a nice one about you and that other thief you’ve been rutting with,” she replied.

“Not a thief,” McKenzie answered automatically. “Neither is Shaveen.”

Frowny-face blinked at him, then laughed. “By the Dark Pantheon,” she said, “you don’t know, do you? You really don’t do subtle.”

“Come again?” McKenzie asked – and now he had a frowny face, too.

“Your little human bedmate,” she explained, with a maliciously delighted look, “that you’re gushing over. Do you seriously believe she’s just a poor hapless girl caught up in events?”

“The fuck else could she be?” McKenzie asked, confused.

“A thief, you imbecile – and one who has you wrapped around her little finger, soppy twat that you apparently are. I had heard standards were slipping at the Assassin’s Guild, I didn’t think they’d slipped quite this low, though,” Frowny-face cackled.

McKenzie frowned back at her. “Bollocks – you’re just saying that to drive a wedge between us, make us not trust each other.”

“Perhaps,” Frowny-face allowed. “Certainly that could be my objective: it would be a wise course of action.”

“OK, why do you think she’s a thief?”

“She picked the lock to this room, you idiot. You literally saw her do it,” Frowny-face pointed out.

“She’s a maid, genius. She has a master key,” McKenzie retorted sarcastically.

“I’m her boss, genius. I didn’t give her a master key,” Frowny-face shot back at him, equally sarcastically.

“She could have stolen one,” McKenzie said defensively.

Frowny-faced stared at him for a moment in disbelief. “That’s your counter-argument against her being a thief?”

“I nick a lot of stuff, doesn’t make me a thief,” McKenzie managed to say.

“I’m curious as to what exact definition of ‘thief’ you’re working from here,” Frowny-face replied.

“Oh, let me just look that up in my mental dictionary,” McKenzie said, and then looked upwards. “Oh, weird, it just says ‘fuck you’. Must be a typo.”

Frowny-face wasn’t impressed by the sarcasm. “She’s also trained in some manner of fighting, or did you not notice that either?”

Shaveen can handle herself, to be fair, McKenzie thought – and then he remembered her acrobatic hammock-dismounts, and the way she’d said ‘playing the dutiful serving girl’ just then.

Frowny-face saw him thinking, and gave a self-satisfied smirk. “Awww, were you falling for her sweaty little human charms? It gives me a great deal of personal satisfaction to inform you, assassin, that you have been thoroughly fooled. I wonder – is she out there right now keeping a low profile, or is she instead making a deal to save her own skin at the expense of yours?”

McKenzie remembered who was tied up on a bed and who wasn’t, put his feet up on said bed, and stretched. “Ah, fuck it. I deal with people as they come at me, not based on what-the-fuck-ifs, and know what? Shav’s nice, I like her, and I’m deciding to trust her. If she comes back here with literally a boatload of your mates, well, I guess either I’m killing some drows or some drows are killing me – which, spoiler alert! – won’t be how that goes down. Either way, not so good for you, I’m guessing. You, my shit-stirring grey friend, have fucked up somehow, and I’m guessing that ‘we do not tolerate failure in this organisation’ is a phrase that wouldn’t be totally alien to your lot. Maybe you are ending up falling through a trapdoor of doom sometime soon. Cheers.” He finished his drink.

Frowny-face merely sniffed.

“Whatever. I’ll get the low-down on dark elves from one of usual pale ones, then, and believe their version of events wholeheartedly ‘cos you’re being such a cow,” McKenzie said.

It looked like psy-ops time was over, you could almost see the conflict on Frowny-face’s frowny-face.

“They will lie,” she said, eventually. “That’s what they do.”

“Weeeellll, in my experience the only elf I really know that well is kinda almost too honest, at least when it comes to letting people know her opinion of them. You’d probably get along, matter of fact, she likes to slag me off for no reason too,” McKenzies replied.

“It is not difficult to find a reason,” Frowny-face replied. “I will answer your question truthfully if you answer this one truthfully: how did you learn our sacred language?”

“Didn’t think elvish was sacred, loads of people speak it,” McKenzie replied offhandedly.

“The drow tongue, as you well know,” Frowny-face said.

“What, you have your own language?” McKenzie asked.

“You speak it, fool,” Frowny-face told him.

“Oh, that, right,” McKenzie said, once again having to be reminded that he was a linguistic genius. “Truthfully – not a fucking clue. I have a friend who’s, like, really good with languages, any language. Picked the knack up off her I assume.”

Frowny-face glared at him.

“Not lying,” McKenzie assured her. “Not letting you have the details, though.”

“Then nobody taught you?”

“Nobody taught me – and, shit, wait, hang on, that’s what did it, isn’t it?” McKenzie realised what had triggered Frowny-face to try to kill him and Shaveen. “You spoke drowlish or drowese or whatever you call it in front of me. Was it a never-reveal-the-secret-language-on-pain-of-death thing or just your standard oh-fuck-I’ve-blown-everyone’s-cover thing?”

“That is not the question I agreed to answer,” Frowny-face said, somehow contriving to look even less happy for a moment.

“OK, fine, give me the tragic drows origin story then. I’m sure I’ll be totally sympathetic to it,” McKenzie said.

She sighed. “Elves will tell you that they are the embodiment of all that is good, and wise, and just,” she said bitterly.

It was McKenzie’s turn to snort. “Yeah, not buying that. Met some right twatty ones. One tried to kill my girlfriend, once, even though she was an elf too – well, sort of – I mean sort-of-my-girlfriend, she was definitely an elf, we weren’t dating or anything at the time but there was definitely a connection there, it never got the chance to go anywhere, though, because-”

“Ahem, just to let you know, I don’t care about your past failed relationships,” Frowny-face reminded him. “Do you want me to answer or not?”

McKenzie made a gesture of acceptance.

“In order to achieve this blessed state of racial goodness, they will tell you, their greatest mages and clerics came together to perform a work of magic so staggeringly powerful that it would rip every evil thought, every unworthy impulse and every dark intent from elvenkind, then and forever,” Frowny-face went on, looking and sounding angry.

“I think I can see where this is going,” McKenzie nodded.

“Oh, is it ‘and then they all said ‘fuck you’ to the idiot who wouldn’t shut up, the end?’” Frowny-face demanded angrily.

“Okay, okay, no more interruptions,” McKenzie promised, with a genuine laugh as he filed away that for future use next time Danandra interrupted him in the same way.

Frowny-face doubled up on glare intensity, but carried on. “Only one of the noble elven houses – the House of Drow - refused to participate, for they were already so lost to evil, unworthiness and darkness that they laughed in the faces of their fellows and mocked this ‘noble quest’ as a fool’s errand. The other houses proceeded without them. The working went ahead.”

“But jealousy burned high in the hearts of the drow, and they sent their own mages and clerics not to help, but to interfere. The working went awry, twisted by their meddling. The other houses succeeded in drawing the evil from their souls, but found the drow had prevented them from destroying it. They had to stop the working, and let the evil return to their souls, lest it break free and be unleashed upon the world. Then the greatest among them had a different idea. If the drow valued mischief and evil so much, she said, then let them have it. She sent the evil of the entire elven race into the hearts of the drow. Their skins darkened, and their eyes burned red like fire, to forever set them apart from the pure elven race. They were cast out, exiled to the dark places beneath the earth, and never suffered to walk in sunlight again,” Frowny-face finished.

“Okay, is that your version or the elven version?” McKenzie asked.

“That is a tissue of lies, woven over the centuries by the elves to justify their treatment of my people. There was no great working, and there has never been a noble House of the Drow: we were always the oppressed, the unclean and the unwanted, fit only to perform the basest of duties for our betters: until we decided not to tolerate it any more. Then we were cast out, and the elves spread their lies to ensure we were outcasts wherever we went, even among the lower races,” Frowny-face did another of her trademark disparaging snorts.

“Christ, nothing ever changes, does it? Even on a different fucking world,” McKenzie said wearily.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean I actually was starting to sympathise with you, and then you come out with ‘lower races’,” McKenzie told her. “I get it, even the people that are told they’re the bottom of the pile want to feel that there’s someone even further down from them – it’s human nature, I suppose. It’s just that I’ve seen it so fucking often it’s not even shocking any more, it’s just depressing that if people can’t punch upwards, they always seem to think the next best thing is to kick downwards and tell themselves they’re just doing it to keep their heads above water.”

“Your metaphors are terrible,” Frowny-face told him. “Even for a low creature.”

McKenzie rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well, thanks for the history lesson, Professor Arsypants. Class is over for today.” He replaced the gag, wincing as she successfully managed to bite one of his fingers in the process.

“Scratched my bollocks with that finger earlier, by the way,” he said with a smirk of his own, then closed the curtains on her indignant hmmmmph.