"Mort, do you promise?"

"I promise, Teacher. May I be cast back into the depths of Hell if I break it. "

"Good. Now are you listening."

"I'm listening."

Zac leaned in closer.

"You see, Mortis, objects... have a mind of their own."

Mortis blinked. Then raised an eyebrow."Objects think? Right."

"I'm serious lad! Trust me on this; as a veteran thief, I know what I'm talking about. You said the summon/call spell would make stealing easy? You are wrong. Objects have energy; some would call it a will. It's not like ours, they can't actually think, as you just put it. But they have a sense of ownership, of whom they belong too."

He rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out his beloved charm. He offered it to Mortis.

"Using the skills you've just learned... well, attempted to learn... try to make this watch vanish. It's been in my possession a long time. See what happens."

The charm itself was a ring within a ring, dangling from a gold chain. Tapping the centre ring would make it spin wildly in any possible direction, creating a strange tinkling noise as it did so. Now, as Mortis reached out to take it, he hesitated. Some gleam in his Teachers eye, the way the charm swung evenly back and forth. He didn't trust it. In truth, he was almost afraid of what might happen.

"It's alright, you won't be harmed," Zac assured him.

Mortis slowly reached out with his hand, brought it back, then reached again. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the charm to vanish. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked at Zac. The old man was smiling.

"Try harder"

Mortis obeyed. He focused, concentrated, channelled all his thoughts into making that charm vanish. All at once he sensed a barrier. An invisible wall surrounded the charm, and he got a faint feeling of rejection. Mentally, he could feel the Zac's treasure dodging him, eluding his spell. He opened his eyes and saw to his surprise that physically it was moving to; swinging in wide arcs away from his reach and towards its owner. He dropped his hand and the charm returned to its normal path, back and forth, from the full length of the chain.

Zac chuckled and put his possession back in his pocket.

"Couldn't do it, could ya?"

Mortis shook his head. He was still trying to shake off that feeling of rejection. It didn't feel good. Zac leaned in to continue his lesson.

"Objects can't think, but they know whom they belong to. If someone unknown tries to vanish them, they will resist. That's why only your own possessions can be vanished so easily. In my mind, it's an important rule. Hell, imagine if everything could be vanished so simply. People would be walking around stealing left right and centre and getting away with it, scott free! We couldn't have that."

Mortis nodded. It made a lot of sense.

"So how does one make an object his own?"

"Ah, that's a good question, and one I can't rightly answer. It varies from object to object. If you steal a weapon or ring from a man, it will know. It'll resist you, waiting for its owner to return and claim it. As time passes, whatever type of limited will it has, forgets. That's the best way of putting it. It simply forgets its past, and begins to accustom itself with you. Very soon; it's yours. It might take days, perhaps weeks. But eventually you will be able to vanish it as easy as any other possession."

"Ahh, so the thieving can go on, even if the objects don't like it. Makes you wonder why they don't take revenge sometimes."

"Oooohhhh Morty, don't be so naive. There are some mighty powerful weapons out there. The older they get, the stronger the 'will' becomes. Some are so strong they'll never be vanished. It's like they know that if they allow it, they may be forgotten and they'll never see the light of day again. Just as well; the last thing we need is some senile old dolt vanishing the most finely crafted weapons of our time and then taking them to the grave with him. As for revenge..."

He leaned in very close now, to show how deadly serious the topic had become."Never -ever- vanish an object that opposes you. Especially weapons, they are the most dangerous. You couldn't vanish the charm because you are still learning the art, but someone of a strong mind and skill could do it. When an object that rejects you is vanished against its will... well, you remember how I said no one knows for sure where they go?"

He tapped his temple.

"We're probably more right in our guessing then we think. The item attacks the mind, the memory, everything. If it's a weapon, it may actually do some physical damage, although no one knows how. More likely the object will just pound against your mind, your subconscious, beating you down bit by bit. Like a childhood bully that constantly calls you worthless, slowly, over time, the object will get you. Men have gone completely insane, even taken tools to their skulls in an attempt to get it out. They have to be pretty far gone by then, of course, to forget how to do the call back spell."

Zac leaned back, his lesson complete.

"So now you see; thievery is not all quick wits and fast hands. There are more then just angry owners and vengeful guards to reprimand you. You pick up the wrong item" he tapped his head again; "it might just be the end of you."

Mortis was silent, studying his Teacher with a kind of unwell expression. He stared down at the common items he'd been attempting to vanish. A rock; a sharp, pointy rock. A compass, one of Zac's writing and drawing tools, sporting two needles at the end of each arm. He was beginning to wonder if he wanted this skill at all.

Zac laughed at the concern on his pupils face.

"Never fear boy, an object would have to be pretty nasty to do you any harm. We'll continue the lesson, and by the end you'll be able to pick out a mean one merely by glancing. You see if I'm-"

Right.

Mortis shook his head and glared at the sword. The spell was fully broken now, and all he saw before his eyes was evil. A twisted, bitter will within an ancient blade. He bent down to read the words carved delicately on a plaque attached to the stand.

"Ali Baba Hassani the 7th – His Greatest Find"

He straightened, still staring at the blade with pure detest.

"It's you, isn't it. You're the one weaving your vile will into the generations of this family. Each one that steps up to the throne claims you as his own, and you drive him further down the path of greed for your own enjoyment. You're a parasite. A blight upon man."

He felt somewhat stupid talking to the sword. If someone had come in they would have believed him mad. But he knew it could hear him, pick up his feelings even if it couldn't understand his words. Its own feelings were in the air. It wasn't rejected, or even angered at losing out to a stronger mind. It was mocking him.

Mortis could feel the laughter. Small children, forming a ring around a loner, pointing their fingers. Laughing. It wasn't a memory, merely an image to emphasize its point. The sword was confident in its place, in its ownership. Mortis sneered and leaned down.

"I could take you, you know. Take you and drop you in the deepest part of the ocean, bury you under a mile of sand. You'd be lost, alone with your own sour will."

'Do it,' it dared him without words; 'take me as your own. You know I'll win. You still want me; I'll bend you to my cause. We could be powerful -oh- so powerful...'

Mortis was beginning to slip again, reach with his mind. His hand was beginning to rise when a familiar booming voice drifted down the corridor.

"... and bring my sword. You never know with these kidnappers, they can stab you in the back faster then empty your pockets of gold..."

Mortis straightened. The blade intensified its efforts.'Take me. Use me to kill the Sultan and his besotted bloodline, use me to kill the leaders of the Human Zoo. Take me. We could be-'

"Every bit as corrupt and greed filled as the Sultan himself?" Mortis finished out loud. "You'd like me to do that, wouldn't you? Take you and spill the blood of the whole palace? The town would turn on me for sure, and then we could spill their blood as well. No, my lampreyish friend, you're staying there. The Sultan needs you, and I wouldn't wish to delay his trip by denying him of your presence."

He began to back out of the room. Even though the spell was broken, he found it hard to tear his eyes away until he was well out in the corridor.

"You want to hope the Sultan decides not to take you on this little business journey. 'Cause if he does" he paused long enough to give the sword a lazy eyed smirk, "you won't be having the pleasure of human company again for a long, long time."

He turned down the corridor and headed silently for the stairs.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Five horses, pounding across the desert. Rise and fall. Under the cover of night they rode; the Sultan in the middle, four stony faced and silent guards surrounding him.

Abdullah Hassani rode with a grace expected from someone of majesty. Someone who'd been trained by professionals at an early age, someone who could afford luxuries like that as well as a horse birthed from the purest of thoroughbreds. He didn't even need to think about moving in time with his steed, his subconscious did it all for him.

Which was good, because his mind was elsewhere.

Blasted spoilt insolent child. Contemptuous seed of his mother's womb. Ever since Jerhyn had reached the age when he was legally allowed to assume royal duties – commanding guards, slaves, and influencing his decisions on the city – he'd been nothing but trouble.

Help the homeless? Provide loans for struggling business owners, straight from the palace reserves!

Hassani was mad. Furious. Where did his son think money came from? Thin air? The boy hadn't done a days labour in his whole life; he didn't know the meaning of real work.

The fact that the Sultan had led an equally leisure filled life never crossed his mind. He was seething, all thoughts on his son. Plotting, thinking, churning.

He blamed most of the boy's insolence on his mother. She had been a beautiful harem girl; young, free willed, and had a passion for people. It was what drew Abdullah to her. But he let himself be woed by her charms, and didn't realise the effect having a women like this for his Queen would have on his own rule.

She too wanted to use the taxes to help the community. No matter how hard he tried to explain, it never seemed to get through that they were not obligated to do so. The people paid their taxes for the mere privilege of living in the city - if it wasn't for his family they'd be fending for themselves out on the dunes.

But she did it anyway, trafficking money right under his nose. When he discovered the reserves had been dwindling, he immediately suspected it, but instead opted to remain silent. He arranged for his young bride to visit her family, far off in Khanduras.

He smiled silently to himself in the moonlight as they cantered over the sands. Sabre Cats were dangerous adversaries, but even they could be persuaded to put aside old grudges if the price was right. No one would ever find his wife's caravan, that he was sure.

The cliffs of the canyon were drawing near, and he knew the Desert Oasis and Human Zoo lay beyond. Tonight he would be careful about the choosing of his slaves; the last ones were weak and far too obedient. Half the pleasure of having slaves was the chore of breaking them. To Hell with the whines of his son, the Zoo came too seldom to pass up such opportunities.

He patted the sword hanging at his belt. Though they supplied him with workers, and gratefully took the gold that he offered, the Keepers of the Zoo's were not to be trusted. He always took guards, and never went unarmed. Rarely did he take out his family sword, however. It swung loosely on his leg, hilt rising enough with the movement of the horse to reveal the glint of blade inside its sheath.

It was ancient, found on the battlefield of a war long forgotten. Passed down in his family for generations by the great Ali Baba Hassani. And tonight, for some strange reason, he'd felt compelled to take it with him. It felt wrong at first; surely the sight of such a unique weapon would only make the Zoo Keepers even more dangerous. But then he knew that nothing could stand against him while he held that sword. He was a Sultan after all, blessed with the innate ability to fight with skills far beyond the common ruffian. If they attacked him, they would fall by his blade, and that was all.

Darkness passed over him as they entered the canyon. The black, jagged rocks protruding from the walls yearned for the taste of horse-flesh, but the guards knew better. They'd ridden this pass many times, and even in darkness they could navigate more then safely. Stars shone through the long, thin gap high above. Hassani scanned the cliff edges, beginning to feel at peace, the rage towards his son subsiding.

Something caught his eye. A silhouette, briefly back dropped by stars, leaning down the canyon towards them. Then it was gone.

A surge of fear passed through him, but it didn't feel like his own. It came from elsewhere, an outside influence. The sword swung lazily by his leg. The fear lessened, but still remained.

The horse's steps faltered, slowing from a constant gallop to an uneasy trot. The guards grunted with confusion as they fought with the reigns and spurred into their steed's flanks. Hassani's own horse snorted defiantly, aware of the same presence scaring the others but determined not to back down.

A guard cried out as his horse reared high, braying and champing at the bit. It reared again, grappling with invisible hands, and the guard began to fall. But he never hit the ground. A sound like swooping bats echoed down the canyon, and with a rush of wind the guard was snatched out of the air and carried high. Hassani gasped, while the others began to panic.

They watched the two forms; one the flailing guard, the other a huge, winged creature, flying high above the cliffs. Then the guard was released and he fell screaming onto the cliff's edge and out of sight.

Abdullah barked some orders and his three remaining men dismounted or tumbled off their steeds. The horses brayed gratefully for their new found freedom, and fled away into the darkness. The guards raised their spears and surrounded the dark stallion upon which their Sultan sat. All was silent.

The winged beast had disappeared as quickly as it came, but the guards remained focused on the sky.

("What is it?")

("Where's it gone?")

("I can't see… it could be anywhere!)

The whispers were urgent, wavering with concern. Abdullah could see their nervous movements as they scanned the stars. One of them stepped forward suddenly, his voice rising.

"It is a demon. It knows what we've done; what we've been doing. It is retribution on wings!"

"Hold your tongue, soldier" Hassani growled. "It is within our rights –"

"Tell that to the beast!" the guard cried, dropping his spear and pointing to the sky. "He's come to punish us. There will be no mer –"

A shadow on the cliff lashed out, hooking its fingers under the man's jaw. The other guards yelled and hurled their spears as their companion's body was lifted off its feet, but both projectiles hit only stone. The unfortunate victim kicked and gurgled as he was hauled up the cliff, before his jaw snapped apart and he fell. The Sultan allowed himself a sickened groan as the body tumbled back down and hit the sand, spewing vomit and blood in an unstoppable gush.

"The devil is upon us!" cried a remaining guard, and fled the way of the horses. On the sand, the jawless man was trying in vain to crawl after him, but soon collapsed again. His dead eyes glinted dimly in the starlight, appearing to stare straight at the Sultan. Abdullah shifted in his saddle and turned to the last of his men.

"Defend your Sultan. Defend your honour. Die well: your family will be rewarded."

With that he spurred his stallion and galloped down the dark canyon path. The Zoo Keepers would help him. He'd make them pay if they didn't.

Karhal turned in a slow circle and studied the cliffs. Every ridge or stony abnormality seemed to pose a threat. He'd picked up his spear again and now held it out before him, its sharp tip glowing in the darkness.

He was a big man, and a rigorous training routine ensured he was in peak physical condition. His skill with a spear was almost unmatched among the ranks of the Sultans guards. But the thing he was fighting wasn't a man, and it was a lot more agile then him. His only hope was that his keen eyes would detect its movement before it crept up on him.

In the distance, far down the path from whence they'd come, a scream echoed and then was cut short. Karhal grinned silently to himself. At least the cowardly worm had got his just deserves. He'd never liked men who ran from a fight.

Silence once more. He was the last, the only, the bait for the thing in the shadows. He sneered in the dark, baring his teeth.

"Show yourself, creature. Fight me, man to beast. Let me die the glorious, battle-filled death I desire."

When no reply came, he turned around fast, still scanning the cliffs.

"Creature? Creature! I'm warning y -"

-THUMP-

Something very large landed heavily a few feet away from him, sending up a cloud of sand. It squatted, wings folded protectively around its head until the cloud had settled. Then it slowly stood up.

Karhal gaped.

"Dune Hunter…? I thought it might have been, but then I thought even you wouldn't be crazy enough to assault the Sultan directly."

"Karhal. Good to see you again, but I would have preferred it under different circumstances."

The big man jammed his spear forcefully into the sand and leaned on it.

"Indeed. So: you going to kill me now?"

"That would depend. You follow and serve the Sultan. Do you believe what he does is right?"

"What? You mean getting his slaves from the Human Zoo? He's scum. My own nephew was captured and sold by that wretched business, and if I could I'd kill every last one of them. Alas, it's kinda hard to do that and keep a low profile in a small city like Lut Gholein. No, I hate the Sultan for collaborating with those bastards, but I really have no other choice. Protect him or starve. It's an unfortunate fact."

The Dune Hunter strode over to him, his long shadow and sizeable wings almost filling the path. His golden eyes shone; the only visible part of his face. But soft chuckling told Karhal that his approach was not hostile.

"Good" Mortis said, "That's what I wanted to hear." He took the spear carefully from the human's hands and snapped its tip from the sturdy pole. "Go home now, Karhal. That's a better reward for your family then anything the Sultan could have offered."

Karhal stared at the demons glowing eyes for a minute, then took a step back.

"Make his death swift, Dune Hunter" he said, bowing his head. "And if you can, kill a few of the Zoo Keepers while you're at it."

They both turned at the same time, and headed opposite ways down the canyon path.

"Don't worry" Mortis's voice echoed down towards Karhal, "They've already been taken care of."

The horse's breath came out in short, moisture-filled snorts. White foam frothed from its mouth, coming off in chunks and leaving a white flecked trail along the path they'd come. The Sultan rode atop his steed with a desperate determination, not daring to look behind. The canyon would end shortly, and then he would be safe.

As if in answer to his thoughts, he burst forth into bright moonlight, leaving the jagged cliffs at last. The desert opened up before him, a glistening silver sea rolling on forever. Palm trees marked the location of the Desert Oasis, not far ahead, and in front of them sat the large barred carriages of the Human Zoo. Abdullah relaxed at last, feeling the tension seep gratefully from his muscles.

But as he drew closer, he could tell something wasn't right here either. Nothing was stirring around the cages. Usually it was hive of activity. Nor were there any wails from the distressed and angry slaves.

He pulled the horse to a jarring halt when he saw the figures lying on the sand, dark puddles leaking out from them. The bars on the cages had been wrenched apart brutally and the slaves set free. He already knew it was too late. Every keeper had been slaughtered, either by the creature or by the slaves themselves once it had freed them. He dismounted and cautiously went to investigate.

The keepers had been bludgeoned or clawed, some tossed into carriages or high into the air so they'd landed at strange angles. All the horses had been taken, and hoof prints led off in the various directions of the homelands those who rode them had been stolen from. He snarled, angry at the fact that he'd lost so many men and slaves in such a short space of time. The creature would pay; he'd make sure of it. The rage was building, fuelled from somewhere within.

Kill the creature. Then hunt down every one of those fleeing slaves and kill them too. Hell, while he was at it he should probably go back to the palace and chop up his insolent son, just to prove his point. No one was going to stand against him. Man or beast, they would fall.

And then he heard it. The sound, ever so softly, like bats gliding on the breeze. It was coming closer, from behind him, and fast. Time slowed. The sound of his own heart thudded in his ears. Breathing seemed oddly loud. His hand was drawn inexplicably towards his side, where it found the hilt of his sword. It was pulsing too, in time with his heart.

The sound came closer. Not yet. Closer. Wait until it is upon us. So close. …Us? The time was now. NOW!

Hassani drew the sword and spun, slashing with all the strength he had. The blade struck something hard, digging deep, and then it sliced through and was free again. There was a cry and a large shape hurtled over him, smashing into the remains of the Zoo cages beyond. Dark droplets sprayed into the air and dripped from his sword. Abdullah felt a grim pleasure sweep over him.

"Hah! So you dare attack a Sultan from behind? How does my blade feel to you, creature? Does its bite burn as bad as the defeat you just faced?"

He wiped the sword with his fingers and flicked them to the sand. Then he advanced on the wreckage his attacker had barrelled into. It was at his mercy now. Man or beast, they would fall before the Sultan of Lut Gholein.

Mortis groaned and pulled a large splinter from his side. Only seconds before he'd been bearing down on Hassani, ready to fulfil the contract. Then the man had spun so fast and so late that it was impossible for Mortis to dodge that cursed blade. He touched the deep gouge in his chest and grimaced. It wasn't serious, but it hurt like Hell.

Not far off, the Sultan was shouting incoherent things like a loon, his brief success probably exhilarating him. Mortis would put an end to that fast enough, as soon as he could pick his way out of the wreckage. He groaned again as he tossed a heavy metal bar off his legs and removed some wood pinning his wings. The Sultan was walking towards him now, swinging that sword wildly and screaming.

"Flee creature, flee! Crawl back to the cesspit you came from. Run from Hassani!" There was a madness in is eyes that wasn't human. Mortis knew the sword was in control now.

He heaved himself up painfully and leapt from the wreckage onto the roof of one of the intact cages. There he knelt, breathing hard and slowing the flow of blood from his wound. The Sultan reached the cages base and screamed up at him.

"Come down, vile beast! Fight me!"

Mortis glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I would, but I would not be fighting you."

"Devil talk. Your words mean nothing to me!"

"Feel the rage, Hassani. Is that really your own? Do you really believe that you could take on a Balrog and live?"

"I would take on the Lords of Hell if I could! I am the Sultan. All will fear me!"

Mortis sighed and leaned down towards him.

"If that's what you wish, then –"

"It is! FIGHT ME!"

Abdullah swung the sword and smashed the base of the cage in half. It collapsed in on itself, almost taking Mortis with it. Instead he jumped off and glided to the side, where he hit the sand and came up in a defensives stance.

The Sultan gave an angry scream and charged towards him, slashing and hacking. Mortis easily dodged the first blows, swatting the sword away each time it rang close. He lashed out with a well aimed kick and took the feet out from under the crazed man.

Hassani hit the sand and rolled, leaping back up again in an instant. Mortis was impressed.

"Not bad for a fat man."

The Sultan growled loudly and came for another charge, and Mortis parried and ducked, toying with him. The man was tiring, the sword was heavy, and soon he could end this contract with ease.

"Give up, Hassani. Give up and you'll die faster. You're only prolonging things."

"Shut up devil, silence your cursed words. Die by my blade and be grateful you had the honour!"

He swung in a wide arc, and Mortis caught his arm at the elbow. They wrestled unmoving for a second, each trying to overpower the other, until Mortis began to squeeze.

"Unhand me, beast! Unhan- aah.. ARHH!"

With a loud crack the Sultans elbow splintered and his arm went limp. Mortis released him and watched as he stumbled back, dropping the sword to the sand and holding his useless hand.

"You… you monster… you vile, wretched…" something changed in his features, and he blinked, as if he was seeing things clearly. He glanced around him at the remains of the Zoo, then at the great winged demon before him. Real fear filled his eyes.

"Wh-what… y-you… by the gods!" The Sultan turned to flee, but Mortis was on him in an instant. He drove a light punch into the mans stomach to quell his movements, then held him up straight.

"So, now you see, Hassani. Now you see what before was clouded."

The Sultan merely stared at him, struggling to recover from his winding. Mortis drew his face in close.

"The sword. Its will is stronger then yours; it's stronger then any of your past blood. Your families decay and corruption amuses it, and I believe you've been a fantastic puppet so far." He pointed to the blade lying innocently on the sand. "It's had you, Hassani, fuelling your emotions and driving your greed."

The Sultan regained his voice.

"Yes... yes! It was the sword! Oh gods, I see now. Please, take it away from me. That cursed sword has destroyed my family. Take it away!"

Mortis smiled and his grip on the man's shoulder tightened.

"That might be so. But the sword does not drive one to buy from the Human Zoo. That was you, and your own loathsome desires. You aren't fit to rule, and from what I've seen, your son is a far better man anyway."

"The boy? You're mad! He's weak, useless -"

"He cares about the people, which is what a Sultan should do. Not use the taxes to furnish his own selfish wants. You will not be missed, Hassani."

The man gulped, then glared defiantly into his assailants eyes.

"You are the Dune Hunter. Though I've never seen you, I recognise you from the stories. You won't get away with it" he hissed, "People will suspect you. You'll never be welcome in our city again."

Mortis brought his face close to the Sultans ear.
"Oh, I think they'll understand. Especially when they find your corpse beside those of the Human Zoo. And one final thing Hassani" his voice became low and sinister, "I've been to Hell. You're wife isn't waiting for you there."

He punched his hand deep into the human's stomach and kept on pushing. The Sultans eyes grew wide and his mouth opened in a silent scream. Mortis took hold of the vitals inside and yanked, pulling his arm and a fair amount of internal organs out with it.

The Sultans staggered, staring in horror at his own insides, before desperately trying to push them back in with his one good hand.

"Won't… get… away…" he gasped, falling to his knees. "Will…… pay."

With a heavy thud he fell to the sand, face buried deep. Mortis stepped on his head to drive it in further.

"Yes, paid a lot in fact." He stooped to pull an emblem off the Sultans turban as proof. "Money well earned, I believe."

Moonlight trickled down, the stars twinkled excitedly. A slain ruler lay among the corpses of evil men, where he belonged. The contract was fulfilled, but the task not fully complete. The demon had one final job to do, as he faced the sword for the last time. He wasn't going to lose.

"I mentioned that if the Sultan brought you, it'd be the last human company you'd see for a long time." Mortis knelt down beside the blade and whispered. "I feel you're fear. You know your fate."

'You can't destroy me. Nobody can. You don't want to. You aren't strong enough.'

"I don't need to destroy you," Mortis spoke, "just hide you somewhere humans will never find you again." Using a piece of cloth, he scooped up the sword and cradled it, making sure not to touch the cold steel.

"And I know just the place."

The gaping hole in the sand yawned at them, a perfectly formed burrow heading down for an unknown length of space. Mortis stood at its entrance and smiled.

"I'm sure you'll find ways to entertain yourself. The minds of Sand Maggotts are easily broken."

'You can't throw me down there. You won't. You can't. You won't. You can't. You-'

"I can, and I will."

'Can't. WON'T. CAN'T. WON'T!'

The force was unbearable, so desperate was the blade to escape its fate it was trying to break Mortis mind apart more then persuade him. He could feel it beating and tearing for all it was worth. He shook his head, trying to clear its influence.

"Can…. and will…"

'YOU ARE MINE'

"To Hell with you, sword."

He bundled it up in the cloth and hurled it, a perfect throw down the angle of the tunnel. He listened to it whizzing and skimming, grinding sand from the walls as it slid further down into the Maggott's darkest lairs. When he could at last hear no more, he was satisfied.

He sighed and dusted the dust from his hands. The wound on the side of his chest stung, but it was healing. He was feeling that strange fulfilment that always occurred after a successful job, as well as the adrenalin slowly seeping away.

Hassani would be found; that he was sure of. But lying next to the ruins of a business as abominable as the Human Zoo would destroy any creditability he had left. Even if the town did suspect Mortis, they would only assume he had a contract on the Zoo and the Sultan had got in the way. Besides, he liked the idea of leaving the man's corpse to become bloated in the sun, and for the vultures to feast on his remains. It seemed somehow fitting.

His final words he had been quite proud of as well, though in truth he had no idea if the Sultan's wife had avoided the eternal torments of Hell. It wasn't like he'd been back to check since he left so long ago. That didn't matter of course, it was the grim satisfaction that came from the Sultans final expression that made the sentiment worthwhile.

Mortis checked to make sure the Sultans emblem sat tightly in his pocket, and took to the air. It would be a nice, leisurely flight back to Lut Gholein, and then he could sit and have a drink with Atma and her husband. Perhaps even have a game with Elzix, though he knew the old rogue would cheat. Braca would meet him on the boat, and tomorrow they would travel to –

"FOOL! Ignorant, useless fool! What have you done? You've spoilt EVERYthing."

Mortis came to an abrupt halt mid-air, hovering and looking around urgently. The voice had been within his mind, and for a second he thought the sword may have been calling him from beyond its grave. But this was far different. This was an actual voice, not one he believed he heard. This was a person, contacting him through means similar to the way the Hell Lords controlled their minions.

"Who are you? Where are you?" he spoke to thin air.

"You ruined it! Ruined it ALL! My plans, my beautiful plans."

"Stop your whining and answer me!"

"Fool, fool, foo- … hmmmm… yes… yyeesssss…perhaps it's not too late to remedy this. You may be of more use then I thought."

The voice suddenly became more formal, as if the whole time it had been speaking to itself more then Mortis. Its words sounded sinister, but not hostile.

"I apologise for that earlier outburst. You are the Dune Hunter, are you not?"

"Yes, I am. Who are you?"

"Not of your concern. Now I shall state my demand:

You have committed an act of murder, for which I have witnessed every moment. Should you fail to complete the task I am about to set you, I will not hesitate to spread the details of the deaths of the guards and the Sultan himself to all in the city. You may believe his affiliation with the Human Zoo is enough to keep you from the wrath of the people, but rumours are easily worded. It isn't hard to make a justifiable killing sound like a cold blooded slaughter."

"How dare you threaten me! Come face me yourself –"

"Shut up, I'm not finished. I will not have to do such things if you just do as I say. I too wanted to remove the Sultan, but as you did that first and earlier then I desired, you've hampered my plans. Help me execute my new plans, and you'll never hear from me again."

Mortis thought about this. The mysterious voice had him in a firm grip. He couldn't afford rumours to spread around the city; not only would they ruin his friendship with the people it may jeopardise his contract with Braca. It seemed he had no choice.

"Alright" he said slowly, "I'll help you. But I expect more information soon."

"All in due time. I am pleased you have decided to co-operate. Fly back past the canyon to the place the city dubs 'the Dry Hills'. I will contact you further then."