They moved into the hall, Karmani and Janaxia leading the way, Stathis and the other two fanning out behind. If there was an attack, it seemed unlikely to come quite so publicly, but they were being paid for the pageantry as much as anything else.

The chamber proper was a massive circular dome, some legacy built by ancient heroes, vast pillars stretching hundreds of paces upwards, with more private balconies for quiet conversations, or to be seen with choice company. Every pillar was decorated with circular friezes, monsters and heroes winding upwards in depictions of past glories and battles.

More undead servants, these dressed in fancy clothing, their grinning skull-faces hidden behind carefully crafted false faces and topped with wigs, somehow creepier than just having skulls on display, were circulating, bearing trays of food and drink. A band was playing, a few people (and people-adjacent entities) dancing. Kamarni was announced, the herald mercifully taking the rest of them as hirelings, and not bothering to get their names. A servant approached with drinks, Janaxia replacing her empty cup with a full one, before glancing at Kamarni and draining it off in a single gulp, before taking a replacement straight away.

An actual living attendant, uniform covered with tassels and braid, approached. ‘Welcome, one and all, to the Highmeet of the Swordrest Sanctuary. Please be aware that all violence is prohibited and will be met with swift and appropriate force.’ He looked with some distaste at Stathis’ blade and the daggers Parth was carrying. ‘While you are here, the protection of Sainted Kalpura will limit any magical powers you may possess. The Council of Swordrest bears no responsibility for any enchantments that are disrupted or broken, entrance is at the individuals own risk.’

On the upside, that meant any attackers would have to use mundane techniques, rather than magic, and that Semari’s peculiar brand of unarmed combat would probably be a handy surprise. It did mean that Janaxia would be limited to harsh words and inept flailing if anything did go wrong, while Parth and herself would be unable to access any of their, admittedly minor, magics. Hopefully it should all be simple enough, although the fact that Kamarni had felt the need to hire them showed that something would probably go wrong.

Watching Kamarni try to mingle and work the crowd had been equal parts amusing and cringeworthy – thus far, he’d managed to offend the snake-people, got himself courteously shunned from a circle of elven dignitaries and even had a 4-armed rock person make polite excuses before going away and talking to, apparently, one of the supporting pillars, with every sign of enjoying themselves. She supposed she should feel sorry for him, but he was something of a boorish ass, perpetually complimenting himself or his family bloodline, dragging Janaxia along with him. Although her face was locked into a fixed smile, her hair lash was starting to flicker with pale crimson, supressed but not completely eliminated by the artefact protecting this place.

Stathis took what she considered to be a guarded position, leant against a pillar nearby, close enough to leap to his defence if needed, but far enough away that people hopefully wouldn’t associate them, ignoring the booming laughter of the rock man as he good-naturedly slapped the pillar he was talking to. Well, if the thing had a totem spirit of some kind, then it was possibly quite cultured, at least as far architecture went.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned, hand on hilt, just in case. A bulky figure, large axe strapped to his back. With his beard trimmed, and wearing clean clothing, it took her a moment to recognise Taymar, looking significantly better than when she last saw him, plummeting out of sight into a pool of water. They swiftly embraced, thumping each other on the back, Stathis glancing back at Kamarni – he didn’t seem at risk of anything else other than irritating someone, and Janaxia could probably manage a suitably dramatic (and loud) scream if anything did go wrong.

‘Looking good, new job?’

‘Usual sort of thing, bodyguarding gig.’ He pointed at the snake-people, currently engaged in hissing, tongue-flicking diplomacy with some more pedestrian-looking merchants. ‘They’re from somewhere down south, out of the Stonecrack desert I think? They seem decent enough, and it’s better than being stuck in the ass-end of nowhere guarding a bridge.’

‘Worked out well for you, but are you trying to build a rep for snakes or something?’

‘Apparently that Serpent Queen put a good word in for me, said I’d let the right sacrifice through. She seemed pretty happy about it, although waking up to find a magical serpent messenger in my bed was pretty creepy. She gave me a bonus though! That something you know anything about?’

Stathis groaned and looked over at Janaxia, now starting to look distinctly red-faced from the wine, as she batted away the grasping hand of Kamarni. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know. Worked out well enough, but really something I’d rather not experience again!’ Hopefully he’d take that as something rather more dramatic than what had actually happened. They spent a while catching up, Stathis trying to present her companions as at least moderately competent, even if it involved glossing over large chunks of the time they’d spent working together. Which reminded her, where were the others? Making her apologies, she stepped away, casting around to check that no-one was causing chaos, or that the person they needed to pay them wasn’t bleeding out in the shadows somewhere.

Parth had gravitated towards a circle of other elves, the others all talking in their flowing, lyrical language. Then they went silent, before Parth spoke a single word, and everyone burst into uproarious laughter, one of them slapping Parth on the back, a few of them even needing to sit down until they could breath again, the usual elven stoicism completely gone. What was that about? Elves were weird, and cracking jokes wasn’t something she would expect of Parth.

Semari was by the tables of food, flipping vol au vents into the air, catching them on the back of her hand, then tossing them back into the air and catching them in her mouth, or juggling with them before eating them. She’d drawn a small crowd, clapping and cheering as she did a somersault flip before eating another one. Well, at least she was vaguely sober, and not starting a fight with anyone, even if she was being mistaken for entertainment, a few of the guests even tossing her coins, which she snatched out of the air.

True to Janaxia’s prediction, the wine was indeed merely adequate, but at least it was free, even if served by skeletons. She drifted away, justifying it to herself by saying she was checking the room for potential threats, finding nothing more than trading and politicking visitors, before finding a side room full of other bodyguards that had made the same justification, swapping war stories and complaining about their bosses, having appropriated some of the better snacks. None of them recognised Stathis, although news of Karilimanath’s hoard had permeated through adventurer society, with a few speaking of organising a digging crew to try and find it. Well, if they wanted to dig through most of a mountain, and probably deal with an overly-lonely medusa, that was their choice.

After spending some time with her peers, she’d caught up on the latest gossip; the Greymoor Clan were expanding again, there was some sort of demon incursion over in the Breakspires, her sister, Carissia, was single again (so it would probably be a good idea to get a wilderness job again, the last thing Stathis needed was anyone realising they were related), the blade of the First King had allegedly shown up somewhere in the Broken Kingdom, and a goblin horde was massing in the Oparli Wastes – all in all, nothing unusual, and there might be some work in it if they could scare up a Breakspire gig, the mining clans normally paid well.

By now, Semari was looking very drunk, falling over and rolling to her feet with an almost liquid grace, although her walking was a clearly inebriated, staggering, lurch. She’d gravitated to near the band and was doing something that was vaguely close to dancing, although any resemblance to the beat was purely coincidental. A few of the other guests were attempting to mimic her moves, with significantly less success as they threw themselves at the floor and hit, rather than dexterously rolling.

Parth was either doing her job, or having a surreptitious nap – she’d managed to find her way up to a balcony giving a good view and was partially hidden in the shadows, a throwing knife at the ready in case any violence did suddenly erupt. And Janaxia had, unsurprisingly, found an admirer, their body wrapped in melodramatically stark black silks and white lace, face half-veiled as they whispered something into her ear. It took Stathis a moment to locate Kamarni, skulking in a patch of shadows with a trio of individuals, wearing ornamental masks that conveniently concealed their faces, depicting skeletal faces, a weird inversion of the masked servants. It seemed a good time to go and loom, just in case they were being threatening.

As she began to move closer, the lights suddenly dimmed and the music stopped before a spotlight of clear blue light illuminated a circle on the dancefloor. Entering from the darkness was her sister, dress shimmering with every step. A moment later, her partner entered the light – a devastatingly handsome youth, his waistcoat formed of shimmering scales, reflecting whirling spots of warm golden light. Their movements were smooth and flowing (Stathis could just about make out Semari being encouraged off the dance floor by several servants at this point – mercifully, she was a happy drunk and easy to entice away, rather than putting up a fight), his sun-gold hair gleaming. The music started with a serious, slow tune, the pair moving with simple, deliberate grace, in perfect harmony as the tempo increased, their feet dancing around each other, barely missing each other, Sarissia holding her dress up with one hand to show off her talent, and keep from tangling and tripping on her own dress.

Despite herself, Stathis was impressed, clapping her hands along with the beat, as they moved faster and faster, swinging each other around, pivoting off each other’s weight to keep from spiralling away. By the time they were done, both were breathing heavily, the faintest look of effort on Sarissia’s face.

The audience clapped and cheered, although a few of the cheers were a bit odd-sounding, from the less human attendees. The lights, far enough above them to be outside the magical suppressing aura, came back on, bathing the hall in their clear radiance.

Kamarni was gone, the shadowy corner he had been standing in now empty. Stathis looked around, hoping to glimpse him getting more wine, or finding yet another group to irritate, but couldn’t see him. She signalled to Parth, gently at first, then waving both her arms to try and catch her attention, before rounding up Semari, who was just about stood up, although swaying in place, vacant grin on her face. Janaxia needed prying away from her suitor, their veil now covering them nibbling on Janaxia’s neck, tiny pinpricks of blood showing. Gods, couldn’t she ever have a fling with someone that didn’t view people as food? A quick flash of her holy symbol, despite its current lack of power, sent them scattering them in a diffusion of silk, lace and pale flesh.

She had to snap her fingers a few times in front of Janaxia’s face to drive the blurry look from her eyes, but eventually managed to harass her into some semblance of consciousness.

‘We need to find Kamarni.’

‘Nuh?’

‘We don’t find him, we don’t get paid.’

That focused everybody’s mind appropriately, as they began to search for their meal ticket. The dance hadn’t been that long, he couldn’t have gone far! As other couples moved onto the dance floor, Stathis started to look – several dark corners held politicking groups, probably up to no good but not really her business. Movement in a dark corner caught her eye, a glimmer of light vanishing from view.