Hunters

[previous page] - [Contents] - [next page]

Interlude

Greetings again...

Yes, Ellyn is set to become a member of our twosome bounty hunters. There isn't much else for her to do, and I doubt she's one of those types who'd happily spend their days rearranging books in the Library.

I am looking up on sniper rifles on the Internet... (sniggers). I can't find any sites on how to actually use one, though, so those sniper experts out there, sorry if I make assumptions. Don't worry, Zaknafein will continue to retain his swords...he just won't seem very complete without them.

My school has an air-rifle club; hence I have sort of taken the idea for Ellyn. Any other technicalities like why she never mentioned it earlier shall be snipped up on the grounds of Ellyn being rather distracted.

The confrontation with our three characters and Keighvin will come sooner or later, once Ellyn gets over learning archery and marksmanship. Predictably, Ellyn would sooner or later be able to use her sorcery, though not very easily. I shall think of hurdles later.

Halfway through the story and I have an idea for another story (sour look). This is not good. However, I will finish this one first, yes. Now, to review the past five chapters:

Zaknafein, having been 'swept off his feet' and blown away by a magical fan, enters some sort of mad limbo. Ashalon, a past sorcerer and Ellyn's 'imaginary' friend, shows up and pulls him down to Earth, where Ellyn helps him. Ash makes a bargain with Tulan, who had gone to Madrek the Red, Sorcerer Adept and currently one Siamese cat known as Mr. Tom for help. Hence, Tulan gave his word to be Ellyn's guardian, Unseleighe Sidhe or no.

Ellyn got her own room in the Hall of the Black Bard, explored a bit, cooked breakfast, and also finally found she had some sorcerous talent, explaining in part Ash's interest in her well-being. However, in trying to bring out her blocked talent into play, she always exhausted herself, and Zaknafein expresses concern. They end off with Ellyn attempting to re-learn archery.

Right, I don't know why I bothered, but... now a preview for next chapters, which will be less precise:

Actually, this has already been rather outlined at the beginning. So, I think I'd leave off now. I'm on a chocolate crisis – no chocolates in the house except for those weird French ones with alcohol in them. You can, however, expect sniper rifles, humor, and people generally getting hurt. ;p

Getting on with the story,

- Anya

Chapter 11: Chinatown

Tulan skittered out of the corridor into the living room, furious, followed somewhat cautiously by Ahriman. "Zaknafein! Isn't it enough that... Ellyn?"

Ellyn looked up at him from the ivory sofa, opposite a hang-up; flat set television hung on the wall. "Hello, Tulan. Is it too loud for you?"

"How did that appear on the wall?" Tulan shouted over Jon Bon Jovi suspiciously.

"You have a most interesting machine downstairs," Ellyn replied, turning down the volume mildly. "Didn't take me too long to figure it out."

"Where's Zak?" Tulan inquired, deflating visibly. Damn, a smart teenager.

"Um. I think he's practicing something," Ellyn said vaguely. "You know, that machine has a lot of potential..."

"In case you didn't know, young lady, it does not create the items, it orders them. Through my bank account. Hence the delay time. Now, I am very sure that television cost..." Tulan glared at her as she started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Elves have bank accounts?" she managed, before collapsing back into a fit of mirth. Ahriman barked in surprise, then subsided at Tulan's glance.

"Reasonably big ones," Tulan said seriously, then frowned as she laughed harder. "What? What did I say?"

Ellyn managed to calm down and sit up. "Nothing. I thought you could just..." she made a swooping hand motion that supposedly symbolized magic.

"No, I can't." Tulan said firmly. "Now, I think I have to put a magical lock on that door..."

"Well, you could use it to get our sniper." Ellyn murmured mildly, reaching for the remote control where she had dropped it on the carpet. Tulan glared at it, and it levitated upwards into his hand, where he used it to switch off the television.

"Aww," Ellyn flopped down onto the sofa, hugging a cushion to her and turning wide eyes to Tulan. He shrugged. Her lip quivered.

I am Unseleighe Sidhe. I am not going to give in just because a child...Tulan sighed inwardly then decided to change the subject before the inevitable capitulation. "What sniper?"

"Bows are rather outdated," Ellyn commented, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Don't tell Zak I said that. He gets upset."

"Who gets upset?"

Tulan blinked and looked up, as Ahriman quickly leaped onto the sofa and tried to squeeze between Ellyn's back and the cushions. Zaknafein leaned casually on the railing at the top of the staircase, a grin plastered on his face. "Zaknafein," he said, annoyed, "Do you have to sneak on people like that?"

"Eeek!" Ellyn freaked, "Oops. Um," she quickly regained her composure, pushing away the dog, which merely renewed its frantic efforts. "Yes, do you have to sneak up on people like that? I mean, it's not really polite."

"People are only never expecting you when they are saying something about you," Zaknafein observed mildly. "You were saying...?"

"I'd be tempted to classify you as psychic," Tulan growled.

"I came up when the music stopped," Zak shrugged.

"If you call that music," Tulan quipped.

"Yes, I do," Zak squared off, warrior against mage, elf against elf. "However, if you call all that melancholy scraping music..."

"Guys..." Ellyn said placatingly.

"I have half a mind to confiscate all the televisions around here," Tulan continued, oblivious, "Whenever I try to practice, if it's not you, it's her! Spells need to be honed daily! And as to fighting down in the hall..."

"Half a mind is more than you will ever have," Zak retorted. "You might as well try to practice through the disturbance. Not every trip we have will have a quiet enough atmosphere for you to cast a spell properly, mage..."

Uh-oh. Major face-off. "Guys!" Ellyn snapped, then cringed slightly when they turned as one to stare at her. "Right. Shut up. Now, we were talking about a sniper rifle. Zaknafein, you admitted that a rifle might come in handy. So what I am suggesting is to use that duplicate-machine and get one. Savvy?"

Tulan and Zaknafein exchanged a brief look, then appeared to simultaneously forget about the conflict. "That's not a good idea," Tulan frowned.

"Why not?" Ellyn demanded.

"Any of you know what the best rifle and bullets are in the business?" Tulan inquired. "Or how to actually use a rifle?"

"Only an air-rifle," Ellyn admitted before Zak could say anything.

"There you go," Tulan said triumphantly. "We need an expert at this. Just as well – there's been a slack in requests since the summer solstice, and we might as well go for an outing."

"I feel like a school kid," Ellyn muttered. "Outing."

"You are a school kid," Tulan reminded her. "Technically."

"Kid?" Ellyn raised an eyebrow with magnificent disdain. "Me?"

"Yes," Zak agreed. "You. I do not see anyone else younger than three centuries in this room."

"Dog?" Ellyn said hopefully, patting Ahriman's head.

"Sorry," Tulan grinned wickedly. "Ahriman's a walking fortress of shielding, even against age. Technically, in dog years, it's probably the oldest in this room."

"I did not realize," Zak drawled.

"I don't know what you did to my dog, mister, but you'd better stop it," Tulan told Zak coldly.

"Guys!" Ellyn interposed before they could start again. "Sheesh. It's the two of you who are behaving like kids. Being cooped up here may be getting on our nerves. Let's see this expert, okay?"

"Now?" Tulan blinked.

"Yes," Ellyn folded her arms over the pillow.

"Very well, my Queen," Tulan said with a mocking bow. Zaknafein smiled impishly at her as she glared at the both of them.

"Children..." she said in mock fury, then threw the pillow at Tulan.

***

"Tulan? I think you're forgetting something," Ellyn said in a low voice, as they emerged out into a small circle of old-looking trees.

Tulan raised an eyebrow as he finished playing what Ellyn could identify as a more complex version of Enya's "Anywhere is". Ellyn absently slipped the two CDs she had been holding in front of her (apparently they contained just enough iron) into her small Kipling sling bag. Zaknafein had happily relinquished the iron sword for the CDs, but his other two swords hung at his side in makeshift scabbards.

Zaknafein squinted at the light, and rubbed his eyes, rocking a little, then opened them again. "Afternoon sunlight still hurts," he explained when Ellyn transferred her worried gaze to him. "Yes. Why did we bring the dog?"

"Ahriman hasn't been out for a while," Tulan commented.

"It wasn't that," Ellyn said in a frantic whisper. "Look, if we were to walk out of here, what with the pointy ears, black skin, Zak's armor..."

"I've put a spell on us," Tulan said vaguely, then apparently felt that he should explain. "Sort of like a netting. Anyone I don't want to see us, won't. However, this means that we have to avoid crowds, on account of being stepped on."

"And we're in a garden," Ellyn pointed out of the circle, at a perfectly normal looking bed of flowers to the west of them. "A rather big garden."

"My friend's," Tulan nodded. "Some Seleighe Sidhe were quite annoyed that an entire nexus is under Unseleighe control, on account of said Unseleighe Sidhe having bought over the property and claimed it as her garden and housing area. But this area is mostly Unseleighe, anyway."

Ellyn followed Tulan and Zaknafein out of the circle of trees, and saw, down a gentle slope, a cheery looking, small house with whitewashed walls and red-tiled roof. "Unseleighe?" she blinked. "Um."

"Baetra never liked castles," Tulan grinned impishly. "Come on."

As they neared the back door, it opened, and a woman nigh flew out of it, a small white terrier at her heels. "Tulan!" she exclaimed in what seemed like genuine pleasure, then hugged Tulan tightly.

Ellyn got a closer look at her – and felt an uncomfortable wave of envy. The woman – elf, actually, seeing the pointed ears and the green eyes with slits like a cat, was stunningly beautiful, even with rumpled, rich gold hair, faded blouse, and torn jeans. Unfair.

"Hello, Baetra. Keeping well, I hope?" Tulan hugged her back, then released her. Ahriman sniffed suspiciously at the white terrier then gave it a wet lick. The small creature yelped, then licked the retriever back. The dogs began to chase each other around their owners.

"Languishing without your company," Baetra declared, pushing a strand of hair back from her forehead with an air of what Ellyn thought of as unnecessarily endearing unconcern.

"I don't believe that," Tulan retorted. "Anything up?"

"Pfft. There's always something up," Baetra said, expansively. "Got Elerndil last week." She formed mock guns with her hands, and went through exaggerated motions of shooting something down, sounds and all. "He lost my Challenge."

"Good for you," Tulan said automatically, then frowned. "Elerndil of Elfhame Outrider? The knight-mage?"

"Yep," Baetra said happily. "He died screamin' an' cryin', the puir babe. A most un-heroic way to pass on. But I am forgetting... your friends! You must introduce me." She gave Zaknafein and Ellyn both calculating looks, lingering on Zaknafein with open admiration and some speculation. Zak bowed slightly with amusement, while Ellyn rolled her eyes.

"One look at Zak here and all the ladies turn their backs on me," Tulan told Ellyn with mock sorrow.

"I would think so," Baetra said archly. "Look at those eyelashes! Anyway, what's a human doing with you? I thought you didn't like them."

"I didn't say that," Tulan said quickly, before Ellyn could react. "You just thought that because I killed some of them that tried to killed me. Ellyn's a good friend. Zaknafein here, however, isn't exactly."

"Zaknafein, is it?" Baetra turned a mega-watt smile on the elf. "What a most... unusual name." She proffered a hand as if giving Zaknafein a favor in doing so. "And... chain mail, too. I have not seen chain mail since the Crusades. It does not seem to be Death Metal make, either."

"My name is not uncommon in my world, lady, nor is non-iron chain mail," Zaknafein said with mock chivalry, lightly brushing his lips over the back of Baetra's wrist, then dropping the hand and apparently losing interest.

"Your world?" Baetra raised an eyebrow at Tulan.

"He's imported goods," Tulan smirked. "Way-out." It was Zaknafein's turn to raise an eyebrow, but Tulan ignored him.

"Something tells me you're not here to talk with me, sad as it is," Baetra commented, suddenly business again. "Why are you here, Tulan?"

"Firepower," Tulan pantomimed holding a rifle at waist-height. "Jim."

"That old rogue," Baetra pouted prettily. "You know, he refused to lend me that flame-thrower yesterday. Said I didn't have security."

"I'm not surprised," Tulan muttered under his breath, and Ellyn held back a snicker. "Still. Is he in the same place?"

"For the past few centuries," Baetra shrugged, then looked hopeful. "Maybe if you were to get me the flame-thrower? To make up for all the thousand birthdays you've missed?"

"You're exaggerating," Tulan accused her. "No, because Jim will know perfectly well why I'm asking, and I trust his instincts on this."

"Not even as a toll?" Baetra looked hopeful.

"It isn't worth it," Tulan stated firmly.

"What is a flame-thrower?" Zaknafein inquired curiously.

"It's a beautifully destructive..." Baetra began.

"A big gun that shoots fire instead of bullets," Ellyn said quickly. She was taking a deep dislike to Baetra's descriptive abilities.

"Oh." Was Zak's only comment, and he fell silent again – for a minute. "How?"

"Fuel," Ellyn said hastily as Baetra opened her mouth. Anticipating the next question (What is fuel?) she said, "Fuel is a flammable material."

"I want my toll," Baetra successfully pulled the conversation back to her.

"Name it," Tulan said gallantly, then frowned. "Mind, I may not accept."

"Kiss," Baetra said wickedly, and pointed at Zak. "Him."

"Now?" Tulan sounded pained. "Baetra, did it occur to you that we may be in a hurry?"

"No, or you wouldn't have bantered words with me," Baetra said equably. "Well?"

Zaknafein chuckled. "Why not?"

"No vampire things?" Ellyn blurted, then blushed when everyone looked at her. "Oops. Big mouth. Sorry."

"Perfectly safe," Baetra said, with a dismissive gesture. "By the Morgana, I sound like an exercise machine ad."

"Then I do not see any problems," Zak shrugged. Ellyn glared at him, then wandered away quickly to play with the dogs.

"What's with her?" Baetra inquired innocently.

"Ah, youth." Tulan riposted.

***

"This looks like Chinatown," Ellyn observed, glancing at the tightly packed chophouses.

"It is Chinatown," Tulan smirked. "Unseleighe territory. Nice place, especially if you like noodles."

"I don't like noodles," Ellyn replied, as they turned into yet another dingy alley lined with overflowing dustbins and cloaked with a remarkably penetrating smell. Tulan led, with Ahriman at his side, Ellyn trailed behind him, and Zaknafein took up the rear.

"Is that so? I do," Tulan stopped at a junction of four alleys, looked around, and knitted his brows.

"Don't telld mid you're lostd." Ellyn held her nose. Zaknafein, apparently unconcerned about everything in particular, grinned at her.

"I'm not lost," Tulan said firmly, before Zaknafein could say anything cynical. "I think it's this way..."

"Famoud lastd wordsh." Ellyn said sarcastically after half an hour. They had apparently been wandering in circles. Certainly she'd seen that neon light advertising a 'Night of Forbidden Pleasures' before.

"It's all that iron around," Tulan said defensively.

"Thism placd stinkds." Ellyn said plaintively.

Tulan sighed, then played a quick tune on his violin. Ellyn blinked, breathed in cautiously, then breathed deeply. "Better?" he grinned.

"Yes," Ellyn sighed. "Why did the Unseleighe have to take this place? I mean, why not Hollywood?"

"Hollywood's currently disputed territory," Tulan winked. "And the strongest smell in Chinatown is profit, if you know where to find it. Zaknafein, what are you trying to do?"

Zaknafein looked up from where he had been trying to peer through the dark glass of the large window of 'Night of Forbidden Pleasures'. "I was trying to see what was so forbidden," he said innocently.

"It's not night yet," Ellyn commented, with a sidelong smile at Tulan. "We could come back later."

"Yes, and Ashalon would kill me. Come on, you two." Tulan sighed. "I think it's this way." He whistled Ahriman away from the garbage it had been sniffing eagerly at.

They eventually found the place, when the sky was noticeably darker and only when they had given up looking for it and tried looking for a place to eat at instead.

"I'm hungry," Ellyn complained. "Why must we find it now, of all times?" The shop did not look very promising – the large show window had been covered with brown butcher sheets, and the painted words on the glass mis-spelled Apothecary. Larger Chinese letters were written above the words, apparently handpainted, certainly possessing a sinuous elegance instead of the normal dead commercial prints.

"Fate," Tulan said cheerfully, pushing open the small door. The bell against it rang noisily as they stepped into the dim interior.

The shop smelled not unpleasantly of many dried herbs, and the walls had been painted in a uniform dark reddish brown. It was amazingly cluttered with what Ellyn could only identify as junk – scrolls, odd colored bowls, small statues, and even a delicate wooden birdcage hung near the door that contained a small bat.

The tiles on the floor were barely visible, but were a stark ivory coloring. Set into the wall opposite them, reaching to the ceiling, were many, many uniform drawers that supposedly contained the herbs, each with a neat label on them. In front of the drawers was a wooden counter, from which a thin, middle-aged, balding Chinese man looked up from a book. The man wore a clean shirt, instead of the oriental robes that Ellyn had half-expected, and Ahriman seemed to recognize him, as the dog's tail began to wag faster.

Piercing black eyes swept over them, then fastened on Tulan, and a slow smile spread over the man's features. "Ah, the Black Bard. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Jim. It's been a long time," Tulan commented, looking around. "But the shop looks the same."

"It looks the same because it has been the same," the man said in his measured, careful tones.

"This man sells rifles?" Ellyn blinked. "But this is a medicine shop!"

"Things are not always what they seem, child," the man commented. "Tulan, you are here for rifles?"

"As Ellyn has expressed," Tulan smirked. "Actually, not for me. More for the young lady and my friend here."

"I prefer swords," Zaknafein said mildly. "No thanks for rifles."

"For the young lady, then," Tulan said graciously. Ellyn blushed – it seemed rather hilarious, as if they were but asking for a drink instead of a weapon.

The man raised a thin eyebrow. "I... see. For the child...? That is a most... remarkable... but very well, follow me." Then he paused. "This is not for... Baetra, is it?"

"I am aware of her undying lust for a flame-thrower, no worries," Tulan said dryly, "I'm not obliging her on this one."

The man nodded, then walked over stiffly to a door next to the drawers, picking a key from the keyring hanging to his belt. Ellyn frowned, as the man seemed to glow briefly in the Sight, and concentrated.

Her eyes strained a little, then abruptly something else appeared, a transparent image interposed over the stooping, short man. It was a large, oriental dragon, the snake-like, legless body coiled up beneath its elaborate head. Stag-like antlers flared out from its skull, and it sported a long, goat-like beard.

"Dragon!" she exclaimed in astonishment.

The man whirled, blinked at her, then stared at Tulan. Zaknafein's hands flew to his sword hilts, making Ahriman let out a startled bark.

"Not me," Tulan said defensively. "I didn't tell her. Um."

The dragon-man frowned at Ellyn, then shrugged. "Ah, Mage-Sight." He opened the door as if nothing had happened, disappeared into the darkness, then switched on the lights inside.

Ellyn, feeling rather embarrassed, followed Tulan and Zaknafein into the back room.

The back room was a sharp contrast with the room before it. Ellyn walked around slowly as the man locked the door, then glared at it until it became outlined in tendrils of red in the Sight.

It was rather brightly lit, and scrupulously clean. The metal and glass display cases held an astonishing variety of guns, knives, and other weapons, from a modern looking Colt revolver to a large broadsword, intricately carved with runes, which looked as though it belonged in a museum.

The dragon-man snapped his fingers, and the glass disappeared. "Take your time," he said, sitting down at the counter here – a metal and wood affair with a cashier, as well as what looked like a credit-card machine. "I assume you will be paying credit, Tulan?"

"Elventael." Tulan nodded, pronouncing the name of the Credit Company owned by Unseleighe. Totally bankable, normally unheard of, and reliable both Underhill and in the human realm. "Ahriman, sit down – good boy. Jim, what's your best sniper rifle model? Should be compatible with silver bullets, steel bullets..."

Jim nodded. "I have a new batch, actually some modified Tango-51s. New name is Travel-Fox, for adaptability or something. Higher accuracy, and with some air-rifle technology."

"Assassin's toy," Tulan said as Jim pulled out a box with reverent care from under the counter, and lifted up the sniper rifle, clicking the stand under the barrel into place such that the rifle stood on its own. It had been finished in gleaming, wicked black, and the entire device was more than a meter in length. Tulan admired its professional make, even as he knew he could never touch it – it had been laced with iron.

"Telescopic sight," Ellyn said admiringly, touching the device affixed to the top of the rifle.

"That is the whole point of a sniper rifle, child," Jim's angular features seemed to soften. He put out a neat black leather pouch for bullets next to the sniper rifle. "Standard bullets are soft expanding revolver bullets. However, you can fit the silver bullets as well – that's in the second compartment. Trigger–pull is 2.25 lb, accuracy is better than the set down .25 MOA..."

"Jim?" Tulan said patiently then waited until Jim trailed off. "Look, you're the expert. But we don't need to know that..."

Ellyn lifted the rifle, grunting a little at the weight, then gingerly hefting it. "Four...five kilograms?"

"Four point five." Jim nodded. "But the whole point of a sniper rifle is..."

"I know," Ellyn smiled, sighting down the barrel, "I've read about this one before... a guy from my club brought an issue of SWAT magazine into school. Don't know how he got hold of one, but he was pretty proud of it. Remington 700 action, right?"

"Improved," Jim nodded. "Replaced most of the iron with dwarven steel – which is not really steel at all - then got some elves onto it. They are not creative enough to design one of their own – but at least they can refine."

"Where's Zak?" Tulan said suddenly, peering around the glass-metal cases.

"Around," Ellyn said vaguely, still admiring the rifle. "Say, Tulan..." she gave him a beseeching look.

"Zaknafein!" Tulan called, looking away quickly.

Zaknafein emerged from behind a few cases, examining a thin, long, gently curved oriental blade. The dog whimpered, but did not leave its position. "What is this sword called? I have not seen its make before."

"Ah, that is a katana. Japanese sword, usually used with a wakizashi." Jim flew off onto another topic with equal enthusiasm. "It may be used with another katana, if you have the skill, but was formerly created for those who did not wish to use a heavy nodachi. Then..."

"The metal..." Zak began, frowning at the edge, then holding it up to the light.

"Folded over and over," Jim nodded. "All Japanese swords are products of excellent craftsmanship. You are perceptive indeed if you noticed the difference."

"It's expensive, too," Tulan groaned. "Look, you two – we're only here for the rifle. Which reminds me. How much?"

"Three thousand for the rifle itself, a thousand for the bullets. The bag comes with the set," Jim said promptly. "The katana is a thousand apiece, plus scabbard – a good buy. They are not made in that quality any longer."

"Zak, you already have two swords," Tulan said, sounding pained.

Zaknafein reached their side, and nodded approvingly at the Travel-Fox. "Ah, Tulan, but I am amazingly aware that half of the credit that has gone into your 'bank' since the past few months when we started our little business is actually mine."

"May I see those swords?" Jim inquired politely.

Obligingly, Zak handed one over, and watched as Jim weighed the sword, stepped into a larger space, and did a few experimental twirls. "I seem to have seen these before... Vizanier."

"He nicked them off the feller's disciples," Tulan smirked. Ellyn sniggered as Zak bowed.

"Ah, perhaps that explains the news that the Vizanier had passed on, may many curses fall on his soul. Not bad," Jim conceded. "But more for one hand use."

"A little awkward to use with two," Zak nodded, "But I can manage."

"Is that so?" Jim raised an eyebrow, then frowned. "The disciples were skilled when I last encountered them."

"He bested six of them," Tulan grinned.

"Ah," Jim nodded slightly, "Then may I have the honor of a quick sparring match? It has been long since I have had a worthy opponent."

"I'm hungry," Ellyn said pointedly. "Can we pay up and do this another day? Or at least after dinner?"

"It's the paying that's the problem," Tulan complained, "And do you actually know how to use a sniper rifle?"

"No," Ellyn admitted.

"Jim?" Tulan inquired.

"Of course," Jim responded, "If I did not know how to use one, how would I have the face to try and sell one?"

"Teach?" Ellyn asked hopefully.

"I will teach," Jim agreed, then smiled benevolently at Zak, "If he will fight. We can go to my place – I will treat you dinner, then we will study the rifle. In the morning before breakfast I will spar with... Zaknafein, I believe?" Zak nodded.

"Stay the night?" Tulan complained.

"You have done it before," Jim pointed out.

"That's exactly why I don't want to repeat the experience," Tulan muttered.

"Oh come on, Tulan, did you think he can teach me in an hour?" Ellyn said impatiently.

"We can...discuss the pricing there," Jim smiled persuasively.

Tulan sighed. "You always know which buttons to push," he complained. "All right."

Chapter 12: Jim

Ellyn watched as Jim turned the 'Open for Business' sign over, then as he locked the door, she turned to Tulan. "Is his name really 'Jim'?" she inquired softly.

"Who knows?" Tulan shrugged. "And there are many Chinese with English names. I suppose one more wouldn't be noticed. Anyway, everyone calls him Jim, now. He used to be a river dragon in China, so I suppose his real name is the name of that river. I am not particularly good with oriental names."

"River dragon?" Zak inquired, peering around with interest.

"Sort of lower rank than a Celestial dragon or a Dragon King," Tulan shrugged. "I don't know how he got over to America. Everything seems to gravitate here after a while ... it's where most of the nexuses are, anyway. In the other countries, elven territories are more spaced and less contested... except for Europe, of course."

"Come," Jim wandered back to them, then frowned at the wooden counter. It shimmered, and another image overlapped it, solidifying, until in the place of the counter was a rickety wooden staircase, leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

Ellyn followed them up the staircase with some trepidation. The ceiling was rather high, and the staircase had no railings...Tulan walked up with similar care, but Zaknafein padded after Jim with supreme unconcern. I suppose since he's already dead, breaking his neck isn't of that much importance. She sighed. Even the dog bounded up without fear.

Jim pushed up the trapdoor, then disappeared upwards. A moment later, Ellyn also emerged, accepting Tulan's hand of help, fending off Ahriman's licking.

They stood beside a large sparring circle, colored white and obviously made for pair-bouts. Surrounding the circle were cushions, in a dark crimson hue, a stark contrast, probably for spectators, but Ellyn mildly wondered what would happen if the contestants just happened to be careless with their weapons?

There was a rack of weapons, mostly swords, on the wall nearest to them, and a large mural of warriors going through moves had been painted on the wall opposite them. The other walls had doors set into them, and were decorated with scrolls of Chinese paintings or graceful calligraphy. The shallow domed ceiling held a large mosaic of a Chinese dragon, coiled around a yin-yang symbol.

"First ... food," Jim smiled at her.

"Noodles?" Tulan asked hopefully.

"Yes." Jim beamed. Ellyn lowered her head and grimaced.

The noodles weren't that bad at all, Ellyn found later. Or perhaps it was just her hunger, because she devoured her helping. Zaknafein ate just as quickly, then wandered out of the kitchen to the sparring room to look at the weapons there. Jim and Tulan spoke about matters she didn't understand and had never heard of ... someone called Maclyn and a girl, Amanda, about the surfacing of another powerful human bard known as Eric...until she gave up trying to understand. Ahriman, sated on noodles, put its head in her lap to be scratched.

Ellyn obliged for a while, then stood up and walked quickly out where Zaknafein had left, excusing herself hurriedly. The kitchen was small, smaller even than that at her old...house. Ellyn didn't think of the place she had been born at as her home anymore.

All rooms led to the sparring room, as if Jim had been expressing, symbolically, that fighting was the hub of his life.

Zaknafein was whirling in the circle with swords, probably in some sort of warm up or training. His moves started slowly and surely, then faster and faster into a blur of metal and elf, then slower again, then faster and faster. Ellyn's eyes began to water, and she sighed.

The sound seemed, even to her, rather loud in the room. Zaknafein stopped abruptly, so abruptly that Ellyn thought for a moment that he would overbalance. No such chance, however ... the elf gave her a look, then grinned in recognition.

"Why do you sound so sad, child?" Zaknafein held a katana and a wakizashi in his hands, his other swords discarded neatly before the rack. He hefted the wakizashi, frowned, made a few more experimental slashes, then twisted it in a neat move around his wrist back to the scabbard in his belt.

"I wish I could move like that," Ellyn said enviously. She had only ever seen that trick with the wrist done with a pole, by some juggler in a fair.

Zaknafein chuckled, now turning his attention to the katana. "Practice sixty years and we'd see."

"In sixty years I'd have enough arthritis that I won't even be able to walk to the toilet properly," Ellyn exaggerated a little. "Maybe you have some sort of talent."

"I just work harder," Zak shrugged. "I think that calling someone 'talented' just because he or she can do something very well is not a compliment. One overlooks the long hours of practice and sweat and effort. Talent may be involved, but most of it is hard work, Ellyn."

"Oh." Ellyn looked closely at the wicked metal glint of the curved sword. "Swords seem so...well, romantic. And you don't need to look at me like that," she added, at Zaknafein's raised eyebrow.

"Romantic? That is new," Zak turned the katana one way, then the other, then made a few mock parries. "Useful, yes. Harmful, yes ... but romantic? I doubt it. What is so romantic about a long, sharp piece of steel used to kill?"

"Well..." Ellyn spread her arms. "There's just this...thing about swords that seem to make them favorite weapons of heroes. Magic swords, talking swords, and soul-eating swords...lots of them. Um."

"The best sword is a sword without magic," Zak ran his finger along the flat of the blade. "You will never know when it may backfire. The worst swords are the sentient ones, I believe, especially those that control you to fight in its own ways. You may be an excellent swordsman with a sword like that, but if you ever lost it, or if its power dissipated...better to learn yourself."

"Seen these swords before, have you?" Ellyn meant it to be a joke, but Zak's expression was serious...and a little vicious.

"Yes," he said shortly. "There was an elven forged blade, meant for mages. Known as D'vharn'lolth, old tongue for 'Fury of Lloth'. Sentient, with the skill of many masters ... made to protect mages in close combat. In default, it made anyone holding it an unequalled sword master...it controlled the hands holding it, and it was very fast, and very flexible in combat. It was giving me a hard time in the hands of a mage I had been sent to kill. It was doing a good job of slicing me to ribbons, too ... until I managed somehow to knock it out of the mage's hands. After that ... easy."

"What happened to the sword?" Ellyn breathed.

"I kicked it into some lava," Zak said cheerfully. "It tried to get me to wield it, but I do not like broadswords, and I certainly do not like being controlled. It might have made a good teacher, but I doubt it would have had deigned to teach me once it got my hands."

"Sent to kill a mage...you were an assassin before?" Ellyn cocked her head to the side. Assassins sounded cool.

"In the strictest sense," Zak said dryly. "More like the Matron pointed me in the direction of someone I was to kill, and I did it."

"Oh... Matron?" Ellyn grasped.

"Matron of a House is the ruler of the House," Zak explained, sheathing the katana, then walking back to the rack and browsing through the weapons. "A House is a drow family, and there is a ranking system. The top eight make a ruling council, and there were about five and sixty Houses in the city I came from."

"Sounds great," Ellyn began to comment, then stepped back involuntarily when Zaknafein spun on her, eyes burning. The anger just as quickly turned into amused calm. "What did I say?" she protested.

"I suppose you could explain how 'great' it sounds?" Zak said mildly, drawing a ninjato from the rank, muttering under his breath, then replacing it.

"Well, female-oriented society." Ellyn hedged. "I'm a grass-roots feminist."

"You would not think so if you fully knew what drow society was," Zak said just as mildly, picking up a long metal pole,

"Well...Tulan said not to talk to you about it." Ellyn explained. "Um." She found his cool tone more frightening than that of his anger.

"And why not?" Zaknafein expertly twirled the pole around himself, lunging to the side and smashing the pole into thin air. "Thrust."

"That's even more unfair. I thought you were only good with swords and arrows," Ellyn groused. "He said you were touchy on the subject. I respect that."

"Hmm," was his only comment, suddenly twisting into a blurring move with the pole, leaping and ducking, the pole seeming to make complete circuits around his body on different inclines by itself, so quickly did his hands move.

"I think I'd go explore now," Ellyn said sourly. "You're depressing me."

"I am?" The gray blur resolved itself into Zaknafein, leaning nonchalantly on the pole, not even out of breath. If he had any breath now, Ellyn added to herself nastily, then regretted the thought.

"Yes, you are. I keep seeing a black panther and a brown duckling, thank you." Ellyn sighed. As Zak frowned, she elaborated, "Panthers are graceful. Ducklings waddle, quack quack."

"Ah, but ducklings are really cute," Tulan's beautiful voice commented dryly. Ellyn turned to see Tulan and Jim standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Cute doesn't count if I one day find myself up against some psycho with swords out for my blood," Ellyn pointed out.

"Maybe he'd fall in love with you and throw his swords at your feet," Tulan said outrageously. Ahriman, peering behind its master's legs, wagged its tail as if in agreement.

"Hah. That sounds painful, thank you, and I seriously doubt it will ever happen." Ellyn pouted. "You are all trying to make fun of me..."

"I did not say anything," Jim murmured. "Come, child. I may have to spend some time explaining the rifle to you." Ellyn gave Tulan a backward glare, then followed Jim into another room.

"What's into her?" Tulan asked Zak, when the door closed.

"She wishes she had skill in weaponry," Zaknafein replied, hooking up a cushion with the end of the pole, and turned into another blur of movement that kept bumping the cushion back up into the air.

"Well, if she masters the rifle, you may become obsolete, my friend," Tulan grinned wickedly.

"I doubt that," was Zak's answer. The pole met the cushion with a resounding whack, and it hit Tulan full in the chest.

Tulan sighed, and tossed the cushion back among the others. "All right, I admit. There'd always be a place for close fighting."

"Good that you are aware," Zak said pointedly, hooking up another cushion and batting it at Tulan.

"Hey!" Tulan managed, and the rest of his protest was cut short as the pillow hit him in the face. Zaknafein lowered the pole ends and hooked up the other cushions in a blindingly swift move, then executed a few complex routines, using both ends of the pole. Tulan was summarily buried in a short hail of cushions.

"Why, you..." Tulan spluttered, then saw Zaknafein's sardonic grin, tried to think of something scathing to say, and failed. He sighed at the mess and whistled a tune, and the pillows floated back to their original positions. "Ah ha. Fighting's good for making a mess, magic's good for putting it back."

Zaknafein grinned.

***

Jim clasped the hilts of his swords with both hands, extending them in front of them in a curt, formal gesture of respect. Zaknafein merely bowed.

Jim had changed his shape into a younger version of his normal shape. This version was quite obviously fitter and stronger, and probably gave the dragon a better chance in the bout. His true form wouldn't be able to hold a sword properly.

Ellyn and Tulan sat in a far corner of the room, having removed most of the cushions to that spot to be able to sit in comfort. Ahriman had been sent to Baetra's house, where he would be happier in the larger garden while they stayed on this world.

"His swords share the same scabbard," Ellyn perceived.

"Yin-yang swords," Tulan nodded. "I think they were magic, but I really cannot remember. Yin for the female, yang is male. A matched set."

"The black sword is...'yin', right?" Ellyn watched as Jim and Zaknafein began to circle each other carefully. "Most unfair. Why is darkness associated with females?"

"Because it is unpredictable, a mystery, and can be both shielding and cold?" Tulan grinned.

"Yeah, right." Ellyn flinched when Zak struck with the speed of a snake. Jim deflected the strike quickly, retaliating with a vicious thrust. Zak spun out of reach.

Metal rang against metal, high-pitched notes. Ellyn found herself trying to back as far into the cushions as possible as the opponents finished sounding each other out and settled down into a really ugly looking fight.

"They may hurt each other," she told Tulan uncomfortably.

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" Tulan said flippantly. Zaknafein ducked a slash and repeated a move that the Bard had seen with the corner of his eye at the Vizanier's ... swivel on one of his hands, but this time angling upwards. The double kick in the stomach slammed Jim backwards, but the dragon did a neat somersault, landing in a crouch. Zaknafein had already regained his balance, and they began to stalk each other again.

"I thought this was a friendly fight," Ellyn winced as Jim nearly managed to cut off Zaknafein's arm, the stroke only parried inches from the target.

"It is. They're not going to kill each other," Tulan commented. "Ok, that looked painful..." Zaknafein rolled back up into position, grimacing at the after-effects of a roundhouse kick.

Half an hour, and Jim had lost one sword. The dragon fought on, apparently unconcerned, then ducked in, the sword-less hand folding into some position, second finger and middle finger together, the rest folded into the palm. The two fingers hit Zaknafein's left arm on several spots, more quickly than Ellyn could follow ... wrist, elbow, arm ... and Zaknafein's left sword dropped out of his nerveless grasp.

The elf leaped back with an oath then warily began to circle again. "What was that?"

"I blocked the acupoints on your arm," the dragon said mildly. "Not magic at all, merely another type of martial arts. It should wear off in a while. You have not even seen its life before?"

Zaknafein muttered some sort of curse, then attacked again, faster now.

"Was that fair?" Ellyn asked Tulan.

"I think so," the bard settled into the cushions. "It wasn't magic."

Then Zaknafein's sword engaged Jim's, flicking it around in some sort of small circle, as it made a maddening series of thrusts in a small locus around Jim's sword ... Jim parrying the circle as quickly as he could. The two swords seemed to be engaging in some sort of small circular dance that should be tiring on the arms...

Ellyn realized belatedly that the tip of Zak's sword inched inexorably but subtly forward down Jim's blade, slipping and slashing in the locus, then abruptly sliced forward, gashing open Jim's hand, then curling over and under the dragon's sword, flicking it away expertly.

Jim cursed, looked at his bleeding hand, then back at Zaknafein, who was at least breathing hard now. "I admit defeat," he said wryly, examining the cut. >From Ellyn's angle, it looked rather deep.

"Sorry about the hand," Zak apologized graciously. He had won, anyway.

"Not any matter," Jim murmured, blowing over the wound, which healed quickly, then disappeared.

"Why don't you let Zak keep the katanas as a present?" Tulan asked hopefully.

Jim smiled. "With those swords, I already cannot beat him. Presenting him with swords designed for a pairing...I am afraid you would still have to pay me for it, Tulan."

"Can you teach me that acupoint move?" Zaknafein asked.

Jim looked mildly surprised. "It is not much help unless you know the basic anatomy of your opponent," he admitted. "I knew you were not a normal elf, so I tried substituting human anatomy."

"Worked as well," Zak said, rubbing his still numb hand pointedly.

"Oh. Forgive me," Jim stepped forward, folding his fingers into position, then hit the arm twice again. Zaknafein stretched it, then unsheathed his claws before sheathing them again.

"You did not use those in the fight," Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Not through any sense of fairness," Zak confessed. "You are a dragon. I did not want you to get any ideas about growing more claws."

"Thought so," Ellyn stood up, then pulled Tulan up as well at the elf's request.

"As for you, young lady," Jim beckoned with a finger. "More lessons for you. Today we learn how to dismantle and clean the Travel-fox. As to acupoints, friend Zak, the Abbot Najing teaches it better than me."

Tulan and Zaknafein watched them disappear into another room. "Abbot?" Zak inquired curiously.

"Monk." Tulan elaborated helpfully. "But I'm not going to take you there. Abbot Najing's insufferable. Keeps trying to convert me to whatever peace and harmony walk he's taking. Stupid."

"Peace and harmony?" Zaknafein raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. For one self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, his Temple's famed for martial arts. Nearly an irony. And Najing himself is the best of them." Tulan shook his head. "Huh. It's one reason why my sister and I both left the place alone in the early days."

"Powerful?" Zak inquired.

"He has several moves that seem magical," Tulan moved his hands in vague little circles in front of him, palm facing out. "Used it against me when I finally challenged him. Called the 'Thousand Hand Buddha' or something ... managed to knock me out." The dark elf grimaced. "This is all giving you a happy, isn't it?"

"Me?" Zaknafein said innocently.

***

"Isn't there a bookshop around here?" Ellyn grumbled. She sat down in the sparring circle, wiping up the Travel-Fox.

"I think so," Jim furrowed his brow in thought. "Chinese books."

"Forget it," Ellyn sighed, polishing the butt of the rifle.

"Getting bored of us already?" Tulan stopped playing for a moment to grin impishly at her. "I'm so hurt."

"Yeah, right," Ellyn muttered under her breath. "Zaknafein, do you have to do that?"

Zaknafein stopped manipulating the ball around him, rolling it into his palm. He had been keeping the ball up in the air by his feet and body alone, no hands, dexterous and quick. "It practices reflex," he explained. "Would you like to try?" He tossed the ball to her.

She caught it easily. "No thanks. I'd probably end up in a tangled heap." Ellyn placed the ball next to her. Zaknafein padded over and sat down in the circle, flexing his hands, sliding the claws out and in.

Jim sat down next to him. "Those claws..." he began.

Zaknafein shrugged. "Probably some sort of stupid curse. Not that they have not been useful."

"Ah." Jim seemed to be content to leave the subject at that, and glanced at the clock. "Time again." The dragon closed his eyes, then after five minutes Ellyn noted that red tendrils of power ran unevenly and quickly over the walls, ceiling, and floor.

"Why are you doing that?" Tulan sounded exasperated. "You've been excessively coy about the subject."

"Because I did not want you to get involved," Jim admitted. "Something has been killing Unseleighe Sidhe in Chinatown."

"Since when has that been new?" Tulan raised an eyebrow.

"Since the killer started leaving marks of a Bard," Jim commented. "It has been like this for some time, before you even got loose from the Hall. So it probably isn't a human Bard, but you'd never know. Merlin lived several centuries, after all. The killings have been sporadic and apparently on impulse, and all elves so far, but I am not taking chances."

"You? You're hardly Unseleighe," Tulan said dryly. "I don't remember you pledging to serve the Morgana."

"I do not," Jim agreed. "Dragons serve themselves. But most of my friends are Unseleighe Sidhe. Baetra, you, Nakavae..."

"You're a dragon. Why are you afraid of this 'Bard'?" Tulan raised an eyebrow.

"He is powerful," Jim admitted. "And I am not afraid to admit that to myself. He killed Dankanor last week."

"What? Dan?" Tulan blinked, then lowered his head. "By the Morgana...but Dan was a major magus! Oh. I see what you mean."

"They found what was left of him," Jim sighed. "Nailed to a wall, Cold Iron nails."

"That has got to have hurt," Ellyn murmured, then flinched when all of them glanced at her.

"Why do you not rout out this killer?" Zaknafein removed his piwafwi, examining it for tears.

"That's just it. No one's seen him, or found him. Only...for more than one time, a companion or passer-by heard music near the sites of passing," Jim looked uncomfortable. "Bardic music. You know it has a very different feel from normal music. I do not listen much to hearsay, Black Bard. But I was with Dankanor. He told me he heard something, then ran into an alley. Told me to get others. I turned to go and do just that ... then I heard the music." Jim shuddered. "Five minutes later, backup found..."

"We get it," Ellyn said quickly. "Um. So what are you going to do?"

"There was to be a war council," Jim said seriously.

"Is this why Baetra wanted that flame-thrower?" Tulan said suddenly.

"Possibly," Jim replied with some of his old spirit. "Or maybe it was just an excuse. But she is a target as well ... if it hadn't been all the wards on her house..."

"Perhaps we have a deal," Zaknafein remarked. "We kill this murderer. You sponsor us." Tulan blinked, then tensed.

"What?" Ellyn exclaimed in horror.

"That may be a good idea," Jim said slowly.

"Settled, then." Tulan grinned broadly; apparently more interested that his bank account would be undented than in the high chance of demise in this matter.

***

"You realize we could all die doing this?" Ellyn said irritably as they loitered in an alley, waiting for sunset the next day, apparently the murderer's favorite stalking hour.

"You don't need to be on the team," Tulan said gently. "You haven't been really trained to handle this sort of situations yet."

"I'm in," Ellyn lifted her chin defiantly.

"I do not think you should argue, Tulan," Zak patted the sniper rifle slung on Ellyn's shoulder. Jim had been generous. A full bag of ammunition was hanging by her hip, along with a Bowie knife on a belt. Tulan refused weaponry, but Zaknafein had chosen the katanas and their scabbards. "But I do not understand why the dog has to come with us."

Ahriman whined, sensing that Zaknafein's attention was on it.

"You'd see," Tulan grinned. "We all have a role in this, Zak. Face it. Now, sun's setting in ten minutes." He whistled, and a lean looking, tall human soon appeared out of an adjoining alley. The human wore a black leather jacket over loose dark trousers, and bowed ironically from the shadows.

Zaknafein sniffed. "Vampire?"

Ellyn blinked, nervously placing a hand on the hilt of her knife.

"Perceptive." Tulan agreed. "Zaknafein, Ellyn, this is Quell. Quell, Zaknafein, Ellyn."

"Vampire?" Ellyn repeated.

Quell bowed gracefully. "It is an honor to meet all of you."

"What's he doing with us?" Ellyn asked.

"Well, if you can tell me you know your way through all the rooftops here, I'd dismiss him," Tulan grinned. "Quell's lived here even before Chinatown was built. He knows his way around."

"But...vampire!" Ellyn protested, realized how rude it sounded, and blushed furiously. "Oh, I'm sorry..."

"It's a standard reaction," Quell remarked. "Lady Ellyn? This way, please."

"Do not worry," Zaknafein smiled wolfishly. "If you do not return, I will personally stake this Quell."

Quell returned the smile, then beckoned Ellyn into the alley. "Tulan has spoken to me about the agreed route," he murmured. "We must hurry."

"If you try anything..." Ellyn left it hanging.

"I am aware you are wearing a cross," Quell said dryly. "I assure you that I am quaking in my boots. However, I want this murderer gone as quickly as possible before he starts hunting my kind. Up this way, please, my lady."

"And don't you 'my lady' me," Ellyn muttered.

"Why not? It sounds so elegant," A ghost of a smile appeared on Quell's thin face.

"Ellyn would do," she decided. She as being nasty to someone just because she was prejudiced against the race.

Not good at all.

As if seeing her embarrassment, Quell smiled at her. "We'd be going up soon," he said, as if to change the subject.

"Do you really drink blood?" Ellyn asked morbidly.

"Of course," Quell replied, "But it doesn't matter what kind. I've eaten already, thank you."

Ellyn decided not to ask what.

**

Zaknafein walked with Tulan down the agreed path, the both of them making as much sound as possible. Shophouses on either side loomed over them ... better than multiple buildings, which would make it harder for Ellyn and Quell to get into position. These shophouses also had flat roofs.

A cool wind started to blow, which turned chilly quickly, then whirled into a dervish meters in front of them. Zak and Tulan stopped ... Zaknafein drawing his swords, Tulan his violin. The wind twisted faster and faster, becoming more and more opaque, until a rather young human stood in its place, holding a harp. He was dressed in a white robe and hood with blue lining, long enough to touch the floor. A shock of brown hair nearly covered one eye, and the face was surprisingly plain and freckled.

However, the eyes were bright and filled with fanatism. He spoke something, then Zaknafein hissed as something bit his leg. He looked down, and realized that there was a hunched, small, imp-like creature chewing on his leg. Shaking it off, he quickly stepped back, raising a katana on impulse, and impaling one on it.

More of the imps appeared and pounced on him. Under great numbers, Zaknafein quickly went down under the mass, snarling in fury.

"Goblins," Tulan whispered, but dared not help. Already the other Bard's fingers were positioned over his harp. Tulan began to play at the same instant, and the alley became filled with harsh music as each tried to best each other in a display of power.

Not good ... Tulan knew. The boy had less Bardic talent than him, but much greater innate magic ... and he was utilizing this as well. Also, the boy was human...

"Who are you?" he gritted his teeth, deflecting a burst of fire.

"I am the Bard Michael," he said defiantly, "I spurn you, Unseleighe scum! Die!" He punctuated his words with another massive blast of fire that nearly broke through Tulan's hastily strengthened shield.

This was not good at all...

Chapter 13: Bardic Showdown

The building they were in quivered and shook from the roars outside. Quell led Ellyn steadily onwards and upwards, apparently not daunted at all.

"What is that about?" Ellyn finally burst out, when a pillar of flame shot up meters from the window, outside. She had a feeling that she knew the answer, and didn't like it.

"I see our Bards have finally found each other," Quell said with his sardonic, dry voice. "We must hurry."

They were in some sort of abandoned restaurant. Elaborate pillars were now dusty and draped in cobwebs instead of buntings, tables were termite-eaten, the chairs broken or dumped in disorder around them. The floor, stripped of carpet, was thick in dust, and the red paint on the walls was peeling.

Most definitely not a cheerful place, Ellyn noticed wryly. Certainly not the sort of place she would like to die in.

Now, where had that thought come from? She frowned at the back of the vampire, who was picking his way with unearthly grace along the debris on the ground.

They reached another staircase, even more rotten than the first, and picked their way up carefully. Halfway through, another massive blast outside shook the house, and Ellyn had a sudden sinking feeling...

The tortured timber beneath her feet let out a most dreadful squeal, and caved in. Ellyn flung out her hand in a desperate attempt to catch hold of something...and then something got a grip on her wrist, effectively stopping her fall. She took a deep breath, then looked up.

Quell's anxious face peered down at her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I won't be if you...don't pull me up," Ellyn managed. It was a long way to the ground.

"Oh, right." The vampire seemed to have supernatural strength, and he pulled her up to where he was easily. "We had better hurry. No telling when the rest of the staircases may go."

"I'm more worried about the floor," Ellyn said, though she still felt relieved that they had reached the next floor. This one was divided into many large rooms, probably the private dining ones.

"The floors are better supported than the stairs," Quell reassured her. "It has withstood an earthquake. It is the stairs that are new."

"You knew this place?" Ellyn said, then realized that it was only expected. Feeling stupid, her fingers reached behind her to finger the Travel-Fox. The cold metal was oddly reassuring.

"I was here when it opened," Quell looked wistful for a while as he walked by her side. "I ate here sometimes. The food was good, continuously so even though the place went through a few cooks. I was here when it closed, half a century later."

"Must be interesting to live so long," Ellyn commented.

"No," Quell disagreed. "It's not."

There wasn't much she could say to that. They walked in silence until Quell abruptly turned to a door, and tried the doorknob. He sighed, then twisted it sharply.

The sharp crack as the entire knob and lock parted way with the door was unnervingly loud, and Ellyn flinched.

"Wow, you must go through a lot of toothpaste tubes," Ellyn said weakly, as Quell tossed the now-useless doorknob to the side.

Quell chuckled. "I don't use toothpaste."

"Really? Not even for the..." Ellyn bared her teeth and hunched her head forward, her hands curling into claws in a mock vampire imitation.

"Oh, frightening," Quell grinned. "You'd make a very good vampire."

"No thanks," Ellyn said quickly. "I sort of like eating normal food. That is, normal by my standards..."

"You can eat as a vampire," Quell said mildly, but stepped out. Ellyn blinked. They were on a balcony overlooking the street. Obviously this building was much older than the surrounding ones, because no architect with a modicum of sense would build a balcony so close to other buildings.

The balcony had also been for dining, though the tables were mostly broken, and there were no chairs, only shards of wood.

"I used to enjoy eating here on a clear night," Quell mused. "The balcony used to overlook a large square where there used to be many performances. Built over now, of course."

Ellyn looked at the other houses, none of which seemed less than a century old, and didn't comment.

Lightning crackled down suddenly, and Quell sprang at her, pushing her down to the ground. The blinding bolt struck something in front of them, but on the street below.

"Hey, get off," Ellyn muttered. The vampire was heavy.

"Sorry," Quell rolled into a crouch. The street below flared orange red for a moment, then multicolored lights exploded. The building shook again. "Do you know what to do?"

"Oh, please," Ellyn sighed, getting to her knees and removing the Travel-Fox, "If I didn't know what to do, I wouldn't have followed you." She checked the gun, looked dubiously at silver bullets or revolver bullets, and then chose silver. If the creature turned out to be some sort of monster, well, most monsters didn't like silver. If it were more or less human...even a bullet made of copper alloy wouldn't make much difference from steel ones.

She moved as quietly as possible to the edge of the balcony, then looked down carefully. The thick railings would be harder to look through, but also hid her effectively. The rifle itself was black, and probably was camouflaged in the shadows.

However, if the balcony caught fire...Ellyn winced, and turned back to the matter at hand.

The scene below was not good at all.

Tulan and the enemy Bard looked fairly matched. The Bard had his back to her, facing Tulan. Beside Tulan was a writhing mass of screeching that Ellyn finally realized, in the light of a sudden lightning flash deflecting off Tulan's shield, was Zaknafein, covered with some sort of shrieking imp-like monsters.

She pulled the rifle stand into position soundlessly, then propped it on the wood, sighting down the telescoping device, quickly and easily aligning the black cross on the glass on the back of the Bard's head, then slowly invoked her Sight so as not to alert the Bard to her presence.

She needn't have bothered ... Tulan, perhaps noticing her, let loose a sudden torrent of fire on the Bard, focusing the enemy's attention on him.

Mage sight, even through the telescopic device, showed the strong outlines of a shield around the enemy Bard. And if the Bard was human, which Jim said was possible, then his magic wouldn't be affected by steel bullets, vis, the bullets might bounce off.

She could only wait uncomfortably, keeping the sights trained on the Bard's head. Quell propped himself up on his elbows beside her, watching the fight with fascination.

***

Tulan noticed the brief glint of something thin and metallic on the balcony behind Michael, and immediately stepped up his offensive. His fingers ached, but he dared not stop playing. Already he had to rely on Bardic magic for both his shield and most of his offensive, while Michael could use Bardic magic only for shields and his innate magic for offensive. Tulan therefore played a much harder and tiring melody than Michael.

One thing that Keighvin and Madoc had done for him, then ... in the centuries he had been locked up in the Hall, he had nothing much to do but practice his magic. Michael might have been terrorizing Chinatown for some time, but he had less discipline. His magic seemed rather spontaneous.

That could be bad, Tulan told himself. One never knew what a beginner might try, since a beginner hardly ever 'knew better'.

His fingers were going to cramp soon, but Tulan gritted his teeth, calling up an image of Dankanor, nailed to a wall. His resolve strengthened, and then he began his third offensive ... a psychic barrage. The reason why he hadn't tried this earlier was because if he over-committed himself, he might die from overexertion.

It looked like he would have to take that chance.

No such luck ... the Bard didn't have psychic talent as such, but had adequate shields. Still, Tulan had the satisfaction of seeing his knees buckle ... just a bit ... as a trained Psi talent hammered down on his mental shielding.

Ahriman was silent behind a Dumpster, at Tulan's direction. If Michael knew about it, he probably didn't care ... what could a retriever do, anyway?

Michael's fingers then ran over the harp in another tune, and Tulan was forcefully 'slapped' away from his psychic vicinity. Surprised and nearly caught off guard ... Tulan didn't know that Bardic magic could be intertwined with psychic power ... his psychic attack faltered for a moment, allowing Michael to construct more mental barriers.

But Tulan noticed that his 'normal' shields had softened a bit on the edges, as if weakening a little. Quickly, he caused one of the small stone lions on the building to fall down, angling the thing such that it impacted the Bard's shield.

Michael hissed, and the shield wavered a little, but the lion stopped in mid-fall, then shot towards Tulan with fearful speed. Easily, Tulan used his second aspect of psychic talent ... telekinesis ... to angle the statue away from him. He wasn't strong enough to 'throw' it back at Michael, but he was good enough to change its direction a little. It plowed into the side of the gibbering, jeering mass where Zak was buried under, crushing some of their number.

"What sort of Seleighe Bard uses goblins?" Tulan remarked. Blood flowed from where he had bitten through his lip in his concentration, but he couldn't spare the hands to wipe it away.

He hadn't meant it as a taunt, but Michael's face darkened. "I have but manipulated the creatures of the dark against you! What irony, that Unseleighe instruments would tear apart one of their own...now, Black Bard, you die by my hand!"

Then Michael let out some sort of unseen force, which roared towards him, the ground buckling under it. Tulan braced himself, transferring the offensive 'parts' of his melody to the defensive. It was not the melody that did it, but the will behind it ... currently Tulan was methodically playing through all the songs he remembered, twisting them to his power.

The force hit his barriers, and Tulan felt the first few melting away under the impact, that jarred him backwards a few feet but did not reach him. Quickly he attacked again ... this sort of force would...should have left Michael open for an instant ... his mind struck again.

This time he managed to smash through most of the mental barriers before being forced away. But he still needed an opening, a chance for Michael's shield to drop for a moment, so that Ellyn could do her work...

"Ahriman!" he commanded, "Go!"

Ahriman slunk out from behind the Dumpster as he hit Michael's shields with a blinding, opaque wash of black fire. By the time Michael dispelled the fire, Ahriman was already too close. The dog blurred through the shielding, and fastened its jaws on the hand Michael pushed out to guard his neck. Ahriman was a walking fortress of shielding, though mostly from experiments of Tulan's, and so broke through Michael's newer sort of shielding easily and without strain.

It was too bad he had never spared effort on tying such bindings on himself, but then again, he wasn't particularly sure if they'd work on him.

Michael cried out, and his shield wavered more, but not breaking. Tulan nearly hissed in dismay.

***

Zaknafein finally relinquished his katanas through a red haze of pain, and unsheathed his claws. He let control slip him for a moment; lips curling back into a savage snarl as his claws tore into his tormentors, snagging them and throwing them from him, or viciously ripping them apart. As if startled by this sudden surge of fury, the goblins fell back for a moment.

Zak was aware that he was a bloody mess. The claws of the goblins had torn into him too often for his comfort, though they did not penetrate the adamantite chain mail. He stamped heavily on one, feeling something crack under his boots, then slashed open another.

He was aware that the Tulan-Michael fight was in a stalemate, but also aware that Tulan seemed to be recklessly pushing everything into offensive now, even with Ahriman harassing Michael.

Zak glanced up without moving his head, and thought he saw the glint of a rifle barrel. And then he understood.

Roughly he grabbed one of the jeering creatures, and flung it at Michael. As he had hoped, the Bard had been too arrogant to up shields against his own creatures, and the maddened creature passed through, landing on Michael's shoulder. It snarled and dug its claws into the Bard's shoulder.

Michael cried out, but did not stop playing. No matter ... Zaknafein picked up some more of the goblins that sprung at him, and threw them at Tulan. One finally landed on his harp, the sharp claws snagging the strings, snapping them.

The music from Michael abruptly stopped. Ahriman had already backed away at Tulan's command, but Michael raised a hand, and the goblins on him dissolved into sand. Stiff with rage, Michael's hand formed a fist, which burned with fire.

Zaknafein had an idea. Concentrating through the pain, he pointed at Michael, a dramatic gesture that the Bard no doubt noticed.

Faerie fire burst out around and on the Bard, harmless but very realistic. Michael let out a cry of horror, his first instinct to try and slap out the fire on his clothing.

***

Up on the balcony, Ellyn saw Michael drop his shields reflexively to try and physically combat the purple flames and her finger immediately squeezed the trigger.

Ellyn was prepared for the recoil, focussing and aiming before loosing another bullet, this time aiming for the chest.

Michael jerked twice, like a puppet, then crumpled to the ground. Around Zaknafein, the shrieking things disappeared.

With relief, she stood up, cradling the rifle in her hands. Tulan had fallen to his knees, breathing hard, but Zaknafein waved a hand, then froze.

An icy feeling curled in her gut, and she looked down at Michael in horror. No...that was not possible.

The Bard had half-turned, and looked up at her. His hand clenched into a claw, then fell to his side with the abandon of the dead.

There was a sudden creaking sound that accelerated into a squeal, and the ground shifted wildly under her feet as the balcony detached itself from the wall. Ellyn could see Tulan trying to cast a spell quickly enough to save her, could see Zaknafein running forward...then she looked down, and she could see her death.

Then something caught hold of her waist and twisted her around in mid-air. She landed heavily away from the crashing wood, but on something soft, also eliciting a pained grunt.

Getting up gingerly, she turned to see that Quell had been the one whom had saved her. Shakily, she said, "Thanks."

Quell was motionless for a while, and she felt a stab of guilt and fear, then he got up painfully, a cocky grin on his face. "Least I could do. Good shot, by the way."

Zaknafein reached her, and smiled in relief to see that she was relatively unhurt. His skin was mostly torn and ripped, blood still flowing from many wounds. His retrieved katanas hung in their scabbards.

"My word, you look like something out from the mincer," Ellyn felt light-headed with relief.

"Not in real pieces, however. That says something for armor, does it not?" Zak bowed his head slightly.

Tulan reached them, though he still breathed heavily, and his face was very pale. "Well. That was harder than I expected."

"Can't expect to have everything," Quell retorted. "Still, the Bard looks hardly more than a boy."

Ellyn glanced at the heap. A spreading pool of blood gleamed wetly in the moonlight, and she shivered involuntarily.

"I would offer my cloak, but it is bloody," Zaknafein looked carefully at her, an unreadable expression on his features. "Does the kill bother you, Ellyn?"

"Well..." She had killed, taken life...of a fellow human being. She had more or less expected monsters, which would be...easier somehow, to kill. Not humans.

"You don't have to do this," Tulan agreed. "It's not any reflection on you ... in fact, I would be happy for someone to keep the House while we are hunting."

"Hunting," Ellyn frowned. "So you don't kill, you hunt?"

"Hunting involves killing," Quell murmured behind her, "But the word itself suggests rewards, and promise."

"Does that justify it?" Ellyn asked, shivering again.

"To us, it does," Zaknafein said. "Now, Ellyn. Does this bother you? Because if it does..."

"It doesn't bother me," Ellyn squared her shoulders. "Not as much as I thought it would. I just respect life, you know? Taking it so quickly...seems so callous somehow."

"So you wanted us to go up to Michael and ask his permission for us to take his life?" Tulan said sarcastically.

"He could have died from astonishment," Quell quipped. No one laughed.

Ellyn flushed, then calmed down and looked straight at them. "I can do it. And I doubt there's much I can really do in the Hall, Tulan. I am not doing this out of obligation to you, or some sort of 'misguided teenage fancy'. I do it because I want to, ok? I want to help ... I sort of like the both of you."

"Looks like we have a team member?" Tulan drawled, winking at Zaknafein.

Zak chuckled, his voice only slightly strained by the pain. "She is holding that very big rifle, after all."

Ellyn blushed, then felt angry with herself for doing so, and shouldered the strap of the rifle. It was heavy, but she could probably use it standing up, though she would have to lift weights for a while. She held out a hand. "So we're a team?"

Zaknafein, claws sheathed, simply put his hand on her outstretched palm. "Team," Tulan agreed, and did so as well.

"This is all very touching," Quell said sardonically, spoiling the moment somewhat, "But I have a lot of matters to attend to now that Michael is dead. Do you still need me?"

"No," Tulan grinned, as they withdrew his hand. "Go skulk back to your shadows, vampire."

Quell bowed mockingly, then walked softly away.

"He's nice," Ellyn remarked, when she thought he was out of hearing. They started to walk, back to Jim's shop.

"One of the better ones," Tulan agreed. "I've known him for quite a while. He's older than me, of course."

"Strange that vampires can live so long with such impediments," Zaknafein said. Ellyn looked more closely at him.

"You really don't look so good," she decided.

"I'd heal," Zaknafein said, and Ellyn realized that he hadn't meant that as what she thought he had ... his wounds did seem to be closing slowly.

"As for you..." she turned to Tulan, who was stumbling a little now in exhaustion.

"I'd be fine after a few days of sleep," Tulan said with a tired smile. "However, if I fall asleep before we make it there..."

"I won't be able to carry you," Ellyn said flippantly.

"Neither can I," Zaknafein murmured. "I suppose we would just have to leave him if he falls."

"Honestly, Zak, I'm disappointed with you," Tulan began, then sighed at Ellyn's snigger and Zaknafein's wide grin.

***

Jim was true to his word, allowing Ellyn to keep the Travel-Fox set and Zaknafein the katanas. They rested there for a while, especially Tulan, who slept through the next two days and woke up still exhausted.

Zaknafein was introduced to some of the other swordsmen in Chinatown, and often fought friendly bouts with them. He didn't always win, but he still seemed to enjoy himself, and he appeared to have learned a few new moves.

Ellyn trained more with Jim as Tulan recuperated. She found she had some sort of affinity for the rifle, though that was probably only the practice. Without the telescopic device, she already had a good chance of hitting a person a few hundred meters away. With the device, she always hit the target. A moving target was harder. It had just been her luck that Michael hadn't been moving around.

She still needed a lot more training, but eventually they had to return to the Hall, where Tulan would recover faster. However, Jim told her she now could practice by herself, and she intended to do just that.

Apparently the Seleighe Sidhe were increasing efforts to break Unseleighe control on earth, after recent major Unseleighe plots hurting many Seleighe.

Killers like Michael were not unique to Chinatown alone, but the Unseleighe were bearing up well.

There were more of them, after all...

However, Tulan often cursed at the fall of yet another he had known, and once, tears even slipped down his cheeks.

Whoever said evil was without the better emotions? Ellyn remembered the words of Jim about 'Dan' ... 'nailed to the wall'. What sort of monster would do that? Dan had been a friend. He never did say very much, but he helped. Not everyone was like the late Madoc, who used and used then threw your husk away.

In a way, Seleighe weren't that different from Unseleighe either all. They just seemed to be officially on different sides.

Ah, but the power of good ... whatever they did, especially against evil, was acceptable...

Chapter 14: S'Orce

"Well?" Zaknafein and Ellyn peered down the staircase. Tulan grinned and got off the Rose throne, watching until the swirls of the portal of a client switched off outside the gates of the Hall.

"It'd be a rich one," Tulan nodded. "Not without danger, of course, but which one is?"

Ellyn grinned easily, patting the rifle slung on her shoulder. It had seen a lot of use in the past months. "What are we to do now?"

"Akarn the Poisoner," Tulan said, fingering a petal of a black rose. "Killing. However, we'd have to be careful with him."

"Poisoner..." Ellyn mused.

"I have a bad feeling about it," Tulan admitted. "But the reward is certainly generous."

"When have your bad feelings ever mattered?" Zaknafein countered, and winked at the spluttering Bard.

"Isn't this Akarn Seleighe?" Ellyn raised an eyebrow. Tulan and Ashalon had been tutoring her on the Underhill's 'celebrities'. Translated as ... those more likely to get contracts for termination.

"Why yes," Tulan said thoughtfully, "Though I doubt that's his title with them."

"Obviously," Ellyn murmured. "Um. I don't think you told me much about exactly what is Akarn and where he lives."

"Well, we have your laptop," Tulan grinned. Ellyn had somehow managed to plug in the Pentium 3 laptop into the Hall, and the Hall had predictably absorbed it into itself. It had also managed to assimilate information from the library into itself, even opening a new program inside reminiscent of a larger Encarta Encyclopedia. Still, the entire written parts of the information would still be in the library.

"I believe Ashalon mentioned 'S'Orce." Zaknafein said mildly.

"The city of sorcerers," Tulan frowned. "Quite. Still, to be sure..."

***

"Akarn Leafstar ... my word, do you elves have horrible names ... allied with Seleighe Court. Elf, common, how tall, blah. Um." Ellyn scrolled down the screen as she sat cross-legged in front of the low table with the laptop in her room. On either side of her, Tulan and Zaknafein peered at the screen.

"Hair color, skin color ... why do you need this much information for, anyway?" Ellyn asked absently. There was a color portrait of Akarn. Not bad looking, but all elves were like that.

"Well, if you use the black arts, sometimes you need specifics," Tulan explained. "I don't use them anymore. Too much need of precision and promises and sponsoring by dark sources of power got on my nerves."

"Says here 'last seen in S'Orce, all right," Ellyn agreed.

"How long ago was this information updated?" Zaknafein asked.

Tulan shrugged. "I personally have no idea, but elves do not change very much."

"So we go to S'Orce, find him ... oh look, they put his address ... then we shoot him. Easy done." Ellyn scrolled down further. "He's a sorcerer?"

"I doubt it would be so easy," Zaknafein said mildly, reading the summary of Akarn's long and involved life.

"Neither do I," Tulan agreed. "S'Orce doesn't have tight security, but we may have some trouble getting out if we're not careful. Yes, Akarn is a sorcerer ... though a fairly pathetic one. Lighting a candle would strain his abilities severely. It's his mind that is respected."

"Why 'poisoner'?" Ellyn inquired. "Oh, I see..." Most of Akarn's opponents had died in 'mysterious' ways. "But poison's sort of an up-close thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose you could count traps as 'up-close," Tulan grimaced.

"Poisoned traps are non-magical traps," Zaknafein pointed out. "They are normally less of a problem."

"It's the 'normally' part that gets me," said Ellyn.

"Saying that they were not a problem at all would be stretching the truth," Zaknafein admitted, "But that would be close. I have encountered many traps before in the Underdark. We need just be more careful."

"Right, mental note to self ... once there, push Zak in front," Tulan smirked. Zak scowled at him but did not say anything.

"Any idea why they suddenly want him dead?" Ellyn asked.

"No idea," Tulan shrugged. "But I've noticed that there's been more Seleighe activity of late, and not the normal raising-funds-for-the-homeless sort of activity, either. Maybe we could ask this Akarn. Maybe he'd have some idea why people are trying to kill him."

"That sounds so callous," Ellyn commented, then grinned. "Oh well. Let's go."

"Is there anything about this S'Orce we should know about?" Zaknafein put in.

"Um, right. Thanks for reminding me. S'Orce is quite a...diverse city. Anything ordinary is more likely to stand out than anything not ordinary, hence we may not really be challenged going in. Except for Ellyn here ... a human would be stretching things a bit."

"Hair," Ellyn grinned, tossing her head of now-long hair, then arranging it such that it covered her rounded ears.

"You don't look very elfin, but it'd pass," Tulan grinned.

"Not stunningly beautiful, eh?" Ellyn smiled.

"Looks never matter," Zaknafein shrugged. "Let us be on our way."

***

"I suppose this isn't a good time to mention I'm afraid of heights," Ellyn said tightly, keeping her eyes fixed on the mane of the palomino pegasus that she rode.

"No, it is not," Zaknafein agreed, looking down as they emerged from the fixed portal that had been hanging in mid air. "I estimate we are about two hundred feet above the ground."

"Zaknafein, I swear when we get down I'm..." The rest of Ellyn's threat was cut off when she involuntarily looked down. "Eep."

"It was necessary," Tulan rode his pegasus, a black one with a white star, with complacent ease. "Flying steeds are very common here, and I doubted either of you would want to ride a griffin or a wyvern. They bite back."

"Maybe I should also mention that I've never ridden a horse before, let alone a flying one?" Ellyn bit her lip, the reins hanging limply in her hand. She tried to concentrate on the feel of her clothing on her skin.

"I knew that," Tulan smiled. "I'm controlling yours. Zak seems to be doing fine, though."

"If you have ever ridden a lizard upside down in a cavern, I think you can ride nearly anything," Zaknafein nudged his roan pegasus downwards. Tulan followed, then Ellyn ... who now tried to ignore the feeling that she had left her stomach several feet above her.

The city did look beautiful this high up. Some buildings seemed to be of pure marble, gleaming in the afternoon sun. There seemed to be a temporal sun in most places in the Underhill that set and rose at different, weird times, sometimes even from wrong directions.

Some buildings looked like plain gray stone that blazed with non-burning fire of all sorts of colors. Some of them were graceful ivory spires, some squat black crystal. The huge differences in architecture still seemed to give S'Orce a sense of immense magical power, and a deep, strange beauty.

In the center of the city was a large, domed building, and visibly wide boulevards led to it in uniform directions, like the spokes of a wheel. Ellyn had a sudden feeling of deja vu.

"Paris?" she asked of Tulan. Anything to keep away from the feeling that if she hadn't been strapped to her mount, she'd be left behind in the air.

"Elves designed this city," he called back, "And we're notoriously unimaginative. S'Orce isn't very old for an elven city, after all, especially since it's...cosmopolitan." Seleighe and Unseleighe and neutral lived together relatively easily in the city.

There was a high, gracefully built wall of transparent light blue obsidian that surrounded the city. Guards could occasionally be seen walking on the top of the wall, and they didn't all seem to be elven.

They landed a respectful ten feet from one of the entrances to the city, and as agreed, Ellyn rode slightly forward, with Zaknafein in a position that marked him as a 'bodyguard', and Tulan as a retainer. As a sorceress, even a rather handicapped one, she would have more reason coming to the city.

She was also dressed in heavy-looking, iridescent robes that seemed to be a standard garb of the 'nobles' in the city, though they were surprisingly light. They served to hide track pants and a T-shirt, her normal 'working' garb. She wore light black gloves. The Travel-Fox was in one of the packs on her pegasus, disassembled and wrapped carefully in silk. Silvery ribbons contrasted with her mouse-brown hair that carefully covered her ears. The ribbons, Tulan's idea, helped hold the hair in place someway.

Zaknafein wore his armor and swords, looking dangerously unconcerned with anything going on around him. Tulan did not wear his normal all-black clothing, but well-made, blue-green themed clothes that, combined with the plumed hat, made him resemble a dashing courtier. His violin and other equipment had been bundled on his saddle packs.

The guards at the elaborate, flimsy looking gold gate were both elves, in armor as elaborate as the rest of the city, holding halberds. Ellyn heard Zaknafein's amused snort behind her. The guards didn't look like they would be able to move very fast in a fight.

"Business?" one of the interchangeable guards asked.

"Greetings," Ellyn said brusquely, trying to keep her voice steady, "I am Lady Cerenae de' V'afln, a sorceress. I seek the Library of S'Orce."

"Pardon us, milady, but you do not look like an elf," the other guard said cautiously.

"And has that ever mattered with entry?" Tulan said quick to demand. "If it has, I would like to see your superior now..." He left the threat hanging.

"No, no, good sir," the guard said hastily. "Are you Seleighe, Unseleighe or other?"

"Why do you ask?" It was Ellyn's turn to have a try at being snobbish.

"There has been strained relations between Seleighe and Unseleighe courts of late," the guard said, "If you are of either, I would have to..."

"There has always been strained relations," Tulan snapped, "I suspect you are stalling for time, and I happen to know Captain Vasken very well..."

At the Captain's name, the guards blanched. "Pass," one murmured, pushing open the gate. They rode through into the rather crowded, colorful streets, that had been paved with what looked like a type of pretty coffee-brown glass that did not break as the hooves of their pegasus clattered on them. Other citizens rode steeds as weird or stranger than theirs ... she saw one shaggy beast that looked like a Star Wars ton-ton. If that was the actual name. Ellyn couldn't really remember.

"Do you really know this Captain Vasken?" Zaknafein said in a normal voice. Whispers tended to attract attention, and in this crowd, they wouldn't be heard anyway.

"Of course," Tulan said evenly. "I don't play with an empty hand. Though I doubt Vasken would like to acknowledge our acquaintance now that he's holding such a high rank. Nice fellow, though, especially for a Nordic elf."

"Oh, that's so cute," Ellyn smiled at a stallholder selling exotic pets. Exotic being pets from Earth like cats and dogs, strange looking creatures she had never seen before ... there was something that looked like a bad cross between a butterfly and a slug ... wolf cubs, what looked like a wyvern baby...

The stallholder, a tall, many armed, human like creature, smiled broadly as she paused her pegasus next to the stall, darting out and pushing a snow-leopard kitten into her hands. It yawned at her, showing small, sharp teeth, then fell asleep.

"See, it likes you, milady," the stallholder said with another winning smile.

"Ell...um, Lady Cerenae?" Tulan said gently.

"It's very cute, Tu...that is, Turenil," Ellyn patted its soft fur.

"It's a snow-leopard, Lady Cerenae," Tulan sighed. "Trust me, it will be a real problem to break in back in the Hall. And we already have a resident cat, remember?" he gave Zak an insolent wink.

Zaknafein rolled his eyes. His paw-like hands hadn't attracted any attention in the city.

Ellyn wavered.

"Maybe later?" Tulan sighed.

"Oh, very well," Ellyn handed the kitten carefully back to the stallholder. "Here, thanks."

They continued down the wide boulevard, which was apparently the commercial street of S'Orce. It branched into a large square centered on a statue of an elf in full armor. Proud, unseeing eyes looked out towards the boulevard.

There were more stalls here, some of which had mouthwatering smells, especially one that sold fresh bread. Ellyn was uncomfortably aware that they'd missed lunch, and was about the point it out to Tulan when Zaknafein let out an audible sniff of disapproval.

Ellyn turned to see a stall selling, of all things, slaves. None of them were elven or human, but there were some humanoids, like one of those digusting goblins, a creature that looked for all the world human except for the blue, scaly skin, as well as a cage that seemed to contain butterflies.

Butterflies? Ellyn peered closer, and saw that the willowy, tiny shapes were fairies. She frowned, then glanced at Tulan.

"Address is Four Seeln Street," Tulan was looking at a street map. "That way, I suppose."

"Look at that stall," she pressed. Tulan raised an eyebrow at her, then did.

"Oh dear," he murmured. "Too bad for them."

"That's all you're saying?" Ellyn glared. "I mean..." she remembered the fairies in the forest they passed through sometimes. How friendly and sweet they were.

"Maybe later, then," Tulan said quickly, nudging the flanks of his pegasus. "Strange that you're upset, Zak." Zak seemed to be a common enough name.

"I was not looking at the fairies," Zak commented. "But did you notice most of the...merchandise are children?"

"Yep," Tulan nodded. "And most of the more humanoid ones will probably be going to sacrifices or brothels."

Ellyn let out a small gasp of horror, but Zak also nodded grimly.

"Nothing we can do about it," Tulan said tiredly. "Come on."

***

Seeln street was in a quieter, less well to do section of the city, though the houses were still outlandishly beautiful. Trees provided areas of shade, but no children played on the streets. The houses were mostly packed together, like terraces, which was a bad thing. How was she supposed to use a sniper rifle? None of the buildings around looked empty enough to use as a firing spot, too.

"I think we have to go in," Ellyn sighed. She didn't like things confrontational. The rifle was more or less hidden in her robes, though there was a small bulge. She shifted a little so that she could unstrap and move into firing stance in a moment's notice.

"Well, it is not as if we did not think of this eventuality," Zak smiled.

"I'm not very good at acting," Ellyn sighed, but walked up the steps to the carved wooden door with the number '4' written elegantly on it in silver. She used the doorknocker, waited, and then tried again.

There was the sound of shuffling behind the door, then it opened to show the face of Akarn. He looked very old ... there were crow's feet on the edges of his eyes, strange for an elf, and he leant heavily on a walking stick of gnarled oak.

"Greetings, are you Akarn the sorcerer?" Ellyn said brightly.

Akarn nodded slowly. "I am afraid that you have the advantage of me, Lady...?"

"Cerenae," Ellyn smiled what she hoped was a dazzling smile. "I'm so sorry to disturb you at this time in the afternoon, but I was hoping you could help me."

Akarn bowed with the grace of the old school. "What do you require, Lady Cerenae?"

"I heard from...reliable sources," Ellyn lowered her eyes briefly to indicate that the sources were rather unsure themselves, "That you were born with...that is, you were gifted with sorcery as well, but also with a block. Um."

Akarn narrowed his eyes at her. "You are a sorceress yourself, are you not?"

"Well," Ellyn said with a rush, now to try and indicate uncertainty, "Not really. I also have a block. I have to be very angry or upset before I can use my power, though I can generate it. Can you teach me how you overcame your...block?"

Akarn hesitated, and for a moment Ellyn thought he would shut the door in her face. "There are many other sorcerers in this place..." he began.

"Yes, but most of them have no idea of how to overcome a block because they've never had one. Their sessions are tiresome and have not accomplished anything. And those with a block...well, they're not very well known. Which is to say I don't know many others, and most of them didn't really want to help. Time constraint or something." Ellyn tried to put some bitterness in her voice, not really succeeding. It was well known that sorcerers didn't really like taking apprentices much these days, after a few widely publicized, nasty incidents.

"I see," Akarn said slowly. "Well, come in then, Lady Cerenae."

"Thank you very much," Ellyn gushed, feeling a secret well of triumph. First hurdle, bite the dust.

She stepped in, turning slightly so that Akarn would see Zaknafein and Tulan in front of the house.

"And they are...?" Akarn asked.

"Zak is my bodyguard," Ellyn explained, "My family did not think it safe for me to travel to S'Orce alone. Turenlil is my retainer and a long standing friend of my family." Actually, she had no idea what a retainer was. "They can wait outside if you would wish it so."

"Of course not," Akarn said pleasantly. "Please, ask them to come in as well."

Ellyn beckoned, and Tulan came up the stairs, followed by Zaknafein. Akarn closed the door after them, then led them into a neat, comfortable living room of two sofas facing each other over a short square glass table that stood on the fur of some unidentifyable animal. The room was wood-paneled, even the walls, emanating a warm, homey feeling.

Akarn indicated graciously that they sit down. Ellyn sat on one sofa on the side, with Tulan next to her. Zaknafein, keeping with the bodyguard role, opted to stand protectively next to her.

"Tea?" he asked.

"No thanks," Ellyn smiled, "Caffeine, see."

"That was remiss of me," Akarn agreed, sitting down opposite them. "Now. How do you suppose we should continue this teaching, Ellyn?"

Ellyn was about to reply, then she registered what he had said and blinked. "Sorry?" she asked curiously, recovering quickly. "Who is this Ellyn?"

Akarn chuckled briefly, without mirth. "You can stop pretending now, all three of you. You've all gained enough reputation already for me to recognize you."

Zaknafein had started forward, katanas drawn, then suddenly froze in place. Ellyn found that she could not move as well, and neither could Tulan.

"The Otherworld warrior, the human sorceress sniper, and the Black Bard," Akarn sighed. "Oh dear. Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Letting us go would be fun," Ellyn quipped.

"Seems very unlikely to me," Tulan commented. "Nice binding spell, though. Didn't think you had it in you, Akarn."

Akarn flushed a little, then calmed down. "You were wrong," he said mildly. "Well then, any last wishes?"

"You're Seleighe. You can do this?" Ellyn raised an eyebrow. From the muttered curses next to her, she deciphered that Zak couldn't unsheathe his claws.

"Perhaps not to you, human girl," Akarn smiled. "Though I would welcome an assistant."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not going to learn under you, you..." Ellyn took a deep breath. This wasn't going well. "Odd that there's so much Seleighe activity so far, though."

She could nearly feel Tulan's, and Zaknafein's, amazement at her question, then they relaxed.

"And what makes you say so, child?" Akarn raised an eyebrow.

"That business in Chinatown. Then all those incidents in Vaken'duin." Ellyn hedged.

Thankfully, Akarn seemed to believe her. "You are remarkably well-informed, child. And you are correct."

"So. Why?" Ellyn asked. "Since we're going to die anyway." She added.

"We are opening the gates to Heaven," Akarn smiled benignly. "At last, Heaven would win the cosmic battle with Hell, and all good souls will ascend to Paradise."

"I'm assuming that doesn't include me," Tulan said wryly. "Isn't one of the commandments 'Thou shalt not kill'?"

"No," Akarn said mildly. "That is but human belief."

"That's nice," Tulan grinned. "Maybe Zak here has a chance after all."

"I would probably die of boredom," Zak said dryly. "Heaven sounds like a dull place."

"Look, I think there was some prophecy thing somewhere I read," Ellyn said slowly. "When Heaven wins, Earth would burn. And all the 'non-believers' would as well, won't they? Which incidentally, more than half of the world's population are 'pagans'."

"The right will ascend," Akarn smiled, looking like anyone's nice big brother for a moment. "The rituals have already begun."

"Sheesh, you people," Ellyn said irritably. "Sounds like a bad movie. Though usually it's opening the gates to Hell that people try to prevent."

"Same thing, isn't it? Earth's destroyed," Tulan shrugged. "Interesting, though. Now, how did you propose to open the gates to... ah, Heaven?"

"Ritual," Akarn said, "Worship."

"Pretty obvious, Tulan," Ellyn murmured. "Oh dear. Um, are you sort of important to all this?"

"I am but a small link in the chain, child," Akarn smiled, "All children are innocent..."

"This one has been using a sniper rifle," Zak murmured.

Akarn appeared not to hear, walking painfully forward to Ellyn, then cupping her face. "Your parents may miss you, girl," he said gently. "We could send you back to him..."

Ellyn hissed, then suddenly flared bright as a new sun in the Sight. As Akarn rocked back with a cry, shielding his eyes reflexively, Tulan sent a massive psychic surge forward towards the old elf.

Akarn fell backwards with a shout of agony, and hit his head on the edge of the glass table, stunning himself a little. The binding spell broke with a nudge from Tulan, and Zaknafein surged forward, katana held to stab down.

"Stop, Zak," Tulan said quickly. "I think I would like to learn more about this Gate of Heaven thing."

Zaknafein nodded, sheathing his swords and drawing the boot knife, then hauled Akarn to his feet, twisting one of the elf's hands behind his back. Akarn's eyes opened wide in pain.

Though Ellyn felt uncomfortable, she opened her bag and took out a steel bullet, which she tossed to Zak. Akarn tried to flinch away, but was held back.

"Now," Zaknafein said pleasantly, "If you do not tell Tulan here what he wants to know...we'd see firsthand what happens when you touch steel to an elf, won't we?"

Akarn snarled. "I do not betray my friends." He stamped hard on Zaknafein's foot. Zak let out a hiss of pain, then twisted the arm harder, and caught the other hand in a locked hold.

"How many fingers do you want?" he said coldly.

"Zak..." Ellyn began.

"Shush, Ellyn," Tulan murmured. "Very well, Akarn, if you're sure you want to die..."

Akarn gave him a look of hatred, then jerked his elbow of his other arm back sharply, connecting with Zak's jaw. As Zak's hold loosed momentarily, Akarn's hand slipped into his clothing and surfaced with a wicked dirk, which he stabbed at Zak's thigh, past the armor.

Zak snarled and jerked away, earning only a mild laceration, but Akarn reversed the dirk's direction and plunged the dagger into his own heart. Blood spurted from his chest, then from his mouth where he had bitten his tongue, then he went limp. Zak dropped Akarn's corpse unceremoniously.

"Stupid bugger," Tulan cursed, leaping quickly forward and tugging the dagger out of Akarn's corpse, then sniffing the edge.

He paled, then glanced at Zak, who was examining the wound.

"What's wrong?" Ellyn said quickly. She had a sudden premonition.

"Devil's burn," Tulan said, ignoring the irony. "Poison."

Chapter 15: Healers

"Does it matter?" Zak raised an eyebrow. "I am already dead, after all. It should heal." The cut didn't seem to be closing, though.

"Devil's Burn sort of increases your body's temperature, slowly killing off all your cells," Tulan said grimly, "It's also hallucinogenic. But the real reason why it's called Devil's Burn is because it also hurts your soul. You'd suffer intense emotional, physical and spiritual agony before you die."

"How long do I have?" Zak asked, looking rather calm.

"I don't know," Tulan said miserably. "There's only been a few recorded cases, and they've all killed themselves."

"So what do we do now?" It was Ellyn's turn to pale. "Aren't there Healers somewhere? Can't you use your Bardic power?"

"I can't heal these sort of wounds," Tulan said, "Elves somehow mostly make specialized Bards, and mine is battlemagic. I can probably heal the cut itself, but eventually Zak may die from pain in the other parts, and believe me, that is not a nice way to pass on."

"There is never a nice way to pass on," Zaknafein said mildly.

"My God, you...how can you be so calm?" Ellyn expostulated.

"If it would make you feel any better, I can throw a hysterical fit right now," Zak folded his arms, "But since that would not accomplish anything..."

"Sometimes you frighten me," Tulan told Zak. "Right. Calm down, Ellyn. I know some Healers in the Underhill. We return to the Hall, and use the laptop to check up their names. Is that fine with you?"

Ellyn nodded numbly, then brightened. "Maybe Akarn here has an antidote somewhere?"

"You'd need a healing power purge on this one," Tulan said, "It's been done before, once. However, the Healer in question is dead now, and the victim eventually killed himself. Couldn't stand the nightmares."

Zak chuckled shortly. "I have had my share of nightmares, Tulan."

"Right," Tulan nodded.

They collected the pegasi from the inn they had booked in, then portalled out of S'Orce in a quiet alley, arriving back in the Hall, where Tulan unsaddled their mounts and shooed them back to the Forest.

The laptop yielded few names, most of which had unknown locations. Ellyn looked up once to see Zak half-asleep, against a wall.

"Zak?" Ellyn inquired.

"I feel very tired," Zak murmured sleepily.

"Get some rest," Tulan nodded. Ahriman was nowhere to be seen, normal since Zaknafein had around.

Zaknafein bowed shortly then exited Ellyn's room. The corridor seemed a little unfocussed, somehow, and he was tired, so very tired...his eyes threatened to snap shut, but Zak knew that if he gave in to the impulse, he would never make it to his room.

He managed to stagger to the door, then leant on it and pushed open the door. Once he hit his bed, he fell asleep.

Then he began to dream, first of distorted dark images that seemed vaguely threatening and yet incredibly frightening, then of that weird limbo where he had been blown in, only this time he had not been rescued, where he seemed to go mad in the voices...

Then the images shifted to view a chamber where Drizzt was strapped to the altar, wearing the barest of loincloths, screaming and bloody as Malice cut quivering slivers off his flesh with slow precision, even eating some with a grotesque relish. In the long vanquished House B'akanae, though he was somehow moving without control and this time killing the children he found slowly and painfully. He couldn't move, he couldn't do anything...fear filled him as it had never before, nausea and cold in his gut.

Feeling, there was someone shaking him roughly. The sounds of someone biting back sobs, the two people calling his name.

Sleep, he was sleeping. It wasn't real...he forced his eyes open and stared blearily into the worried faces of Tulan and Ellyn.

"Are you ok?" Tulan asked automatically, then corrected himself. "No, you're not ok. Damn it."

"Nightmares?" Ellyn asked at the same time.

"Yes," Zak said shortly, sitting up and shaking his head, a bleak expression on his face. "I do not think I would be sleeping very much, if this is one of the effects."

"We'd heal you, Zak," Ellyn said impulsively.

"I hope so," Zaknafein said sincerely.

"Might as well start," Tulan said quickly. "Try not to sleep."

"That is not a possibility," Zak remarked harshly.

***

Their first stop was in a forest of tall oak trees and a soft mossy ground, next to a pool of impossibly crystal-clear water that scintillated like a huge precious gem in the soft sunlight. The air was crisply fresh, and the forest filled with sounds like the chirp of birds at their nests, defending their territory, the squeaks and clacks of squirrels hoarding, the grunts of a wild pig somewhere northwards.

Tulan sat down next to the pool, and began to play and sing "The Crooked Road", which Ellyn absently remembered was once sung by a human, Mary Black.

Tulan's voice was incredible, Ellyn smiled. She never grew tired of listening to it, and to his beautiful music.

"Oh, Carolina ruadh has my heart, and all I want to do's

Go down the windy road where my Carolina goes:

Down the crooked road were Carolina goes to school,"

A short, well-built humanoid stepped out from behind the tree. He had strong shoulders with rippling muscles, yet was built lithely. From waist down he was covered by shaggy fur of pure white, like a horse's mane, his legs turned backwards like a horse's hindquarters, and ended with ... you guessed it ... dainty cloven hooves, silver. His long silky white hair was tied in a ponytail, and he had a long but handsome face, with an elegant goatee. A single spiral horn grew from the center of the man's forehead.

He listened raptly until Tulan ended the song, then clapped enthusiastically. "Thom Moore's music is beautiful," he smiled, "And ye do it full justice, Black Bard. Now, what did ye want from me?"

"Greetings, Korn," Tulan got up and bowed. "One of my friends here is seriously injured. Poisoned by Devil's Burn. Can you help?"

Korn waltzed lightly over to Zaknafein, whom was keeping himself straight upright by sheer determination, peered at him, then touched Zak's forehead lightly with his fingers.

"Oh dear," he said, then cupped Zak's face with both hands and frowned before stepping back. "Sorry, Tulan. I can't cure him."

"You can't?" Ellyn bit her lip. "Why?"

"There's a limit to a unicorn's power, lass," Korn said sadly. "It did not cure a very good friend of mine a hundred years ago from a mortal wound of sorcery, and it would not cure your friend now. But I can take away the effects for a short while. A few days, and I'd give you a unicorn's blessing, which may do something in itself."

"Anything," Tulan let out a breath. "Korn, do you happen to know who can cure him?"

"I have been living in a forest, not a city," Korn said simply. "But you could try Najing."

"Oh no," Tulan groaned.

"But first, your friend," Korn stepped lightly to the water's edge, and looked pensive. Then he dropped to all fours, and arched his back, his body becoming more massive, his arms and legs lengthening and becoming stronger, his neck widening and growing longer, his face becoming longer and wider.

A proud unicorn arched its neck over the water, then lowered its head and dipped its horn into the water.

Nothing seemed to happen, no pyrotechnics, no light, but the unicorn raised its head and said in a clear voice, "Drink from the water, friend of Tulan."

Zaknafein nodded, knelt, and drank. Instantly, he felt invigorated, the icy grasp of the nightmares slipping away, feeling younger and more alive than he had in years. He looked up in surprise.

"It wouldn't last forever," Korn said grimly, "And ye would not be able to drink from here anymore. The nature of yer poison will forbid that ... 'twill work around the properties of the water until ye are immune to it. I know this as I've met a Devil's Burn patient before...'tis most sad."

Korn trotted over and touched Zak's shoulder with his horn. "May my blessing and the blessing of my brethren go with thee. Good luck to ye. Good health to ye, and long life."

Zak decided not to add that he had already died twice.

"In this incarnation," the unicorn added, with a wink. "You have had a most interesting life, friend of Tulan, if that is the correct word."

"The pool works for people who're dead?" Ellyn asked, then stopped. "Maybe that's not a correct term."

"It worked," Zak shrugged. "But..."

"Right," Tulan sighed. "Najing it is."

"Feel free to come back and visit, Tulan," Korn said wistfully. "I miss your playing."

Tulan bowed, and began to weave a Gate. The unicorn bobbed its head, then slipped away back into the forest.

**

The Temple of Feng'L'hong, or the Phoenix-Dragon Temple, had very oriental structures. There were many strange statues and a tall pagoda behind an impressive entrance temple with a dragon meeting a phoenix on the sharp roof. They stood at the foot of a very long series of neat steps that led up to the entrance.

Zaknafein was walking painfully now. Sometimes he would get a sharp pain in an area that would pull a curse from him or a hiss, and his companions would shoot him, then each other, a worried glance.

Two elven acolytes barred the entrance, but they bowed when they saw them and let them enter into a large courtyard. Cherry blossoms hung like pink snowflakes on the branches of four trees in four points of the quartz square in the center.

"He's probably in the White Tiger hall," Tulan commented, then grimaced. "I dislike these names."

"And which one is the White Tiger hall? Oh, stupid question." Ellyn looked in front of them. On the roof was a very realistic statue of a white tiger crouched to pounce, one paw with unsheathed claws hanging on the very edge of the tiled roof, mouth open in a snarl.

The interior of the temple was neat and spacious, and filled with the scent of burning incense. Directly in front of them was the statue of a goddess, sumptuously garbed in robes of plain white, hands clasped together in prayer, a beatific smile on her face. Danaa or Danaan, the Goddess of the Elves, Blessed of Elysium.

Before the statue sat an elf, facing them in the lotus position, wearing the yellow and red robes of an oriental monk, with a shaven head. His eyes, almond shaped and slanted were closed, and his hands relaxed on his lap in concentration. His skin was the light bronze-gold of Orientals, but his hair (eyebrows) and beard were a snowy white.

He looked up when they entered, and smiled warmly. "Greetings, Black Bard."

"Hey, Najing," Tulan nodded briefly. "Right, my friend here needs your help."

Ellyn found herself warming to the monk, if monk was what the elf was. He had a kindly face, and a firm gaze that swept over her and settled on Zaknafein.

"The Devil's Burn," Najing murmured.

"How did you know?" Ellyn asked curiously.

"I am a first level Empath," Najing said gently and without pride or modesty. He stood up gracefully and walked over to Zaknafein, touching his forehead with one hand. Zak blinked once as his mind seemed to be shared by another presence again, but gentle and soothing instead of the harsh violation of Tulan's psychic probe.

Najing stepped away gravely. "He has passed the middle stage of the contagion."

"Is there anything you can do?" Ellyn pressed anxiously.

"It is always a joy to see youth whom have such loyalty," Najing bowed slightly at her. "No, it is too far gone for me to heal completely, but I can take out some of the poison, prolong his life a little more. He is unicorn-touched ... that should help him survive the treatment." At this last, he raised an eyebrow at Tulan.

"Korn was very obliging," Tulan nodded. "But he said you could help. Middle stage? This fast?"

"You have been tiring yourself by Gating so many times in the day, and I suggest you take a rest in a guestroom," Najing told Tulan. "You care for others than yourself, Tulan. Perhaps there is still a chance that you would follow Danaa..."

"No thanks, Najing," Tulan said quickly. "But why this fast?"

"Your friend is not really alive," Najing explained. "His soul has been forced into this body, and so is more tightly bound to it. The contagion is spreading faster through this spiritual link. Usually if body, mind and soul are totally consumed, then the patient will die. It is good to know that Korn has so much faith in my abilities, however."

Ellyn looked distressed, and Tulan frowned.

"But we must start right away if we are to achieve anything," Najing nodded. "Come."

***

Najing directed a few acolytes to position a ceramic basin in front of Zaknafein, then got Zaknafein to sit down cross-legged. They were in what looked like a room for this sort of purpose ... there were medicine cabinets on the walls, and a wide space on the floor, with a tap on a corner for washing.

The Abbot sat down behind Zaknafein, then pressed the tips of his fingers together, sides parallel to his body, then lowered them together steadily as if pushing down his energy. Then his fingers flicked outwards, impacting Zak's arms with an audible, crisp sounds, then just quickly slapped onto another spot.

Ellyn had been warned that the process would take at least half an hour, but she still watched, fascinated. Tulan had gone to sleep ... the Gating had taken more of his strength then he would have admitted.

So she sat on a chair that one of the acolytes had moved up for her, watching and absently cleaning the Travel-Fox.

Sweat was beading on Zaknafein's brow, and his eyes were tightly shut. His muscles seemed to spasm at every impact, and once or twice he made a pained intake of breath.

Still, this method of healing looked rather aesthetic, Ellyn found, as Najing's fingers deftly flew and touched to snap back and swoop in again. There was a tingle in her eyes, and she slowly concentrated until the world was outlined in the iridescent colors of the Sight again.

There was a pretty purple-red aura around Zaknafein that she hadn't seen before, and it took her a minute to realize that it was the poison. Najing seemed to be herding it towards Zaknafein's chest. The aura seemed to flinch away from each impact spot. Najing's hands were outlined in traces of cyan, probably healing power.

Finally Najing's hands snapped back into palms facing Zaknafein, then slapped below his shoulder blades with force. Zaknafein jerked forward, then vomited into the ceramic bowl. Ellyn looked away quickly. Zak had vomited blood and a viscous purple liquid.

"Is the liquid the poison?" she asked slowly, as a few acolytes rushed in, pointing at the basin. It roared into flame which was just as quickly extinguished, leaving a clean if rather seared surface on the ceramic.

Another had handed Zak a piece of clean cloth with which he wiped his mouth. The cloth was tossed into the basin, then burned in the same way.

Najing was breathing heavily, shaking his head as if to clear away nausea. "Yes...it was. The nature of the Devil's Burn is that once it gets nutrients in a host by some process involved with increasing the body temperature, it replicates its viruses, and it takes the form of that purple liquid in the bloodstream. What you have just seen...was a healing purge."

"Is he ok now, then?" Ellyn said uncertainly. Zaknafein was gasping for breath, each shuddering intake seeming to sap his energy.

"I am not ok," Zaknafein mimicked her slang dryly. "But I do not feel as warm as before."

"As I mentioned, you are past the middle stage, so the purge will not heal you," Najing sighed. "Once Tulan is rested we shall speak again. In the meantime, Zaknafein should sleep as well."

"Sleep?" Zaknafein said the word as though it was a sort of dying.

"I know about the dreams," Najing nodded. "We will drug you."

Zaknafein nodded wearily.

***

Later they sat down for a vegetarian dinner on a low table, seated on hard mats rather than chairs.

Zak had a better appetite than before, and he certainly looked rather refreshed. Ellyn barely touched her food, but Tulan ate, if not enjoying his food.

When they had finished and the plain bowls were cleared, Najing nodded at Tulan. "It was dangerous doing the purge on Zaknafein at this state, but Korn's blessing made sure everything went smoothly. However, it has probably worn off by now, hence I dare not try the purge again. For yer case, Zaknafein, we will need someone who uses pure healing power. I have to use innate and acupoint magic. Being an Empath helps me diagnose and treat, but not in this case. I cannot even give ye more of that sleeping drug, for fear of addiction."

"But who has enough pure power?" Tulan sighed. "Won't be an elf, surely."

"Exactly." Najing nodded. "I have not been in touch with the Healer community for some time. You may need to seek out the Frenchman...I cannot recall his name."

"Renard, I believe," Tulan said.

"Fox?" Ellyn blinked.

"It's the name he goes by now," Tulan explained. "He's a human Healer who managed to stave off aging. However, it also ate up all his power. Now he's only human, living in Earth, though he will live forever. I can't remember what he ostensibly works as, but he lives in Provence somewhere."

"He's made himself an indispensable well of information about Healers, and founded an unofficial association of Healers. They submit all information about their powers and locations to him, he sorts them out and 'introduces' likely clients to them."

Tulan ended off by reaching for his violin. "We might as well start going."

"I see a catch," Zaknafein drawled.

"And there is," Tulan nodded. "He claims agent fee, though not a percentage of what you pay the Healer, just a fixed fee for himself. Not too much, though."

"I just did not think he would do this service for free," Zak shrugged.

"Ah, there is much bitterness in you," Najing put in, "Perhaps..."

"Stuff it, Najing," Tulan grinned. "Zak's one fish Danaa will never catch."

***

Their next portal landed them in a pleasant looking, small room. It held a sofa against one room with a framed picture of some obscure landscape, opposite a flat television that hung on the light beige wall. There was a carpet on the marble ground with crude designs, and nothing else.

The only door was deceptively flimsy, but when Ellyn peered at it, she saw that it was two thin panelings of some unknown type of wood shielding a large block of iron.

Tulan had rung the small bronze bell next to the door, and he waited. There was a small rumble as the air-conditioner switched on.

Soon there was the sound of movement outside the door, then the door itself opened to show a short, dapper man. He bowed gracefully when he saw Tulan.

"Bonjour," he smiled broadly, showing even white teeth. "Ah, Monsieur Tulan. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Renard," Tulan nodded wearily, moving aside. "My friend here. Devil's Burn."

"Ah," Renard stepped closer and peered at Zaknafein. "It does look like Devil's Burn..."

"Korn and Najing confirmed it," Tulan said, "Now, we need some Healer names..."

"Korn and Najing could not heal him?" Renard blinked. "Mon dieu. What happened?"

"Akarn happened," Ellyn said. "Um. Maybe if you were just to give us the best name for the job?"

"A human, Tulan? And what a very big gun," Renard grinned.

"Ellyn's a friend," Tulan shrugged.

"Come, then," Renard beckoned. The house was tastefully furnished, airy and oddly sweet-smelling. Windows looked out over vineyards, beautiful in lush green, though presumably not as lovely as when Autumn came.

He led them down into what looked like a wine cellar, minus the wine. There was an odd scent of several fragrances, some sweet, some bitter, some sour. The walls were lined with what looked like wine bottles.

"Medicine," Renard nodded, as if voicing their thoughts. "I do not drink wine."

"What?" Ellyn blinked.

"I am allergic to it," Renard looked slightly embarrassed. "A most unfortunate trait." The wine cellar led to a door, which he opened.

Inside the room was row upon row of wooden file cabinets. There was a light on a table in the center, along with a computer whose wires snaked away into the wall.

"You'd need a pure Healing power talent," Renard murmured as he carefully looked through the cabinets, "As for the fee..."

"Agreeable," Tulan nodded.

"Good," Renard smiled, locating and opening one of the cabinets, taking out some papers and sorting through them. "The coming of the Euro may call for some funds..."

Tulan gave him a blank look.

"Euro dollar, Tulan." Ellyn grinned. "Something about having one currency for all the European countries."

"Whatever," Tulan sighed.

"One currency..." Zaknafein pondered. "What does human currency have to do with... oh yes."

"He's probably worried about baguette pricing," Tulan muttered.

"Eh?" Ellyn asked.

"Whether it'd be the same price here as in Germany," Tulan grinned and winked at Renard.

"What is wrong with that?" Zaknafein asked.

"The baguette in Germany is the pits." Renard said with fervor. "French baguette is the best."

"They're all fanatical about food," Tulan said in a loud whisper.

Renard chuckled. "Private joke. Now, about the Healers, I believe your 'best bet' would be one Mademoiselle Mary Morrison, human, twenty years of age. Attached to Elfhame Fairgrove, actually to Fairgrove's SERRA team due to death of one popularly named 'Dottie' in an accident. Request by Lord Keighvin Silverhair, accepted date..."

"What!" Tulan shouted.

Ellyn winced. "Tulan, ouch, calm down..."

"I know," Renard nodded solemnly. "But she is the greatest known pure Healing talent alive now. There are other pure Healers, but they are not really as powerful. And one more thing ... she has successfully Healed a victim of Demon's Tongue poisoning, which as you know has symptoms relatively similar to that of the Devil's Burn. Keighvin and Fairgrove are actually protecting her from attempts of kidnapping from certain parties, Unseleighe included."

"Great," Tulan sighed in defeat. "I never thought I'd ever say this ... but we now need Keighvin's help."

[previous page] - [Contents] - [next page]

Lledrith RavenWolf