The dives were not a place for a young woman at night. Ilithyia snuck though dark corners and shadows, as stealthily as she could. Anyone who thought to try this young woman, however, would meet the bite of her short sword and dirk, and she was secretly hungry for confrontation. Ilithyia wasn't playing tonight.

Leaving the barracks had been easy enough; she'd slipped out, managing to avoid the sentry. He wasn't protecting anything, and the officers were allowed to go. She just didn't want to be seen. Ilyia ground her teeth; it had been a long night of work, and she couldn't get the smug doctor out of her head. He made her want to kill things.

Heartily jerking her uniform top to fit better, she stopped to compose herself. She needed to stay in control, not let him get under her skin. But it seemed these days, there were two people who could totally derail her... she shook the thought away, No, earlier had been a fluke.

She caught sight of the surgery, and memory surged. So many injured... so many people... and I brailed. I killed so many... She shook it away, trying to seal herself from all emotion. She needed to either deal with this doctor... or eradicate the problem he posed. Slipping her sword in its sheath but keeping dirk firmly in hand, she slunk to the door and rapped on it, standing at her full height.

He had better be here.

Dark thoughts dominated Ivan's mind. All around the surgery, the clatter of hiding, concealing, arming, preparing could be heard.

Paralytic in the sugarbowl.
Sedatives in with the mints.
Ethoxyethane in the napkins.
Sulphuric acid in the gravy boat.

Gag in the cutlery, scalpel tied to left wrist, pistol strapped to the bottom of the table, polearm propped behind the stretcher...



Ivan had just finished rigging a flashbulb - in truth, from a line of failed experiments in electricity lifted by the Bad Brothers - when he heard the knocking.

Taking one deep breath, and doing a final once over of his preparations, he paced up to the door and began unbolting it. Ten seconds later, the final latch yielded, and the door opened halfway.

"Miss Lutgardis. Come inside."

Ilithyia was trained to feel an unerring sense of power and control. She could have marched inside, backhanded the bounder and made him talk. However, even the the thought of that now disgusted her. The wick was still smartingly fresh in her memory. Stepping in carefully though the door, she bit her anger and made a short, stiff bow to the human. It was one usually saved for galdor civilians. No harm at least trying to start out on the right foot.

"Dr. Mottoni." She stared at him a moment, knowing that she was on home turf, knowing that in this situation, she was at her most vulnerable. Then again, vulnerable for a galdor against a human wasn't too much to be worried about. Shrugging off the spasm of fear, she continued on until she was standing in the center of the room.

"I'll not mince words with you. You know... something about Mr. Murdoh's plans." She twitched, coiled muscled rebelling, and in order to relieve some of the tension building in her she paced. "I don't know how you came to have this knowledge." He hasn't even said anything yet and I'm already wound to strike! She really couldn't find a middle ground, between utterly open or totally closed. Growling under her breath, she tried to make the words coming out of her sound civil.

"I need to know what you know, doctor, in no uncertain terms."

A bow?
It would seem that the seventen had come to talk, on a level field. She was paying recognition to the value of his knowledge (or potential value; she knew not what he did) rather than his standing, but even so it was refreshing to be able to drop the pretence of respect and admiration the seventen normally demanded of humanity at every turn.



"Well I'll tell you that one for free. He came to me, and in this very room, told me himself. Now, why do you suppose he would do something like that? Would you like a seat? A drink?"



Ivan took a seat in his favourite and unaltered chair. The others had their legs chipped in such a way that if kicked inwards the whole chair would collapse, but would happily bear the weight of a person otherwise.
He'd lined up a few shots near him, the third of which contained a slow acting poison. Perhaps she was a drinker?

"Yes I can see that you'd very much like to. Tell me, do you know how Alstair and I know eachother?"

She froze; Alstair had told him? She stared at Ivan, completely and totally derailed. Sitting down in one of the offered chairs, speechless, Ilyia felt a coolness pass through her body. Alstair told this... this... oh goddess what in all hells is going on? She glared at Ivan, though most of the fire had died. Glancing down at her boots, she spoke up, voice tense.

"What? I don't quite understand." the vision of her feet swam, blue eye filled with confusion, and she could feel a deep ball of iron growing in her gut.


Turning back to Ivan, the sweeping feeling of being lost and aimless enveloped her. Ilithyia hung her head quietly, trying for form a response but utterly unable to. Running a hand over her hair, she looked up at Ivan.

"No. I didn't know." Narrowed eyes stared past Ivan, into the middle distance. "He hadn't told me..." She looked at her hands and sighed quietly. It was all gone, all of it; the rage, the fear. She should have expected it. She wasn't anything but a pawn, not really. Well, that and a 'companion.' Oh hells, I shouldn't have done any of it, shouldn't have agreed with a word. But I brought it upon myself.

Sucking in a wheezy breath, she looked back up at Ivan, eyes pink. "I guess this is my fault, then. I apologize for disrupting your walk. I didn't know." She wanted to stand and walk away, but she couldn't. It would mean going back and dealing with this astounding revelation, and she just... couldn't. Whatever threat he had made at the riot paled in comparison to her new fear.

Woah. That gentled her down some.



His expression softened, and he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy. It wasn't really that great a surprise that he'd use those closest to him - already he'd tested his connection with Ivan to the limit - but even so, it stung to see he'd hurt another person, someone who was no doubt blissfully unconnected before. What could she have gained from this association with Alstair? Didn't she know his madness?



Ivan raised a hand to say "it is of no matter", which wasn't exactly true, but compared to the complete reversal he was seeing, it was not nearly as significant. Clearly he'd hit upon a sensitive issue.

"Alstair and I served in Mugroba together. He's entrusted me with secrets before, which I have kept to this day, I'll have you know. The man owes me a life debt - that shoulder, does it not have the mark of a human surgeon?"

Ivan drank the first shot and slid the second towards the confused officer. Squinting for a moment, he decided he could probably freely smoke as well, and pulled the nearby box of smoking gear close, flipped the lid and pulled out the necesary implements.

"Yes, he came to me with his plan - Alioe only knows why, I suppose he was hoping for a friend with connections. If you want to know my affiliations you can ask him yourself."

Ivan lit the pipe.

"He told me his plan, at least enough to send him, and by association you, to the next life. Very nasty business, not something I like to be involved in.
I promised to keep quiet, on one condition - at no point in his plan does he hurt me, or my associates.
He added a condition of his own, you know. And it's one I intend, as a man of my word, to stick to.
He said if anything were to happen to him, that I am to keep you safe."

Ivan chuckled a little again at the idea of a human keeping a member of the seventen - his sworn enemy - safe. The chuckle turned into a small series of coughs, though not uncontrollable.

Ilithyia nodded quietly, drinking the offered liquer slowly. It was out of politeness... and also out of a need to have something to do with her hands. So, his scar was from mugroba... and Ivan saved his life. She looked over at the human with a mix of appreciation and caution. Maybe someone who could heal a galdor on the field wasn't so bad after all... but then the riot surged through her brain and she was reminded of his grip at her throat. Her misty expression turned slightly sour.


She was glad of the caution. She glared at Ivan again, putting her glass down only to smooth her hair. "You give him no credit, Doctor." However, her charity was born out of her deepest emotions; right now she couldn't have agreed more with the human. Ah, I wish I didn't feel like I did. Then I could wash my hands of all of this. In her mind, she saw Alstair's face though, when he had calmed her after the riot. He does care for me. I can't...


At that Ilithyia bristled, choosing to keep her face under control but the flash of indignance surfacing in her field. "So, you used something you promised to keep silent as a threat against me?" She shrugged her shoulders, trying to find something to keep her body from tensing too much. It wasn't enough. She stood this time, and took to pacing again.

"And for what? I did my best, but I know my limits." She was tempted to down the rest of the alcohol, but decided she'd rather not. However, she did glare over the glass at the doctor. "The brail was your fault."

She clenched and unclenched her fist, shoulders stiff. "I do not need your protection."

"You're not wrong...but I can tell you don't believe what you say. You blame yourself for the brail."

He sighed noisily, displaying impatience at her little angry display. He was starting to see her less as an officer of the Law, and more a poor confused girl.

"Exactly how much has he told you about his plans? You seem to be skipping over the slightly more pressing issue of the riot - what do you think caused it? Do you really think wicks just start fighting in the street like animals?

Alstair came to me, and he told me the first part of his plan was to cause friction between the tribes, to trigger some incidents. At the time I thought he was just testing to see my reaction. Funny that he was there when it all went down. And I know I don't exactly have a copy of the Spoke's Almanac, but I'm fairly sure magma isn't a wick spell."

His expression darkened.

"That woman you saw me with, it looked like you recognised her. She has a permanent scar on her shoulder now. The pain medication I prescribed her makes her lightheaded, so she came to see me. Every day they're back, dressings need changing, prescriptions refilled. Sometimes it's just a family member informing me the infection finally took another life. I go with them, I do my duty as a coroner."

His fist slammed the table, making the shot glasses and the smoking gear clink.

"There are consequences to every action, dammit! You people should know that most of all!
Associates, friends of mine were in that market, that mess. Alstair broke his bargain not two days after he made it. So far his secrets remain safe, but I'm going to need some information to keep them that way."



"Maybe you don't want it, but you'll damn well receive it. My word is my word.
What about you, can you be trusted?"

Hot tears sprang uncalled to her eyes as she remembered the feeling of the mona punishing her. Her grip tightened on the shot glass, and she stopped her pacing. She couldn't look at anything in this room without that sinking, lost feeling. She felt as if her soul was shivering.

"You can't understand. I wish I could explain it to you... I was abandoned by the goddess because I was fighting for the safety of-" She paused, trying to find the words, and unable to. She had been fighting for the safety of a man that could never offer her more than treason and danger. And was still fighting for him. I'll always be fighting for him...


She rounded on him, color drained from her face.

"He... he started it. He did. He did?" She dropped the small shot, the fragile glass and liquor spilling onto the floor in a tinkling shower. "That... that... AHH!" She was fuming, her heart struggling like a hawk in a canary's cage. If she thought her body was tense before, now it was positively steel. "Goddess fuck it all!" It was possibly the most blasphemous thing she had uttered in company, but it was all she could form.


She raised her face to the ceiling, eyes clenched so tight muscles in her cheek were jumping. Inside she was a mess... nothing new, she thought bitterly. Alstair, I may never have the courage or the will to say this to your face, but I will know, and the universe will know, that I have said this and meant it; Die in a fucking fire, you arrogant evil bastard.

And to think I still love you.


Turning to face the table again, she sat back down, her head in her hands. After a few breaths, long and drawn with vile anger rather and sadness. Looking up into his eye, she laughed coldly, silent tears falling down her twisted face.

"I can't help you. Ha! Obviously I know nothing, nothing at all." Her head felt tight, and she was sorely tempted to take her hair down. Letting out a hissed sigh, she fumbled with her snap.

Those born blind don't miss their sight. Ivan could only hazard a guess at the feeling she was trying to describe. Maybe it felt like losing a limb? Not something he'd experienced either, but if he wasn't careful here he might be blending in a little too well with the Old Rose crowd for his liking.



Though previously mentioned, it bears noting that Ivan harboured a particular distaste for dealing with upset women. Yet again Ivan was taking the brunt of Alstair's drastic measures.



"No, you still can. I want you to set up a meet. You, me and Alstair. Say those are my terms. I'm serious about this information, it concerns the wicks being displaced en masse. Some are associates of mine, and it would make certain matters...difficult for me if they were caught. There'll be nothing he can say to me that you won't hear too. First I need the exact orders given, and any areas that are being searched door to door, and when. Without this information, I'm not confident that keeping Alstair on my side is in my best interests. Once you know what I know from his very mouth, maybe then you can decide where your allegiances really lie too. As far as I see it, it's win win."

He topped up the opium in his pipe, and the space between them temporarily filled with opaque grey smoke. He poured another whisky into the first shot glass, and left the poisoned shot where it was.

Ilithyia nodded curtly. Their exact orders weren't horridly secret, so she had no qualms about divulging them. Sighing she looked over at the mess of the shot glass and eyes the empty one longingly. She could do with some alcohol to settle her nerves. Alstair had her sweating bullets... and feeling like all hell. Goddess damn it.

"We didn't have to seach every home or business. We were 'to carry out the orders quietly, with steady purpose.' First, the Seventen emptied any caravan camps in the city, and then got the Red Crow and the Yellow Eye away from one another to stem possible incidents." She sighed, exasperatedly. "Then we had to start purging the streets of these wicks, all of them. All without announcement." She barely choked out the words. "It's nasty business. I... I hate it. Possibly more than I hated the riot." She gave in to her headache and undid her hair, letting it fall as she wiped at her eyes.

"And I'll make sure to tell him your terms, though how much he'll listen is up for debate." Glancing back at the doctor, she wondered what else the human could he require of her. She was slowly coming to her wits end.

"Ask away, and I'll see what I can answer about anything else. I'm just a recruit, though, and obviously of no real importance in Mr. Murdoh's plans."

She looked at the whisky the same way the poppy-heads at the Harbour looked at him. He sighed, poured a shot into his empty glass and slid it towards her. Gesturing to the spare shot, he said,
"That one's poisoned."

He hoped it would reinforce the shaky truce they'd come to, and at the same time remind her that he was not to be messed with, particularly on home turf.



That corroborates the reports the resistance received.

He leaned over to the napkins and removed the first few, then handed her one from the top of the remaining stack. Shrugging apologetically, he said,
"Those ones were doused with ether."

More trust, more fear.



"Well he has very little choice in the matter, unless he harbours particular indifference towards gallows. He meets me, or his plans are over. I have also left instructions with an unknown third party to carry out my contingency should I "disappear unexpectedly"."



"Listen, for what it's worth, the impression I got from him was that he wanted above all to keep you safe, which may have meant keeping you in the dark about certain things. Still, I think you have a right to know - there's no margin for error in treason."

A manic-sounding chuckle forced it's way between her lips, and she looked at the doctor with a quiet mix of exasperated respect and disbelief. Poisoned the other shot glass? Oh goddess that is... what a funny world we live in. Ilithyia downed the liquor like it was the very nectar of the gods... drinking in rough times was becoming a habit, it seemed.

She finished the entirety and held the glass out for more, a pleading look in her eyes. If she survived til better days she'd buy him a clocking alehouse of the stuff.


Her eyebrows skyrocketed and Ilithyia really did laugh, a sound from deep in her core, bitterness creeping into her tone.

"Remind me... not to get on your bad side doctor. I have a feeling that I'd end up the one looking at the wrong side of a coffin lid." Taking an unlaced napkin, she wiped at her eyes and forehead. She was... drained, to say the least. This entire ordeal of doctor and revelations had varied from her plan in such great strides that she had no recourse. It was merely time to roll with the punches.


"That's no guard for madmen and you know it." Ilithyia shrugged, defeat evident in her posture. "I have no plans that involve killing anyone; clocking hell if I hadn't gotten into this damn mess I wouldn't be bothering you right now. I was actually awed by your work with the riot victims. But Alstair is volatile." She shook her head to clear of the mistiness. "I'll pass on the message along when he and I are secure." Secure meant alone, and alone meant everything she had heard tonight coming out whether she willed it or not. That... will be a messy fight. One that I'll lose, but has to be fought anyway.


"Agreed. At this point, I'm just praying at this point I make it to see twenty three." However hearing her importance to Alstair, personally if not strategically, mollified her somewhat. Perhaps he's trying to protect me... but goddess damn it he should know better. After the 26th, he should have damn well known better.

Ivan smirked without humour. It was good to know he wasn't the only one with vices. He pushed the bottle towards her, then took a long, deep, hot draw on his pipe.



He nodded once, acknowledging the respect she had for his deadly prudence. And she didn't even know about his gun or his knife yet! Still, the message had come across clear enough; don't fuck with a surgeon.



She was right, it was not an adequate defense, particularly because it was a total fabrication - he'd left no such instructions with anybody.

Ivan winced a little at the compliment. He had made her brail, and here she was telling him he'd done good work. He felt so dishonest just listening to it.



Twenty two.

For all his madness, he and I have much in common.


Ivan wasn't comfortable involving Khymarah in such dark and dangerous activites as blackmail and espionage. It wasn't safe, and it wasn't her territory. Neither, it seemed, was it something Ilithyia would be able to get used to quickly.

The engine of war runs on youth; it consumes it, and produces nothing but more conflict.

Sighing, Ilithyia finished her... what was it, third, fourth drink? They ran together now, just like the evening was beginning to. Nothing was the same since she had entered the surgery door; things best left to the shadow for her and Alstair were brought to vivid clarity. I don't know why I do these thing to myself but I guess, in the end, this is my mess and I have to deal with it.

Smiling wanly at the doctor, she carefully placed the glass down and shrugged her shoulders. In this power-play, it had gone from being merely midnight to some ungodly hour, and she hadn't been sleeping well anyways. She was tired and broken and ready for this to end.

"Again, I'm sorry for interrupting your walk. Now that I know... well, I feel very foolish indeed." She almost brought up Khymarah's presence, however it seemed callous to ruin the man's 'hospitality' in not killing her by bringing up something that really could have been purely innocent. Besides, it really was none of her business, even as an officer of the law.

Standing, she stared at the doctor for a minute, taking in everything she could about his face, his manner. She moved towards the doorway, hand at her temple, trying to rub away the ache that wasn't strictly illness anymore. Glancing sidelong at the doctor, she deflated a little.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I have a feeling you deserve to know." She paused, trying to find the words. "I thought I could temper him, blunt the edge of the blade, turn his desire for power and change and use it for good..." blue eyes downcast and forlorn, she ran a hand through her long hair nervously. "See what 'good' I've done so far, eh? Anyway, I'll take my leave before you decide to use some of your weapons on an unwelcome guest." If the cup and napkin were deadly, she could only guess what was everywhere else. "Goodnight, doctor."

And with that she left, mind full and heart heavy with the burden of treason and a persisting love.

Ivan worried that she didn't buy his story, though there was medically no reason it shouldn't be believed - it was a good enough lie, but their body language was probably enough of a giveaway.

How much can that harm us? There's no law against it. I'd prefer Alstair not have the leverage though...



You can't change his plans, but this revolution is probably now in your name.

"Goodnight Ilithyia. I'm away for a week at the start of Bethas, so an answer before would be preferred. If it must be, though, it can wait until I return."