Saturday, 1 November, 1800 12:05 a.m.
outside the house

	The horse's hooves skidded on the gravel of the road as its rider jerked it to an abrupt stop.
	"This must be the place...." the rider murmured. She swung down from the animal's back and led it to the fence surrounding the porch. 
	"Well I don't feel like looking for a stable, so you're just going to have to stay here." she said to the horse, tying its reigns around one of the bars. She then stepped back, looking skeptically at the leather strips.
	"You could break that, couldn't you? And you will break that as soon as I go into the house, won't you?" she eyed the horse, who for some reason refused to make eye contact with her. "Well, we can't have that. Where am I going to get another horse up here?"
	That said, she touched the horse's nose right above his halter. "Now this won't hurt one bit as long as you don't move." She very gently brushed the horse's nose down in the direction of the halter. The skin moved gently under her fingers, allowing itself to be eased over the halter and reattached to the horse's face on the other side.
	"There. Now, if you stay put, you won't hurt yourself. If you do...." she shrugged, her voice trailing away. "Well, I'll leave it up to you."
	She detached her satchel from the horse's saddle and tossed it over her shoulder, sweeping her long silver white hair out of the way. Just as she was about to ascend the steps, the front door opened.
	Before her stood a girl who looked about her own age (not that that actually meant anything) in a conservative but fashionable blue dress and a longish braid running down her back. The girl glanced around, saw the horse, and then saw its rider at the foot of the steps. After about a microsecond of inspection, she crinkled her nose in disgust at the new arrival.
	"Let me guess....Tzimisce?"
	The other girl gave a snide smile full of way too sharp white teeth. "Let ME guess...Toreador?" she retorted.
	Carleigh's eyes narrowed in affrontation. "Ventrue. And it might behoove you to be a little more polite."
	"ME?!" the Tzimisce exclaimed incredulously.
	But the Ventrue girl ignored her. "My name is Carleigh Pederston. The leaders of our clans have put me in charge of this operation. And there will be no politics in this house, Sabbat, Camarilla, or otherwise."
	"Uh-HUH." the Tzimisce rolled her eyes. "I don't care about politics one way or the other. Just tell me there's a library here."
	Carleigh stiffened. "I believe there is ample selection of literature in the sitting room."
	The Tzimisce arched a forked eyebrow. "Okay...well then..." she started up the steps a second time, only to find Carleigh standing in her way again.
	"Is there something you want, Ventrue?" the Tzimisce was taller an probably stronger than this girl, but if she knew those senile elders who'd put this together, there was probably some sort of rule against murdering the other reps.
	"We will be living and working together for some time, Tzimisce." Carleigh mimicked the address. "So you might as well tell me your name."
	The Tzimisce resisted the urge to spit. Ridiculous pomp. "Dvorak. Carid Dvorak. Now will you get out of my way?"
	"Russian?"
	"Austrian. Move."
	Carleigh obediently stood aside. Carid brushed past her and moved in the direction of the lighted sitting room.
	Carleigh shook her head. No one said being a leader was easy. She pulled out her notebook and turned to the section entitled "Members".
	She had formulated this in the sitting room a few minutes ago. A section of her notebook to keep information on the other representatives in. One page for each clan/person. She flipped to the page headed 'Tzimisce'. Under it she wrote 'Carid Dvorak, Austrian' Once she got to know the Tzimisce a little better, this page would have information about Carid's personality, strengths, and most importantly, weaknesses. Notes were such useful things.
	As she was writing, a small black carriage pulled up. Carleigh glanced up in time to see a slender figure climb out of the carriage, pause for a moment to say something to someone still inside, then gather up her bag and close the door even as the carriage began to move away.
	The figure-a young looking girl- turned towards Carleigh. She wore a long plain black dress and carried an even plainer black bag.
	Carleigh smiled. Tremere. Finally, an ally. 
	With some clans, such as Gangrel or Nosferatu, you can tell their members at a glance. Normally, Tremere were not among the instantly identifiable clans. But Carleigh had never seen anyone who looked more like a Tremere than this girl. It wasn't just the clothing and accessories. Her skin was pale, her eyes and hair jet black, and she wore a small pair of wire-rimmed glasses. But of course, the most distinguishing characteristic was the long streak of perfectly white hair reaching from her left brow all the way down to the end of her long ponytail; a shocking contrast to the black of the rest of her hair.
	"Good evening." Carleigh said pleasantly as the girl came to the foot of the steps.
	"Morning by now, I believe." the girl smiled just as pleasantly.
	"I believe you're right." Carleigh returned the smile. "Carleigh Pederston, Clan Ventrue." she introduced herself.
	"Amaranth Polgaran, Clan Tremere."
	No kidding, Carleigh thought. Out loud, she said, "May I compliment you on your timing. You've just missed the Tzimisce representative." she said, indicating the sitting room through the still open front door.
	Amaranth nodded solemnly. "We will meet soon enough. I am prepared to cooperate with him, as per my orders. I understand that politics must be put aside for this venture...."
	"...but age old enemies might have a hard time with that." Carleigh finished for her. Amaranth nodded in agreement. "I understand how you feel." Carleigh sighed. "My elders expect me to take charge of this whole operation on my own." she shook her head helplessly. "I need a suitable partner to bring this kind of group under control. Can I count on your help, Amaranth?"
	Amaranth half-smiled. "I think so." Perfect.
	"Thank you. I can't tell you how good it is to find an ally." Carleigh smiled, turning to go inside. "Would you like to go have a drink?" 
	"Not at the moment, thank you. Oh, and please call me Amy. I realize my given name is a mouthful."
	"Of course." Carleigh smiled. "Excuse me, there's something I want to attend to." That of course meant she wanted to go write her synopsis of the new arrival in the 'Tremere' page of her notebook.
	"Certainly. I think I'm going to stay out here for a few more minutes. Such a lovely night."
	"Isn't it? Well, do excuse me." Carleigh repeated, disappearing into the house.
	Amy stood there looking after her for a few more seconds. After Carleigh had been gone for a good minute, she allowed herself a light chuckle. This was beyond perfect. Whoever thought the Ventrue would do Amy's work for her? Certainly, it was common knowledge that in the absence of any other Tremere, a Tremere's first move was to make friends with -an subsequently manipulate- the nearest Ventrue. Power behind the throne. that had always been the role of her clan. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Ventrue had been trying to take Amy in by making her think she had won. But no. That was something Amy would expect from another Tremere. The Blue Bloods always seemed to think that everyone wanted to be their lackey. That was why the usual Tremere formula had worked so well for so many centuries. And since Carleigh had been so good as to make the approach, the rest of this was going to be smooth sailing.
	Amy gazed up at the stars. She knew that she also had the Tzimisce and eventually the Assamite to worry about. Well, hopefully she would have her own room here. One she could put numerous magical wards around.