Later, she'd never be able to explain how she got out of the Veils or made it through the streets of Athkatla without either being killed or arrested. The whole journey was one long, vague blur. What she could remember were disjointed bits and pieces; the cry of a child, the roughness of a stone column, a bright red coat. None of it made sense and all of it was overlaid with a thick, cloying stench of blood, strong enough to override any desire to probe those memories deeper. All that mattered was she made it back alive. Even the analytical part of her mind decided to leave it be, ascribing the miracle to all the time she'd spent memorizing routes back to the Guildhall.

She'd once boasted she could make her way back from anywhere in the city in her sleep. She proved her point. She'd done it in the middle of a waking nightmare.

She felt no need to brag.

Even the thick doors of the Guildhall, her supposed sanctuary, proved no defense against that nightmare. Once the doors closed the darkness only deepened. Darkshadow, with disturbing prescience, summoned her before she could even sit down. If she'd been a little more with it, a little less in shock, she might have found a way to at least delay their meeting, at least long enough to clean up. However, Darkshadow in a rage was not a man to be thwarted, so along with one of his assistants, she descended into the bowels of the Guildhall, bloodstained hand and boots in all.

At first, the interview had gone well, or so it had seemed. She reported back as well as she could, telling him that Sareena was dead. He must have assumed she'd done the bloody work, not questioning until she'd let slip about Yzabel's presence. That name drove him over the edge. The usually controlled, calm spymaster virtually vaulted his desk to grab her by the front of her cuirass. He'd shaken the rest of the story out of her, the worry, the words and the threat. The threat of all of it seemed to calm him the most. Sneering, he'd let her go, telling her to see to her other duties and cursing her for failing to at least bring in the head.

That last, parting curse, uttered with such contempt and with his back turned, twisted like a knife in the gut. Her blood cried for her to take those words and ram them into his back at the point of her blade, but her mind managed to rein in her surging blood. Barely. Even furious, she doubted Darkshadow would truly leave his back that unguarded. If she made a move, she knew it would be her with the blade in her gut, her blood darkening the sands of life. So, she clamped down on her temper and her pain and stalked out with what little dignity she had left.

Not knowing what else to do and frightened of what worse show of weakness might do to her, she composed her face into Courtesan's Mask, the last defense of a woman's savaged pride. It was one you learned early growing up as she had. The face blank, the eyes narrowed and chin titled up while the back was a straight as a blade. It wasn't much of a shield, it never was. Just using it meant pain, meant… degredation. It didn't remove the blood spatter from her cheek, no more than it ever got rid of the black eye or the swollen lip. But it was enough, a way to freeze the emotions just long enough to escape without breaking down and showing weakness to the pack. The harem was no different at times than the Guildhall, either place ready to pull down the weak.

With both hands throttling her pain and fingernails tearing her palms, she strode out of the Guildhall, her steps confident. She might be splattered in blood and dirt, but she was in control, had to be in control. She was the strong, not the weak, scared woman who just as well have a bullseye on her back. She even managed to maintain that façade until she disappeared beyond the first layer of sentries. But as soon as she was clear and free, she dropped that pretense and took to her heels for safety.

There were safehouses she could disappear to. Boltholes she could slip into and pull closed, leaving the Guild, Darkshadow and the city to burn. But no matter how good she was, there was no guarantee she'd not end up a bloodstain in a backroom like Sareena. So she ran for the safety of the one person she could trust.

So, she'd breezed up the right alley, knocked the right code and brushed past exclamations of shock and dismay. They didn't matter, at least not right now. No, the woman who mattered was at the top of the stairs. She brushed past the guard at the top, sparing him only enough of a glance to make him stand back. In that moment of hesitation, she yanked open the door and barged in.

"Bloody hellfire! Can't anyone knock and let a woman change in… Lass? Sime? What in Mask's name happened to you?"

Sime stopped dead in her tracks. She'd been so focused on getting here she'd not even considered what would happen next. Grasping desperately for words, she started to shake. "Mook… I… I…"

Arms folded around her, pulling her in. "Shhh lass, shhh. You're alright now. You're with your Mook now."

Tears she'd been fighting since Yzabel's first taunt broke free, and she buried a body wracking sob into Mook's chest.

------

Too tired to resist any more, she let Mook and one of her people, Lyndia, bustle her off to a small washroom. They stripped her off, washed off the worst of the soot, mud and blood and bundled her up into a large blanket. Lyndia guided her to one of the overstuffed chairs, the same one she'd kept watch over Mook earlier and tucked her and the blanket into it. She pulled over the other chair and left as wordlessly as she'd entered, nodding once to Mook before departing.

Mook, pale and moving with exaggerated precision that revealed how weak she still was, set up her coffee urn and lit the fire underneath the battered silver vessel. Part of her wanted to know who'd thought to bring it from her office, but it was a pointless question. Mook's people, what was left of them, weren't going to leave their boss without her coffee.

The soft, rich scent of Mook's special brew slowly filtering out, Mook settled herself into the opposite chair, sighing a little too softly and deeply. She reached out and squeezed her knee, her smile about the only thing at full strength. "Lass, are you ready to talk about it?"

Wrapped deep inside her blanket cocoon, she looked out at Mook, at her smile framed in her still pale face. The heavy bandage, white and crisp, stood out on her neck and she felt her eyes being drawn down to it. For a long moment, all she could do is stare at the white linen, a stark reminder of the attack and how close she'd come to losing her. Her mind spun in a whirlwind of terror, shuddering at what she would have done if she'd lost Mook too. Where would she have gone, who could she…

"Lass! Sime!" Mook's voice cut through the thread of her thoughts like cold steel.

"Mook." She sighed heavily, chest heaving.

"Aye lass, it's me. The one and only." Mook said, grinning slightly and squeezing her knee again.

She sighed again, feeling the terror and fear starting to fall away, smothered by the heavy blanket. Trying to smile, trying to look anything like her normal self, she looked over at the woman who was the closest to a mother she'd ever really had. Thank Mask, thank Tymora, thank Helm and Tyr she was still alive. Hell, thank all the gods, excepting maybe that bastard Cyric. "It's good, really good to see you're alright."

"It's good to be seen still amongst the living. Aran and Ivar filled me in on just how close a thing it was." She subconsciously rubbed at the bandage around her neck. "And it sounds like I owe you a debt, my little Sime." Mook's face tightened and her eyes watered as her hand tightened around her knee, but she was still trying to smile. "They tell me you made a bargain with that tight codpiece of a priest to save my life."

Sime swallowed and sniffed. She wanted to play her part in the drama, but she didn't have the strength to. "I had to, Mook. I couldn't… I couldn't let you go."

The smile faded away as Mook bit her lower lip. The older woman looked, for one of the first times she could remember, -old-. "Well, don't worry Sime, this old woman has deep pockets. I'll cover the mark. After all, it is my hide you paid for."

Sime found herself grimacing and flushing at the same time. "I don't think you can cover this one, Mook."

Mook's eyes narrowed, studying her face. It was obvious that while the body was still weak, the mind wasn't as she sucked in a breath and slumped deeper into the chair. "Sime… oh Sime… you shouldn't have."

"What else did I have to offer?" she said with a deep, tired sigh. "He wouldn't take coin, you know how those 'priests' can be, especially about their 'honor'. But a little bedsport, even with one of us?" She snorted. "He could always claim he was trying to convert me to the True Path." She rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "'Rigorously'."

It was obvious Mook didn't see the humor. She didn't even crack a smile. She just squeezed her knee, her mouth a thin, grim line. "Aye. But…" She bit her lip. "You don't understand, Sime. You don't know the sire that spawned him. If he's anything like that bastard…"

"Mook," she reached out and took the older woman's hand. "Even if he's twice the bastard, which I doubt with him being the halberd up the hindquarters Helmite he is, I'll still pay my debt to him. I'm a big, tough girl, you made me that way." She smiled up at Mook, eyes tearing up. "'S why I made the bargain. Couldn't lose you, you're the only family I've got."

"Oh Sime, you shouldn't …" Mook's words caught in her throat and her hand squeezed hers tightly, so tight she could feel her bones creak.

"I had to," She pushed herself out of her chair, kneeling in front of Mook's and locking eyes with her. She couldn't let her feel guilty, not for this. "Wasn't any choice, there wasn't any time and I had to make sure he saved you." She shrugged her shoulders. "And whatever he is, however he treats me, it's not going to be worse than…" She shrugged again, not really wanting to delve into those darker parts of her past. "It's done Mook, and I'd do it again. You're that important."

"You shouldn't be taking risks like that, Sime. It's not smart, and I raised you to be smart." There were tears shining in the older woman's eyes.

"Took too much after you. Had to take care of my people," she replied, trying to smile wryly, even though her eyes were misting up.

"Damn fool girl," she admonished through her own tears before rocking forward and gathering her into a rib crushing hug.

------

Pouring coffee into two well worn mugs, Mook handed Sime one and settled back into her chair, swiping one forearm across her face. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes before taking a long sip of her coffee. Lowering the mug, she heaved a sigh and smiled wanly. "Sime, thank you. I mean it. But for Mask's sake, if you could, let's try to avoid you saving my life like that again. I hate how my nose gets all stuffed up after a good cry. Can barely smell the coffee."

Sime couldn't help it, she laughed. A real laugh, followed by a real smile. It might not have been a large one, but it was one she felt. "It's a deal, provided you don't go around nearly getting yourself killed like that."

Mook snorted and shook her head. "Now that's a deal I'd be happy to agree to."

Sime smiled and reached out with her mug. "Deal."

Mook nodded and solemnly clinked her mug to Sime's and both women drank. Silence descended over them as both sipped coffee and pulled back into their thoughts. Sime managed to work halfway through her mug before Mook spoke up. "Lass, if you're feeling up to it, what happened out there?"

Involuntarily, her back straightened and her head snapped up. "What happened out there?"

"Sime, something bad happened out there. I know it. Hells, you were still covered in it." She frowned slightly. "Now, we all do things we have to, sometimes some very bad ones. And if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. But, you were in such a bad way, maybe it'll help."

Sime swallowed hard, hands tightening around her mug. Part of her wanted to just bury the afternoon down deep and leave it be. Forget it and try and move it on. But, Jocana always said the mind is like the ever shifting dunes. The most precious memories could be swallowed by the shifting sand and the most hateful blown free, no matter how deep they're buried. This one felt like one that wouldn't stay buried.

Nodding, she took a deep, long drink of coffee, allowing the rich heat to fortify her heart. "The blood was Sareena's," she admitted heavily.

"Sareena's?" Mook exclaimed, sitting up blade straight. "How?"

"Darkshadow sent me to bring her in. Said she'd turned on us…"

"Darkshadow sent you!?" Mook growled. "Didn't he know… of course he knew you two used to run together, that you were friends."

"It's the reason he gave for picking me," she said quietly. "Because I knew her best I could hunt her down, bring her in."

"The fool," Mook spat. "The thrice damned, cold hearted fool! I told Aran he wasn't the right one for the job. Too cold, too many sharp angles in that bastard's mind." She shook her head violently then heaved a sigh. "I'm so sorry lass. I can't believe the bastard made you cross blades with her."

"I didn't," she admitted heavily, the horror of that cellar turning her stomach again.

"You didn't? But you said the blood was Sareena's. If you didn't, what happened?"

"I hunted her down, like Darkshadow asked," she said levelly, the emotion draining out of her voice as she retreated into reporting mode. "She was exactly where I thought she'd be. I got the drop on her. I was angry, so angry with her. To think she'd turn on us, on you, on me. I was supposed to bring her in, but I had to know why. She said she hadn't turned on the Guild, that she wasn't a traitor." She looked up. "I believed her too. Damn it all, she's not that good a liar. And I believed her."

She took a deep breath, plunging on. "She was going to tell me something. Something had her scared, Mook. But Yzabel showed up, Yzabel and her two dogs. She said Sareena was a traitor. And she… she…" Sime shivered, that quick, brutal strike replaying behind her eyes. "She gutted her, just like that. One of her own, just like that."

"Bitch," Mook voice was as hard as stone. "That bitch did ever love killing. Loves it too much, if you ask me."

Sime's head snapped up. "She does. I could see it. She was smiling the whole time. She killed Sareena with a smile on her face… and I just stood there Mook. I had my crossbow drawn, I had the shot. I could have stopped her."

"And you'd be just as dead as her right now," Mook said flatly.

"But I let her…"

"Lass, you didn't let them kill Sareena. They did it, and I know those dogs of hers. Even if you did get that shot off and not miss, they'd have cut you down dead. And Yzabel's got enough coin and favors to get herself brought back from whatever Hells she'd end up in." Mook shook her head. "You did the only thing you could, you stayed alive. Maybe firing would have been more heroic, felt better, but all it'd do is get you a shallow grave… if they were that generous."

Blood chilling like a desert night, Sime stared at Mook. The older woman's face was pinched and drawn, but her eyes showed she believed what she was saying. Hells below, she knew Mook was right, but the cold logic of it turned her stomach. "Maybe…"

"There are no maybes in this," Mook said finally and flatly. "Maybe last night shook you up, all those pretty knights in their shiny armor. Maybe they'd have pulled the trigger, maybe they'd even survive Yzabel's dogs, but likely they'd be dead and their armor sold for the steel." Mook sighed and leaned forward, squeezing Sime's knee. "Better alive than a hero, that's what your old Mook says."

"I… yes, you're right," Sime said, not sure that her brain could convince her heart of the logic of it.

"Every now and then, I am," she blew air through her lips and worried her lower lip before attempting a smile. It wasn't much of one, hollowed out by the sadness behind her eyes. "Doesn't mean either of us have to love the fact."

"Maybe… but you didn't see what they did, you didn't have to listen to them laugh, watch them… watch them…" She pulled her arms in tight and another set joined them, hugging her tightly.

"No lass, I didn't. And knowing Yzabel, that beast probably put you through enough of the Hells. She's never liked me, and you being in high in Aran's eye only made her act even worse. I'm just glad she decided to just play with you." She pulled back and smiled at Sime, brightly and warmly. "And I know it wasn't easy, but you're still with me. You're still breathing, which is the most important thing."

"But Sareena isn't."

"No, she ain't," Mook frowned. "I know you didn't think she was a traitor, but she could have been. Enough good people have turned coat. Hells, she could have just tried crossing Yzabel, damn fool thing to do and leave her breathing…" Mook shook her head. "Never mind that, but you are alive. And I am. And lass," the left side of her mouth curled into a vicious smile and her eyes hardened as her hands squeezed Sime's shoulders. "That means we can get our revenge on that vicious little bitch."

Sime found herself matching that smile. She would get Yzabel back. She'd make her pay for Sareena and for humiliating her. Yzabel was dangerous, but so was she, especially with her Mook. "I like that plan."

"Good. So do I," Mook grinned. "But, you still have other work before that. Guild first, revenge second, and I know what Aran has in mind for you. We had a nice chat this morning once I woke up." She laughed.

"He did seem to show a particular interest," Sime said, feeling a little rush as the little nugget of how interested Aran had been in Mook's well being turned back up. She could feel her lips crack with a smile with a chance to feed her curiosity, especially about such an interesting topic.

"Well, I'm his best operator, course he's interested," Mook said, one eyebrow arched but beyond that her expression gave away nothing. "And once he updated me, I know how important a job you have."

"Of course," Sime replied, remembering her other assignments and shelving that factoid back into a niche in her memory. She could pursue that later.

"Course, they'll wait a while. Cause right now, what you need is hot food and a rest. They told me you stayed up watching me last night. Well, we need you top form. Which means to bed with you. Now, afore you worry, I'll have you up before nightfall and get you to the Coronet. Aran wants you to base out of there, keep an eye on our new friends."

"Not a bad plan," Sime said with a nod, her mind already working over the mission and her plans. "It'll let me … take care of debts and keep a watch on them. And it should be safe enough… well as safe as the Coronet gets."

Mook snorted. "Plenty of time for that, after food and sleep. You've got paladins and sorcerers and priests to watch. Not easy work, even for a bright one like you."

"Yes Mook," she smiled slightly.

"And no sneaking off while I get you food," her eyes narrowed and she waggled a finger in her direction, no doubt remember how many times she had snuck off as a girl.

"Yes Mook."

"Good lass."