A/N Hello, all! Ohmigosh you guys are amazing! Thank you so so so much for following and leaving reviews! I was so happy, I couldn't stop smiling! Also, grayson-lover-101, you inspired me to write an interlude- tell me what you think!

Please review, and enjoy the chapter!

In the middle of debating whether to use poison or hire an assassin to kill Sindria's king, the slavers paused. "Did you hear that?" One of them asked uncertainly. "Hear what?" The man sitting across from him retorted a bit too quickly. "Your nerves are probably still shot from earlier, coward. You're hearing things-"

A sound cut through the night air, interrupting him. The first man swallowed, and the bodyguards surrounding their silent companion shifted, glancing around warily. "You heard it that time, didn't you." It wasn't a question, but the second man snapped back anyway. "Shut up! None of us could tell what it was. It could have been a damn cat for all we know!"

As if to contradict him, there was another noise, slightly different from the first but still recognizable. Almost immediately afterward, another followed. Then another, and another, until they filled the room faintly but completely with all too human pain and horror-

As suddenly as they had started, the cries stopped. No one at the table could meet each other's eyes. The silent slaver stood, and made as if to leave. "Hold on! Where the fuck do you think you're going?" The second man demanded. "We don't know what the hell is out there, or what the fuck is going on! Besides that, we're not done here-"

"I think you will find that we are done." For a moment, the two still at the table could do no more than gape at him. In the time they had known this mysterious man, he had spoken no more than a handful of words, relying on his henchmen to get his point across. They had let him join their planning sessions because he supplied the funds they needed. Now- "I intended to allow you your delusions, but it seems we have run out of time."

The man gestured to his guards, and they moved to flank him, preparing to leave. "We'll go the poison route. Our contact is much less conspicuous than an assassin, and they won't be expecting anything from that angle. For now, we must leave at once. It's true that we don't know what's out there, but whatever or whoever it is almost certainly is aware that we are in here. I'll contact you at a later date to give you the rest of the details at an alternate location-"

"Will you, now?" Everyone stiffened. That voice had seemed to come from everywhere. The was tone soft and hissing as a snake's, with all its deadly implications. "I would be most interested in your details." A chilling laugh. "Well, perhaps not those in particular-" From the shadows, two silver-colored blurs shot out, each finding a home in the heart of a guard. "-seeing as you won't be carrying out that plan."

Steel retracted, back and- up? The three men slowly raised their heads to the warehouse's ceiling. There, in the rafters. A darker shadow, blending with the rest but somehow different. The shadow lengthened- straightened?- and broke away from the rest, stopping just inside of the faint candlelight. And the slavers froze, unable to even think through the terror in their veins.

It wasn't very tall, but they hardly noticed. What they did notice was this- it was humanoid, dressed in dark clothes, darker patches catching the light oddly where blood stained them. It was holding a triangular knife, dripping with scarlet, in each hand. And its eyes were terrifying, the only visible part of its face, gleaming with satisfaction and cruel delight.

"...demon," the first man barely breathed. The thing's eyes snapped toward him, and he flinched back so strongly he almost fell, emitting a brief shriek. All was still and silent a moment longer, the slavers motionless in fear, and the monster's eyes watching them, waiting. The second man broke first.

With a curse and what almost sounded like a sob, he burst into motion, running for the door. Before he'd taken four steps, the demon- it had to be a demon, what else could it be- threw the knife in its left hand with deadly accuracy, burying it in the fleeing man's spine. He fell with a choked scream, moments later becoming completely still and silent as his lifeblood stained the ground.

The two still alive stared in horror, finally understanding with awful clarity the situation they were in. There was no escape. There was no mercy. All that was left for them was death, death at the hands of a demon. The first man's knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, tears flowing down his cheeks and terrified sobs shaking his shoulders. "Kill me," he whispered. "Kill me, kill me, kill me- gods, if you're going to do it just get it over with-!"

The second blade buried itself in his neck, and he slumped to the ground, face still streaked with tears and marked with fear. The demon recalled its weapons, and turned to the last man, the only one still living. He stumbled back, away from his dead companions, away from the door, away from the monster who'd slaughtered them all-

The creature let him back away, tilting its head to regard him. It leaned forward. And kept leaning. The man couldn't tear his eyes away from the beast, finding himself in the grip of a horrified fascination. It wasn't- surely it didn't intend to-

At the last moment, instead of jerking itself back, the demon threw itself forward, towards the ground. The man let out a shout despite himself. As it hit the floor, the creature rolled, absorbing the impact and turning it into momentum, unfolding and coming to its feet directly in front of him. He jerked backwards, scrambling to get away, and his back hit the wall. His mind went blank with terror.

The demon almost leisurely walked towards him, cold triumph glinting from those eyes. He slid down the wall, sure his life was about to be ended. It reached him, and crouched down to look him full in the face. "Now," it said calmly, conversationally. "Earlier you mentioned details. I'd be very interested in hearing the ones concerning your attack on the king today." His face drained of color. It couldn't be implying what he thought it was. "You-" he managed. He tried again. "You- you want to- to know-"

"How you accomplished it. Who your contact is. If you have any spies, and if so, their names. Any and all relevant information regarding the attack." The creature tilted its head, giving the impression that beneath the cloth concealing its face, it was smiling. "The more quickly and truthfully you answer, the less pain you'll be in. And the quicker you die. If you lie, or refuse to answer, I'll draw out your death that much longer." It straightened, and sat back. "Start talking."

Heart pounding in his chest, terror sinking into his bones, he started talking.

Interlude: Sinbad

Sinbad, King of Sindria, conqueror of seven dungeons and master of seven djinn, founder of the Seven Seas Alliance, paced worriedly in his chambers. The night drew on, darker and darker, and his advisor was nowhere to be found. They had terrorists in their city, people had actually broken into the palace and tried to kill him, and Ja'far was missing.

He blew out a frustrated breath. He trusted Ja'far. Of course he did! And he knew his General could take care of himself. That wasn't the point. The point was that his advisor was out there, at night, without backup, and Sin didn't even know where he was. He felt like screaming. Ja'far knew what he was doing, yes. He was a capable and dangerous individual, true.

But that didn't mean that he could take off, in the middle of the day, while Sin was distracted- being responsible for once!- and not so much as leave a note explaining where he'd gone! He just couldn't! What they needed his help with something? What if the attackers came back and with more numbers? What if they came back with bombs? What if Ja'far needed their help and they couldn't get to him because they had no idea where the hell he was and he died-!

Sin wheeled around, starting for the door, and stopped himself- for the forty-third time. Because maybe Ja'far needed help. But it was unlikely. And if his wayward advisor came back, while Sin was gone out looking for him- well. He wouldn't be worried anymore. He also wouldn't be breathing anymore.

"Sin, I'm going out."

"Yes, Ja'far," the king muttered under his breath. "But where, exactly, are you going?!" Gods, that had thrown him for a loop. He'd been trying to at least calm down the argument between Yam and Sharrkan, and hadn't really noticed Ja'far striding past him. As soon as he'd heard his General's voice, though, he'd looked up- and seen that his advisor really didn't look like his advisor at the moment.

He'd been dressed in loose, comfortable, dark clothes, and Sin had had the uncomfortable fleeting thought that Ja'far was dressed for war. Then, as Ja'far's words had actually registered, the man had thrown himself out the window. Okay, so he hadn't really thrown himself, exactly, Sin admitted. But he'd definitely… made a dramatic exit. He- wasn't going to lie. He'd panicked a little.

"Ja'far? Ja'far, wait! Wait! Where are you going?! Ja'far?!"

Maybe more than a little. The king sighed. By the time he'd managed to get across the room and to the window, his advisor had disappeared. And then Yam had declared she was going to locate the terrorists, snatched up Sharrkan's sword for the blood on it, and left for her workshop. Sharrkan, swearing and insulting her every other breath, had followed, demanding she give him back his weapon. The rest of his Generals had dispersed, going to prepare to confront the men or get back to doing their jobs.

And Sinbad had been left in the throne room alone, staring out the window, and worrying about Ja'far. Nearly twelve hours later, he was still worrying. Yam had a location for his attackers, and it wasn't changing. They planned to go confront them in the morning. Sin paused, considering, then nodded to himself firmly. He'd give Ja'far until morning to get back. If he wasn't in the palace by then, he would leave the terrorists to his Generals and go looking for the man himself.

And Solomon help anyone who got in his way.