[Damion & Zade]

"I did what you said. See..." the alchemist held out a large beaker with an oily, red and blue

potion swirling around inside of it. The man was unusually lucid, considering the excitement of just a few hours ago. "There's only HALF the foosh in this one. Of course we still have to TEST it-"

"I don't CARE about that!" bellowed Damion. "I said 'Healing Potion'! Didn't you understand... HEEEE LING POOOOO SHUNNN!"

"I told you I don't HAVE ANY MORE! And don't you YELL at me!" retorted the alchemist. "You're always yelling at me. Alchemist mix this!! Alchemist mix that!! No one has even bothered to ask me what my NAME is!"

"I think I liked him better when he was hysterical," said Zade. Her nose was burning fiercely from all of the chemicals in the room. Strangely enough, they weren't bothering Damion or the alchemist.

Spying something in the corner of the crowded lab, she crept off and left the men to their screaming contest.

AH-HA! she thought as she peered behind the dusty table. The alchemist apparently had his own stash of medicinal herbs and plants growing in tiny trays amongst his small garden of hemp and poppy.

Zade grabbed some of the plants and cleaned off a space on the table.

Not the BEST specimens... and who KNOWS what chemicals they've absorbed in here... Zade pinched off a few leaves off of a mandrake plant and began to squeeze the sap out into a nearby bowl. She looked around, wondering which of the thousands of clear liquids in the room was water.

"HEY!!" shouted the alchemist. "Get away from my chemicals!" He walked up behind Zade and tapped her on the shoulder. "Get away from those."

Zade ignored him and plucked a bloom off of a tiny cactus that was growing in a beaker.

"I said Get Away, Woman!! Leave my plants alo-"

*WHACK*

The alchemist collapsed onto the floor, blood trickling from his broken nose. Zade went back to work.

"What are you doing, Zade?" asked Damion.

"As much as I hate to say it... I'm making a healing salve for your boyfriend upstairs."

"You can do that? Do you know how?"

"No... I just like to play with strange chemicals..." Zade located the water and poured some into her bowl. The mixture became a thick paste. "Some of these plants should be dried... not fresh..." She added more water and then uprooted a scrawny flowering plant. She pinched off the root and squeezed some sap into the bowl. Then she added a healthy dose of saliva...

"You SPAT in that!" cried Damion. "What are you trying to do, POISON him?"

Zade turned around to face her employer. She looked him in the eyes, and then glanced down at the alchemist who was just regaining consciousness on the floor. She looked back up at Damion and raised both eyebrows.

Damion got the hint.

Zade returned to work. She added more water and then mixed the concoction thoroughly for several minutes. Finally she handed the bowl to Damion.

"Here. Pour some of this on his wounds. Most of the damage is internal, so if you can get him to wake up have him drink some of it. It's not up to my usual standards, but-"

"You want him to drink THIS?" Damion eyed the slimy liquid with disgust.

Zade sighed.

"What about YOU?"

"I'll be here," answered Zade. "I'll get this alchemist up and working on a proper healing potion. Then I'll see if I can find a healer..."

Damion paused for a moment. He blinked a few times, and his lips quivered, as if he were on the verge of saying something. Then he turned and rushed out of the room.

"You're welcome." mumbled Zade.

---

"Am I interrupting something?" asked Zade as she stood in the doorway an hour later.

The room was small and spartan, much like her own. The furnishings consisted mostly of a bed and a table. Fletcher lay draped across the dirty bed; his blood soaking into the sheets. The man looked like one gigantic wound. The light-handed smack from the Ursinor had managed to break the man's arm and several of his ribs. His entire face and almost every ounce of exposed skin was a deep purple... the result of his consecutive impacts with the Ursinor's fist, the wall, and then the floor. Fletcher hadn't awakened since the attack occurred.

Damion also sat on the bed with Fletcher's head resting in his lap. He was delicately rubbing Zade's healing salve into Fletcher's bruised skin.

"Is he going to be all right, Zade?" asked Damion. He looked up, and Zade thought she saw something in Damion's eyes that she had never seen before... something completely out of character for the pompous royal brat... compassion.

"I don't know," replied Zade. "He's hurt pretty bad. I patched him up as best I could, but I'm no healer. I've got the alchemist working on a few things... but it'll take time."

"This salve you gave me... I think it's helping. Some of the bruises are fading a little."

"Remember to get him to drink some of if he wakes up. Bruises and broken bones won't kill him....those internal injuries will. We shouldn't have moved him, you know."

"We couldn't leave him there to die on the floor."

Zade nodded and watched Fletcher. To her, the man looked dead. He wasn't moving. His breathing was too shallow to be seen. Only his heartbeat signaled that there was still life left in him. Zade could hear it from across the room.

Wait a minute... she thought, That's impossible. Must be MY heartbeat that I'm hearing. Yeah... that's it...

"Should have stayed out of the way," mumbled Zade.

"He was trying to protect me."

"With what? That little sword of his?" Zade sighed.

"Fletcher is a master of the rapier..."

"Men and their swords..." sighed Zade. "He should have left that to the professionals."

"Fletcher IS a professional."

"Fletcher is an over-paid butler. Not a bodyguard, mercenary, or an assassin. And neither are you. You keep playing this game and you'll only get yourselves killed."

"I'm going to find the person who did this..." said Damion, ignoring Zade's remark.

"You KNOW who did it. It's locked away in the basement."

"No. Someone sent it here. Somebody tried to kill me."

"I..." Zade's comment trailed off into nothingness. Her mind went back to the conversation she had had with Blaymore the night before and the things she had found out since then, "...December..." she whispered.

"What?"

"I think I know who's behind this."

"So do I. His name is Eric. Eric Hood."

"But who's behind Eric."

"Who?"

"A man named December."

"The jeweler? A jeweler did this?"

"No... December."

"You're not making any sense."

"I didn't make the connection at first. I...overheard the name in the Pan-Demonica and then I did some checking. December the jewel-trader is THE December."

"You're beginning to sound like Slimmon."

"'I'm talking about the three people on Ifreann you don't ever want to trifle with: K'Sano...The Queen of Swords... and December."

"I've heard of the other two-"

"And apparently December has heard of you."

"What else do you know about him."

"Other than the fact that people who don't give him what he wants tend to disappear... nothing."

"And now he wants something from me, is that it?"

"I guess."

"Why?! Why ME? I've never done anything to this man! I don't even KNOW him! How DARE he-"

"See what I mean, Damion, you're acting like a child on a playground. There ARE NO rules here! No logic... no reason! People take what they want and if you aren't strong enough to protect what you have then it gets taken away. If you're lucky then you get to live. If not..." Zade nodded at Fletcher's unmoving form.

"Luck..." said Damion.

"Maybe that brewery IS cursed. Maybe THAT's why this is happening. Stranger things have-"

"Or maybe this December person is in league with that drunken brewmaster. Maybe THAT's why nobody bothers him."

"Possible. But not likely. It doesn't fit with what I've heard. The real question is what are YOU going to do. I suggest giving this man what he wants. Whatever it is."

"No. You said it yourself... If you can't protect what you have then it gets taken away. Well, Damion VonSinterbourne is MORE than capable protecting what is his! If this 'December' wants a war, then by the gods I'll GIVE him one!"

"I really don't think-"

"Go fetch a healer for Fletcher. Then find out whatever you can about December"

"I've already told you everything that people are willing to say. Any more would be lies or speculation."

"Then we'll play the game as HE plays it," Damion looked down at Fletcher, and then back up at Zade, "Eric Hood... find him and everyone he's so much as SPOKEN to since his arrival. First blood belongs to December... but now it's MY turn..."

-----------------------------------

[December]

"So what are you going to do with all that foosh, boss? Besides keep it as far away from Lovvorn as possible."

"HEY!" blurted Lovvorn. He sat up straight in his chair, which was quite an achievement for one as drunk as he was. Eric and December both turned to look at him. Eric was smiling. December was not.

"Very funny," retorted Lovvorn.

"I will keep a portion of it on hand for when I take possession of Sinterbourne's formula. The rest I intend to ship off to my mines."

"Mines? Why the mines?"

"My workers grow restless... more demanding. I think this new drug shall placate them quite nicely... and it will help to keep my diamonds out of their pockets."

"Ahh..."

"It is nearly sunrise. When the light is sufficient to allow safe travel, find Rivus and have him arrange the foosh shipment."

"Yes, boss."

A sudden scratching arose from behind the walls of December's den. It sounded as if a dozen rats... or one giant one... had awakened and decided to scavenge for food. A few seconds later, a pale, bulbous head emerged from a small hole in the corner. It was J'Hasp.

The creature extracted itself from the impossibly small opening in a manner that no professional contortionist could ever hope to duplicate. Double joints and flexible bones allowed J'Hasp to squeeze his human-sized frame through a hole no larger than a tea-saucer. In just a few seconds, J'Hasp joined the trio in December's den.

"Well..." said December.

"He livessss, Massster." hissed J'Hasp. "Woman sssavesss him."

"This woman... the same one you mentioned before?"

"Yessss."

December nodded

"The girl. Did she survive the night?"

"She livesss. Man livess alssso." J'Hasp shuffled nervously, hopping from one clawed foot to the other.

"What's the deal with the girl, boss?" asked Eric "Why're you so interested in her?"

December glared at Eric for a full minute.

"Okay," said Eric, "Changing the subject... what are we going to do about Sinterbourne?"

"While Damion Sinterbourne is licking his no-doubt substantial wounds, we will continue to apply pressure to his crumbling organization. The foosh shipment will have to wait a few hours. Eric, I want you to find a man named Therus. He is here in town."

"Who's that?"

"An investigator for the city of Montfort... and a relatively loyal employee of mine. It seems that

a great crime has been committed... one that has endangered the well-being of every law-abiding citizen of Montfort. And I do believe I know who is responsible..."

[Simon Vendredi]

"And just what the Hell is THAT!!" bellowed Simon. A long, desperate night of tracking and hunting had done nothing to ease the man's ire. Simon was hauling a large net back into camp, single handedly dragging the trap and it's contents... three drugged and unconscious lion cubs... over towards their empty cages. The adult male was found dead, and the female was still at large. A second ago, Throk had walked up to his master and held out his hand, which elicited Simon's angry reaction.

Throk had a lion in his palm.

The tiny beast was all of three inches long from the tip of its nose to the base of its tail. The lion was still very much alive, although it was clearly no longer a danger to anyone.

"Throk find in town. Lion like one get away... only tiny not big. Throk keep?"

Simon examined the animal more closely. Except for the size, it was exactly like the one that had escaped. Obviously some mage in Montfort had a queer sense of humor. Still, it was probably a *good* thing... a three-inch lion wouldn't be eating anyone's children...

"Put it..." Simon paused. Just where does one keep a three-inch lion?

"Throk put with other tiny animals." Simon's assistant turned to leave.

"What? What other little animals?"

"Oh. Throk not say before. Throk find jaguar. Throk find puma. Throk find two wolves. Throk find-"

"And just where did you find them?"

"Throk find in town near place that disappear when sun come. Place where giant red bat fly."

Simon didn't even try to figure out what that meant.

"Well, put them somewhere..."

Simon shook his head.

"Giant red bat. Indeed." Simon scanned the camp, his heart sinking as he observed the empty cages. Here it was, already daylight, and only a little over half the animals were recaptured. Half of the remainder were found dead somewhere in town... and the rest were still at large. And still very dangerous. Simon was still at a loss to explain why every single animal decided to defy centuries of instinct and head *into* a populated area when there was a suitable natural habitat nearby. But that's exactly what they did. His men were finding bodies all night long.

The felupines were seen circling the town shortly after the chaos began. The trail took off through the woods to the south. Simon had pulled his men off of that hunt... the beasts were heading out of town and that was all that mattered.

The chitracks were recovered rather quickly, but not before they chewed their way through some farmer's hunting dogs... and the poor farmer as well.

The Ursinor was nowhere to be found. That creature didn't even leave a trail. It was as if the thing simply disappeared. Simon planned to deal with that mystery as soon as he had the lion cubs safely contained.

The Razor-Warg was still at large. Simon had lead that hunt personally. The Warg's trail led into some brewery and never came out. Rather than follow the beast in, Simon had his men steer clear of the place. Something didn't feel right there... and Simon always trusted his instincts. Hopefully the creature had crawled into a vat and drowned. If not, they would certainly hear about it when it emerged. That might be for the best...perhaps a public, daylight capture would redeem his image with the populace...

Throk, Blanchard and Franklin had tracked the banshee to a old cemetery north of town. No surprise there... just following the food chain. Banshees ate ghouls and ghouls ate corpses, so a cemetery was the most logical place to find both. Unfortunately, the beast heard the party approach. One blast turned Blanchard and Franklin into red smears in the grass. Throk managed to escape intact, as did the Banshee. Simon wondered how his half-orc assistant always managed to survive the encounters that killed just about everyone else. It certainly wasn't due to any skill or intelligence on Throk's part...

Fortunately the fire drake never escaped. It was still locked away in its thick metal cage, although Simon had his men move the cage deeper into the woods and away from the main camp. The chitracks were relocated there as well, and a two-man guard was posted. Simon had absolutely no logical explanation as to why he gave those orders... it just seemed like the best thing to do at the time. Where instinct lead, Simon followed.

"...Now..." Simon leaned into his load and began to drag the heavy net over to the cages. He didn't make it more than a few feet before all Hell broke loose. Again.

Armed men appeared and began to disrupt the camp. At first, Simon thought he was under attack, but the majority of the men settled around the perimeter of the camp and simply prevented anyone from leaving while the rest ran around asking questions and yelling at Simon's men. Simon watched. Finally, someone pointed out Simon as the man in charge, and a short oily-looking man approached him. Simon disliked the man immediately.

"Therus... Investigator for the city of Montfort. You in charge here?"

Simon nodded. He was struggling to resist the urge to grab the little man by the ears and twist his head off...

"So you're the one responsible for last night, then. Is that correct?"

"Last night?"

"The animals, Mr.... Vendredi? Is that a foreign name? Where are you from, Mr. Vendredi?"

"Everywhere." replied Simon. "Where do you WANT me to be from?"

"No games, Mr. Vendredi. It was YOUR animals that were out and about... devouring our citizenry last night. Correct?"

"I'm afraid so..."

Therus raised an eyebrow. Obviously he hadn't expected the truth.

"Well then, your camp is hearby declared to be a crime scene. Everything and everyone will be isolated.... nobody IN or OUT until all the animals are captured and contained. We've got our people on that now-"

"Now? Now that I've already recaptured HALF the bloody beasts! Thanks very much, Mr. Therus."

"But you were in no hurry to alert the authorities last night then, were you Mr. Vendredi? I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

"What?!? I'm in the middle of trying to set this thing RIGHT! What are you going to do.. lock me up in some dungeon."

"Actually... yes."

"What FOR!!"

"For endangering the citizens of Montfort by intentionally releasing wild and dangerous creatures into their midst. GUARDS!! COME GET THIS MAN!!"

"WAIT!! I'm the VICTIM here!!"

"And how's that, Mr. Vendredi?"

"We were drugged! My men and I were put to sleep by some kind of poison and someone ELSE came in and released the animals. I had nothing to DO with this!"

"I see. And you can prove this?"

"Prove WHAT!? YOU'RE the one making accusations!"

"And the reason you didn't alert the authorities or warn the town was because...."

"Because we were DRUGGED, dammit!"

"But you woke up eventually, right? Or am I talking to some kind of sleep-projection-"

"No! We awoke and the animals were gone."

"So now we're back to gross negligence in not warning the town."

"We thought it best to set out to capture the animals immediately. I assumed they would head into the woods... away from the populated areas. We didn't know they were headed into town until AFTER we started hunting them. By then it was too late."

"It's never too late to warn a family to stay inside so their children won't get eaten."

"..did...uhh..." Simon was at a loss. "...how many?"

"Quite a few, actually."

"Oh."

"So...victim or perpetrator... either way this camp is a crime scene and YOU aren't going anywhere. I'll let you have your fresh air and daylight for now, but only so you can help us capture whatever animals are still at large. After that, you'll answer for whatever part you played in this fiasco. Understood?"

Simon nodded. The man had him dead-to-rights. The only way out of this was to run, and the authorities had the camp effectively surrounded... some of the guards had already begun to settle in for an extended stay. Of course, Simon and most of his men could easily sneak out of camp any time they wanted... but the camp itself... the animals and all of their belongings... would end up as evidence in some long, drawn-out legal process. He would lose everything.

"I'll need a list," said Therus. "Every animal that was in this camp. And Descriptions. And I'll want to talk to each one of your men... find out what THEY say happened last night."

"You'll want to talk to Throk first. He can give you what you need." said Simon. "THROK!!"

The half-orc waddled over.

"Tell this man what happened last night, and then give him a run-down of the animals still at large."

"And where are YOU going?" asked Therus.

"Well... I'd like the get these lads safely locked in a cage before they wake up..." Simon nodded at the lion cubs that were just beginning to stir within the confines of their net. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Go right head. But don't wander too far. I've got men watching you..."

"Sure you do..." Simon drug the net toward the cages. Behind him, he could already hear the beginnings of what he hoped would be a very long and aggravating experience for Therus:

"Well, Mr. Pok..."

"Throk name Throk not POK!"

"Yes... tell me about last night."

"Throk awake then Throk sleep but Throk no remember sleep and then Throk wake-"

"Wait..."

"-up and Simon-Master yell at Throk to get man with face like Throk dinner out of fire but later Simon-Master yell at Throk to leave man with face like dinner IN fire and-"

"Slow down..."

"then Simon-Master yell at Throk to take men out and find gray thing that scream but Throk forget wax like last time but Throk go back and get wax for ears and then..."

Soon, Simon as gratefully out of earshot. He secured the dozing cubs and then wandered around the cages for a minute. He could *feel* the guards' eyes on him. Watching him. He pretended to fumble with the lion cage's lock until his instincts told him to make his move... He ducked into the trees nearby and circled around the cages. He emerged near the rear of his personal tent.

As he expected, the tent was guarded. He snuck around to another nearby tent, and ducked inside.

The tent was crammed with bird-cages. All were occupied with pigeons of various sizes. This was not a part of Simon's menagerie... this tent served as his communication center. Simon scribbled a hasty message on a tiny scrap of paper. His writing was quick and sloppy... he had to make an appearance somewhere in the camp before the guards noticed that he was missing. That should be any second now... He then opened one of the pigeon cages and stuffed the tiny sliver of paper into a small metal tube that was attached to the bird's leg. Then he leaned out of the tent and released the homing pigeon into the open air.

Simon smiled as he watched the bird disappear into the sky.

Hopefully, Sinterbourne is still ready to make his purchase. thought Simon, and I think the price of the fire drake just doubled...

[To Be Continued]