Begins shortly after Elspeth and co. return to Haven. I am actually writing the book parts from memory, since I have not read it in at least a year, and don't have a copy on hand.

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Shocks

"Now that that's out of the way, here's the real reason I want to talk with you," said Kerowyn. She bit her lip, as if trying to make up her mind what to say, then went ahead. "Ancar has two new allies, and both are so strange, I was wondering if you couldn't help us know what to expect. My agents say that one is more than half cat, and his name is something like 'Falcon's Breath' or 'Falcon's Death'."

Falcon's- dear gods. Elspeth felt like she had been poleaxed, Nyara looked stricken, the gryphons' heads shot up in alarm, Firesong bit off an oath, Skif a curse, and Darkwind looked quite ready to kill something. Kerowyn looked at them, raising a sardonic brow.

"I take it you know this person?"

Firesong was the first to regain his composure. "Will we never be rid of the beast?" he wailed. "He has twice escaped traps which should have killed him, and now he has returned alongside a man who is determined to destroy this country. Some dark deity or demon must surely favor him, for reasons I cannot guess."

"Well that's one, but the second one, an 'Orochimaru', is just as disturbing. This one has a penchant for pretty little boys. He looks like a snake in human form, and although he's a mage, he does things very differently than anything I've ever heard of, and I've worked with the Shin'a'in shamans and White Winds mages. My agents say he simply knots his fingers for his spells, and can kill a man from fear alone. In addition, one of Ancar's minor master-level mages let it slip that he doesn't even need to touch the ley-lines or nodes to perform Adept-level spells; all his power is from within. His entourage is equally disturbing. One can grow weapons from his bones, and another is actually two brothers sharing a body. All have some level of shapeshifting ability that grants them enormous power at the same time"

"I have never heard of such a thing, but if what you say is true, we have far more trouble to deal with than I would have imagined," said Firesong. "Hand symbols for spells, though they make sense, would eliminate the need for complete mental focus in a spell, and an out-of-control spell is equally dangerous to both sides. Sometimes a spell will loop and feed back on itself, gathering huge amounts of power before collapsing in on itself and bursting like a miniature sun. But an Adept not using the ley-lines? Surely that's impossible."

'Actually, it's not. A hedgewitch and wizard get ambient energy from their surroundings, but almost all their power is drawn from their immediate strength and stamina. Mind-magic users use far less energy than conventional mages, but can perform far more difficult feats in some areas of usage. Finally, your branches of magic are fairly young. There used to be an entire system based on hand seals. Warriors were called 'shinobi', and trained their bodies to the extreme in stamina and combat to provide energy for their techniques,' explained Need.

"I have never heard of such a thing," said Darkwind.

"Nnorrrrr have we," said Treyvan, "Ssssurrrelllly the Heighllleigh Kingssss woulllld have had rrrrecorrrrdssssss of thesssssse ssshinobi."

'Oh, but the shinobi wiped themselves out several hundred years before my time in what records called the Sixth Great Shinobi War, also known as the War of the Demons and the Fall of the Red Dawn. The few records that remained stated that the biggest players were the Fifth and Sixth Fire-Shadows, the Fifth Wind-Shadow, a group named Akatsuki, and a man named Orochimaru.'

"So we are dealing with a man who pretends to be a shinobi," stated Elspeth.

'Possibly. But if he somehow revived real shinobi techniques, we may have a problem.'

"How? Surely our magic can counter this Orochimaru's variation."

It was Firesong who had an answer. "His servants sound like changechildren, but can revert at will, like the one who uses bone as weapons. It sounds implausible, but I trust Captain Kerowyn's agents," he stated, giving her a nod. "That's not possible unless he is a healing-mage, like me, and no healing mage would dare work with Ancar. Simply being near a place where blood-magic has been performed poisons us. In short, we have no idea what his full capabilities are, and are therefore unable to devise a counter."

At Skif's confused look, Darkwind explained, "It's like a court noble, trained to duel, being asked to fight an assassin head-to-head. Both may be highly trained fighters, but dueling is highly structured, and has a known set of rules; known weapons, agreed upon location and terrain, honorable behavior. An assassin always has a trick up his sleeve that almost nobody has ever seen before. The assassin knows what to expect from the noble, but the noble is clueless."

"So how will we counter that?" asked Nyara, who had been silent up to that point.

'Easy. We find someone who knows how to fight as a shinobi, and have him teach us.'

"Excuse me, but that sounds impossible. Didn't you say that the shinobi wiped themselves out? Where would you suggest we look? Under my bed?" asked Skif.

'How does south of Karse sound as a vacation, everyone?'

Kerowyn snorted. "That entire area is nothing but desert. Humans never passed more than a league into that place. It's completely dead. Karsite legend says that in the deep desert is a warrior's tomb made of bloodsoaked sand, and that's the closest you will find to life ever having been there."

'That's not a legend.'

"And what good is the tomb? Are records hidden there?" asked Nyara.

'No. How does a genuine shinobi sound to the rest of you?'

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Many miles away, a terrified servant in Ancar's colors knocked timidly on a door. Agonized screams emanated from the room as the man waited for the inhabitant to answer. The door creaked open.

A tall, pale man with jet-black hair and yellow snake eyes with purple eye shadow stared down at the servant. "Yes?" he asked during a pause in the screams.

"L-l-l-lord A-a-ancar w-wishes to sp-sp-speak with y-you, L-l-lord O-orochimaru." Around him, the servant could see a bloody table on which was a body so mutilated it was unidentifiable as either a man or woman. In place of restraining straps, metal needles had been shoved through all the joints and into the table below. The abdomen had been eviscerated; the ribs pulled back, organs suspended in small trays, still attached. The jaw had been dislocated, and the throat slit vertically. Against all logic, the body screamed again, a long tormented howl coming from the throat, not the mouth.

Orochimaru smirked, following the man's horrified stare. "As you can see, I am in the midst of an experiment. Perhaps if I had a new assistant, I could complete it before going to see…Lord…Ancar, hmmm?"

The servant could only nod in terror. Yellow eyes narrowed in amusement. "Thank you for offering." The servant was grasped by the throat and pulled through the door, which shut behind him. His own screams of pain mixed with those of the body on the second table.

Orochimaru smiled. It was so nice to have willing volunteers for his work.