Demkaih placed the last of the jewelery on the carved stands, stretching his back. Working alone had given him time to think, deciding firmly that he would stay. Thoughts about Fion had slowly turned wry, and even more thoughts of the lovely mugrobi woman in his bed had turned through his head, some not quite as wholesome as others. The alcohol from prior had worn off mostly, leaving him with a warm feeling. Checking the small windup clock on the wall, he moved to the stairs, climbing up a third of them. Rapping on the wood of the banister, he called out.

"Xanadu Aurelia? It is time to wake." His voice was deep and loud, but not a yell.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up abruptly, instinctively reaching for the knife under her pillow. Where was she? This place was unfamiliar. How had she gotten here? What was she doing ...?

After a few seconds of wakefulness, the memories came flooding back, as did the dreams. Xanadu dropped the knife to the floor beside her belt. That last dream was so ... she shook her head to clear it of the last vestiges of sleep. Why should she be surprised? She was in the bed of a very attractive man. What had she expected to dream about? Still, it was highly inappropriate, especially considering that the man in question was most likely still in love with someone else.

“I'm ... I'm awake,” she called, her voice soft and breathy. “Just ... just a moment ...”

Sometime during her short nap, she had thrown off the covers. It wasn't really surprising; even though the room was quite cool, she was definitely not. Willing her body under control, she stood up, sniffing first one armpit and then the other. Ahhh, that was good. She didn't smell. It wouldn't do to meet the resistance reeking like an animal.

Her blouse was also unwrinkled. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the table and pulled on her skirt and then her bodice. “Come on up, Demkaih,” she said as she laced it up. Her voice was a bit stronger now. “I'm dressed.”

Demkaih frowned a little, slightly concerned. The woman sounded almost short of breath and he wondered if she'd had some sort of problem. Gripping the banister, he took a half step up the case, but paused. Surely, she'd call for help or something. He couldn't just go in there uninvited, it was improper.

The dark man was on the verge of calling out to her again, when her more normal sounding voice called out to him.



Walking up the stairs at an unhurried pace, he paused at the entrance to his room, inclining his head to the woman. She seemed almost flustered, as though she'd been hot, but the room was quite cool. Perhaps she had a slight fever, that would explain her voice. Either way, the slightly redder tint to her cheeks did nothing to expell his thoughts from earlier and glancing away, he spoke quietly.

"I hope you slept well. I do not really entertain company in here, so I am not sure if it is adequate for others to sleep in." Clearing his throat, he continued.

"I must change before we go. Unlike you, I stand out like a phosphor lamp at night." Demkaih smiled slightly, gesturing to his bright red wrap and its glass beading. Walking past the woman, he picked up the familiar black tunic and loose black pants he had taken to wearing when on resistance work. Stepping into the darkened kitchen, he quickly pulled the pants on under his wrap and slipped the red garment off, folding it neatly and putting it on a shelf beside the dried peaches. Unfolding the tunic, he slipped it over his head. Returning to the bedroom, he nodded his head to Xanadu.

"Downstairs, I will get my things, and we can go if you are ready." Stepping closer to the mugrobi, he reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, blue eyes looking into her own.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Once you are in, there is no getting out."

Xanadu finished dressing while Demkaih changed. She put on her bracers and sat back on the bed to lace up her boots. The last thing she did was strap on her knife belt, after putting the dagger she had dropped on the floor back in its sheath. Her heartbeat was finally slowing after her initial shock on waking up in an unfamiliar environment. At least that is what she told herself it was from.

She had unbraided her hair and was combing through the long ringlets with her fingers when he walked back in, dressed all in black. She thought he looked more regal in his mugrobi wrap, but the black outfit was definitely more suitable for skulking around in the dead of night. It was one reason that she often wore black while working. Combined with her rich chocolate skin and pure black hair, she could easily blend into the darkness.



Xanadu didn't hesitate. “It is what I want. It's the reason I came to Vienda, even though I was tempted by other opportunities during the two weeks I spent at Surwood. I owe it to my daughter and others like her to do what I can to bring down the galdori.”

She placed her hand on top of his and held his gaze. His hand felt cool beneath her slightly warmer touch. “There is always a way out, Demkaih. In my job, I've often had to get in ... and out ... of dangerous organizations. As soon as I know my way around in the resistance, I will also know the way out. It might not be easy, but it is always possible, should I ever decide that their interests an mine no longer coincide.

“I'm getting more nervous as the time approaches,” she said. And a little bit frightened, although she would never admit it to him or to anyone else. The resistance seemed a lot larger and better organized than anything she had been involved in so far. What if it was truly impossible to leave them once you became one of them? If that is the case, then although I will not kill to get in, I will definitely kill to get out.

She squeezed his hand lightly, and then dropped her arm back to her side. “We should be going. I left my cloak on your chair downstairs. As soon as I retrieve it, I will be ready."

Demkaih sighed slightly, somehow thinking the beautiful woman had changed her mind whilst sleeping. But she was right, the galdori needed to be brought down. Her hand on his, warm and light, was a comfort.



The dark man inclined his head, hoping she was right.



Removing his hand, the mugrobi led her back down the stair case, approaching his counter as he went. Picking a black belt, cloth wrapped sheaths hanging from it, he tied it quickly. Reaching inside the satchel he had so carefully packed, he pulled out the mugrobi ceremonial daggers, spinning them one way in his palms, then the other, before pushing them into their rightful place. Walking to the door, he waited for Xanadu.

By the time she got downstairs, Xanadu was quite chilly. Her warmth had evaporated quickly. Perhaps it was colder down here, or maybe it was brought on by her nervousness. Whatever the case, she was happy to wrap herself in her long black cloak again. She left the hood down for now.

She turned back toward Demkaih just in time to see him spin his daggers before placing them in their sheaths. Ahhh, a very handsome man who also knew how to handle knives. Her heart beat a little faster, although she told herself it was only anxiety. She was reminded of a fight/dance she had seen a few times in Mugroba. She had been so entranced by it, she had incorporated some of its moves into her own dance routines, although her adaptations were suited to her own special style.

She followed him to the door, stopping close beside him. Her black eyes looked up into his blue ones. “Your daggers ... I have seen others like them in Mugroba. What is it you primarily do with them?”

Demkaih took one out, handing it to the woman hilt first. The blade itself was slightly curved, about as long as his forearm. It was attached to a red hilt, with gold capping on the end. Inlaid into the red dyed wood was a thin carving, filled in with gold paint. The carving was of an ocean or river, with fish and sea birds all around it. Stylised people could be seen in fishing boats of all sorts. The dark man pointed to it.

"This is a representation of The Great Ocean taking in the weary traveler at the end of his river. Hulali sends him fish to eat and great birds to show him the way. These daggers are used in mugrobi fighting dance, a fighting style we learn as children to discover self discipline and fitness. It can also be used in self defence, but it is rare that one would ever need to." Brow coming together slightly, he looked back at her captivating dark eyes.

"Except when in Anaxas it seems. When we have time, I will show you if you like."

As he explained the carvings, Xanadu weighed the dagger in her hand for flipping potential as she always did when she held a new knife. It would not be easy with the blade so long. She would have to toss it high just to get one good revolution, but it was possible.

Again, she realized how little she really knew about her homeland. If she had grown up in Mugroba, would she have learned this fight dance as well? Was it too late for her to learn it now? She moved her gaze from the dagger and back to his face.



“Yes ... yes I would like that very much. Perhaps you could teach me?” A small silvery tingle snaked slowly down her spine as she imagined him standing close behind her, his arms around her as he showed her how to hold the daggers correctly. “Maybe ... maybe it will help me to feel closer to the land of my birth. Sometimes I feel like such an outsider. I want to learn as much as possible about Mugroba.” I want ...

She reluctantly pulled her eyes away from his and flipped the dagger, more to get her mind away from the dangerous direction in which it was traveling than anything else. It took her full concentration to catch it ... which she did, not quite effortlessly, behind her back. She tossed it to the front, caught it in her other hand, and wordlessly handed it back to him.

Demkaih watched her flip the blade with obvious skill, entranced by the movement. It didn't seem to be something useful for fighting, but it still looked impressive. Taking the dagger back, he pushed it into its black wrapped sheath and nodded.

"Let us go." Opening the door, he led her out, shutting the house up tightly. Without further discussion, he led the woman through the dives, keeping his gaze permanently on the road, ignoring the dreaded purple house. Round the corner, the continued on through the city, winding through backstreets and between buildings. Slowly, they approached the Toy Lantern, smelling it before they saw it. As they opened the door, a rich wave of cloying scented smoke and other interesting substances assaulted their nostrils. The dark man reached back to take Xanadu's hand as they entered, protective instincts flaring in the dingy place. Walking past drug forgone patrons and gibbering addicts, he led her to the bar. Only then did he release her hand, his shoulders tense. Raising a hand, he beckoned over the barkeep.

"My friend here would like to order." He said in a low voice, indicating Xanadu, giving her room to talk. If she wanted to get into the resistance, she needed to take the first step.

Xanadu was grateful for his silence on the way over. Now that her goal was so close, she had a few decisions to make, such as how she should act, how much she should reveal about herself, and what subjects she should lie about. She had no idea what to expect but what Demkaih had told her, and that was not very pleasant. The best way, she supposed, was to quit worrying and play it by ear, answering their questions simply and without elaboration. Let them think her a bit mysterious. An air of mystery was usually intriguing. But would the resistance think so? What will happen will happen. You can only do what you think is best.

As they entered the reeking Toy Lantern, she realized she was shivering with anticipation, the way she did when she was closing in on a particularly difficult target, never knowing what to expect from one moment to the next. Although she was dreading the ordeal ahead, she was also looking forward to it. It was a challenge, and Xanadu adored a good challenge.

When Demkaih took her by the hand, she was both surprised and comforted. She was a woman accustomed to taking care of herself. Generally when she entered a place like this alone, she had to hurt a few people in order to be taken seriously, something that she didn't enjoy. She was glad that he had offered to accompany her. She felt safe in his presence, and was less likely to act rashly when she did not feel threatened.

She followed him over to the bar, keeping all of her senses alert. When he called over the barkeep, she knew the moment she had been waiting for had finally come.



Xanadu turned her expressionless black eyes to the barkeep. Most of her face was still hidden behind her hood. She took a deep breath. “I would like a cool glass of water, please,” she said with a confidence she didn't feel.

The barkeep was a young woman, a witch by her field, with long hair tied back with a length of cord. She gave Demkaih and Xanadu a once over, while cleaning a glass with her hands. She turned from them to put it back in its rightful place, then moved closer to the bartop, leaning on it.

"All out of water, chip." She said, as though a new shipment weren't due for a week. "Serious business, this water, ye chen? How d'I know you're that thirsty?"

She looked at Xanadu's outfit. She was dressed like a... well, like someone pretty darn serious. She didn't want to go sending trouble out of the Lantern. She could get in trouble.

"Ye got any plans fer later?" She asked, knowing who she could send them to, pretty much the only people you sent the shifty cases to.

That was not the answer she had expected. What exactly did I expect? A warm welcome? She almost looked at Demkaih to ask what she should do next, but stopped herself just in time. This was something she had to do on her own. It was her test, not his. She knew exactly what to do. Xanadu was excellent at improvisation.

“I am very thirsty,” she whispered, leaning as close to the woman as she could, considering the bar was made for those of average height and she was a bit too short to actually lean across it. “So thirsty I think I might die of it unless I find the water that I crave.”

Xanadu didn't miss the way the woman looked at her outfit. Most of it was hidden beneath her full-length cloak, but as she had placed one dark hand on the bar, the spiked leather bracer on her arm was clearly visible, along with a bit of leather and the glimpse of a knife hilt where her cloak was slightly parted. Enough to get a good idea of what the rest of it looked like. Perhaps I should have worn something a little less obvious.

Of course, it probably didn't matter. Even if she had been decked out in pink lace and ruffles with flowers in her hair, she would still have worn the knives. She never went anywhere unarmed. Now she wished she had brought the rest of them, along with her snake venom jewelry. She had left the jewelry behind on purpose. There was no sense in letting them know all of her secrets, and if they took it and figured out how to twist off the darts or open the compartment that held the venom, someone could become seriously ill or even die. One dart did not hold enough venom to kill, but two of them could possibly be fatal. She had never tested that theory and hoped she would never be forced into it.



This time she did glance over at Demkaih. “I believe we are free for the evening ... aren't we?”

The bargirl listened to Xanadu carefully, glancing between the pair. She didn't know Dem from the first man but if he knew the phrase, he had to be at least partly involved. She made her decision.

"Go to Hollow St, there's a little stall there, towards the uptown end. They have the water you're craving." Yes, that was who she'd send them to. "They're of a similar mind to yours."

That was putting it lightly. Hollow St was one of the roughest welcomes you could get but the cell that operated from there was probably the best fit for a fighter. She guessed Xanadu wasn't involved in anything less, from her bracers and all the metal.

She just hoped her ladyship wasn't in a crazy mood, madame S had been getting more erratic as of late.

Xanadu had assumed that this was her last stop before the actual meeting. She didn't know if she was comfortable with traipsing all over an unfamiliar city in the dead of night just to join the resistance. It seemed a strange way to do business, but perhaps it was necessary. She wondered how many more places they would send her to. Was this part of the process ... perhaps to show just how serious she was? She wanted to ask Demkaih, but now was not the time. She would wait until they were back outside.

And why did she think she was about to be sent into a den of assassins? It wouldn't be the first time someone assumed she was a professional killer. She was about to ask the girl if that was what she thought, but decided against it. She could take that up with the person in charge of her interview. At least an assassin in the resistance had a good reason to kill. Some of the men she had been sent to capture did it because it was fun.

“Is there anything in particular I should tell them when I get there?”

"Ask them..." The girl shook her head. "Ask the man for a glass of water. Make sure you talk to him first."

Believing this to be suitably direct, despite being quite cryptic, the barmaid turned away to serve other customers. It was clear she felt she'd done her job for the evening, she didn't need to be so careful when she was sending folks to see the trio. She mumbled a prayer under her breath.

Realizing the barmaid was done with them, Xanadu turned around, getting a good look at the tavern's patrons for the first time. Her heart went out to them. Poor souls. This is what the galdori has done to them, driving them to drugs and drink to escape, however briefly, their lives of misery. If I can help them in any way, I must, even if I do find the resistance's way of recruiting new members a bit tenebrous for my liking.

Perhaps it was just anxiety, but she felt as if she were being sent into some kind of trap. The process was similar to the way in which she'd been initiated into some of the shady organizations she'd been hired to bring down. It usually did include knowingly ensnaring herself in a trap, but she'd always done extensive research and knew, at least partially, what she was getting into. That wasn't the case this time. She was about to walk into a completely unfamiliar environment and she was more than a bit frightened.

She looked up at Demkaih. “I believe we are finished here. We should go.” Needing action to dispel her fear, she took his hand, as he had taken hers earlier, and led him outside. Her other hand hovered over her knives just in case there was trouble, but she didn't know why she bothered. The poor customers seemed completely oblivious to the two black-clad mugrobi moving among them.

Xanadu turned to him as soon as the door closed behind him, squeezing his hand lightly before letting it go. Her hood fell away from her face, but she quickly pulled it back up. “Do you know of this place she is sending me to, Demkaih? Have you heard anything about the people there? I don't know why, but I have the feeling that I should be better armed."

Demkaih was reluctant to release her hand, finding her touch calming and almost natural. Perhaps it was still a lingering reaction to Fion's cut off, but something about the island woman stirred deeper thoughts within him.

"Indeed, I know the street. It is dangerous, but..." He glanced at her waist, knowing what she had there.

"I do not feel you will come to harm. I will not be sending you alone." Nodding, he started to walk.

"Come, this way." His walk had changed. There was tension in it, like a coiled spring. The dark man didn't like the area they were taking, especially at night. Face unreadable, he led the woman to the entrance of Hollow Street, pausing for a moment. The lion leads the lamb to the slaughter, he thought bitterly, before stepping into the darkened street. Every nerve in his body was ready for response as they walked down the disreputable alley and he kept close to the woman.

Towards the end of the street, one stall was still open. It had a little sign up, that contained no words but did have a small picture of a diseased lizard on it. A helpful looking man was sitting behind it, fingers clasped together and a smile on his face.

Behind him was a woman, picking her teeth with a knife. She glared at Xanadu and Dem but it wasn't a personal glare. It was just her way. She glared at new people, you only really had to be worried if she smiled at you.

They did not say anything. They clearly weren't going to unless approached.

This street was certainly not a place for a woman to be walking alone at night. She was grateful for Demkaih's presence close beside her, actually enjoying his protectiveness. She could not remember the last time a man had treated her so. It was nice to know that if she was attacked, he would be fighting right beside her. She smiled softly beneath her hood.

And she probably would have been attacked if she were by herself. Although she did not see another soul, she could feel them lurking in the shadows ... watching, waiting. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she drew nearer to her goal. She was still afraid, but it was a good kind of fear, the kind that kept her alert and on her guard, ready for anything that was thrown her way. Again, she felt the excitement and anticipation of closing in on her target. Think of this as just another job and you will be fine.

She realized that she looked at the world in a slightly different way since her last bounty hunting assignment, and hoped that would not be a problem. Since she had released Glorie's spirit to the gods, she was no longer as reckless as she used to be, no longer willing to take risks that might easily get her killed. During the last five years, she had not really cared whether she lived or died. But now ... now feelings were awakening inside her that she thought were gone forever, and she knew that a new life was opening up for her, one that she intended to take full advantage of, with or without the resistance.

As they neared the stall, she unthinkingly took on the attitude she used while working ... nonchalant, a bit bored, and utterly sure of herself. The man behind the stall looked friendly enough. She wasn't certain what to think of the woman, but she nodded to her in acknowledgment, no emotion showing on her face.

The barmaid had said to speak to the man, so she sauntered up to him boldly, her eyes a hard, glittering onyx. She did not greet him, but got straight to the point. “I am very thirsty,” she said. “Can you get me a glass of water to quench my thirst?”

Marsh seemed so surprised by Xanadu's directness, that he almost fell out of his chair. Behind him, Seria stopped picking her teeth. She seemed a bit ruffled at the sight of Marsh feeling intimidated. She stood and moved to stand behind him, one hand supportively on his shoulder.

"Water? Really?" He said, momentarily forgetting the catch phrase.

"Oi, Marsh, close yer head." Seria said, prompting Marsh to remember himself.

"Yes, yes of course. Perhaps we, uh, might be better off talking less on the street?" Marsh asked. "Uh, is your friend thirsty too?"

There actually weren't multiple sets of eyes watching Xanadu. There was just one set and it was distracted by Dem's presence. Deb appeared from out of the shadows, like a cat. The shine of her eyes was visible before the rest of her. She was carrying a gun this time.

"Clove." She said, saluting. "He's one of us. Don't know who this is, though. New recruit?"

Her high regard for Demkaih aside, Deb did not seem to have a good opinion of recruits newer than herself. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave Xanadu a calculating look. Seria merely rolled her eyes at Marsh. They were both used to Deb's competitive habits.

Xanadu watched the exchange between the man and woman with interest. Perhaps the resistance wasn't quite as well organized as she thought, or maybe this part of it just needed a bit of direction, When the second woman slinked out of the shadows, the dancer wondered if this was their leader. She immediately noticed the gun, although she did not allow herself to look directly at it, directing her gaze instead to the woman's face.

There were not a lot of women in her line of work and she was most comfortable in the company of men. She had met one or two female mercenaries, but they didn't take her seriously because of the way she looked, figuring that her weapon of choice was her body rather than her knives and her sword. There had never been a reason to prove herself to them, so she had simply endured their scorn and left their company as soon as possible.

She was not sure what to think about the way Deb looked at her. If anything was visible through the narrow opening of her cloak, it was no more than a glimpse of leather or a flash of metal. She even kept her hands hidden beneath it for now, and all that could be seen behind her hood was a bit of dark skin and her black unfathomable eyes. She supposed that such a mysterious appearance could be considered threatening, even if she didn't stand a bit over five feet tall.



So Demkaih was well-known and respected in the resistance, as she had known he would be, considering what she knew of him so far. Since he was with her, perhaps they would trust her more easily than if she had come alone. She wondered if it was only luck that had brought him to her in the Book and Bell, or if it was more than mere coincidence.

“I suppose you could call me that,” she said, her voice neutral, perhaps even a bit friendly. “Are you the one I need to speak to?”

Deb gave Xanadu a frosty look.

"Take your hood down, I'm not talking to someone who won't even trust me with her face." She wasn't going to answer any more questions until she did. "Seria, Marsh, I think it might be time to take a walk."

Seria nodded taking Marsh by the arm. Marsh smiled at her and then saluted at Deb. Once he was standing, his awkwardness seem to ebb away. He also seemed damn tall. He towered over Seria, Xanadu and Deb.

"Oes, see you in a few." He said, turning away from them and ducking down the alley behind them. Seria followed along with him, she seemed pleased to be moving again.

"So, Clove, what brings this on?" Deb asked, again looking at Xanadu's black cloak. "I see you're all being pretty... stealthy... tonight. There's uncles about, you don't want them catching you in that getup."

"Foreigners." Deb thought to herself. "They need to hit up that seamstress he's boffing."

Demkaih inclined his head at the somewhat familiar girl, not at all put out by her attitude. She'd been slightly jumpy when he'd first met her as well. Nice girl, but something was troubling her. Personal things.



The dark man's unchanging face flicked towards the couple as they stood and left, noting that Marsh was a lot taller than he looked. Turning his blue eyes back to Deb, he waited for her to continue.



Something in the chocolate skinned man stirred, and he spoke in a quiet voice, full of bitterness and something else.

"Let them catch me, I feel that a good fight is good for the soul now and again." Crossing his arms across his strong chest, the man continued.

"My friend wants to help the cause. She has more reason than some people I know, and I feel she could be beneficial. Do not judge the book by the cover, my young friend, for the story inside might be the one that changes your life." He glanced at Xanadu for a split second as he spoke, before returning his eyes to Deb. The islander did indeed look out of place in the city of Vienda, but when it came down to it, dressed in his red wrap, torso mostly exposed, ear lugs in, nose pierced, bracelets and anklets clacking against each other as he moved.....so did he.

Xanadu pulled back her hood as the young woman and Demkaih spoke together. She had wondered earlier if her attire was unsuitable for Vienda, and it seemed from Deb's words as if it was. The mercenary had little experience in large cities, so she was not certain what was accepted and what was not. Wearing something else would not be a problem. She had other clothes, from traditional mugrobi outfits which she preferred to wear at home, to the colorful, carefree clothing she had worn at the festival, to one or two fancy gowns that wouldn't be out of place at a galdori ball.

An extensive wardrobe was important to the way she worked. She usually found it easier to obtain the information she sought by becoming what her target wished her to be ... whether that was an innocent young girl, a saucy, world-worn harlot, or anything in between. The right clothing helped her to assume each role she was called upon to play.

Whatever she wound up wearing, the knives were staying. She would not negotiate on that point.



She smiled inwardly at Demkaih's assessment of her, although outwardly her face remained expressionless. She wanted to speak, but thought it better to remain silent unless Deb chose to address her directly.

While Deb did appreciate the desire to smash a golly in the face, even she wasn't quite foolhardy enough to take on an officer of the seventen.

"Books with plain covers are less likely to get noticed, Clove." Deb said, thinking that he did look quite dashing and romantic, in a finite sort of way. "If you start a fight with one of those fancy officers, be prepared to lie through your teeth after they arrest you. If anyone comes knocking on my door after tonight, I'll absolutely blame you."

Deb began to walk, waving her hand to indicate they should follow her. She walked quickly and Dem might have noticed that she seemed to have more confidence and skill than she'd had when last he saw her. She led them on a merry chase, moving further and further into the Soot district, until they were lost within. She stopped in front of an unmarked door, one identical to all the other doors up and down the street.

"Go inside." Deb said to Xana. "We'll wait out here."

Deb leaned against the wall, holding the door open for Xanadu. Her eyes were hard and glittering but they didn't quite hide the fact that Deb was very young. Her cheeks were still soft with childhood but her expression didn't match. It was clear that this was a part of her initiation into the resistance.