“When the airship has landed, we should be able to blend in and get to the Obelisk,” Leni said.

“What, that’s it? There’s no guards or anything?” McKenzie asked, surprised.

“McKenzie, they want people to go towards the Obelisk. Your only problem will be remembering you’re there to destroy it, and not volunteer yourself as dinner for one of my former...ethnic group,” Leni answered.

McKenzie snorted. “No chance of that. We set down, I run at the Obelisk, Obelisk go boom, job done, hopefully nobody gets ‘et beforehand. That about cover it Xixaxa?”

Xixaxa nodded. “That is the essence of it. Detailed planning for this phase of the operation is unfeasible – you will have to evaluate the situation on the ground and adjust your tactics accordingly.”

“In other words, wing it – great, that’s basically my whole vibe right there,” McKenzie said, and stood up. “And now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, gotta see a man about a dog.”

McKenzie levered himself to his feet and wandered over to the stairs. “Rev, man, can this door open onto the toil-”

His voice was cut off as he left the privacy field surrounding the rooftop terrace bar. Xixaxa and Leni watched as said door did not open onto a toilet and he had to repeat himself. Revlius – the spirit of a former High Assassin that didn’t so much haunt the Guild’s headquarters as actively run it’s day-to-day operations – took privacy seriously, even so far as to shield private conversations from himself.

“That is, of course, not the real plan,” the Archmage told Leni.

“Ohhhhh wow,” Leni replied, eyes going wide. “Here we go. I knew this was going to get all twisty. Your Wisdom, I am not sure if I’m okay with keeping secrets from McKenzie. I’m on thin fuckin’ ice with him as it is.”

Xixaxa regarded her calmly. “You may have to be willing to break it, Lady Violentia. If you are honest with him, I believe you will fail. Now listen very carefully, I will say this only once.”

- o O o -

McKenzie’s path to the core room was littered with aghast elves and servants. The frequency and aghast-ness of the elves and servants gradually ramped up until he reached another door marked ‘Crew Only’, which was the focus of a group of stressed-looking civilians: he could feel the powerful magic of the ship’s core emanating from somewhere behind it.

With a flash of worry, McKenzie noticed that Shaveen was not among them. One of them was vaguely familiar though – Dorks, Leni’s little friend. McKenzie aborted the kick he was about to deliver to the door and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, I don’t know if you remember me but-” he began.

She evidently did: “Oh Mr. Wednesday!” She threw herself into his arms. “They’ve got Heranalla and they say they’re going to kill her! Please, you’ve got to help us!”

“They’ve taken my sister too!” Another elf told him.

“This is your fault, human!” A third, who had witnessed the earlier events, informed him angrily.

“Okay,” McKenzie said, disengaging himself from the sobbing Dorks, who even in the throes of her fear for (presumably) Squawks had chosen to place her hands over his arse when she flung herself at him. “One, yes, I am here to help. Two, refer to one. Three, no the fuck it isn’t, I am not a drow.”

“Well what are you going to do about it!” The third elf demanded.

“Something!” McKenzie snapped back at him, losing his patience with the whiny tone.

The elf shrank back, alarmed.

McKenzie took a breath. “Okay. How many hostages, and does anyone know how many drows are in there? If you’re not 100% up to speed with current events, any of the officers plus I suppose anyone else wearing one of their insignia thingies and/or bracelets is one of the drows,” McKenzie said, tapping his chest and shaking his wrist illustratively.

“It’s just drow,” one of the elves said.

“What, there’s only one of them? Result! Must just be the magic type who teleported. In that case this’ll be a cakewalk,” McKenzie said, and clicked his neck. “Back in a minute.”

“No, the plural of ‘drow’ is ‘drow’,” the same elf said. “You keep saying drows.”

McKenzie stared at the man for a moment. The chatter and demands for action faded into silence at his expression.

Nitpicky-elf appeared to be immune, though: “And that’s not quite right, you see.”

There was another brief moment of tense silence before McKenzie spoke. “Well shit, thank fuck you’re here. Without that crucial piece of intelligence everything would’ve definitely gone all to fuck and we’d’ve all died horrible deaths.”

“Well excuse me!” Nitpicky – a man in flashy robes – said in umbrage. “I’m terribly sorry but it was irritating me. I’m not trying to say it’s overwhelmingly important but it doesn’t cost anything to speak properly, does it?”

“Is one of your friends or family in there?” McKenzie asked him.

“Yes, they’ve got my wife!” The man replied.

“And what’s her name?”

“Kerifalla,” the man answered.

“Got it. Give me a brief description of your dear wife Keri,” McKenzie asked.

“She has red hair, blue eyes, and she was wearing a purple dress,” the man told him.

“Thanks – I’m rescuing her last, you ridiculous fucking grammar Nazi, and if she like screams out ‘please, why are you helping everyone except me?’, I will say ‘because your husband has serious priority issues and was a total dick just now, I am leaving you just that extra bit longer to get terrorised by dee-arr-oh-double-you-ess drows’- “ McKenzie spelled out sarcastically, with a glare - “and she will be all like ‘oh, you cruel man!’ and I will say ‘take it up with hubs, this is all on him’ and hopefully she’ll divorce you and marry someone who isn’t such a prick,” McKenzie growled at him.

The man – and everyone else present – gasped.

“Again with the gasping,” McKenzie noted offhandedly. “Has anyone got anything useful to say to me?”

He got an answer from a surprising source. Like the door to the bridge, this one had a little rectangular peephole: the metal cover slid aside revealing a pair of red eyes.

“Let the one called Wednesday approach,” the owner of the eyes said, a man’s voice.

McKenzie shoved a couple of elves aside so he could approach the door. “Hi, I’m not Wednesday but I have a large delivery of gold, diamonds and, y’know, general good vibes and hugs just addressed to ‘the drows’, can you let me in so you can sign for it?”

The drow behind the door wasn’t playing. “We have hostages,” he said.

“So I gathered,” McKenzie replied. “Hostage taking is the last resort of cowards, or people who have fucked up very badly and are out of options. Which one are you?”

“That does not concern you,” the drow replied.

“Kinda does,” McKenzie told him with wry smile. “Tell you what, if-”

“Do not attempt to force this door, or we will kill a hostage,” the drow said.

“That’s the usual procedure, yep,” McKenzie said, with a forced breeziness he did not feel.

“You do not care for the lives of elvenkind?” The drow asked. “A sentiment we share – so the first hostage to die will be one of your race, human.”

“Or nobody dies,” McKenzie offered. “I’ve got, like, I dunno ‘cos to be honest I lost count, but a whole fucking bunch of your friends. None of them are dead, and believe it or not I’d prefer it stayed that way. So before this-”

“Which reason are you holding hostages for then: cowardice, or incompetence?” The drow interrupted.

“Ooh, get the bollocks on you when you’re behind a nice safe door with a combined human/elven shield,” McKenzie told the pair of eyes. “I’m just gonna breeze past that, though, because I’m not the one who started all this shit. So: before this whole situation starts to rack up a body count, why don’t we agree that when we set this crate down you lot go your way, everyone else goes theirs, nobody gets hurt and hopefully we never see each other again.”

The voice paused. “We will consider this,” it said. “While we do, some rules. None of your prisoners are to be harmed or befouled in any way, or a hostage dies. This door will not be forced, picked or even touched, or a hostage dies.”

“Um...define ‘befouled’ for me? I’m not clear on that,” McKenzie asked, puzzled.

“Do not even touch them, or take anything of theirs,” the voice said – and then the hatch slammed shut, leaving McKenzie to stare helplessly at the door.

- o O o -

“Where’s a length of fucking rope when you need it?” Leni muttered to herself, as she hunted around the bridge looking for something to secure the drow. Some of them were already starting to stir.

“Give these a go instead, Lady E,” a woman’s voice suggested, as there was a heavy thud from the floor beside her: a pair of the same iron cuffs that McKenzie had used to restrain the first captive drow. “There was even a couple of thaumatonets in the cabins back there – expensive stuff, but very handy when you need to keep a mage contained. We can use one on that guy over there, assuming ‘e ain’t dead, that is.”

Leni looked up – directly into a loaded crossbow, held by her.

“Shaveen, isn’t it?” Leni asked. “I knew there was something off about you.”

“Guilty as charged, Lady E – and there’s words I won’t never be uttering in any other context, I can assure you. That said, I’m not the one with concealed weaponry in my luggage, am I?”

Shaveen was not alone – she was flanked by another pair of serving girls, but in common with Shaveen they were no longer wearing the uniforms of domestic servants but similar clothing to the drow – and they were armed with swords and knives. Shaveen’s escorts each picked up a discarded bow as Shaveen spoke.

“You’re with the drow?” Leni asked heavily.

“Nah,” Shaveen said.

“The crossbow you’re pointing at me would tend to suggest otherwise,” Leni replied.

“This?” Shaveen looked at the weapon. “Took it off a drow, din’t I, same as the new outfits for me and my girls here. Much more practical. No shortage of senseless drow to loot, neither – all sorts of useful things to be had.”

Shaveen held up her right wrist and gave it a shake – she was wearing one of the drow bracelets.

“A wise course of action.” Leni’s eyes narrowed: she’d been thinking as Shaveen spoke. “It would take someone with very specialised knowledge to spot that there was more to my chest than met the eye,” she said.

“Top marks, Lady E!” Shaveen said with a smile. “Also there’s a joke just beggin’ to be made there, but given that I’m in noble company I’ll give it a pass.”

“When did you notice?” Leni asked.

“Only about a minute after I first entered your chambers,” Shaveen replied, with an impish smile. “Maybe ninety seconds. It’s good work, your luggage, don’t get me wrong, but if you know what you’re looking for, well…” She tilted her head in a shrug: her aim didn’t waver.

“And so you cultivated a relationship with Wednesday,” Leni guessed, “to find out what was going on.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Shaveen’s expression became faintly regretful. “Not proud of that, Lady E. Were you two actually an item, or…?” Shaveen asked.

“No, that was just a cover story,” Leni confirmed – there didn’t seem much point in lying.

Shaveen’s brow wrinkled. “Not bein’ funny but are you sure about that? ‘Cos you seemed pretty caught up in the role, I’m not gonna lie.”

“A role was all it was,” Leni said.

Shaveen actually looked relieved. “For what it’s worth, Lady E, I’m really glad you said that. I know I’ve got a crossbow trained between your eyes right now, but I do genuinely like you and the High Assassin really is a soppy twat and, hand on heart, I genuinely like him too. His file said he’s ruthless and quick to anger, so either that was dead wrong or he’s a much better actor than I thought. Does he prefer ‘Crowbar’ or ‘McKenzie’, by the way?”

Leni’s eyes went wide – or rather a little bit wider, given that instant pointy crossbow bolt death was already lined up between them. Then she sighed.

“He’s...complicated – but I’d definitely go with ‘McKenzie’. Shaveen, I don’t wish to deprive you of whatever banter you’ve got lined up, but can we just agree that you’ve got the drop on me and have been one step ahead the whole time? Really bad things are happening, and you need to either shoot me or help. I hope it’s ‘help’ because I really need some. So – who are you, how do you know who Wedn-, McKenzie is, and why are you aboard?”

“Girls, secure all the prisoners before they get to be an issue. Arms and legs, and don’t forget that thaumatonet for the mage,” Shaveen said. Her confederates – equipped with more of the cuffs – started moving about the bridge and doing so – removing insignia and bracelets as they did so.

She turned back to Leni, and lowered the crossbow. “The assassins aren’t the only guild in Vyrinios, Lady E,” Shaveen said. “We in the Thieves’ Guild like to keep an eye on what’s going on with the others, and your new High Assassin hasn’t exactly been maintainin’ a low profile, now has he?”

Thieves’ Guild, Leni thought. It made sense – there was a lot of highly stealable stuff on this ship, one way or another. Leni snapped the cuffs into place around the Captain. “Yeah, it’s really not his strong suit,” she replied.

Shaveen walked across the bridge to stand over Leni. “Lucky for us I’m a bit better at going unnoticed, and yes, Lady E, we can help – at a very reasonable price, too,” the thief grinned, and extended her hand.

Leni took Shaveen’s hand. “Thank you – and you can call me Leni, as you’ve probably guessed I’m no lady.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leni,” Shaveen said encouragingly. “If not for the weapons in the chest and, y’know, the actual High Assassin as your bodyguard, I would have taken you for an empty-headed noblewoman. I mean the wardrobe alone is a masterstroke in pointless frippery – only a complete airhead would dress like that.”

Leni let that pass, but not without great difficulty. “Now listen carefully – I’m about to tell you what’s happening and, more importantly, your best chance of surviving it.”

“All of it, Leni – including the part where the Archmage of Melindron intervenes and suddenly the High Assassin is down one troll companion but gains an elf noblewoman,” Shaveen hinted.

“You have been paying attention,” Leni remarked.

“That’s half the job of a thief, or a decent one at any rate,” Shaveen replied. “Don’t tell me the Assassin’s Guild doesn’t keep tabs on our activities.”

“I imagine they do – but I’m not exactly a member of the club,” Leni answered.

“But you do know what’s goin’ on aboard this flying deathtrap, I ‘ope,” Shaveen said. “So spill, and don’t leave nuffin’ out if you want my help.”

Leni nodded. “Okay – here’s how it is.”

Shaveen listened with professional intentness, and, at the end, nodded.

“Interestin’,” she concluded. “That’s a situation and a half, and no mistake.”

“Please say you believe me,” Leni said.

“Oh, ‘course I believe you, Leni,” Shaveen re-assured her. “You’ve got a very sympathetic face and manner, you know. You could make a fortune as a con artist, if things was different I’d be tryin’ to recruit you right now.”

Leni gave a relieved sigh. “Good, then-”

Shaveen stepped back, and reached into her left-hand sleeve. “But things aren’t different – wish they were. So, really sorry an’ all, Leni, but…”

Leni wasn’t slow on the uptake – she grabbed her swords and leapt forward, but instead of launching an attack on Shaveen, she collapsed to the deck, oddly nerveless.

Shaveen had a hand outstretched – she’d just thrown something. There was a tiny spot of pain in Leni’s neck – she reached up with fingers already going numb, and withdrew a tiny needle, glistening with something oily.

“You in’t the only one who smuggled a stealthy weapon or two aboard, Leni,” Shaveen smiled. “Many apologies, but I’ve gotta be honest with you, I really don’t like that plan.”

She pulled her left sleeve back to reveal a skin-toned leather bracer, equipped with a bristling forest of similar needles.

“We’ll take it from here,” Shaveen said brightly.

“Oh, fuck!” Leni had time to mumble, before the darkness took her.

- o O o -

McKenzie liked to think that he was, currently, working on self-awareness. He knew he could be a bit impulsive, was more inclined to solve problems in the most direct way that came to mind rather than thinking around them, and thanks to a bit of time (admittedly measurable in minutes) browsing a few websites Christine had pointed him towards that talked about things like ‘mindfulness’, ‘accepting yourself as you are’ and featured a lot of adverts for incense and scented candles, he was totally OK with this. After all, he rationalised, he was hundreds – in fact thousands – of years old, and almost everyone else wasn’t. Clearly it worked for him.

But he wasn’t stupid, so he knew a delaying tactic when someone hissed one at him through a small slit in a door.

“Fuckin’ drows,” he muttered to himself, as he stalked off to retrieve a couple of things from Leni’s room.

McKenzie had completely forgotten that all of ten minutes ago his objective had been to take them out so he could turn the ship around. He was still taking them out, but:

“Fuckin’ stop me from touching the Obelisk, would you? We shall see the fuck about that, you bunch of stuck-up, conniving little shits,” he grumbled.

This time he’d remembered a key – which turned out to be unnecessary, because the door to Leni’s stateroom was wide open.

“That’s probably not good,” he said. “Hello? Anyone in?”

A quick search revealed that nobody was. The bed was empty – Frowny-face’s gag and cuffs lying atop the duvet – and there was no sign of Awks, just her books, left on the floor where she’d been working.

“Yeah, definitely not good,” McKenzie confirmed to himself. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

His pocket buzzed. He yanked out his phone.

What are you doing?! Turn the ship around, the drow will not risk angering you, they know you will kill them all if they harm any hostages, they are bluffing! The text message from Buzz read.

“Oh, now he gets specific,” McKenzie murmured sarcastically, paused, and typed out a hurried reply: coulda done with knowing that earlier Buzz FFS, how do you know they won’t?

The reply was immediate. I’ve heard them, okay? You’re good to go, they’ve put the hostages in another chamber, you can get in + neutralise the hostiles before the fanatical ones get to the hostages.

McKenzie typed back straight away. Your hearing coulda been a bit better a bit earlier. What chamber and is there another way in? Just kicking door down normally totes my thing but blades are at throats here man, and I cannot let the drow stop me getting everyone to the Obelisk. Also WTF u mean fanatical, they’re ALL fkin crazy.

There was no reply. “Figures,” McKenzie said, and walked over to the chests, from which he retrieved another pair of flat swords, then attacked the bedclothes to fashion some makeshit hilt-wrappings. He’d practiced with the things and the bare metal was really uncomfortable.

In the middle of this, his phone vibrated – and kept vibrating. McKenzie dug it out again, expecting the screen to say ‘Christine’. It did not, though – instead it read ‘Buzz’.

McKenzie was so surprised he nearly dropped the phone – but then slid his finger across the screen to answer it.

“Hello?” He said, uncertainly, but then his essential McKenzieness reasserted itself. “Surprised as Fuck Assassins, Incorporated.”

“You are being manipulated,” a harsh, metallic voice said.

“Holy fucking shit, you are an evil robot!” McKenzie said, shocked. “Christine was right!”

“I’m a. Wait. What?” Buzz’s metallic voice asked, oddly inflected and with strange gaps. “No. I am just a. Stop. Never mind that right now. You are being manipulated. The troll magic has warped your mind. Your mission is to destroy the. The. This Obelisk. At least I think. My sight is unclear. But. But. I do know that.”

McKenzie snorted. “Do me a fucking favour,” he said. “Why would I destroy it? It’s, like, the best thing ever. I just want to touch it. I’ll take a selfie with it and send it to you, though.”

“This is a mistake. You are being manipulated Crowbar. Do not do this to me man,” Buzz replied, in his weird flat voice.

“Oh, you’ve got one of those voice things!” McKenzie realised. “That’s cool – every mysterious contact in any film ever did that, it’s a thing, I get it. Think you need to work on your portentous tone for the delivery, though. Either that or it’s on the blink.”

“Please. Tell me you will turn the airship around,” Buzz said.

“Buzz, chill. I’ve got this,” McKenzie assured him. “You wanna be useful, tell me how to get between the hostages and the drows before they twig to it, you might be sure they’ll fold but I’m not so convinced, these guys are dicks.”

“Seriously, it is just drow. Singular is same as the plural,” Buzz said.

“Fuck, don’t you start,” McKenzie snapped back.

“Yes okay fine not the time I suppose,” Buzz buzzed back. “Some drow like the Captain are as you put it dicks. Other drow like Briztaz are being coerced. They can be persuaded to betray the others.”

“Who the fuck is Briztaz?” McKenzie asked.

“The drow you captured. Other drow have her daughter somewhere. Same story for many others on ship. They hate elves but not that much. Not enough to willingly help their fanatical brethren deliver them to trolls,” Buzz said.

“Frowny-face is a mum? Wow, what a warm family environment that must be. Anyway, fuck that for now: how do you know this?” McKenzie asked, intrigued.

“I know things alright,” Buzz replied, again with a complete lack of any subtext or expression to his words. “Some things I see. Some things I do not see. Rarely clear. Never everything. Takes work to figure it all out. Usually I would not pass on raw intel like this. But there is no time to explain right now. You must turn this ship around your plan is not working.”

“Look, for the last time, no. Do you know where Awks and Frowny-face, Bristols or whatever the fuck she’s called, have gone? And is there another way in to the hostages?” McKenzie asked urgently.

“I will tell you. But you must promise to speak to violin show,” Buzz said.

“Um...what the fuck?” McKenzie queried.

“Vee eye oh ell ee enn tee eye ay,” Buzz spelled out. “This. God damned. Thing. Fucking ebay man. I swear to hell.”

Despite everything, McKenzie laughed. “You buy cheap, you buy twice Buzz. You mean Leni?”

“Yes. Leni. You must promise to speak to her as soon as possible. She will help you remember,” Buzz told him.

“Okay, fine, yes I’ll speak to Leni,” McKenzie promised.

“On port side. You know what port means Crowbar right. Fuck. It does not mean right. Ignore that. Fuck. Port is the left side if you are standing behind ship looking forward. On the port side of ship just in front of top tail fin is a hatch that opens onto storage chamber where the hostages are being kept. Go to promenade deck. Climb. Go aft. Do not fall off ship. Find hatch. Bash hatch. Get in. Got that,” Buzz related to him.

“Your image as a mysterious, all-seeing informant has taken a real beating today, you know that right?” McKenzie said, and laughed again. “But okay, I got it. What about Awks and Bristols, where did they go?”

“I saw them only briefly. Before they were blocked somehow. They were talking. Saliseralla called her by the name Briztaz and said she would help her get her daughter back if she kept her word,” Buzz told him.

“The plot thickens, I” – something worrying suddenly occurred to McKenzie. “Hang on a goddamned minute, how much do you ‘see’ and ‘hear’, Buzz?”

“It is not like that. It is random. I see things connected to you. I do not see you. I have a theory why but there is no time for that now. I did not want this first conversation to go like this,” Buzz answered.

McKenzie grunted. “You’d better not be peeping in on private stuff, Buzz, ‘cos that would not be cool.”

Another thought occurred to McKenzie. Buzz was not the only mysterious entity that occasionally got in touch in bizarre ways. “Wait, you’re not Russell are you?”

“Who is Russell. What do you mean.” There was no tone of surprise, indeed no tone at all, to Buzz’s reply – but then there wouldn’t be.

“Never mind. I need to get this thing done so I can get everyone to the Obelisk,” McKenzie said.

“Wait,” Buzz said.

“Waiting,” McKenzie replied, after a moment of silence.

“One other thing. Anaharra. She is safe. The man in white does not know where she is. I cannot say anything more now,” Buzz said.

McKenzie went cold, then warm, then cold again. “You know where she is? How the fuck-? Are you in contact with her, is she okay? What’s she doing? Tell me!”

Buzz paused before replying. “I cannot say any more now.”

“Why the fuck not?” McKenzie demanded.

Another pause, and then: “Because she asked me not to. She is not ready.”

The cold feeling intensified. “You’ve spoken to her? Fucking hell, Buzz, I-”

Buzz interrupted him. “I was not going to say anything at all. But talking to you now rather than sending messages. It does not feel right. And also. Now you know Anaharra is safe maybe you will not be so fucking hell bent on leading everyone into a trap. So yes. She is okay Crowbar. If you live through this one day you will speak to her again. So fucking wake up and live through it man. But I will not say any more. You do not have much time. Deal with the drow. Free the hostages. And then you must talk to Leni.”

The phone blipped in his ear – Buzz had hung up. McKenzie called the number back, but, as usual, it just rang and rang.

“Okay, right,” McKenzie said to himself, walking back and forward. He diverted towards the mini-bar shaped object, took out the bottle of rum-stuff, looked at it, put it back again, got it out again, took a swig and then returned it.

“This is good news, McKenzie. Now you know she’s okay, and ‘not ready’ to speak to you isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I mean she’s been through a lot, right? Buzz frankly sounds like the least dangerous individual ever, you know she’s still able to do the badass hyperwere thing, and Fuckface doesn’t know where she is. These are good things. She’s okay.”

McKenzie nodded. There was nothing he could do about that right now. There was probably also nothing he could do about whatever was going on with Awks and Frowny-face, or Shaveen – at least not until more immediate concerns were taken care of, and then, yes, he’d find Leni like he’d promised.

His job right now was to take out the remaining drow, and free the hostages.

“Then we can all see the Obelisk together,” he said to himself, and headed for the promenade deck. “Happy fucking days all round.”