The car pulled to a stop near an intersection much like any of the others ‘Tj’Chin’Ker had seen since coming to this city. Dwellings Nurse Ellen had called “Row Homes'' lined all four sides of the two streets, with gentle lighting, much like the rushlights ‘Ker remembered humans using when he was last in the Sunlit World leaked from behind the curtains that closed off the windows views from those on the streets, and the views of the streets from those in the little two and three level brick homes.

The car pulled over to the side of the road on which they had been traveling, and no sooner was the car’s motion halted than the form of the Elder who sat across from him in the carriage space flowing gracefully out the door with soundless ease.

‘Tj’Chin’Ker tried to follow in a like manner, working with all his concentration to match the silent nature of his host. A hunter rarely appreciated the child who loudly blundered along behind them in the brush, scattering the deer. He knew his own abilities to move silently were excellent, but seeing the old man move without creating the slightest aberrant vibration in the air was both impressive and daunting. Humbling, even.

As quiet as he knew he could move, he still felt like a noisy squirrel bouncing along the dried mast strewn path beneath the darkened canopy as he followed Elgin out onto the sidewalk.

Elgin Stark, or the Dancer as his People knew the man, stood on the street corner in the halflight of the streetlamps that partially illuminated the neighborhood, looking West down the length of the street. ‘Ker stood next to the man, and waited, as Elgin looked to be waiting.

Glancing at the signpost on the corner nearest to them, he practiced his newest linguistic skills, trying to read what the sign said.

‘Ker knew that now, in this era, every street, path, and roadway had signage telling one where they might be, and that if one was lost, they could use their datpads to find themselves on a map held in that datpad. It was amazing. It was a revolutionary idea. And no one he has seen yet looked impressed with the idea of having that information at hand. It had just become so mundane to these people.

They could even look at maps of almost every place on this world, because it had all been extensively mapped out by industrious cartographers and explorers, and then all of that information had been magicked into these devices for any and all to use whenever they wanted. It was amazing, though everyone acted as though it were the most humdrum and unimportant bits of information.

‘Ker had known men, of various races and cultures, who would have killed and died to have access to such.

And now, here, there were “street signs” at every corner.

And this one said S T R A W B E R R Y S T, just below it, perpendicular, was another that said G R O V E A V E.

He filed this away for future mental mastication.

His thoughts were interrupted by a repeated thumping noise. It was not coordinated, not musical, but steady. It stood out from the surrounding night music of the lazily slumbering winter city, breaking the rhythm of the soft, cold breeze that barely tickled the naked branched of the apple trees and dogwoods that lined the streets, planted as through planned for by the city in the last hundred years, rather than old growth. It sounded like a large group of people walking, but not with the uniform discipline of soldiers marching. Whatever it was. It was less than a Roman Century, and it lacked an Optio, that silly Roman sub-officer running alongside the Cohort, and using his staff with a large ball on one end to knock the lazier soldiers back into formation and back into step with the others.

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This was a rabble. And an ambling rabble, at that.

“Ah.” Elgin said. “Here they come now. I doubt there are any other large groups of people wandering down Grove Avenue at this time of night.”

He considered for a moment. “Well, not at this time of night on a random Thursday in December, at any rate.” The man then smiled, and his lips stretched more broadly across the man's face than ‘Ker expected. It was a very generous smile, and while ‘Tj’Chin’Ker could feel the sense of goodwill and kindness in that smile, he could also see the man was holding back an immense sense of sadness.

Something was about to happen that the old man didn’t want to happen, but ‘Ker knew, or at least could feel a hint of, that the Dancer would not stop. It was an inevitability, 'Ker could tell, whatever it was.

As he watched, a scattered mass of people stumbled and stepped from the dark toward where he and the Dancer waited. At the intersection of the next street he could begin to make out their members and their numbers as they moved along the road. Most of those in the group wore darker clothing, much of it looking dirty and inappropriate for the cold weather. Several women in the group wore tattered dresses, and none of them wore coats of any kind. Not even a brat that the Keltoi often wore, or even a simple shawl on their shoulders in evidence. Interspersed with the group, mostly to either side of the file, scampered and fussed several tall men in blazing white suits.

“These idiots again. I guess they do have some Optiones in their Legio.” ‘Ker let slip, recognising the men as the soldiers of the mad Sungod.

Elgin Stark watched them advance slowly up the road toward where he and ‘Ker stood, and let loose a large sigh.

The Dancer moved from the sidewalk, off the broad curb, and into the middle of the street, and took a pose of patiently waiting. ‘Ker moved to stand behind and just to the right of the old man,and waited. He started running his hands through his pockets, looking for whatever things he had picked up, pilfered, or just shoved in them over the last few hours since they had landed at the Aero place, and then at the little row house where he was certain the others now were safely asleep.

He had his bone knives. And shuddered at the idea of using them.

He also had several other knives he had picked up along the way from people and places. Mostly work knives and cooking knives, though. Not his preference, but a bit of sharp steel was a bit of sharp steel, day or night.

He also had a ball of twine he had liberated from one of the work rooms in the safehouse, and had just pulled it from a pocket for consideration when the old man put a hand on his arm, and gave him a long look.

“You don't need any of that. Not yet, at any rate.” Then Elgin pursed his generous lips, and gave a small, rueful grin saying, “We have a few options to run through first.”

And with that, the old man turned to face the advancing rabble.

‘Tj’Chin’Ker could now see, as they had drawn near, that the mass of their group was made up of the dead. They were puppets made from the bodies of those long passed.

In stentorian tones, Elgin Stark addressed the men who where herding the dead like ravenous cattle.

"Gentlemen. You are in my city. You have not been invited, and your master has sent you to die on my streets."

A pause.

"Turn back."

A voice rose from near the back of the crowd, his accent clipped and cultured. "Give to us the man who came through the Door of Flames, and we will leave. We will let you continue. Our God wills it so, and we will have him. You will not resist us."

Elgin bowed his head a moment. And then raised his face to look directly toward where the voice had come. He nodded. And when he next spoke, his voice rolled out in a wave of confidence and power than made the nearest of those men dressed all in white flinch.

"Cole. Curt. Take them all. Now. Leave only Tzal for me, if you would."