[...in the woods just outside Montfort...]

The sun had set long ago, and darkness had settled over the forest like warm, comfortable blanket. Nocturnal animals scurried from their holes, and the diverse sounds of the daylight hours gave way to the hoots, howls, and shrill calls of the night and its predators. Birds and squirrels slept peacefully in their nests, leaving the woods to nature's night shift... the bats and the owls and the other hunters of the night.

A large owl perched on an oak branch and peered down at the forest floor. Keen senses scoured the surroundings for signs of prey or predators. But, as keen as the bird's senses where, it was never aware of the thing that touched briefly on tree branch behind it. It was much larger than the owl... its weight should have shaken the tree, but it didn't. Nothing moved... the branch did not sway, the leaves did not rustle. The thing paused and regarded the owl with large, intelligent eyes. Then it moved on, leaping silently onto the branch of an adjacent tree.

The thing continued through the forest like a silent ghost... moving from branch to branch, scurrying up and down the trunks of mighty trees. Sometimes passing within inches of timid or hungry animals without disturbing them. There no sign of its presence or its passing. No wind to carry the creature's scent. It planned its motions with a supernatural instinct that man could not comprehend, and it executed them with a sense of balance that would have been the envy of the most acrobatic of animals. It paused frequently to sniff the air and make small adjustments to its path, but it always continued... silently.

One such pause was longer than the others. It mewled softly, then slowly crawled out along a long branch that overhung a small clearing. The creature looked down at the man that waited there... standing with his back against a pine tree, tapping his foot impatiently on the hard ground.

"Ya might as well come down," said Eric Hood. "I know you're up there." Eric pointed to the end of the branch, where a tiny red apple bobbed up and down... disturbed by the almost nonexistent motion of the branch as the creature crawled along it. The apple didn't even belong on the tree,...Hood had tied it there himself.

The creature wrapped its prehensile tale around the branch and descended. It hung upside down in the air dangling beside Eric like a giant spider.

"What the hell are you doing?" said Hood.

"J'Hasp follow!" the creature said. It's voice, like its body, was only a rough approximation of a human's.

"Nope," said Eric. "You stay here in Montfort with me. Boss's orders."

"J'Hasp follow master!" J'hasp ALWAYS follow!"

"Do you even know where he is?"

"J'Hasp find!" J'Hasp sniffed the air and lifted one spindly arm. He pointed northeast.

"Even if you COULD smell him from here... which you can't... December would be BACK by the time you got to where he is now."

J'Hasp made a noise that sounded like a sigh. Even on such an inhuman visage, the disappointment and sadness was a unmistakable.

"Here," said Eric. He reached out and grabbed the apple from the branch. He held the juicy fruit out, and J'Hasp snatched it away. J'Hasp devoured the apple... core, stem, and all... in two bites. "Feel better?"

"J'Hasp follow now?"

"Don't play stupid."

J'Hasp sighed again.

"C'mon with me back to town. You can help me out with something."

"J'hasp help Eric?"

"Yeah," said Eric. "You don't think that because the boss is on vacation that YOU get to relax, too, do ya? Come on."

Eric and J'Hasp turned back toward town and started walking.

---

Bastwick watched the messenger boy run off into the night, and then untied the string on the scroll he'd just received. Receiving messages in the middle of the night was one of the many minor annoyances Bastwick endured since setting up shop in Montfort. But the ridiculous amount of money he earned more than made up for it. Besides... some business could only be conducted under cover of darkness.

He unrolled the scroll and looked down at the message. It had been written in haste, with a very shaky hand:

HE KNOWS!
LEAVE WHILE YOU CAN!

Bastwick gulped. He recognized the handwriting... and he knew that the person who'd written the message was most likely dead. As HE would soon be if he didn't act quickly.

"Damn, damn, DAMN!" Bastwick cursed. He locked the front door, then dashed to the rear of the store, running between the long aisles of over-priced cloth to the store's main desk. He didn't bother walking around behind the counter... he hopped over it, sliding his body over the top and landing on the other side. His quivering fingers worked the combination on the wall safe... it was a miracle that he got it right on the first try. He snatched the safe open and grabbed two large bags of gold and one satchel filled with papers. He quickly realized that the bags of gold were too bulky and heavy to run with. He dropped them on the floor, knelt down, and began shoveling fist-fulls of gold out of one of the bags into the satchel. He had to get out of town... FAST... but he'd be damned if he'd leave penniless. Not after all the work he'd done!

With about a fourth of his wealth jingling in the bottom of the satchel, he stood and turned toward the storage room. He froze. He hadn't heard or seen anything, but he froze nonetheless.

"...front or back..." he mumbled. His head turned frantically from one door to the other. Should he run out the front door, or dash through the storage room and sneak out the back? Which way would HE be coming?

Just then, the heavy lock on the front door unlocked with a loud, solid *click.* Instantly, the latch began to turn.

By the time the front door opened, Bastwick was already at the rear exit. He snatched the door open and ran out into the night.

He made it a total of three feet.

Bastwick saw a flash of something... a glimpse of something long and thin reaching down from above. He recognized it as an arm... then the most exquisite and agonizing PAIN exploded in his chest. The creature's long claws tore through his shirt and sank deep into his flesh. They pierced his chest and latched onto his ribs like a set of hooks-

"AAAARRRRRGGGGGGG!"

Then, like a fish on a line, Bastwick felt himself being hauled into the air. The creature was hanging upside down above the door... and now Bastwick was dangling from the thing's claws by his chest. He looked up into the thing's hideous face... a round, twisted, nightmare. Patches of fur and scales dotted its pale body, as if the thing was in the process of transforming from one kind of grotesque monster to another. The thing's claws scraped against Bastwick's ribs as he hung there... turning each second into an eternity of pain and blood.

"...oh... oh, my gods..." Bastwick murmured.

The creature's lips peeled back from its mouth in some gross imitation of a smile. Row upon row upon row of sharp fangs glistened in the moonlight.

Now well beyond panic, Bastwick reached for his knife. He grabbed it from the tiny sheath on his belt and made a slashing motion, ignoring the pain that the movement caused in his chest. The blade arced towards the thing's smiling face.

Then it stopped.

Bastwick didn't know where the long, prehensile tale came from... he'd been to terrified to even SEE it before. But he had a clear view of it as it wrapped around his right forearm and snapped tight-

CRACK!

The long bones of his forearm cracked like toothpicks.

"AAIIII!!!"

The tiny blade fell to the ground.

"BAD MAN!" J'Hasp hissed. "BAD! Bad man run! Bad man try hurt J'Hasp!"

"...gods, no... please... don't kill me..."

"I wouldn't worry about him killing you," said Eric Hood as he emerged from the store. "That's MY job."

"M-m-m-m-Mr. H-h-h-Hood!"

"Hello, Bastwick. I was just coming to see you. Glad you decided to hang around for a few minutes."

"I-I-I can explain!"

"Explain? Explain what?"

"...oh, god... it hurts..."

"J'Hasp isn't hurting you," said Eric. "You might think he is... but he isn't. See... THAT'S my job, too. First I hurt you. Then I kill you. And, if you're really, really lucky, that'll be the end of it. J'Hasp... drop this sack of garbage before you get some on ya."

J'Hasp's claws unhooked from Bastwick's rib cage, and the storekeeper hit the ground in a bloody, quivering heap.

"I'm s-s-sorry..." he moaned.

"Sorry about what? There something you wanna tell me, Bastwick?"

Bastwick's only response was a hurried prayer to several deities that he didn't believe in until a few seconds ago.

"A bit late for that, Bastwick," said Hood. "I have it on good authority... every god on Iffrean agrees that you're a greedy bastard that deserves to die slowly and painfully. Who am I to argue with that?"

"oh, please! We... we gave her back! J-Just like we promised!"

"Kidnapping is a nasty business, Bastwick. Not that I've got anything against it. You wanna snatch some old lady and hold her for ransom... no problem. It's just that certain people pay ME to keep 'em safe from people like YOU. As long as you stay away from THOSE people, and pay me a percentage of your take... then I'm happy. But you haven't done EITHER of those, Bastwick. So I'm not happy."

"We...I..."

"THEN you had to go and make things worse. You snatched the woman... scared the old man enough so that he doesn't come to me until AFTER he pays the ransom. He already paid for that mistake..."

"We... we gave her back, honest!"

"Yeah. Who's idea was it to cut her tongue out so she couldn't identify you? Huh? Who's idea was that? Was that YOUR idea, Bastwick?"

"N-no! It was Bennie's idea!"

"Lady can't read or write... so if she can't TALK then there's no way in hell she'll ever say who kidnapped her, right? That's a STUPID idea, Bastwick. Very stupid. And you went along with it. Lingwold pays you your money and you give him damaged goods. What kind of customer service is that, Bastwick? The LEAST ya coulda done was gave him the tongue in a little box so maybe a healer can stitch it back on later... but, nooo... you goons don't even bother to cauterize the wound. The knife-work was sloppy, too... The lady bled to death an hour after you dropped her off."

"...please don't kill me..."

"So the four of you... YOU, Hurk the leathersmith, Bennie the stable-boy, and that little punk Nox... I gotta track down all four of you and make sure Mr. Lingwold gets his money's worth from the gold he's been paying me. You know how much I HATE this vigilante crap? Why can't you people just play by the rules, eh? They're really simple rules... pay me my percentage and DON'T mess with people under my protection. What's so hard about those rules, Bastwick? huh? What's so hard about 'em..."

"...I'm sorry..."

"Maybe we should talk about it inside, eh? Would that make you more comfortable? Come here..."

Eric grabbed Bastwick's boots and began to drag him back into the store. When Bastwick realized what was happening, he began screaming... but the door closed behind them, muffling his cries. The screaming increased in volume... turning from cries of fear to screams of pure agony... then they ceased suddenly.

A minute later, the door opened and Eric Hood walked out.

J'Hasp looked down at him from his perch above the door.

"I hear N'Doki's still looking for a few good zombies," said Eric. "I left this fella intact... mostly... so why don'tcha go and fetch ole Spooky. Might as well get SOMETHING useful out of this guy."

J'Hasp hissed, dropped to the ground, and scampered away into the night.

---

[...New Venyce...]

Carrying the few daggers and throwing-stars that she left after her fight with Faction, Zade locked the door to her room and started down the hall toward the stairs. The door to December's suite opened. Zade paused, and Theesa stepped out into the hall. The short, slim blonde was dressed in her bed-clothes... her eyes were bloodshot and half-closed.

"December?" she murmured.

"I heard him go downstairs," said Zade. "Go back to sleep. I'm sure he'll be up in a minute."

Theesa rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"Something wrong?" said Zade.

"Terrible nightmare Full of ghosts and... horrible things."

"Ghosts?" said Zade with sudden interest. "What kind of ghosts?"

"Not the friendly kind," Theesa said. "Starting to fade now. Can't remember much... it was just unsettling." She turned back to her room. "Whenever you two are finished..."

"I'll send him up."

Theesa started to close her door, then leaned back out.

"Zade?"

"What now?"

"Umm.... be careful."

"Huh? Why? You get a vision or something in that dream of yours?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're a whole lot of help, ya know that? Well... if your vision involved big dogs or a man with a flaming staff... you're a bit too late."

Theesa looked confused.

"Never mind. Just go to sleep."

Zade marched down the stairs, making no attempt at silence. She stormed into the inn's lobby, where December was standing in front of the large open window looking out at the night. His arms were folded across his chest; his black silk robe stretched across broad, muscular back. Zade started to speak... but instead she just looked at him for a moment. He was a very handsome man... like an adonis carved from cold, hard stone. Everything about him seemed to exude power...

...Zade interrupted her own thoughts before they could go any further. He was her employer, after all.

"You sure that's a good idea?" she said. "Standing out in the open like that?"

December didn't answer. He simply stared out at the rain. Zade walked over to the window and stood next to him. It was like standing in an open doorway in the dead of winter... the temperature next to December was less than comfortable. There was a thin layer of ice on the outside of the window.

"You having nightmares, too?" said Zade.

"I learned to control my own dreams long ago," said December.

"Well what's the fun in THAT?"

"That part of yourself which you cannot control is what others will use to manipulate you. I am not easily manipulated."

"Words to live by," said Zade.

"Our problem here runs deeper than I had anticipated."

"How so?"

"I was unable to contact Montfort."

"Lovvorn? Eric?"

"The magic was blocked... from THIS end."

"Brinks. He's got mages... and they must be damned good to interfere with Lovvorn."

"It appears we will be handling this on our own... at least until we can locate and remove Brink's mages."

"Want me to work on that tonight?"

"No. Find Emory Tibbs and the journal he claims to have in his possession... that should be the extent of your activity."

"What good is THAT going to do?"

"I will not act without complete information."

"There's no such THING as complete information. We should strike now while he THINKS you're just sitting around staring out the window."

"This is not our city, Zade. The enemy is unknown, the territory is unfamiliar. The beggar could have been a plant... a crude trick to lead me into a rash action. This entire series of events could be an eloborate scheme to entrap me."

"Hmmm... never thought of that."

"Of course not.. Before I take any action, I must verify the truth or falsehood of Jake Fast's demise."

"I think I can handle that," said Zade. She watched December for a few moments. "Okay... I may be out of line, but... what's on your mind?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're not standing down here looking out the window just for the hell of it. Theesa's waiting for you upstairs and you're down here brooding. And this room is damn near freezing-"

"The regulation of my body temperature is not a matter I wish to discuss with you," said December.

"So, what's the problem?"

December said nothing.

"Oh," said Zade. "I get it... I crack the heads and Theesa asks the personal questions, right?"

December's head slowly turned. He looked down at Zade... his sky blue eyes seemed to swallow her. Zade shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

"There was a time," December said. "when I took great pleasure in dismantling upstarts like Gabrial Brinks."

"'And now?"

"Now I grow weary of it... of him and men like him constantly nipping at my heals. An endless line of petty thugs, drug smugglers, ignorant clowns and common mercenaries. No matter how many I destroy, there is always another... waiting to throw himself at me like lemmings rushing toward the abyss. And all the while, the truly WORTHY opponents are mysteriously absent... if there are any left at all."

"Nature of the business," said Zade. "There's always somebody wanting to take you on. Some are worthy of your time... some aren't. But it's always been like that... if it wasn't then Eric Hood would've died of boredom years ago. Why is it a problem now?"

"Brinks' timing is unfortunate."

"I guess he forgot to check your schedule. Maybe you two can put this on hold and continue it when it's more convenient."

"In the entire history of mankind, I do not believe that sarcasm has ever solved a single problem, or eliminated a single enemy."

"If our roles were reversed and we were having this same conversation, you'd tell me to stop whining and do my damn job. True or False?"

December didn't reply.

"Sounds like a cheap cliche... but it's true: Either you're in this business all the way or you're out. There is no halfway... no part-time, no retirement and no vacations. When some fool steps out of line you've got to knock him back into place regardless of what time of year it is, what day of the week it is, or what other plans you've got for the day. But you already knew this didn't you?"

"Certainly."

"So what's the problem? What's different NOW than in the past however many years you've been doing this?"

"There are other considerations."

"Uh-huh. Well... your 'other consideration' is waiting for you upstairs. I've got work to do."

Zade headed for the door.

"Zade," December called after her. She stopped and turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Remember my advice concerning the Ysuin assassin. His is more skilled and more dangerous than you... avoid him."

"Consider him avoided," Zade replied. "Anything else?"

December looked at her for a moment, as if he wanted to say something. Whatever it was, he decided to keep it to himself. He turned away from the window and started up the stairs.

"Don't have too much fun," said Zade.

---

[...Montfort...]

"Oh, THERE you are!"

Eric paused in his quick, confident stride and turned toward the voice that had just hailed him. A short, fat man wrapped in what looked like a remnant from a dye explosion emerged from an alley and fell in beside Eric. Lovvorn walked with a distinctive limp, and sometimes leaned heavily on the long staff that he carried. He used the staff awkwardly, as if he wasn't quite used to it yet. Lovvorn's other hand grasped a half-full tankard of ale, and, judging from the mage's breath, it wasn't his first drink by a longshot. Eric didn't ask what Lovvorn had been doing in the alley. He didn't care.

"Thought you were supposed to be keeping a low profile," said Eric.

"I am! This street is deserted and I teleported into an alley so as not to draw attention to myself. You know, there was a very unpleasant-smelling fellow sleeping in that alley-"

Eric looked down at Lovvorn's clothes.

"A low profile does not mean I have to give up my distinctive... HIC!... style!"

"Style. Right."

"Naturally! The colors of this particular garment match PERFECTLY with the swirling stars and rainbows I'm going to be seeing after I finish another six drinks or so."

"So, you're here.... you obviously want something."

"Oh, YES..." Lovvorn took a looooong drink from his tankard of ale. "You'll never guess who I saw creeping around at the Hung Dog!"

"Trouble?"

"Remember the sewer-rat? The one with a crossbow for a hand? The one who... you know..." Lovvorn held out his staff, then tripped an almost fell.

"Belladrox," said Eric. "He's dead. You killed him."

"Well he must have a twin brother because I saw him as plain as the colors on my robe."

"There's nothing plain about those colors."

"Hmph!"

"Zombie? Ghost?"

Lovvorn shrugged and took another drink.

"What'd he do?"

"Just looked at me for a while... then he left. I followed him, of course... with the FULL intention of blowing him back to whatever hell he crept out of... but I never caught him. He snuck around a corner and vanished. He didn't teleport, mind ya... he just vanished."

"You think N'Doki might be playing around again?"

"I hope not," said Lovvorn. "N'Doki's sense of humor is more disturbed than yours."

"I don't have a sense of humor."

"SURE you do! Remember that time when you took that guy's sword and shoved it up his-"

"Wait-" Eric grabbed Lovvorn's meaty shoulder and they both stopped walking. There was an uncomfortable stillness in the air... and a distinct chill shot down the spines of both men. "You feel that?"

"Your hand on my shoulder?"

"No, you idiot."

"Uhh... Eric?" Lovvorn pointed at the street ahead of him, but there was no need. Eric had already seen it.

A second ago the entire street was deserted for as far as the eye could see in both directions. But now it was as crowded as a festival parade. A crowd had appeared before them, completely clogging the street from one side to the other. The faces were all different, but the expression was the same... solemn and unhappy. And clearly unafraid. They all wore black or some dark shade of gray, although the style of the clothing varied greatly from one person to the other. Some wore the expensive silks of noblemen... others were obviously beggars. Most were somewhere in between the two extremes. As Eric and Lovvorn watched, another large crowd appeared behind the first... and a third one behind the second. They did not emerge from alleyways or step out of shimmering portals... they simply appeared as if they'd been standing there invisibly the entire time and only now decided to show themselves. The crowd continued to grow... 150 people... then 200...

And so far, not one of them had said a word or made so much as a single sound.

Eric looked back. A crowd of identical size had gathered in the street behind them.

Lovvorn looked down at the remainder of his ale and raised an eyebrow. He looked out at the crowd.

"Uhhh.... Eric?" he said. "Are you seeing lots of dead people right now?."

"Yup," Eric answered.

"Oh, WHEW!" Lovvorn wiped his brow. "Thought it was just me. So, uhhh... why are they here and why are WE just standing here looking at them?"

Eric nodded at a figure at the front of the crowd. The figure's eyes narrowed in thinly-veiled anger.

"How ya doin,' Bastwick?" Eric said. "Long time no see, eh?"

Bastwick did not respond. The crowd just stared at Eric and Lovvorn... mostly Eric... and made no move to either leave or attack.

"Who sent you?" said Eric.

"December sent us," a voice replied. It came from somewhere in the crowd, but it was impossible to tell which particular ghost had spoken. "But someone else sent us BACK."

"Uh-huh." Eric's hand slipped into his pocket and began to withdraw his dagger. Lovvorn nudged him with a pudgy elbow-

"Put that thing away... they're already dead, remember?"

"I hate ghosts," said Eric.

"I don't think they're too fond of us, either," Lovvorn replied.

The voice from the crowd spoke again:

"Tell him we're coming," it said. "We're coming for him."

"Who is 'WE'?" said Eric.

"His sins," said the voice. "The Multitude..."

"The what?"

Suddenly the crowd vanished as if it were never there. No magic flashes of light, slow fades to blackness, or mad dashes for the nearest alley... they all just vanished.

"Well," said Lovvorn. "That was creepy."

"I think we need to pay a little visit to N'Doki," said Eric. "His magic is supposed to keep this 'vengeful spirit' crap from happening. So either he's playing games... or there's something behind this that's more powerful than HE is."

Lovvorn suddenly looked very, very worried. And so did Eric.

---


[...New Venyce...]

"Is it ready, yet?" said Gabrial. He paced impatiently in front of the table where Dravian the mage worked the final enchantments. The gem was a small crystal... an oblong piece of plain quartz lightly smaller than a man's finger. But, under Dravian's care, the ordinary hung of mineral was now glowing brightly as the mage waved his hands in the air above it. Dravian murmured a stream of arcane words that made the air itself hum with power...

"Come on, come on!" Gabrial said impatiently. "I don't have all night!"

"...almost done..." said Dravian.

The glowing crystal pulsed bright blue...then red... then yellow... then the glowing ceased entirely. Dravian scooped the gem up in his hand and tossed it to Gabrial.

"Done?" said Gabrial. "Will it work?"

"Perfectly," Dravian answered. He stood up and straightened his robe. "Test it at your leisure, but I must be going now."

"What is your hurry?" said Gabrial.

"You forget... not EVERYONE in town is fortunate enough to live on high ground. The rising river is threatening the homes of some of the mages... mine included. We're going to try a spell to divert the water away from the houses."

"In the middle of the night?"

"These things ALWAYS happen in the middle of the night, Gabrial. No rest for the weary, you know. " Dravian quickly left the room. Gabrial Brinks remained behind. He turned the crystal over in his hands and studied it. It still SEEMED like a common piece of quartz.

"Hmm..."

Dravian had left an oil lamp burning on the table. Gabrial removed the shade to expose the bare flame then, while holding the crystal firmly in his right hand, he stuck the tip of his left forefinger into the flame.

He didn't feel a thing. The finger didn't burn... there was no pain at all.

Gabrial held the palm of his hand over the fire with the same result... nothing. He tried to burn his wrist, but couldn't. It wouldn't burn. Neither would the edge of his expensive silk robe when he stuck IT in the flame. He was completely fireproof.

"Well," he said. "It works for fire..."

"I trust it works for the other extreme as well," said a voice behind Gabrial. He spun suddenly... and saw that Faction had just appeared in the room. The enigmatic killer's face was still hidden beneath the hood of his black cloak, making him into a frightening image of the Grim Reaper.

"Faction," said Gabrial. "You're sneaking up on me again. Stop it."

"The gem works," said Faction. "Might I see it?" He held out his gloved hand, and Gabrial gave him the gem. Faction examined it closely. "Protection from heat and cold. A pity you only had ONE made."

"I only NEED one," said Gabrial. "After all, there is only ONE of me!" Faction returned the crystal to Gabrial, who stuffed it into his pocket and left the room. Faction followed him, but not before removing one of the spare, unenchanted crystals from the table.

"December showed at the casino, as I expected," said Gabrial as he walked down the brightly-lit hallway.

"And?"

"He asked questions... my spies at the poker table provided him with some innocuous answers. He seemed quite interested in my wife and son... and the circumstances surrounding their deaths."

"Unusual," said Faction. "You'd think he'd want to know about your organization."

"Not really. I think his intent was to see if I had anything to do with their respective demises... seeing what kind of man I am. Am I ruthless enough to kill my own family, etc. Quite a shrewd man, that December. But not shrewd enough to realize that everyone he spoke to was planted there by me! Well... almost everyone. There was a man... a beggar. He was speaking to December when I arrived, and December seemed quite interested in what he had to say. I did some research... name was Emory Tibbs; he sleeps down beneath the shops on the south side. Kill him for me, Faction. Find out what he told December, then kill him. Leave no bodies or witnesses. Do it tonight."

"With pleasure."

Gabrial had arrived at his trophy room. He undid the lock and entered, with Faction right behind him.

"Meanwhile," said Gabrial as he dug through a large, overly-decorated jewelry box. "Thorne and I will be dealing with the Lakarta. They wish to renegotiate this latest shipment of Dust."

"Renegotiate?" said Faction. "They've no doubt discovered you've been cheating them."

"Took them long enough. Ignorant pirates. Still... tonight should be interesting. Ahhh...." Gabrial removed a simple platinum chain from the jewelry box. There was a large clasp in the center to which a jewel or other charm could be attached. Gabrial tried to attach his crystal to the necklace, but his fingers lacked the dexterity... and he lacked the patience. "Dammit! Get on there!"

"Allow me," said Faction. He took the chain and the crystal. One quick motion of his fingers attached the crystal to the chain... of course, it was the UNENCHANTED crystal. The real item was safely hidden up Faction's sleeve when he handed the necklace back to Gabrial.

"Thank you," said Brinks. He placed the necklace and fake crystal around his neck and tucked it into his shirt.

Faction nodded slowly and smiled.

"Have you had any further news about the diamond?" he said.

"This?" Gabrial grabbed the large, strange gemstone he'd stolen from Jake Fast. He lifted it from its golden stand and held it up to his face. He peered into the strange liquid in the diamond's center. "THIS thing is an enigma. Of course, the more mysterious it is, the more it could be worth."

"Or it could be worthless. A trinket created by some bored magician."

"I don't think so," said Gabrial. "I don't know why... but I get the feeling that this is worth more than either of us could possibly imagine. And I can imagine quite a bit!"

"But if no one knows what it is, you would be unable to sell it."

"Who said anything about selling it? It's mine... and it's going to STAY mine."

"And December?"

"He has ENOUGH diamonds... entire mines just overflowing with them! He can let me have this one."

"And if he wants more than the diamond?"

"BAH!" Still holding the strange gem, Brinks turned to the window. He opened the curtains and looked out at the city. "This is MY city! Everything in it... INCLUDING this diamond... is mine. December is alive now simply because I haven't decided to kill him yet."

"He would see things differently."

"I imagine he would," said Brinks. He watched the raindrops run down the window, obscuring the scene beyond. "I think December will enjoy my party tomorrow night. I hope he does. It may be his last. "

"You will kill him then?"

"Perhaps. Depends on how much of a nuisance he makes of himself between now and then. Of course there may not BE a party if this rain doesn't abate. There are no covered paths leading to my mansion, and I doubt that the lords an ladies of New Venyce will want to ruin their best finery by going out in the rain. The mages could provide some cover... but they can be so undependable at times..."

"An assassination... called off on account of the weather," said Faction with a smile.

"Don't be crass, Faction." Brinks watched the rain fall... "Oh, I wish it would stop raining just for ONE DAMNED DAY!"

Outside... all over the city... the rain that had plagued the city for weeks stopped instantly. The clouds vanished, and for the first time in almost a month, the moon and stars were visible in the night sky.

"Oh, my..." said Gabrial. He looked down at the diamond in his hand, then out at the clear, rainless night. His lips curled back into a wide, sinister smile. "Oh.... my..."

[To Be Continued... ]