Danandra was, once again, waking up in an unfamiliar bed. She seemed to be making a habit of it: usually this would be more Sharinta's style than hers.

It was comfortable and warm, but the smell, this time, was nowhere near as pleasant: there was an overwhelming tang of disinfectant in the air, which overlaid something a great deal less salubrious. Someone was whistling a jolly sounding tune over the sound of scrubbing.

She decided against opening her eyes yet - her unaided vision wasn't so bad that she couldn't at least see to get around, but she might learn something from unguarded conversation, if her captors thought her asleep.

The whistling stopped. "Ah, you're awake. Good afternoon." A woman's voice, well-spoken: Danandra was unavoidably reminded of the woman who had taught riding and care of horses at her childhood school.

So much for feigning sleep. Danandra brought defensive and offensive spells to mind, ready to be cast, and started to form the first one in her left hand, ready to unleash if required. Nothing, however, happened. She experienced a brief moment of fear, but quickly brought herself under control. She would gain nothing from panic, and her pride (always a pretty formidable force) wouldn't let her show it.

"Good afternoon," she said, opening her eyes. She was in a small room, with stone walls and no windows - a cell, albeit one with a comfortable bed. Without her glasses she couldn't make out any more detail. "Achieving a thaumically null environment for a space as relatively large as this cannot have been easy."

"I'm afraid I don't have an advanced knowledge of magic, my dear, but it certainly wasn't cheap," the woman answered. "Still, one sets certain standards for one's hospitality, and ladies and gentlemen of a magically learned persuasion can hardly be kept wrapped in a thaumatonet in a broom cupboard: it would be unconscionably disrespectful."

Danandra had been expecting to see one of the mages who had captured her, or perhaps Leni (deep inside, she was terrified of that possibility, in a room where she couldn't use magic). She hadn't been expecting a tall, robust woman apparently engaged in cleaning the walls. The woman was across the room from her, so again her unaided eyesight couldn't make out any details, but she could tell she was a fellow ginger, dressed in black. The bare stone walls and floor of the cell were wet: freshly cleaned. There was a small drain in the centre of the room.

"How civilised of you," Danandra replied.

"One must do one's best, under the circumstances. I am Lady Jenata - a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Danandra," the woman introduced herself.

"I am hardly a lady," Danandra replied.

"You are a Lady in Melindron, my dear, and Melindronian titles are recognised in the new republic. I must admit to being terribly old fashioned about modes of address," Lady Jenata replied, putting down her scrubbing brush and seating herself primly in a chair. "Please accept my apologies for your incarceration: I shan't tiptoe around the subject and use euphemisms such as 'honoured guest', but I am, however, sorry that it's necessary. I'm reasonably confident that you won't be required to remain here for more than a few days, and you may take my word that you are in no danger from me: in fact this may be the safest place in the city for you, right now."

"You will forgive me if the nature of our acquaintance so far does not give me grounds to place a great deal of faith in your assurances," Danandra replied, unconsciously ratcheting up her diction a little bit to match her captor's.

"I quite understand. You may have the freedom of this house, however, if you give your word - on your powers - not to attempt to escape or interfere with my business in any way. I will gladly give my word that nobody within these walls will harm you, and to extend you protection from the Assassin's Guild, your former associate and her new friends," Lady Jenata said. "In fact I would be overjoyed to offer my protection to Lady Sharinta and Lord McKenzie, on similar terms. Contact them, explain the situation: they too will be much safer here."

Well, that confirms that, Danandra thought. The Guild is after us, and Leni has found her level. It didn't quite explain the incompetent kidnapping attempt - that had been too amateurish for the assassins - but if Leni had been behind it, well, Danandra probably wouldn't have woken up again, ever.

"I regret to inform you that I cannot give you my word on those terms. As to your other suggestion, I will not, under any circumstances, betray my friends," Danandra replied, with a conviction she did not feel. McKenzie was dead, anyway: a thaumic feedback loop with the power of the quintessence behind it was not something that anything could survive - it was a surprise the city was still standing after all that rushing, burning, raging magical energy was released in an explosion of-

"You seem to be blushing, dear," Lady Jenata said, sounding somewhat puzzled.

Danandra brought herself under control. Damn it! "I will not betray my friends," she repeated.

The Lady Jenata tilted her head to one side in a gesture akin to a shrug. "I would, of course, give exactly the same answer under similar circumstances. It speaks well of you - I value loyalty above all things. Well, perhaps I can at least have your belongings brought to you. A scholar should not be without her books and scrolls. Where were you staying?"

"That is something else I will not be telling you, Lady Jenata," Danandra replied.

"Well, it was worth a try, dear," Lady Jenata said.

Danandra briefly considered if she could physically overpower this woman. She was a good deal smaller and slighter than her captor, it was true, but Danandra knew that she was in good physical condition, and had the quick reflexes of elves. Presumably there were guards outside, but if she had a hostage...

"There are clothes there, they should be a good fit." Lady Jenata indicated another chair. "I'm afraid that Makhrup did not think to bring your glasses, but if you know the prescription, I'll send out to have a lens grinder make a pair immediately."

"Where is he? Makhrup, I mean," Danandra asked.

"Him? I have no time for turncoats. I bade him bring you into this room, where, as you so sagaciously spotted, magic will not function - then I drank his blood and ripped him up into pieces small enough to fit down that little drain, there," Jenata explained, in an offhand manner. "Hence the cleaning - I do so hate to leave a mess for others."

Danandra went cold.

"Oh, clumsy me, I missed a bit," Jenata said, cross with herself. She stood up and headed towards Danandra, her eyes on the bedside table.

Danandra followed her gaze. There, next to a glass of water, was a severed hand. It was close enough that Danandra could see there were two golden rings on the fingers, set with small rubies. Makhrup - or what was left of him.

Jenata picked it up, lifted the drain cover, and dropped it down. A splash followed a few moments later.

"Terribly sorry about that. I'm afraid I'm no sort of a cleaner at all," Jenata said. "Please do tell the guards if you find any other leftovers, they'll be more than happy to dispose of them for you."

Danandra said nothing, and mentally filed her current escape plan under 'unworkable'.

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. My offer still stands - do say if you change your mind." Jenata picked up her cleaning bucket and opened the cell door. "For now, though, good day, Lady Danandra." She closed it behind her, and Danandra heard bolts thunking home.

They slid back a moment later, though, and Jenata poked her head back through the door.

"I'm such a scatterbrain, dear - I quite forgot to ask. Would you like something to read?"

"Do you have a copy of Mahrelion's On the Nature of Vampires, their Strengths, Weaknesses and How to Defeat Them, by any chance?" Danandra asked her.

"Oh, bravo Lady Danandra. We're going to be terrific chums, I can tell," Lady Jenata said, laughing. "I admire wit under adversity, it speaks of a good strong character. I'll send one of the chaps down with a selection of novels, instead. Ta ta for now."

And with that, she was gone.

- o O o -

I'm still alive, McKenzie tweeted, but you wouldn't believe the day I'm having. Here's a snap of a floating statue of a famous dead guy, anyway. The driver of McKenzie's carriage, who seemed to be mulling a career change to be a tour guide, had just pointed it out - it was a fairly ordinary statue, except that it was enchanted to float in the air above the centre of a square that was close to the Unsheathed Dagger. McKenzie thought he'd be fairly safe tweeting something as general as that: he didn't want to stop it completely if it was pissing Lemuel off, but if someone without his best interests at heart was reading his tweets and somehow feeding intelligence back to this world, then he didn't want to give the bastards an easy time of it.

"Here you are, sir," the driver said, then took note of McKenzie's somewhat dishevelled appearance and abruptly switched his career aspirations from 'tour guide' to 'pimp': "Not bein' funny, mind, sir, but this place is notorious expensive. I knows a bloke as runs a place where the girls are just as pretty but you pays in silver not gold, sir, if you follow my meanin'."

"How much?" McKenzie asked.

"Well, for the usual with one of the gi-"

"How much for the carriage fare, dickhead," McKenzie clarified.

"Oh. A silver bit," the man said.

McKenzie tossed a silver coin into the air above the man's head, and dropped down out of the carriage. The man had stopped a few metres from the door - McKenzie abruptly decided he couldn't be arsed with getting in there without being detected, so simply walked brazenly up to the front.

His approach had not gone unnoticed - two men melted out of a doorway to block his path.

"What are you doing here?" One of them asked him, with a sneer.

"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck do I gotta tell you a God-damned thing?" McKenzie fired back, although their attire and demeanour didn't leave much room for doubt as to their profession. Assassins: presumably they'd been tasked with observing the place.

"We're here on the High Assassin's orders," the other one answered him.

"Oh, well in that case you can fuck off and die," McKenzie said cheerfully, and started forward.

The first one held up a hand. "Time is passing, Crowbar. Your former associates are not here - haven't you got someplace better to be looki-"

"I'll rephrase that - fuck off or die," McKenzie told him.

"-someplace better to be looking than-" the assassin continued talking over the top of him.

It was at this point that McKenzie's long-standing impulse control problem flared up again. He pulled his gun out, pointed it at the man's kneecap, and pulled the trigger. The deafening bang made everyone in the square look up in alarm, set pigeons flapping skyward, horses rearing, and sent the assassin to the ground, clutching his shattered knee, bleeding and screaming. His companion darted backwards and took up a defensive posture.

"We done?" McKenzie asked.

"We're done," the other assassin nodded.

"My knee!" The wounded one screamed.

"You've got a spare, ain't you?" McKenzie told him heartlessly, trotted calmly up the steps to the door, and knocked.

It was answered, almost immediately, by Hennara.

"Mr. Monday!" she gasped, "Please do not bring violence to this house by pushing your way in."

"What?" McKenzie asked her, confused.

She shot a meaningful look at the assassins outside.

"Oh," he twigged. "Get outta the way!" He shoved at the door. Hennara gave vent to a yelp and fell over backwards. McKenzie slammed the door and immediately bent to help her up. "Shit! Are you alright, Hennara? I didn't think I pushed it that hard," he whispered.

Hennara said nothing, but motioned with her eyes towards the door. Then: "What do you want, sir? We know nothing we haven't already told your brethren."

Fine, McKenzie thought. I can play along.

"Well it'll be nice and fresh in your memory to tell me, then, won't it?" McKenzie replied, trying to be acerbic, but he was slightly distracted - the lobby had it's usual decorations: posh furniture, nice carpets, and about a dozen beautiful women with enough clothing for about three of them: and Hennara wasn't exactly easy to ignore, even in a relatively conservative silken dressing gown. "Is your guv about?"

"Yes, her 'guv' is about. Please calm yourself, Mr. Monday – we are happy to tell you what we know, and you are frightening the girls," Listra said, looking out of a room off to one side. "Hennara, bring our unexpected guest into the Lilac Room - and then please send for the maid of all work."

"Yes Madam Listra," Hennara bobbed her head, and indicated the door.

"I think I can make it across three metres of rug unescorted, thanks," McKenzie said. Listra held the door open for him, and then shut it firmly behind him. He found himself in a room of – as advertised - shockingly pastel lilacness. Some of the furniture in the centre of the room was vaguely familiar from the office-boudoir where he'd had his last encounter with Listra.

"You're an idiot," she told him, sitting down behind her desk. "I warned you not to cross the Guild."

"Nice to see you again too," McKenzie replied.

"No, it isn't," Listra said, her face dark with anger.

"Fair enough," McKenzie said. "Can we talk in here? Securely?"

"I would hardly be addressing you like this otherwise," Listra snapped.

"Okay then. I take it from the presence of the two assholes outside and your generally delightful attitude - and, now that I think of it, the change of office - that you've encountered some trouble due to the current situation?"

"You may safely assume so."

"Shit. Is anyone hurt?"

"Not permanently," Listra replied, flatly.

"Oh. Sorry, for whatever that's worth. Wasn't my idea, and I had no choice. When, one day, I finally catch up with the person whose actual fault it is, I'll hit him for you a few times," McKenzie replied.

"A great comfort, I'm sure, if the Guild decide to exact punishment on this house for our part in your deception," Listra said.

McKenzie looked uncomfortably down, then back up. "Like I said - it wasn't something I was allowed to say no to, and to be brutally honest, Madam Listra, if you're going to have capital-A Arrangements with a bunch of dangerous nutters, at some point or another you're going to get a situation cropping up."

"And yet nothing ever went wrong until the day you arrived on our doorstep," Listra glared at him, then seemed to make a decision, and calmed down. "I have information for you, Mr McKenzie, but I'm not going to divulge a single shred of it until you give me your word not to harm anyone here."

"Of course I won't, I'm not a fucking animal," McKenzie told her, noting that she knew his name. Well, it seemed to be pretty much in the public domain, now. So be it.

"You just blasted someone's kneecap off in the street, Mr. McKenzie, you'll forgive me for not thinking you a harmless pacifist," Listra said.

"Well, he was being a bit of a knob," McKenzie said defensively.

"Oh, that's just fine then," Listra shot back. Evidently she hadn't calmed down entirely. "In any case, I wasn't referring solely to your actions whilst within these walls but also what you do afterwards, such as, oh, I don't know, angering the Assassin's Guild just after I wrote you a fucking reference for them?" She raised an eyebrow. He'd never heard her swear: she must be extremely angry. "Your word, Mr. McKenzie."

"Okay. You have my word: to the best of my ability, I'll try not to send any more shit your way, and I will, of course, not act like a fucking tosser while I'm here. Deal?"

"I suppose that will have to do," Listra said. There was a knock on the door. "Now listen - I'm going to send you upstairs with Hennara, on the pretext that, well, I hardly need to spell it out, do I?"

McKenzie shook his head.

"It was a serious question, Mr. McKenzie. By your own admission you don't 'do' subtle, so I actually am checking we're on the same page," Listra said.

"Yes, I get what you mean, oh great mistress of implicitly conveying meanings," McKenzie said.

"There's no need to be facetious," Listra reprimanded him. "Comport yourself in a manner which will reinforce that impression, please - not doing so may very well 'send more shit our way', as you so crudely put it, and I will remind you of your very recent promise to avoid doing that," Listra instructed.

"Fine," McKenzie told her. "If nipping upstairs to do the nasty with Hennara is a pretext, though, do you wanna tell me what the actual reason is? You mentioned information, which is usually transmitted via words in a conversation rather than, well, I hardly need spell it out, do I?" McKenzie fired Listra's own words back at her.

Listra gave him an even look, but continued. "There's someone up there who you may recognise, and until-"

"Is it Sharinta?" McKenzie interrupted.

"It is not. As I was saying, until you have seen her, the conversation you refer to will not make sense. When you see her, remember three things: one, that it's not what it seems, two, she's probably safest where she is for the moment, and three, you've just sworn not to do any harm to us. Don't say or do anything that cannot be easily explained until you come back to this room - the rest of my establishment is very private, but apart from my office - currently uninhabitable - only this room is extremely private, and I think we are in a situation where extreme is a very good choice of word."

"Can't argue with that," McKenzie agreed.

There was a knock on the door. "Now give me your jacket," Listra said.

McKenzie blinked. "What? Why do you need my jacket?"

"Because I'm going to have the maid that just knocked on the door get the worst of that mud off for you. It's a disgrace. Your trousers could do with some attention, too, but I don't expect that you'll care to remove them while you're here," Listra said.

"Absolutely correct," McKenzie said. He took the spare clip and pouch of coins from his jacket pocket and handed the garment to Listra. To be fair, it was quite mucky.

"I thought not. On the other hand, all of our rooms have baths – you may want to consider using one, while you are upstairs, since in the normal run of things you would be upstairs with Hennara for a few minutes, at least. You smell as if you've been dragged through a burning barn. It is most unpleasant."

"Yeah, someone already mentioned that to me. I have been on fire today, as it happens," McKenzie said. "That's not a figure of speech, by the way."

Listra made no response except to take his jacket to the door. She opened it to reveal a middle-aged woman in a dark, neat uniform; and Hennara. "Ah, Meris, good. Please do what you can with this jacket. Hennara – our guest is in dire need of some relaxation. Look after him."

Listra received a double 'Yes Madam Listra'. The middle aged woman took the jacket with evident disapproval of it's condition; Hennara took McKenzie's hand: "This way, sir. We'll soon have you nice and relaxed."

So Listra really meant it about the cover story - evidently she didn't think anything that happened outside of the Laura Ashley-esque room was private. Hennara led him up the stairs, and turned right at the top. McKenzie extricated his hand - Hennara did not look pleased, but said nothing. She opened the third door on the right, and stood to one side. McKenzie stepped inside.

It was a lovely room, as long as you went in for pale colours, frilly bits on your furniture and leather restraints with fluffy bits on your bed. There was a woman - a very beautiful woman - currently tied up on it. She was asleep - proper out for the count asleep, McKenzie guessed.

"Not bein' funny, but is this the right room?" He asked Hennara. She nodded as she closed the door behind her, and put a finger to her lips as a reminder.

Remember that it's not what it seems, she's probably safest where she is, and not to do any harm to anyone, McKenzie recalled Listra's words.

The woman on the bed seemed vaguely familiar, but McKenzie couldn't quite place her. As far as he could judge given that she was in a recumbent posture and her knees were slightly bent, she was on the tallish side - and she was also a looker. She had a tan, lots of blonde hair, and was wearing some sort of blue robe type thing, with a white cloak folded up on the chair next to her. A little silver necklace had been hung over the chair - the pendant was in the shape of a shield - and the suede boots on the floor were presumably hers too.

Yeah - vaguely familiar, but McKenzie wasn't sure where from. It was going to bloody nag at him, he could tell. He dug his phone out and snapped a couple of pictures of her.

"Oh, sorry sir, no, it's not the right room," Hennara said, when he put the phone away. "If you'll follow me I'll take us somewhere else."

McKenzie's first instinct was to untie her and try and wake her up - context notwithstanding, people weren't usually tied up for honest reasons - but he stopped himself. I got no idea who she is, he thought. She might work for the assassins or for Leni's new friends.

He could always storm back up and let her go after he'd spoken to Listra again. He nodded and followed Hennara, who took him into the next room - this one had a bath in the corner. It was possessed of proper plumbing, which McKenzie could only guess was fantastically expensive at this level of technological advancement.

"What's your pleasure, sir?" Hennara asked him with what certainly seemed like a genuine smile, hands going to the fastenings of her gown. She evidently intended to maintain a very high level of realism for Listra's deception.

McKenzie put his hands on hers to stop her taking the gown off. She looked immediately disappointed, which was simultaneously a boost to McKenzie's ego and made him feel like a bit of an asshole. "You could run that bath, for starters," he said.

"Oh. Yes, sir," Hennara replied, and did so. She took the opportunity to take the gown off anyway, letting it fall to the floor. She was wearing her industrially-reinforced lingerie underneath.

Hennara knelt down and worked the taps. The water started pouring into the bath - it was made of copper, and the filling process was therefore quite noisy.

"You know who she is?" McKenzie asked quietly.

Hennara went wide-eyed and looked at the walls.

"Hennara, I'm utterly crap at the whole subtlety, dissembling thing, but even I know that nobody with half a brain is going to believe I just came in here for no other reason except for a random shag. Listra's aiming for plausible deniability, not secrecy. In any case, the water'll cover up the sound of our voices, as long as we're quiet," McKenzie murmured.

"Madame Listra will answer your questions, sir," Hennara said.

"You can call me McKenzie," McKenzie said. "I'm sure she will, but I asked you. I trust you a fair bit more than I trust her, Hennara."

"I'd prefer not to say," Hennara answered. "I like you, McKenzie, but I trust her a fair bit more than I trust you, if you'll pardon my bein' forward."

This was a far cry from the panicked girl of the previous evening. McKenzie nodded. "Fair enough - and probably wise. I keep tellin' people I'm not to be relied on, but nobody seems to bloody listen."

"Not that I'm not grateful for your consideration last night," Hennara said, and smiled. "This seems like a perfect opportunity to show it." Her hands went to his T-shirt, and she frowned as she realised there were no buttons or other fastenings.

"No," McKenzie pushed her hands gently away. "I'm sure I'll think I'm an idiot later, but now... It'd feel like cheating," he said.

"Oh." Hennara drew her hands back. "I- I didn't know you had someone. My apologies. I would never have-"

McKenzie arranged a smile. "Nothin' to apologise for, Hennara," he said. "If you want to be helpful, but can't tell me anything about our quiet next door neighbour, then you could find me a towel. I was recently given some good advice about having a bit of a wash - I can at least get the burnt smell out of my hair, if nothing else."

"Would you like me to wash your hair? I promise I'll behave myself," Hennara offered.

"You're starting to sound like a friend of mine," McKenzie told her. "I can wash my own hair."

"I'll fetch you a towel, sir," Hennara said, louder, and pointing at the ceiling to show she was speaking for the benefit of any eavesdroppers.

"Thanks," McKenzie said. He pulled his T-shirt off, grabbed a copper jug from the floor, and set about pouring the warm water over his head and shoulders. It actually made him feel a bit better, and judging by the colour of the bathwater afterwards, his hair had really needed it - it was muddy, and there was a fair bit of ash floating on top of the water.

"Here," Hennara put the towel over his head and started to dry him off. She was back in her gown - presumably she did intend to behave. McKenzie found he was glad, because there were only so many times he was going to say no to an offer like that, and it would have felt like cheating.

"I can do it myself," he said. How long does it take to get to the middle of nowhere in Canada? He thought.

"I do not doubt you can, sir, but we generally have the aim that a gentleman doesn't have to do anything for himself within these walls," Hennara told him.

"Hilarious," he replied. "You should-"

He stopped, reached for his phone, and brought up the photo app. He had a good look at the photos of the unconscious woman, and then swiped back through them to the very first shot he'd taken on this planet.

"Oh shit," he said under his breath. "This is going to fucking complicate things."

- o O o -

"That," Listra said, back in the secure room, "was exactly what she said." She had outlined, briefly, what had happened when Sharinta had come to the Unsheathed Dagger, up to the point where she transformed again. Hennara had stayed, this time - and his jacket had been returned to him, looking at least reasonably clean.

"Okay. Right," McKenzie said. "This was gonna happen sooner or later, I suppose. How come she's tied to a bed in your room upstairs for kinky people, though? I don't know the woman very well, granted, but she struck me as pretty straight-laced, to be honest."

Listra paused. "That was...for her own protection," she told McKenzie. Hennara looked extremely uncomfortable.

McKenzie sniffed theatrically. "Hmm - either I did a really poor job of washing the crap outta my hair, or I can smell bullshit."

"Very well, if you insist on being direct, that was for our protection. She has not been harmed, and I assure you that will continue to be the case, but since you have put this house in an untenable position with the guild, you leave me little choice except to keep her here as leverage," Listra told him.

"Nuh-uh. Not happening," McKenzie said. "When I go, she's coming with me."

"No, she is not," Listra replied, with determination. "Where exactly are you planning on taking her, anyway, may I ask? Have you arranged a safe haven somewhere, proof against assassins?"

"Yes - it's anywhere near me at any given time," McKenzie shot back, although he had to admit to himself that she had a point.

"You may have no reason to fear the guild on your own account, McKenzie, but we do, and our mutual friend does, too," Listra said.

McKenzie blinked. "You've lost me, now," he said.

"Nightwing," Listra said. "I have been informed, by the selfsame gentleman whose kneecap you just removed, that her position in the Guild is not what it once was. He hinted rather heavily that she was in trouble."

"He wasn't wrong - she's a prisoner," McKenzie told her

"I can surmise why," Listra glared at him. "Is there anyone in the city you haven't imperilled today?"

"The local cab drivers have been doing okay out of me," McKenzie said.

"Hmm." Listra was unimpressed by the rejoinder. "Well, Mr. McKenzie, you have a choice. I will gladly release Callena when my friend Nightwing comes here - healthy, well and of her own free will - and asks me to. Otherwise, you may break your word, go upstairs and untie her. You'll have to go through me to do it."

"And me," Hennara said, looking at him. "Sorry, I like you an' all McKenzie, but I'm with Madame Listra on this one."

McKenzie sighed. "Can everyone calm down a bit, please? Rescuing Jadhara is on my to-do list already, and if it wasn't unbelievably complex I'd've already bloody done it, by the way. The situation is worse than you think - it's not just the guild, there's troll gangsters and vampires and fuck knows who else involved, too."

"That's not our concern, McKenzie. Rescue my friend, and you rescue yours - that part, at least, is simple," Listra said.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," McKenzie told her. "Got a pen and paper?"

"I don't require a written contract, McKenzie," Listra said.

"I know that - but Callena's probably going to feel a lot better when she wakes up if I leave her a note letting her know what the gold-plated fuck is going on, and also less likely to cleric-magic her way out of here by force: that's a very powerful woman you've chosen to tie up against her will," McKenzie said.

Listra pushed a sheet of paper and a quill across the desk towards him.

Hi Cally, welcome back, first off please don't kill anyone here, they're okay really just scared. Time is short, I'll hit the high points. The curse is BROKEN. D has been kidnapped by a vampire called Lady Jenata, no idea where she is, Leni has gone evil-troll on us and taken up with another troll name of Iyanus who's paid a bunch of badass ninjas to come after us, which is compounded by the fact that they're pissed at us already because the last thing Lemuel had us do was infiltrate them, the fucking twat, one of them is a friend of mine AND the lady who probably handed you this letter, or her boss, possibly, depends who was in the room when you woke up. Anyway she's now in serious shit and being held prisoner. My job to rescue bloody everyone, apparently, although the badass ninjas are trying to blackmail me into finding Sharinta and Danandra, well, just D now although I doubt they'll take 'she's off in limbo now while her sister has physical form' as a bloody excuse - and basically putting them on a fucking plate for Leni, needless to say they can fuck off. With any luck I'll see you again soon. In a pinch I'd say you're probably safer here than anywhere else though I suppose you've got the advantage that nobody's looking for you. Cheers, McKenzie.

McKenzie pushed the note back across the desk. "Here - read it if you want. Apart from anything else I have no idea what language I just wrote that in, so let me know if it's gibberish," he said.

She did read it, too, then folded it neatly. "Slovenly grammar and a terrible hand, but legible Vyrinian. Barely."

"Everyone's a bloody critic," McKenzie responded. "When will she wake up, by the way? You've been cagey about it, but I'm gonna make a wild assumption and guess that you drugged her."

"Several more hours, at least," Listra answered his question, but said nothing about his statement.

McKenzie sighed. "Fuck it, fine - one less person to bloody worry about. You'll either see me again or not. Got anything else for me?"

"Yes," Listra said. "The name of an inn, in the Factor's Quarter. The-"

- o O o -

"Trader's Rest, mate. Eight coppers, please," the cab driver said, as they pulled to a halt in the Factor's Quarter.

McKenzie hadn't got into a carriage from right outside the Unsheathed Dagger, of course - he'd dodged through a couple of thronging markets, first, lain low in one for a few minutes, and then nipped out into the street and hailed one. He was pretty sure he hadn't been followed.

The Trader's Rest was an entirely unremarkable inn - this seemed to be a district which valued sober, unassuming buildings, the purpose of all of which was to support the transaction of sober, unassuming but critical business like negotiating the price of spices, the value of gold coins of various denominations and other things, either by providing places for factors and traders to talk, or by providing places for them to sleep and eat.

The barman was busy with a fairly numerous late lunchtime crowd - McKenzie, in no mood to faff, got his attention by blocking the door to the kitchen.

"Excuse me, sir - be with you in a minute. Rushed off my feet!" The man smiled, looking flustered.

"Then answer my questions quick and I'll piss off out of your way. Two women are staying here - friends of mine. Impossible to miss, one of them's a defiantly ginger elf, the other one's insanely hot. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge details of our guests, sir," the man's eye's narrowed.

"How about if I tell you I'm here to pay their bill? In advance." McKenzie dug a gold coin out of his pocket.

"Ah, yes, of course." The man held out his hand. McKenzie dropped the coin into it. "Thank you. Meretta! Show this gentleman to room four, he's a friend of the guests," he called over a maid.

"They're out," McKenzie hinted.

"Get the spare key, Meretta!" The barman added.

"Nice doin' business with you," McKenzie said.

The maid - as rushed as her boss - led him quickly up some stairs, unlocked a door, and then disappeared again without a word. McKenzie walked in and closed the door.

The room was empty, of course, except for all their belongings. Before he did anything else, McKenzie picked up his crate, put it on a bed, and opened it up. Both submachineguns were inside, he'd need something to carry them in - he found his bag and dumped it's contents onto the bed: something hit the floor with a metallic thud as he did so. Silver plated knuckledusters. He'd never had to use them in Heska's castle, but given recent vampire-and-werewhatever related developments, it was possible they might soon be of use. He slipped them over his fingers - they were a comfy fit.

"Lord McKenzie."

That was weird, he could've sworn he'd heard Heska's voice.

"Lord McKenzie!"

There it was again. He dug his phone out, just on the off-chance, but there was no call in progress.

"Down here." Her voice was heavy with exaggerated patience. "You appear to have buried the speaking glass under your possessions."

McKenzie dug through his stuff until he saw Heska's face in a small, circular mirror that the girls must've left lying on the bed.

"We had another magic mirror? I didn't know we had a magic mirror. Shit, nobody tells me anything," McKenzie said.

"You were told several times, what you failed to do was listen," Heska replied. "Be careful not to-"

McKenzie picked the mirror up. It immediately started to jump and flicker.

"-essensce aff...irror...working...operly...down at once!" Heska's voice was chopped up, as if she was speaking through a poorly connected microphone. McKenzie got the gist and dropped the mirror back onto the bed. In line with his luck today so far, it landed Heska-side-down. McKenzie took the knuckledusters off and used them to flip it over without touching it.

"It doesn't seem to like me," McKenzie said.

"I believe I just made a point about you not listening?" Heska sighed.

"Yes, thank you for belabouring it. Why'd that happen, then?"

"The quintessence," Heska said. "Do not touch the mirror again - you came very close to causing a devastating explosion."

"And it wouldn't even be the first time today," McKenzie replied. "I can pick up loads of other magic stuff, how come it's a big deal with this mirror?"

"In this instance, it is because you have already absorbed the capabilities of a much more powerful artifact. That much power, passing through this lesser device, could not be contained for more than a few seconds," Heska explained.

"How'd you know?"

"The study of the quintessence was a hobby of mine, back in the days before my transformation. Few know as much about its ways as I," Heska answered.

"Oh, right," McKenzie answered. "Hello, by the way, Heska. I'm surprised you're still around, the curse is broken. Haven't you got innocent villagers to terrorise or deer to catch?"

"Pray restrain your trademark wit, Lord McKenzie," Heska replied, absolutely deadpan. "I am aware the curse is broken, but this does not affect my loyalty to Her Wisdom. I am a servant of Melindron now."

"Oh, well, good for you. Sorry about the villagers crack," McKenzie said. "Please tell me you know what the hell is going on and you're about to let me know how to sort it out."

"Certainly. You may tell Lady Danandra and Lady Sharinta that the diplomatic airship is en-route. The Melindronian Embassy has been informed of your situation - they can send a diplomatic carriage to collect you, if you give me your location. Even the Assassin's Guild would think twice before violating Melindronian diplomatic immunity so openly," Heska said.

"Yep. Good. Excellent. Slight problem," McKenzie said.

"They've disappeared, haven't they?" Heska sighed.

"Well, not quite disappeared," McKenzie replied. "I mean, I know where they are, well, I know that Callena is, well, let's say hiding in a brothel called the Unsheathed Dagger, and I know who Danandra's with, it's just that-"

"The Lady Callena has returned?" Heska cut in.

"Yeah, just found out."

"I see. This is going to complicate things."

"Yeah, that seems to be the consensus view," McKenzie agreed. "I don't suppose there's any chance of a bit of deus-ex-machina-style archmastige-, archimidgest-, any chance of some help from the Archmage on this one, is there? I've got a comatose Callena in a sort-of-safe house, a kidnapped Danandra in the clutches of a powerful vampire and another lady in peril on my to-rescue list at the moment, as well as Leni causing all kinds of extra hassle."

"Although Her Wisdom has now returned to this plane of existence-"

"Eh? What plane of- Actually, know what? Never mind. Sorry I interrupted, go on," McKenzie cut in, then abandoned his curiosity.

"Thank you. Although Her Wisdom has now returned to this plane of existence, she is meditating on the issue of the broken curse and cannot be disturbed," Heska finished.

"Meditating? Seriously? Wake her the fuck up and tell her we're in deep shit here!"

"By meditating, I mean she is making sure it is broken, and, if it is indeed so, ensuring we cannot be thus snared again. Do you still want me to wake her up?" Heska asked.

"On reflection, no, let's leave her to it, shall we? Since that's not an option, how about a few squads of Melindron special forces types, or you for that matter - a magic building controlled by a politely malevolent dead assassin with moving rooms is a particular concern of mine, right now, I imagine you'd be proper helpful with something like that," McKenzie asked.

"Neither, I am afraid, is possible. Melindron cannot be seen to interfere in internal Vyrinian matters, it could endanger the stability of the new republic. This rules out soldiers, and it is also common knowledge that I am Her Wisdom's right hand woman," Heska said. "Danandra and Sharinta are my friends too, McKenzie, it gives me no pleasure to have to tell you this."

Heska did actually look embarrassed and unhappy. This was a far cry from the insane wolf-woman of a few months ago: maybe she really had changed.

"I thought you might say something like that," McKenzie said. "Never mind. I will, as ever, sort it out my bloody self."

"They could scarce wish for a stronger or more powerful confederate," Heska told him, which was kind of nice of her. "Just be careful you do not lay waste to the capital as part of any rescue: ancient buildings are hard to replace."

"Was that a joke?" McKenzie asked. "Blimey, Lady H, you really have changed - you're showing some signs of humanity there, mind how you go."

"One tries," Heska smiled, then became serious. "You may still rely on diplomatic help. Once inside the Melindron Embassy, you can consider yourselves safe."

"Can you contact the embassy?" McKenzie asked.

"Yes."

"Tell 'em to send someone round to room 4, the Trader's Rest Inn, in the Factor's Quarter and collect all our stuff, will you? I'd do it myself but I'm off to machine-gun a couple of trolls and then kick some doors down in the assassin's guild. I am fucking well and truly done with this pseudo-detective tail-chasing. It's time to sort this out the way I know fucking works." McKenzie stuffed the machine pistols and spare clips into his bag.

"Good fortune, Lord McKenzie," Heska said.

"Tell Xixxy I said hi," McKenzie said. "Oh, before I go, and since you seem to have turned over a new leaf and everything, and on the understanding you tell nobody about this, you might care to know that Anaharra is safe."

"Thank the gods! Your friends from your home dimension have found her?" Heska asked.

"No - I had some people do a bit of looking. With any luck, they'll be able to give her the means to contact me," McKenzie explained.

"You still have feelings for her, don't you?" Heska asked him, with surprising concern.

"Yeah, I do, I think," McKenzie answered.

"If you speak to her, convey to her my deep sadness at what happened. I was...not a well person," Heska said.

McKenzie nodded. "I will do. Over and out."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Means bye, Heska," McKenzie grinned. "You take it easy now."