Glazyre strolled down the front steps of the sprawling palace, walking toward his stolen carriage in his stolen clothing...and thinking about a certain hair ornament that he intended to have by the end of the night. It was the hair ornament that first caught his eye when he saw the woman pushing through the crowd, toward Lord Dunkirk. When he found that the woman was beautiful as well as rich he became quite confident, and quite happy that he wouldn't only be getting the ornament tonight, but a good time as well.

At first Glazyre thought that he had struck out, and that he would be forced to find another victim at this party he had stolen so much to go to this night. But alas the woman returned just has he was about to depart, whispering a tantalizing promise in his ear...

Glazyre reached his new carriage in no time. It was parked not far from the entrance, tightly squeezed between two others. It was a forest green color, with golden vines painted across each side. His driver, a out of work carpenter that he had hired to draw the carriage, was asleep in his seat, his hands holding the reins lightly. The two packhorses were nickering impatiently, snorting in the cool air.

Glazyre punched the man in the arm and he awoke with a jolt, his eyes searching wildly for his assailant. When he saw who it was he said, "S-sorry milord, I was just resting my eyes for a moment...are you ready to leave?"

Glazyre glared at him. The man had no idea that he was calling a lowly thief "milord". He decided he would play the part. "I'm not paying you to sleep you lowborn wretch. We will be joined shortly by a young lady and she will give you directions to her manse. Don't get yourself lost and show her the courtesy she is due."

"Yes, of course milord." He said, hastily. He sat up straight, at attention.

"Good." Glazyre said. Now, only to wait.

* * *

The dagger caught the fat man right in his wiggly jowls, and Takiya almost expected him to bleed gold. He coughed and gurgled, his eyes wide...the look of death beginning to spread across them. He was dead a few moments later, and Takiya--bared to her waist--pulled the dress up and began to collect her things.

After a few minutes of flirting and innuendo the fat man was ready to come with her to the storage room where she had entered the palace. When they reached the cramped room she needed only to slip her dress down and bare her breasts. The man was so occupied with staring at them that he didn't even notice when she pulled the dagger from her hair, and he didn't realize that his life was in danger until the dagger slipped in under his chin. By then it was too late.

She took all the jewelry he had, stuffing it in her pack. She left the same way that she had come, leaving the manse and walking around the outer wall toward the promised carriage ride. She would have to come up with an excuse for the pack that she held, she realized. She thought of one quickly. She never had trouble with lying convincingly.

She found the young man with his back rested against the carriage. When he saw her coming he questioned the pack, just as she thought he would.

"It was my father's. Lord Dunkirk thought that I should have it." She said. Glazyre believed her, he had no reason not to. She, however, had to be weary about what this enigmatic young man had to say. He had already lied to her once...

Glazyre helped her into the carriage with an outstretched hand, and in no time they were off. Takiya gave the driver false directions and began thinking of a way that she could escape him. During the ride Glazyre filled her ear with prattle; she did little more than shake her head when he finished a statement. After about ten minutes the carriage came to a sudden halt.

Glazyre paused in the middle of what he was saying and called out to the driver. "What is wrong? Make haste!"

"I'm sorry milord, there seems to be a situation up ahead. The road is blocked." Came the voice from the front. A quick glance out of the curtain showed that the halter chains of two carriages' horses had become entangled and the two drivers were trying desperately to loose them. The two nobles that rode in each carriage were arguing with each other, each blaming the other for the mishap.

Takiya realized that this was her chance. Glazyre told her to wait in the carriage as he went to see what the problem was. When he left she slipped out the opposite door and into the night.

* * *

She met her employer in the mist-covered dock area, as had been previously arranged. The man covered his face with a tall top hat that shadowed his face. His clothing was dark but fine tailored. It was probably a rival of Lord Dunkirk's, maybe a noble or a lord himself to judge by his clothing. She didn't ask why he wanted Dunkirk dead, an assassin never asked questions, they only finished what they had been hired for.

"Were you followed?" The dark man said. His voice was hoarse; it sounded like he had a cold or soar throat.

"No."

"Good. Here is your pay, assassin." He tossed her a bag, coins clinking inside. She caught the bag and looked at it suspiciously.

"Don't you want to have proof of whether or not he is indeed dead?" She asked. Most of her employers required her to show the blood-wet dagger.

"I had spies at the party. They know." With this he walked away, into the night. She couldn't put her finger on it but something about the man was unsettling...he gave her the creeps, and she didn't get the creeps too often...

* * *

Alans Bay was silent. The cobblestone streets were empty, though she saw the occasional stray dog or cat running through the dark, trash-littered alleys and avenues. The air in this sprawling maze that they called a city was stale and old, musky if not quite pungent.

She felt uncomfortable here, she was born to dwell high in the mountains where the air was fresh and clean, and the smell of sap and pollen was heavy on the winds. She closed her eyes and imagined herself to be back among her brothers and sisters, in a land where the wildflowers were abundant and colorful, the aspen stands thick and tall. She caught a glance of the Glittering Sea in the space between two shops. The sun was just beginning to rise above the arc of the horizon, turning the rolling blue waves to a golden color that warmed her heart and settled her soul. There was nothing more comforting than the simplicity and beauty of nature, and while the glance of the great whale road lasted but a moment it helped her to move on.

Aine's body ached. She had been traveling for nearly three weeks, leaving her home at the monastery of the Order of Kiran (AN: Kiran is a general term that refers to the belief in the Three Goddesses) high in the Rachla Mountains. The journey was long, and her pack wore heavy on her unconditioned shoulders. Her feet had become covered with angry red blisters that made every step painful but she did not falter, praying to her Three Mothers that they might see her safely to her destination...

And now she was here. She had dropped to her knees in rejoice when she came in view of the city gates, gave her thanks to Nayru, Farore, and Din. But now, as she walked down the quiet streets of this arcane place that she had never heard of she did not know what to do next. Perhaps her purpose here was to gather information about the Holy Stone whose whispers brought her to this place...?

The voices had come to her in her sleep, promising her that if she found the stone of legend she would discover her fate, discover why her Windmaster had banished her from the Wind Temple that day. "You have evil in you, Aine." Ravis had said, sitting atop his high seat in the great hall. "A black seed blooms in your heart even now, an evil fingerprint of the Dark King. He has some kind of connection with you...he wants you to join him in the underworld and I have foreseen that you will become his servant, his slave for all eternity."

Aine remembered how speechless she had been. Ravis had trained her to be a Wind Mage since she was a young child, had become her adoptive father when her own parents had been killed by a fist of those soldiers of the Dark King, those demons incarnate who were called the demi-humans. He had cared for her, had loved her, and now he was calling her evil?

"I cannot allow the presence of evil to dwell in this place...you must leave, immediately."

And then, she was thrust out into the world at the age of fourteen, left to fend for herself. She did not know what would have happened to her if she had not met the Monks of the Order in the village of Dalin below the Rachla ranges. If they had not agreed to take her in despite the apparent evil that dwelt within her heart she would most likely be dead.

Two years had passed since then, and Ravis' words had never left her. They were always in her thoughts, tearing at her, ripping her apart. And now fate, it seemed, had spoken to her and given her a chance to find the Tear Stone. When she found it she would also find the answer to the questions that constantly plagued her...

"Hey, girlie." She heard a voice say. It came from a dark alleyway. She stopped and looked. Three men were lounging within the alley, their backs resting on the brick wall. They were sharing a pipe among them. They approached her, and she got a clear look at their faces. They were ragged men, with gaps in their teeth and scraps for clothing. Their hair was shaggy and unkempt. One of them had a long red scar across his face that suggested he had been involved in a knife fight. Aine sensed danger.

"Strange to see a girl walking around so late at night...do you need directions somewhere?" The man with the scar said.

Aine smiled. She realized they just wanted to help. "Yes, in fact. I was trying to find the best place to go to gather information. An inn perhaps."

The man didn't seem to see her. He was looking at her ring, the ring that was a symbol of her rank as a Wind Mage. She could see the pristine white stone glinting in his bloodshot eye. "Give me the ring." The man said.

It took her a moment to understand. "I'm sorry, this ring is very important to me..." She said. He pushed her, and one of the other men tried to grab her but she dodged out of the way. She wasn't strong, but she was small and fast. She tried to get away but they blocked her path and trapped her against a wall. Her heart beat furiously; she could hear it in her ears.

There were monks in her order that could crush blocks with a clenched fist, could hit a man eight times in the space of three seconds. The Kiatan style of Marshall Arts was something taught for focus and discipline, for the defense of the helpless. She had learned only the rudimentary basics of self-defense, and she was unsure if that would be enough to help her against these men. They were broad shouldered, with arms corded in tight muscle.

"Are you deaf?" The man said. "I said to give me the ring. Give it to me or I'll kill you!" When she didn't react he lost patience. He struck at her, aiming for her stomach with a big fist. Aine's knee shot up, deflected the blow. He struck at her again, this time at her head. She ducked, her legs spread out to maintain balance, her simple white dress fluttering in the wind. She shot two fingers upward and hit him in the center of his throat. It was Quiah, one of the three vulnerable pressure points on the human body. It didn't take much force but it was delivered perfectly, and the man clutched his throat in pain, falling to his knees and then blacking out.

The other two looked at each other and then came at her in a fury, there eyes glowing with hate. She went into Ulahe form, the best stance for defense against a direct attack. The man threw a punch at her face and she dodged to the side and then shot forward, the side of her hand slamming into his left temple. It was Iroh, the most vulnerable of the pressure points. The man lost all equilibrium and ran himself head first into the brick wall that they had pinned her against. The last man paused in his flight toward her...and pulled out a long, serrated knife. Aine backed away. She had never learned the art of disarming an enemy.

She realized that she might have no other choice but to use her wind magic. She had shunned it long ago, had refused to use any form of spellwork other than that of healing. The man walked toward her slowly, arrogantly, the knife held out before him. A sadistic smirk had spread across his face. Aine cleared her mind of all distractions, looked on the world from the mind's eye. The voice of Ravis echoed through her mind. "You must see with your mind's eye, Aine. Your thoughts must be as clear as a polished mirror."

When she closed her eyes the man saw the perfect opportunity. He ran at her, knife slashing. Aine stretched forth her hand and drew from within her heart the essence of wind. The spell she cast was simple, but it was enough to stop the man in his tracks and knock the knife from his hand. When he halted she thrust two fingers out and hit him in the middle of the sternum. The third pressure point, Kihua. She released her spell and he fell to the ground.

She left them lying in the street, where they would awake in about fifteen minutes. The stars had been melted completely away and the sky began to fill with warm light. Aine liked how the rays of the sun made her face warm.

My journey is just beginning to rise as well. Who knows when it will set?