Tohl was in a fairly good mood as he looked over Spiral City in chaos. Screams rose from the alleys like summer heat. Alarm bells were ringing from multiple Red Watchmen stations. Torches moved in the dark like swarms of malicious fireflies.

“All their rage is on the diablans.” Tohl observed. The fire spreading from the Dusted Quarter was clear from here.

He was standing on the roof of the Pavilion of Scrolls. Billis was adjacent, as expected. The fires reflected beautifully in her glassy eyes. Tohl turned to those behind him, a cadre of four Order soldiers. Tohl wasn’t certain how many of these held the ideals of the Order, but they were certainly loyal to Tohl’s gold. There was another on the roof. He wasn’t of the Order, nor was he one of Tohl’s agents, but he did slink around like one. The Order soldiers had just finished beating and binding him when Tohl approached.

“I have places to be tonight, so make this quick and tell me why you were following me.”

The captive, a thin earthen coatlmade, had the expression of a someone trying to eat their own tongue.

“I was c-curious…” The coatlmade hissed. “I’m no one...really.”

“I simply don’t believe you.” Tohl sniffed. “Terrible liar for a spy.”

He made a gesture to Billis illustrating what he wanted done. She calmly stabbed the coatlmade through his right foot and twisted the blade. The coatlmade’s jaw unlatched and a curdling scream came out. Billis did not retract her falchion.

“Any information will relent the torment. A motive, a name...” Tohl had a very placid expression on his face as he watched. His Mistress had used this tactic on him many times.

“Trub!” The coatlmade wheezed.

Tohl grinned. He commanded Billis to pull her blade from Trub’s foot.

“There’s the key piece. Trub of the Lion’s Claw. That band of heroes that removed Corban.”

Tohl brought his face very close to Trub’s as he formed his most venomous sneer.

“What led you from there to me? Did Corban tell you? Or was it someone else?”

Trub’s jaws flapped for an answer. He likely wanted to lie again, but his eyes were glued to his blood on Billis’ blade. Tohl growled in frustration and smacked the back of Trub’s head. He composed himself before speaking to one of the Order soldiers.

“Take him to Underdune. I won’t need a public confession, but I want a list of how many people know about me.”

The soldier nodded. Trub was heaved up by his armpits, causing his hands to fall slack to his sides.

No. Trub's hands should have been tied. They had been tied a moment ago.

Tohl was about to verbally acknowledge this when Trub’s thin arms slipped out of the grip of his captors. Tohl saw the flash of a razor concealed beneath Trub’s sleeve before he bolted for the stairs as fast as his bleeding foot would let him.

The four Order soldiers stared dumbly at Trub’s trail of blood. Tohl’s face fell.

“After him!”

The four soldiers stuttered into motion, Billis reached the stairs first, until Tohl called her back to his side. As efficient as she was, he didn’t want to lose her in the chaos of tonight. Tohl paced the roof’s edge, glaring at the walls of the Pavilion and listening for the sounds of a fight. He soon saw Trub squeeze through on of the second story windows and fall to the street. This act had gone unnoticed by the soldiers, who burst through the bottom entrance and split up to search the streets.

Two figures, one tall and one half-sized, came from the shadows and collected Trub. Two more conspirators. With his elven eyes Tohl could see them even when they retreated into the shadows and fled for an alley near the Pavilion. The soldiers were too far to recall, so Tohl, after spitting in distaste, pursed the trio with Billis.

The alley flanked a book binder’s shop connected to the library by the third floor. Tohl moved quick and silent to the shop’s terrace so that he may observe Trub and his rescuers from above. The alley was too narrow to allow for moonlight, which was likely why the three thought they were concealed. Even without darkvision Tohl would still be able to see the burning eyes of the diablan carrying Trub.

“I just wanted to play checkers.” The smaller man groaned. Now that Tohl could focus on him, he could tell the man was a hob.

“You always have to make friends with people that believe in something, huh Pallet?” The diablan set Trub on an overturned basket.

“Fern, can you d-do anyth-ing for pain?” Trub whispered to the diablan. He pointed to his damaged foot.

“Arcana isn’t miracles.” The diablan pulled his hair nervously. “I think I can numb it. I know the tune, but…”

He gestured to himself. “Only half magic.”

“Worth trying. We need him moving.” The hob had a large coin that he rubbed as he spoke. He kept checking both ends of the alley, but he never looked up.

Fern stooped to Trub’s foot. After examining the wound he fished in his cloak pocket for a teal ocarina. The melody he played was methodical and low. Tohl felt he was falling into a trance listening to it. The sides of his face tingled and he had to strike himself to chase the feeling away.

“That diablan has arcana.” Tohl muttered.

A diablan with arcana, even if it was clearly bard arcana, was an incredibly useful find. After all, the rumor was that the Eldest Cleric of the Vulture Mother was killed by an arcane diablan. Many had brought in diablans to satisfy the Order’s bounty, but none had arcana. Now Tohl had two worthwhile prisoners among this trio.

The hob jumped at the sound of another explosion. This one in the east. “It sounds like madness out there...I’ve heard riots like this before. What will you do Trub?”

Trub rotated his ankle to confirm that Fern’s song had numbed his foot. “My f-riends are at the f-east. I have t-to f-ind them. Someth-ing has happened tonight.”

“Your human friend never showed.” Pallet said solemnly.

“Lyr…Gone s-ince the sands-storm. Lyn will be sick.”

Pallet got to his feet. All signs showed they they intended to move out. Tohl had heard enough.

“Kill the small one. I want the other two lame.”

Billis did as told. She leapt into the alley and promptly shoved her sword through the hob’s stomach.

The other two men froze. When the diablan tried to shout a spell Billis seized his throat and cracked his head with her sword pommel. Trub was quickly kicked into the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

The hob lay limp against the book binder’s shop.

Fern recovered and blew a note into his ocarina that stung the ear like a ringing needle. Billis flinched long enough for Trub to come up behind her with his concealed razor. He aimed for her throat, but only managed her collar. The wound still spilled blood down Billis’ front, but she was bothered by it none. She used the proximity to grapple Trub, clutching him tight and directing her own blade to the back of his right thigh. Trub gasped and crumpled.

When Billis turned to Fern, he attempted another piece of song arcana, but Billis’ hand was fast enough to seize the ocarina, and smash it against his face. The shards of ceramic lacerated his clay skin and the impact drove him into unconsciousness.

All three targets incapacitated, Billis took Fern and Trub by the collar and dragged them to the alley’s entrance, where Tohl eagerly awaited them.

He dabbed the wound on her neck and made the promise that it would be healed before it left a scar. They would have to move swiftly to get the prisoners out of the city, but tonight was one of chaos and it would be easy to go unnoticed.

As Tohl turned to lead their path he heard the jingle of coins. Creeping slow out of the alley shadows, wheezing with each step, was the hob. His front was soaked with blood, but he still hobbled his way into Tohl’s view. One hand kept himself supported on the wall, the other clutched the neck of a full sack of coins.

“You want him for the bounty?” Pallet spoke in a whisper. “I can pay it. I can double it. Name a price for their lives.”

Tohl held out his hand so that Pallet may toss him the sack. The gold inside looked genuine, even when Tohl bit into one.

“You’re quite wealthy. You carry this amount wherever you go?”

Pallet grimaced. His knees were shaking and his grip on the wall was slipping. A chorus of screams rose up from the surrounding area. Tohl was far behind schedule.

“Gold for a life…” Tohl playfully hefted the sack. “Very well, I’ll accept this payment, and the life I will give you is your own. What remains of it.”

Pallet slipped from the wall and landed on his stomach. He breathed a single word: “Bastard.”

Tohl only smiled. The same smile he had made at his Mistress, when she breathed her last.