3rd day of Ransalacue, 5571A

The Long Whiskers Inn & Tavern

Talantier, The Divided Lands

The mood was relaxed as the members of the Light in the Darkness sat around what they had come to think of as "their table" in the common room of the Long Whiskers.

Illumenatta was uncommonly quiet. The moon elf was making small gestures with her right hand, her elbow propped up on the table but not saying or singing anything.

After several attempts, tiny balls of yellow light appeared around her fingertips. She smiled and sent them flying across the room with a flick of her wrist, to the curiosity and in some cases consternation of the other few patrons present before the lights winked out.

"Sorcery?" asked Qidarchios, who did not seem enthralled with the idea.

Lumen nodded, a small but satisfied grin upon her delicate features.

"I can't begin to tell you how much I wanted this, Dark. I've always yearned to wield arcane power above and beyond what I could do with my voice, but I was never able to learn wizardry, much to the displeasure of my arcane scholars back in Evistar," she finished with her smile turning bitter.

"Well," replied her cousin, "I suppose I can't fault you for that. I've always thought about it myself, but there are few wizards in Rendrick, and I certainly never had the money for training. I remember, though, listening to all the tales Darren used to tell me about the adventures of his old band, and their wizard…"

The bard's voice trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Oliver!" he suddenly announced, turning in his seat to address the wizard on his right, who was currently feeding scraps of his breakfast to Fiach. "Our experiences in Dromdal Manor have convinced me I need more skills than those I already possess; I'd like to try and at least see if it's possible. Could you tutor me in wizardry?"

Athraite frowned. "I'm a transmuter, Dark; a specialist. Many of the schools of wizardry that you'd need to learn would be closed off to you if you learned from me. Unless," he shrugged, "you're interested in becoming a transmuter yourself."

"I'm not sure," replied the high elf. "I think I'd like to know more about the subject before I make a decision like that. Do you think the local wizards' guild could help me?"

"Don't know why not," said Oliver. "I'm looking to advance in my field; it's one of the reasons I came to Talantier in the first place. We can go there together this afternoon."

Dark nodded, looking satisfied as he fingered his belt pouch.


Lumen had divided up their pay the previous evening before they had turned in. Not only had Lieutenant Anderson paid them the agreed upon one hundred gold nobles, but the moon elf had coyly suggested to the officer that since their group had in fact put an end to the Swan Street Slicer for good, that perhaps the town council might see fit to bestow an additional reward upon them.

The lieutenant, clearly torn between his disdain for what he thought was Illumenatta's greed and the not-inconsiderable effect of her charms, said he would see what he could do.


"So," Sebastian Sanders, currently sitting to his friend Oliver's right, spoke up, addressing Illumenatta. "Are you still planning to give Caffrine her share of reward?"

Lumen frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

The barbarian shrugged. "I thought perhaps items she stole from body of dead halfling would be compensation enough for her."

Saito Takahashi, currently on Sebastian's right, choked violently on the glass of wine he had been sipping from, causing Seb to pound him on the back, a maneuver which nearly caused the samurai's forehead to collide with the table surface.

"What?" he finally managed in a half-sputter, half-shout.

"When hobbit first attacked me," the draconic barbarian explained, miming with his right hand the slashing movement Peck had made with the straight razor, "I noticed he was wearing metal bracers on arms. Halfling wore no armor; we all saw that," he continued, his expression casual as he glanced to his left at Oliver Athraite, "but my friend here tells me that wizards who can afford them often endow such bracers with magical protection. Is not hard to imagine our Slicer being able to secure such items, or to be gifted them."

Sebastian took a slow and deliberate swig from his mug of potato whiskey.

"Bracers were not on body when we left," he finished simply.

Dark said nothing but cursed himself silently. He had noticed Caffrine crawling over to Peck's body but had simply assumed the young rogue was checking to make sure their enemy was indeed dead.

The bard frowned as he looked over to Sebastian again. This was the second time the barbarian had surprised him with both his keen senses and his deductive reasoning abilities. He resolved to not to jump to conclusions so quickly in the future.

"Thank you, Saito," Lumen said abruptly.

The wood elf, just now recovered, glanced suspiciously over at her. "For what?"

Illumenatta tented her fingers as she looked over them at Takahashi.

"For not making any ill-advised comments."

Qidarchios tried to read the samurai's expression. Takahashi was not at all happy; that was obvious, and he disliked being told off by anyone; nothing new there, either. But the wood elf had been even more laconic than usual since last evening and while everyone assumed Saito would be feeling guilty over his near-murder of their party rogue while under Auralana's magical compulsion, there was something more at play here.

Saito wasn't talking though, so Dark decided to let the matter drop, at least for now.

Six heads turned as two male humans and a female elf, all smiling, entered the Long Whiskers and headed directly towards them.


"Wow."

It was Qidarchios Sunleaf who had made the comment, but the elven bard's sentiment was clearly a universal one as the sextet eyed their gold.

Vivi Knot's parents and Cole Chartsheim's uncle had, as promised, presented the party with material tokens of gratitude for the safe return of their family members. After pressing the group for all the details they could about the circumstances of their family members' imprisonment, which the sextet censured only by emitting the most gruesome parts, they had given each member of the party two small bars of gold, each one equivalent to fifty nobles. They had again asked by what name this group was known by and Lumen had again responded The Light in the Darkness, at which Saito's teeth grinding was patently audible.

As the three were leaving, Lieutenant Anderson of the Talantier Guard had arrived and given the party an additional three hundred and fifty gold nobles as their reward from the town council for bringing this unpleasant matter to a conclusion. After he had left, this had been divvied up to fifty apiece, with Lumen again holding onto Caffrine's share for now.

"You children have certainly had an exciting first few days here in town."


For not possessing (or at least not publicly admitting to) any roguish abilities, Adorella Sunleaf, the proprietor of the Long Whiskers, seemed to have an uncanny ability to eavesdrop on people without being noticed.

The tiny, wizened elf peered at the six seated around the table. "What are you planning now?"

"We're still going to help Caffrine find her family, great-grandmother," Illumenatta Duskwind replied as formally as she could, "but in the meantime I'm going to check out a new advertisement I saw this morning on the notice board for a possible job."

She looked around at the others. "I assume no one else would be adverse to making some more coin?"

There were no dissensions.

"Well, it looks like Seb, Dark and I are hitting the wizards' guild," Oliver said. He looked over at Saito, was sitting still and peering intently into his wine glass. "Any plans, Takahashi?"

The samurai slowly raised his head to regard the mage.

"Not as of yet," he said slowly, his eyes not seeming to register the wizard's face. "I… have some thinking to do."

"What about you, Bjorn?' asked Dark.

Their party cleric, currently sitting to Lumen's left, who had been even quieter than Saito this morning, chewed his lip. Like Saito, he seemed to be unwilling to look anyone else in the eye right now.

"I should go check on my mule," he said slowly. "Pay for further lodging and all that. I may also make another visit to the Naturalist Guild; get my money's worth out of them."

Despite his best effort, Lumen caught his eye for just a moment.

I understand, he thought she was telling him with her emerald eyes. Go and see Ceseli.

An exasperated sigh from Adorella caught the attention of all six adventurers at that moment and they all followed her gaze as the front door opened again.

Five men entered the inn. All were dressed identically.


All five wore chainmail, but it took the eye a few seconds to register this as they wore form-fitting white waistcoats over their armor, each emblazoned with a split image of the comedy/tragedy masks of the theater; the left side of the face smiling and the right side frowning.

Although their height suggested they were human, the race of these men could not be precisely determined as each one was wearing a porcelain comedy theater mask, which were attached to their faces by leather straps that encircled the back of their heads.

A similar mask: the one of tragedy, was attached to their weapon belts.

Each person wore a flowing black cape with a scarlet lining and white silk gloves.

Two identical shortswords hung from each belt, as did two daggers.

"Fops if ever I saw them," muttered Oliver Athraite but Adorella shook her head.

"No," she said. "They're the Curtain Alley Players; mostly the younger sons of Talantier nobility. They're rakes and scoundrels to be sure, but don't go out of your way to cross them. Their wealth allows them the best combat training money can buy; swordplay from marshals hired by their fathers but also instruction in more," she hesitated, "streetwise forms of fighting, allegedly purchased from the Nightsong Guild."

"What are they doing here?" asked Dark.

"You can always find them here and there," Adorella replied, "but they really come out in force whenever a new play opens. The theater companies use them as stagehands and bodyguards; lets them mingle with all the right people."

Sebastian shook his head, clearly bemused.

"What a city," he opined. "Even street gangs are obsessed with theater."

The men had been making their way in a line towards the bar that spanned the back wall of the common room, but the one in the rear spotted the sitting sextet and tapped his nearest companion on the shoulder, setting off a chain reaction.

Ten seconds later, all five were standing by the Light in the Darkness.

More specifically, all five were standing in a semi-circle, looking down at Lumen.


"Good morning, gentlemen," the moon elf said, tossing her golden hair back and smiling up at the men while giving them her best dazzling smile although behind their masks, it was difficult to determine the effect this had.

One of the five, who had a healthy shock of strawberry-blond hair falling down around his head, responded, his voice oddly muffled by his mask.

"And good morning to you, Illumenatta Duskwind."

The moon elf allowed herself only a slightly raised eyebrow in response. "You know me?"

"No moon elves living here," the Alley Player replied. "Your grandfather told us you might be coming to our fair city."

Lumen tried to do some fast thinking while still smiling at the human. Her maternal grandfather still lived in Evistar, so he must be talking about…

She glanced over to Adorella, who seemed to be reading her mind.

"My eldest son," she said, nodding slightly. "Fidran."

"He's the Guildmaster of the local Blacklock Loreseekers," said Strawberry Blonde, who seemed to be the spokesman for their group.

This statement made a noticeable impact on five of the six people sitting around the table.


"These people are of some importance?" Saito Takahashi asked, looking around at his companions.

"The Blacklock Loreseekers are what you might call an Adventurers' Guild," Qidarchios informed the samurai. "They have chapters in almost every major city in Tristoland, or so I've heard."

The high elf looked reflective.

"Darren's old adventuring band was registered with them," he continued, then looked back up at Strawberry Blonde. "They tend to emphasize the mercantile aspects of adventuring."

The Alley Player shrugged at this but said nothing.

"They have a chapterhouse in Three Falls," Oliver noted. "Always seemed like dangerous work to me."

"Yes," Sebastian nodded at the mage. "Good thing you never signed up with them, my friend. "You might have found yourself in a tight spot here and there otherwise."

"Ha ha."

"Yet another relative of ours living here," Dark said to Lumen, shaking his head with a woeful expression. "Caffrine is not going to happy knowing yet another family member was here the whole time she was in that orphanage."

"No one knew," said Lumen, dismissing that idea with a shrug of her own. A frown now darkened her features, though.

"I've only met him a few times and not in years," the bard and budding sorceress said, more to herself than anyone else in the common room. "I do know he was one of those pressing my parents to have me trained as a wizard."

Her eyes narrowed as she peered up again at the Curtain Alley Players.

"He was one of those who thought moon elves needed to be trained in order to fulfill their destinies."

She'd nearly spat out the last word, but Strawberry Blonde seemed unperturbed or if he was, it was hidden by his mask.

"The Fall of Ilumeninoridan opens tonight," he said.

Ah, Lumen thought. The real reason they're here.

She smiled again at the Alley Player leader, letting him know that the ball was in his court.

"With Vivi Knot not available," the rake continued, "Bloodrain was forced to recast for the role of Princess Ilumenine. Malia Nightdew is a good actress and a full elf at least, but even skilled makeup artists cannot do justice to the real thing," he said with the hint of a bow and Illumenatta got the impression that he was smiling at her behind his mask.

"We just wanted to see a real moon elf," another of the players added, this one with the edge of what might have been a dueling scar peeking out from behind his mask.

"Well," said Lumen, adding as much huskiness into her voice as she dared, "I hope you're not disappointed."

She kept the smile on her face but inwardly she felt revolted at these people staring at her like she was some kind of a carnival attraction. Illumenatta, however, was taking her great-grandmother's warning seriously and hoped the other members of her party were, too.

"Who is Bloodrain?" asked Qidarchios, who seemed to empathically understand what his third cousin was feeling and looking to change the subject.

"Nathanial Bloodrain," Strawberry Blonde replied. "Owner of the Night Raven Theater and director of all its productions."

"Very mysterious half-elf," added Scar. "Only ever seen at night."

He leaned forward to stare down directly at Dark.

"They say," he said in a dramatic tone that bordered on the ridiculous, "that he's actually a vampire. No one dares to cross or even criticize him."

"Well, that makes sense," said Sebastian, nodding in agreement.

The Curtain Alley Players all turned their attention to the barbarian, who seemed nonplussed.

"If a wampire was living among humans and elves," Seb continued, "he'd naturally want to make sure he wasn't discovered, so he'd choose an inconspicuous name for himself; one that wouldn't draw attention."

He didn't bother to hide the disdain in his smile.

"Something like… Bloodrain."


Crap, crap and triple crap, Illumenatta thought.

She could feel as much as see the Alley Players stiffening up behind their masks.

The atmosphere in the room changed with almost a frightening rapidity. The air temperature seemed to drop.

Lumen saw that the hand of the rakes were slowly moving, not towards their weapons, but to the tragedy masks that hung on their belts.

Adorella Duskwind gave a very soft whistle.

As her companions readied themselves for battle, the moon elf saw movement out of the corner of her right eye.


Illumenatta had noticed the breastplate-wearing half-orc sitting on the far stool to the left by the bar when they had first entered the Long Whiskers two nights ago and indeed, the half-orc rarely seemed to leave his perch. Lumen, who disdained half-orcs as a rule, had written him off as a regular drunken patron but saw now that she had been very much mistaken.

The half-orc stood up. Even from here, Lumen could tell that he had several inches of height even on Sebastian. He had no greataxe or other fearsome-looking weapons that she had always assumed half-orcs were required to carry by some battle tradition or other such nonsense.

He did, however, seem to be carrying just about the largest sap the moon elf had ever seen, and was now slapping this weapon repeatedly into the palm of his left hand.

"Is there a problem, Miss Duskwind?" the half-orc said as he slowly approached the table.

"Not sure yet, Durinok," the elderly elf replied, her familiar smile now firmly back in place as she turned back to the Curtain Alley Players.

"Of course not," replied Strawberry Blonde and Lumen read in their body language that none of them were keen to get into a fight with this Durinok that she belatedly realized must be the Long Whisker's bouncer.

"We're just here for a drink," said Scar and the quintet moved off to the bar, giving the glowering half-orc a wide berth as they did so.

Strawberry Blonde, the last to leave, fixed Illumenatta with a final look.

Despite his mask, Lumen would have bet any amount of coin that the man was not smiling at her now in the least.

"Opening Night is sold out," he hissed at her. "Maybe towards the end of the run we'll see you in one of the cheap seats."

"I might be there," the moon elf replied pleasantly, "but I guarantee you'll never see me unless I want you to."

She waved a cheery good-bye at the rake as he left to rejoin his fellows. She'd hoped to be able to get her hand to glow with her new-found sorcerous powers, but it didn't happen.

"Never a dull moment."

Lumen looked over in surprise at the samurai, who was still looking down and did not return her gaze.

Saito Takahashi did not strike the moon elf as the reflective type, but it was clear he was wrestling with some internal dilemma. Apparently, the wood elf had some personal choices to make.

As do we all, Illumenatta thought. As do we all.


Tarrow Shick's modest stone cottage in Talantier's Quarry Quarter looked nevertheless well-maintained; the small vegetable garden tended to and the ivy covering its roof and walls neatly trimmed. Shick, the city's chief jailor, welcomed Lumen courteously at the door and invited her in with a sweeping gesture. The human, probably in his mid-seventies by Lumen's estimate, still kept a trim figure and snow-white beard which matched his hair. He was dressed in the City Guard's officer uniform which had been his previous profession.

"Thank you for responding so quickly to my posting," Tarrow said, bidding Illumenatta be seated at a small table, after which he uncorked a bottle of wine, set down two glasses on the table and began to fill them.

"I've never tasted this wine," he said. "It graces tables in social circles well above my own. This bottle was a gift passed down to me along with a task. Both of which I now share with you."

He took the seat opposite Lumen and raised his glass to her with a smile.

"To opportunity."

Lumen returned the smile and the toast, clinked glasses and drank.

She was impressed; Lumen as a rule considered human vintners vastly inferior to their elven counterparts but she had to admit she might have found an exception. The wine was tart and flavorful, with a distinct character that she could not identify.

Tarrow set his glass down and sighed in appreciation.

"This is Dissident's Wine," he explained, "so named for the prisoners forced to work the vineyard where it is produced. You see, Sumner Chateau at the center of that vineyard is also in the business of incarceration. It provides cells for hire and we, like many authorities here in the Divided Lands, use it for persons requiring… special consideration."

Lumen tented her fingers and kept her eyes on Shick's face as he spoke, searching for body language clues.

"At present," Tarrow continued, "Talantier is holding two prisoners there. As far as the public knows, these men have simply vanished and that is how it is to remain. Unfortunately, rumors of recent escape attempts have undermined my superiors' confidence in the chateau's security, and they have demanded the prisoners' transfer."

Lumen narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

"I need someone to travel to the chateau, collect these two prisoners in secrecy and return them here. I remind you again that these men's names and deeds are not important. To the rest of the world, they don't exist. You'd do well to remember that."

Shick stood up and walked to a nearby end table, taking a sealed envelope and a belt pouch which clinked as he carried it. He set them both down on the table in front of Illumenatta.

"The release orders," he stated, indicating the items, "and your payment in advance. Fifty platinum royals."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Well?"

Lumen sighed and stood up.


As a bard, Illumenatta Duskwind was accustomed to putting on a performance but her dislike of this situation was so intense that it was all she could do to keep from slapping this human across his cheek.

This was everything she had heard in her childhood, which technically wasn't even over yet, about the twisted machinations of humans. It went against not only everything she had been culturally steeped in as an elf but also everything that she personally believed in in terms of her own life path.

"Mister Shick," she stated in a cold, polite voice, "these men, whomever they might be, are political prisoners. That much you made clear," she indicated the bottle of Dissident's Wine on the table. "Imprisoning someone simply for their beliefs is so evil in my opinion that I'm surprised a city built and governed partly by elves would have anything to do with it. Not to mention disappointed," she finished, unable to keep the sneer entirely off her face.

Tarrow looked as if he was about to argue the point but Lumen cut him off.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time sir, but I will not be taking on this particular task." she said and walked to the door and opened it before turning around to look at the jailor one last time,

"Thank you for the wine, Mr. Shick," Lumen stated, "but I'm afraid it has a bitter aftertaste that I don't find appealing at all."

She closed the door and left.


Saito Takahashi was grateful that each member of the Light in the Darkness (by the gods, how he hated that name!) had been given their own room.

His hands were shaking so badly as he wrote that any roommate would be bound to notice it and ask questions that he had no intention of answering.

There were over a dozen sheets of parchment and even in the samurai's tight scrawl it was going to be a close fit as to whether he would be able to finish his first monthly report by the last page.

He supposed, of course, that he could simply go out and purchase more parchment but that would add to the weight of the package and raise the cost of sending it out even more.

As it was, this report was literally being messengered to the other side of the world.

A horse rider to take it all the way to Redshore and then the paperwork to have it taken aboard the rare deep sea merchant vessel that would be sailing all the way across The Great Sea to Nippon, and then to have it delivered to a trusted courier to transport it all the way back to the Saito chapterhouse in Negacha City, where his daimyo Saito Mitsune would be waiting for it.

Total cost thus far: at least eighty gold coins and possibly more.

Yet, Saito thought to himself as he stopped writing to rest his hand once again, this was why he was here in the gaijin lands in the first place. To report.

Or was it, he asked himself for the hundredth time as the face of his fellow samurai Niwa Kinnori swam before his eyes once again.

"Yoichi stated that there might be more to our mission than was revealed to us."


Takahashi sighed again and reread what he had written one more time.

It was a straightforward account of everything that he had seen and heard roughly from the time he and these other strange individuals had seen the tinsmith cut down by brigands on the road leading into Talantier; brigands who came from a place that apparently no one in the entire world had ever heard of.

The report seemed sufficient in terms of observation but skimpy to Saito in terms of conclusions. True, he had not specifically been told that he, Takahashi, was to give his opinion on everything he had seen and experienced here, yet it would be safe to say that these "barbaric" lands- and people- were nothing like what he had expected.

He had certainly not expected this mission to begin to cause him to question… everything.

And now he needed guidance.


His hand shaking as much from nerves as it was from writing for hours on end, Saito had described their battle against the Swan Street Slicer; and how he had then turned and without warning stabbed his ally in the chest.

Saito had written of course that his mind had been clouded by a spell, but he was not sure how clear he had made that in the report. Lady Dromdal was no wu jen or shugenja, and there were no analogues of these "bards" in Nippon. The entire concept of them simply didn't exist there.

Worse, there were no clear precedents in the bushido trainings that Takahashi was familiar with that spelled out exactly how responsible a samurai was for his actions while under magical control.

However, when he dared to ask that question of himself, Saito's own answer was always the same; that a true samurai would never have allowed himself to fall victim to such magic in the first place.

Takahashi got up and walked over to the window in his room and opened the shutters, revealing the late afternoon sun of a crisp, clear early autumn day, and the sounds and sights of the tiny portion of the city of Talantier that he could see from here.

He closed his eyes as once again, tears threatened.

A true samurai…


He was writing again now, the quill dipping again and again into the inkwell as he tried to keep his hand from trembling still further as the end of the parchment loomed ever nearer.

Great Lord Mitsune-sama, your unworthy servant beseeches you from the other side of the sunrise; tell me from your wisdom what is to be my resolve from these events? You may rest easy in both knowledge and honor that if you deem it needed for your most loyal servant to take the path of seppuku, it will be as certain as the return of the cherry blossoms in spring.

Saito raised his hand from the parchment, but the trembling did not abate.

Seppuku.

He dipped and wrote again.

Thus is my report to you as you have requested, Great Lord. I write these words in the wretched gaijin calendar day of Ransalacue 3rd, 5571A, though my heart knows it to be the 3rd day of the Long Month, 21st year of the 24th Heavenly Cycle.


Saito had been about to start rolling up the parchment scrolls in preparation for tying them up and placing them into the scroll tubes he had purchased for this very purpose when suddenly he dipped his quill into the inkpot again and scrawled one last time, looking on in amazement as he watched the words he had never dared to write appear on the paper before him.

My last words, oh Great Lord. Due to the exorbitant cost and time involved in getting these reports to you, it is not possible for me to write directly to anyone else in our blessed homeland. Therefore, I beg of Your Lordship to convey to my parents my humblest greetings and eternal gratitude for rescuing a poor wood elf infant from ruin and raising him as a man in Nippon that one day would have the opportunity to become a samurai in your worthy service, my Lord.

And finally, it must surely be known to you, Mitsune-sama, that Towaki and I quarreled in the morning of our departure and there was no time to patch up our differences before I left. Therefore, if it is no inconvenience to you, mighty Lord, please send someone to my household to tell her that I am well and that…

A stabbing pain shot through Saito's chest and he clutched at his heart, trying to calm it by sheer will alone.

Was this what Caffrine had felt as the katana blade pierced her chest?

Betrayed by someone she trusted?

He knew he shouldn't have written these last words, but there was no going back.

There never was, Saito Takahashi knew now.

and tell her, that if she can ever find it in her heart to forgive me, that her husband still and always will love her.

The tears came again and this time there was no stopping them.


Bjorn Sigmundson hadn't meant to stop upon turning onto Swan Street from Spit Street.

His feet seemed to have decided the matter for him.


Staring down at his metallic boots, the cleric of Balder marveled wryly that between his hands, his feet and his apparently way too overlarge mouth, there was very little of his body that seemed to be willing to listen to what his brain was telling it to do these days.

He took a deep breath and moved on.

In the distance, five bells tolled.


Dromdal House looked little better in the sunshine than it did under cloudy skies. Bjorn thought it ironic that to passers-by the domicile would look no different today than it had twenty-four hours ago and yet inside, everything had changed in that span.

Everything.

Somewhere behind him, a vendor called out, "Meat pies! Fresh, savory meat pies for sale! Get 'em while they're hot!"

Each step for some reason just a little bit harder than the one before, the Werold priest hauled himself onto the dilapidated front porch, made it to the door and knocked. Within seconds, it was answered.

Barnsworth stood there, gazing up at him.

I guess not everything has changed, Bjorn thought to himself and had to fight to suppress a grin that he knew would be completely inappropriate under the circumstances.

The elderly hobbit stood there just as he had yesterday, looking up at him in that half-befuddled, half-questioning look that he seemed to have perfected.

Bjorn thought Barnsworth honestly looked as if he didn't recognize him, but then the halfling turned his head to peer back into the entryway.

"One of the Light in the Darkness to see you, my Lady."

Bjorn looked up just in time to see Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich emerge from the shadows and join him on the porch.


Ceseli was wearing another simple white blouse and matching long skirt. She stood there in front of Sigmundson while Barnsworth silently retreated. The priest had a brief glimpse of what looked like laborers moving around in the dining room before the front door was closed.

Bjorn marveled again, this time how such a good-hearted woman who had endured such heartache and then have all of that multiplied a hundred times over in the space of one evening could possibly still be smiling; wan, trembling and pale though it was.

He wasn't quite sure which of them had reached out and taken the other one's hands in their own.


"Hello, Bjorn."

Her voice was hoarse and her face red from crying, but her eyes were strong.

"Hello, Ceseli," he replied. He was about to ask How are you? when sanity mercifully raised its voice inside the cleric's brain and choked off that response.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked instead. "Anything I- I mean we, can do?"

She shook her head while gently squeezing his hands.

"I think I'm going to be all right," Ceseli said quietly. "Father did set us up well enough to get by, if not exactly prosper. It's just me and Barnsworth now," she sighed, then tilted her head to regard the cleric.

"I'm sorry, Bjorn. I guess I should have told you about Ritter."

He looked at her in confusion. "Ritter?"

"The dog in the basement," she said, her voice dropping still lower and what was left of the smile sliding off her face. "I haven't been down there in almost two years. I only saw it this morning…"

She shook her head again but this time in regret. "I'd no idea he'd grown so big." She let go of Bjorn's hands and held out both of her own towards him, cupped together. "He was only three weeks old when Father brought him. He could just about fit in your hands."

"How long ago was that?" Sigmundson asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, about three years past, I'd say."

Bjorn swallowed hard.

"He turned mean very fast," Ceseli said, her voice barely a whisper now. "Towards everyone but Mother."

"Never mind that now," Bjorn said, taking Ceseli's right hand in both of his and for the first time, looking at her as he had done that night.

Her response was a mixture of fear, desire, confusion and regret.

He dropped her hands.

"I'm staying at the Long Whiskers, Ceseli," Bjorn told her, his own voice trembling now. "If you need anything or even just need to talk to someone, I'll be there."

"Thank you, Bjorn," she said. "Thank you for everything."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, then pulled back, taking his hands in hers again and swinging them slightly.

The wan, tearful smile made a reappearance.

He managed to match it.

"Meat pies! Fresh, savory meat pies for sale! Get 'em while they're hot!"

Ceseli looked over the cleric's shoulder, wiped her eyes clear and managed a brief wave.

"Hello, Mung!" she called out to the vendor.

"Hello, Ceseli! Fine day today! Meat pie?"

"Not today, thank you," she replied, then leaned in close to whisper to Bjorn.

"I don't recommend them."


Mung, Bjorn could now see after he had bid Lady Dromdal-Andronovich goodbye and retreated off the porch, was a middle-aged half-orc with mottled skin as green as it was gray and a gut that hung well over his belt. His clothes were so torn and frayed as to be little more than rags, but he seemed cheerful enough as he shifted a sack over his shoulder and nodded at the cleric who had just emerged back onto Swan Street.

Sigmundson was just wondering how he'd be able to politely refuse the offer that he knew was about to come his way when, to his great astonishment, he saw the rest of the Light in the Darkness (minus Caffrine, of course) round the intersection of Spit and Swan Streets he had just come from and make their way towards him.


"Hello, Bjorn," Illumenatta said, taking the lead as she so often did, as they approached.

"Long time no see," the cleric responded, sending a quick prayer of thanks to Balder that the group hadn't been around to witness his meeting with Ceseli, even if they had apparently guessed correctly where he had gone after his other errands.

"Have a profitable afternoon?" he asked them.

"Well," Oliver Athraite said as Fiach flapped his wings and cawed loudly, "the Wizards' Guild is willing to train me and try their best with Dark here," he indicated the elven bard with a jerk of his thumb, "but it's going to require a bit more gold than we've currently got."

"And that job posting I saw this morning turned out to be a dud," Lumen muttered, her expression turning uncharacteristically taciturn.

Bjorn noted that Saito Takahashi's eyes were red just like Ceseli's had been, but that was impossible. The samurai couldn't have been…

"How was your visit, Lover Boy?" Saito abruptly asked Bjorn, but the priest didn't take offense this time. It was so blatantly obvious that Takahashi was trying to redirect attention away from himself that Sigmundson decided to humor him.

"Fine, Saito," he said quietly, affecting a sigh. "It was fine."

"Hello, fine gentlemen and lovely lady! Meat pies! Fresh and savory meat pies! Get 'em while they're hot!"

"Oh, yeah," Bjorn remembered as he turned to indicate the half-orc. "This is Mung."


With the exception of Sebastian, none of the party seemed interested in Mung's meat pies and the barbarian almost seemed pouty when Oliver shook his head at him, dissuading him from purchasing one.

Mung did not seem ruffled by their refusal, but he made no sign of moving on, either.


"Pardon me," the half-orc said, his booming voice now much lower in volume as he took a furtive look around before closing in to speak with the group, causing both Lumen and Saito to wrinkle their noses in disgust.

"You have the look of- dare I say it- adventurers about you," Mung noted. "Might I trouble you for a moment?"

"Sure," Bjorn and Dark said simultaneously, as no one else did.

"Mung's the name," the half-orc stated proudly if redundantly as he straightened back up. "I'm a baker by trade. Best meat pies in town! Unfortunately, one of my suppliers, a fellow named Algie, has gotten himself lost. No one's seen him for a week. I wouldn't worry, except that four other ratcatchers have gone missing in the past month and two of them have already turned up dead. I don't have much money, but everyone in town knows Mung. Help me out and I'll make your life a lot easier. What do you say?"

"Ratcatchers?" Seb asked, his reptilian face wrinkled in confusion before he noted the sack Mung had slung over his shoulder. "Ahh."

The barbarian leaned over to address Athraite.

"Thank you for saving me, my friend."

Oliver smiled and nodded smugly.


Adorella Duskwind had just finished giving direction to her staff for getting ready for the evening rush and was about to return to the kitchen to supervise when she noticed a lone figure sitting at the large table her great-granddaughter Illumenatta, her great-grandnephew Qidarchios and their assorted friends had been sitting at this morning.

Moving closer, she saw that it was still another one of her great-granddaughters; the half-human called Caffrine, in fact.

"Hello, my child," she said warmly. "The others should be back soon. Are you waiting for them?"

The teenager turned to look at her and Adorella could see in an instant that she had been crying.

"No, great-grandmother. I actually need to talk to you."


Adorella listened attentively as Caffrine explained her situation. Having literally hundreds of years' experience in dealing with people, the old elf knew the young rogue was shading her story to cast herself in the best possible light, but she knew with just as much certainty that Caffrine wouldn't be here in the first place if she didn't feel she had to be.

When Caffrine had finished, Adorella nodded soberly, pulled up a chair next to the teenager and laid a bony hand on her shoulder.

"You have a choice to make, Caffrine Esslos," she said, kindly but firmly. "it won't be an easy one no matter what you decide, but the very fact that we're talking tells me you already know, I think, what you have to do."

The young rogue nodded, trying to keep the tears from coming again.

"I don't want to put them in danger," she whispered. "Not even Takahashi."

The innkeeper nodded but stayed silent.

Caffrine looked up at her. "Adorella," she said, her voice louder now. "If I choose to stay with these people, that might put you at risk, too! The Nightsong knows they're staying here, and they know you're related to several of them! I should-"

She made to stand but with unexpected and surprising strength, Adorella pulled the teenager back down.

Caffrine stared at her, wide-eyed. She made to speak but Adorella put a finger over her lips.

"Hush, child," she said softly and stood up so she could kiss her on the top of her head.

"You're family," she told Caffrine, a hard glint visible now in her cloudy eyes. "End of discussion."