Mother Tibs looked down on her flock with displeasure, Ashes and Sparrow were missing, they hadn’t returned to the den since the day the Gods died. Also she now suspected that Slicer was a spy, he’d been the only one of her flock to collapse. That meant that Slicer had belonged to one of the Gods. No street brat had links to Church, the priests were too la di da to converse with street scum, so Slicer was probably an informer.
She was annoyed, Sparrow was her top dip, and Ashes, well she was loath to miss out on Rakell’s two nobles finding fee.
The flock sensing old ma Tibs’ sour mood kept quiet and tried to avoid her gaze.
“Tickler an’ Bager gut tha’ Church spy Slicer.” Exclaimed ma Tibs.
Tickler started, then grinned evilly and slid a well kept stiletto from his boot as he moved towards a scared looking Slicer. Bager just slipped his cosh out of his sleeve and moved to block the other door assuming the one ma Tibs next too was adequately covered.
Slicer however surprised them all, grabbing the throwing dagger hanging at the back of his neck he threw it skilfully and buried it to the hilt in Tickler’s left eye. Even before Tickler fell he was moving rapidly towards ma Tibs, he was now holding two daggers.
Bager started forwards as Slicer charged ma Tibs slicing left and right at anyone in his way. He smoothly dodged ma Tibs buffet as he passed her leaving one of his daggers planted in her stomach.
Slicer heard Bager following him and he opened the front door and slipped behind it hoping to convince Bager – not the brightest tool in the box – that he’d left. It worked perfectly, Bager didn’t hesitate he ran through the door and stopped to scan the street never noticing Slicer as he emerged from the house and planted his remaining knife in Bager’s kidney.
Slicer departed after roughly cleaning his dagger and looting Bager’s corpse of its meagre purse.
Ma Tibs meanwhile downed a health potion and removed the dagger. She glared at her remaining flock, “Patsy go tell Sarge Tackor I wanna speak ta ‘im soon as, as fer youse lot gets out there an fin’ Slicer. Don gets kilt. See if yous can fin Sparrow an Ashes too.”
A few hours later the flock trickled into the den with a couple more absentees. Patsy and Ratty didn’t return. Several members of the flock reported seeing Sparrow’s head stuck on one of the spikes adorning the gateway of the Palace of Justice. Weasel added that Gimpy the Stump had seen Ashes heading towards the Eastern Gate with what looked like a large bag of loot on the day the Gods died. Nobody had seen Slicer – too be fair nobody had looked very hard.
“I wan’ ‘em dead, Slicer ‘secial bu’ Ashes too,” ordered ma Tibs.
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* * *
“Ow! That hurt.” Whined Judy O’Riley as one or the Russian soldiers elbowed her as they passed. She was sure the sexist pig had done it deliberately. They all had it in for her for her brilliant exposés. “Hey Jean Claude, what are those brass hats yelling anyway?”
“But sweet Judy, they are saying not to hurt the girl as she ‘as the same title as the support personnel,” Jean Claude of the Figaro replied.
“What title? How did they see a title, where?” a frustrated Judy asked.
Jean Claude shrugged eloquently and replied, “I don’t know.”
Shortly the press found themselves ushered out of the room as trolleys of scientific equipment were wheeled in by people in ‘white coats’ to replace them. As a consolation the Press was offered a feast with copious volumes of alcohol. Judy soon became very attached to a bottle of malt whiskey. Robert opted for beer and Jean Claude absinth.
As for the scientists, they were getting frustrated, luckily for the investigators their uninvited visitor had touched the wall and they were able to obtain a near complete set of fingerprints.
* * *
Father Bartolomeu was seeking solace in his village church. These last few days had been worrying, very worrying. True his congregation was larger now since the event but he had always seen all the villagers as his congregation whether or they attended his church, well God’s church.
He had had to do a lot of running around and convincing his people that the unfortunates who had changed were still the same people they had always been. Fully one in five of his parishioners had been affected. Most had become elves or beastfolk – mostly with cat ears and tails – but there were dwarves, gnomes and other stranger beings.
“Lord,” he explained to the crucified Christ over the main altar, “I know it’s nice to have a full house, but it shouldn’t be though fear, it should be through love.”
“Bartolomeu,” Christ answered, “just do your best to comfort them.”
Father Bartolomeu threw out his arms, as if to say ‘when do I not.’
He heard someone enter his church and turned to greet them. Just outside the door to his church he saw one of the new cat folk women in a bright yellow sundress crouched down scratching the tattered ear of the savage alley cat he had been feeding for the past couple of years, it said something for the girl that she wasn’t bleeding. Mind you the fish his cat was eying greedily probably had something to do with it.
The other two hesitating just inside the doors were elves though none of his parishioners had that bluish tint to their skin or such deep blue hair.
“Be welcome, how may I help you.”
‘Huh, so Felicia has a storage device,’ Silverfin mused as he watched her produce a fish for the savage looking tom that met them at the church doors. He was surprised at the honest benevolence he sensed in the priest, a solidly built man in late middle age.
After introductions and preliminary introductions and a private reassurance from the crucified Christ over the altar that his visitors were telling the truth father Bartolomeu ushered them into his parlour, served refreshments and learned something about what was truly going on. He promised to help them, to inform his Bishop and if they should so desire, to gain a worthy and compassionate God.
* * *
On the Planet Aurica King Foracates was finalising his plans to recover his conquered lands from his lickspittle of a nephew now that the Gods of Light were no more, his kingdom of Donatus was one of the few remaining holdouts against the tyrannical Empire of Light but he intended to change that.
* * *
On the Empire’s home planet, Badonia, the ill treated slaves on immense agricultural estates rose up with fire and fury.