The spies had claimed there was a Stornium present in Fort Phal. The rumours were that he was also one of those who had overthrow Kobalix and destroyed the citadel. It was no stroke of luck that the Captain Henri had managed to capture Raynard. The Captain was a spy too.

Raynard was eight feet tall and looked as unmoveable as a boulder. It had taken two horses to carry the huge minotaur into the Fort. Now as the noose was fitted around him for his hanging, he smiled.

The soldier backed off, unsure if it was a smile or a growl. It was hard to tell with a minotaur. Wisely the soldier finished his job as quick as he could and left.

Again Raynard smiled. The ropes wouldn't hold him, he was too heavy. The beam holding the rope would break before the minotaur could even begin to choke.

The interrogator was a spy also and had done his best to make Raynard look injured and scarred from whip lashes. In truth Raynard felt better than usual having been given a meal worthy of a King. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night's sleep.

Rades' armour, though it was dented, battered, and rusted around the edges, felt like a tonne. It had been awhile since he'd worn it and it felt strangely unnatural. The pain in his body was quite bearable now and he moved with increasingly ease and strength.

The minotaur up on the platform reminded him of Nebonex only a good foot taller than the Prince and more brutish looking. He wore nothing but a kilt and leather boots yet he didn't even shiver in the freezing wind. Rades looked past the minotaur to study the Fort.

Fort Phal was more of a mountain of ice than a building. The architecture was carved, not built and the resulting effect was something that looked impossibly solid. Wood could only be found in doorways, supporting beams and on floors. Heat ventilating systems were constructed in a fashion to keep the rooms at a comfortable temperature and make the walls only harder than before through melting and refreezing.

Rades wasn't paying much attention to the proceedings and missed the Colonel giving the order to proceed with the hanging. He didn't however miss the noose around the minotaur's neck snapping or the shackle chains breaking easily. The minotaur next used the chains binding his huge hands to strangle a nearby soldier garrote style, breaking the chain in the process.

Like a charging bull, he plowed through the surrounding soldiers, using his sheer bulk to the ultimate advantage by crushing his foes between fellow foes. He was heading towards Rades for no apparent reason.

The Lieutenant drew his sword unhesitantly and met the minotaur's charge with an overhead swing at it's chest. The minotaur caught the blade in one huge hand. Rades stared as the brute squeezed the blade, breaking it between his fingers.

Raynard smiled at the Lieutenant. He liked showing off his incredible strength and the broken sword was but a token of it. Next he smacked the man over the side of the head; lightly, he didn't want to kill him.

After seeing the feat of strength the soldiers were reluctant to attack. Raynard grinned and slung the dazed Lieutenant over a shoulder. He marched towards the gate, a path parting before him through the crowd.

Rades tried to look up and saw Pat's pale face disappear in a crowd of stunned expressions. He looked around, subconsciously wondering what was going on. He felt faint, such was the minotaur's hold on his chest. The blow to the head wasn't helping either.

Kristine appeared with the Captain of the massacred scouting party, leading two horses. Rades face crinkled as he fought to understand what she was doing here. Surely she wasn't going to attack the minotaur?

"Kristine," growled the huge minotaur. "Tie him securely to the saddle and let's get out of this place!" She took Rades from the minotaur and did as told.

Rades wanted to scream traitor, but couldn't. The shock was too great for him. The pain in his head started to take hold and he felt himself drifting towards unconsciousness. How could she, he wondered as he drifted into oblivion.

"He is on it," said Blackthunder when he returned to the camp from the cave. "He is no longer our concern. What now?"

"We go home. What else is there to do?" Snowdancer responded. She motioned the warrior to sit down beside her. "Or we could go to the Fort."

"The word at the cave was that Raynard was caught at the Fort. They want to catch a different warrior. It may not be safe for us there. Who's concern is the warrior?"

"The people spying on the Fort."

"The word is they are planning to leave the Fort with their warrior. Go to the Lair. They are needed there."

"The we have to go to the Fort. We have no choice. Someone has to watch the warrior," she replied.

"That is dangerous. The warrior has others with him. They are loyal to him. They are not loyal to our cause," he pointed out.

"If he became loyal to our cause," said Snowdancer. "We would not have to worry about the others. They too might become loyal. Maybe."

"That doesn't look right," muttered Kelly.

Victoria glanced away from the ice fortress at the Princess. "What doesn't look right?" she demanded. The tone of Kelly's voice frightened her.

"The flag. Someone forgot to put it up. There should be a flag with four swords and three mountains up there. It's a very strict rule in the military here in the Kinian Mountains and father said Colonel Patrice was strict."

"We're in the Ice Lands now though."

"It's just the same. Something has happened or else they wouldn't have forgotten the flag," Kelly explained. "I don't like it."

Victoria liked the Princesses sensible logic. "Perhaps we should send Pothax or maybe Larry to check before going?" Victoria suggested.

"No. If something's happened we'll find out soon enough."

Adrienne skipped up the ropes and called Dillard. The knight slid down until he was a foot from her head. "What can you see from up there?" she asked.

"Snow. What did you expect?"

"No. I mean the Fort."

"A lot of people running around, looking confused. Something has happened or they want to know what a ship is doing so far in land. One or the other."

"You better come down then. If there's been an attack, we'll need you on the foredeck." She waved him towards the bow of the ship and slid back down the rigging.

Wynic drew his bastardsword from its silver sheath and leapt down from the bow of the ship to greet the Captain. "Wynic Doxon of Athex. We bring supplies from Jaton."

"Captain Slor of the Royal Kinian Army," the Captain saluted. "Are you truly the Paladin Assassin?"

"Yes," Wynic replied. "What happened here? The flag isn't up and the lookout says there's a lot of people running around. You definitely didn't have a fire."

The Captain stood there, unsure of what to say. "A prisoner escaped. He took a Stornium guest with him. Several traitors fled with him." He sighed heavily.

"One man?" asked Dillard dubiously from the bow of the Iceship.

"A minotaur poacher. Finally caught one of them and then he gets away. Not good for the Colonel's record."

"Can you take us to the Colonel?"

"Of course. She's kind of busy though. What with being the Fort Commander and all this traitor business."

"Brigadier Victoria has been assigned as the new Fort Commander," said Wynic. "She can help the Colonel deal with that, but first we really must speak with the Colonel."

"Of course. Follow me."

Pothax, Kelly, Kerry, Dillard, Pothax, Larry and Victoria all climbed down the side of the ship and waved good-bye to Carlo, the elite knights and the crew. Adrienne blew a kiss to Dillard. "See if you can find the minotaur's tracks. Lead the way Captain," the Arthian knight proclaimed.

Dillard bent over suddenly and picked up a broken and discarded longsword. It was made of steel, simply made, but perfectly balanced, or would have been had it not been snapped in two. He knelt and picked up the other half of the blade, and fitted the two pieces together. "This is Rades' sword," he declared, holding up the heavily-shined weapon. Rades had always been very meticulous when it came to cleaning his weapons.

Pothax took the hilted half from the knight and examined it. He nodded in agreement. Stornium make. "Captain. Is there a Lieutenant Rades here at Fort Phal?"

Slor was about to nod, but then shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. He's the Stornium the minotaur took with him. Strange isn't it? I would have thought the minotaur would have just killed him, not abduct him." He looked suddenly at the bloodstained snow and ice, but moved on without explanation.

Dillard tucked the broken blades into his belt and followed. The abduction of Rades didn't seem weird for some reason. It almost made sense. As if the minotaur had been sent here to find Rades. He shook the thought away and moved on.

"Well, isn't it sort of obvious?" Victoria asked the Colonel. "Those traitors learned Rades was here and the minotaur came here for him. Then they decided to leave."

Pat leaned back in her velvet chair and sat thoughtfully. "That would mean Captain Henri-Aindreas led those men into an ambush and probably even helped the monster kill them. I wonder if Aindreas' brother Andre knew about this."

"We can always ask him," said Pothax.

"No. We can't. He's dead. His health wasn't good recently and he shared a room with Lieutenant Rades. They attended the hanging together and he was killed when the monster escaped," Pat explained. "It was kind of strange how he ended up in the infirmary in the first place. I'd swear he was faking sickness."

"Perhaps he too was a spy or maybe it was just legitimate," shrugged Victoria.

Rades opened his eyes a crack, unsure of his surroundings and his safety. The Captain was arguing with the minotaur. He opened his eyes wider and watched closely.

"Why'd you do it?" the Captain demanded angrily. His fists clenched and his face turned a shade of red.

"He was going to give us away. I had to dispose of him," the minotaur replied coolly. "Sit down Aindreas," he said from his seat before the campfire.

"He was my brother!" spat Aindreas, kicking snow in the minotaur's face.

Raynard's huge hand shot out and caught the Captain by the collar. He hauled Henri down to face him. "Would you like to join your brother?" he growled.

A figure blocked Rades' view and he looked up to see who it was. Kristine smiled and knelt down to face the Lieutenant. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here tied to a stake?" she asked, pointing to the post behind him.

"Actually the thought hasn't truly crossed my mind, but now that I think of it. Yes, I'd like to know what I'm doing here," Rades replied truthfully. "Tied to a stake," he added half-heartedly.

"You're Raynard's prisoner," Kristine explained, hooking her thumb at the huge minotaur. She looked into Rades pleading eyes and sneered. "You expect me to free you," she laughed heartily and stood up. "You won't last long!"

"Why'd you do this? I thought-"

"That we were lovers?" Kristine snorted. "You're not that cute Lieutenant. I was spying on you right from the beginning. That first kiss was meant to wake you up. When I eavesdropped on you and the Colonel it wasn't because I wanted to learn more about you. Well, sort of. I needed to know if you really were one of the Overthrowers."

"But... How'd you know?"

"You fitted the description," she shrugged.

"Rades mind reeled when it occurred to him that this was actually happening and wasn't an dream. She had played him for a fool. She'd probe and seduce and he'd have done anything to please her curiousity. He felt utterly betrayed, as if she'd taken the sword from his own belt and rammed it through his chest.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened to Rades either. During Kobalix's Quest by an Arthian named D'arcy. She too had seduced him and tried to abduct him only Rades had proved to be a better fighter than she had expected. He never found out why they had tried to abduct him because she and her allies used cyanide. Unless she knew that he attended the war meetings with the generals she didn't have any reason for his abduction.

"Was I nothing to you?" he asked on the verge of tears. It had happened twice!

"You? Ha!" Kristine kicked him in the stomach with her boot. "I'm married!" she proclaimed, pointing at Captain Henri-Aindreas. "You're a helpless fool Rades! Can't even get through the mountains without getting lost!" She spat on his forehead and walked away.

The spittle ran down his nose and dripped onto his breastplate. He blinked away tears and concentrated on his surroundings. Aindreas was sulking and Kristine was trying to soothe him. The minotaur was busy eating. The rest of the traitors that he could see were either sleeping or standing watch. Rades counted about twenty of them, but there was more behind him because he could here them talking and betting on a card game.

"Look what the dog dragged in," muttered a man, clumping over and sitting down beside Rades. He sat with his back to Rades' post and took out a carving knife plus a piece of bone. He began to carve. "If I were you, I'd keep quiet lad. The minotaur doesn't like people disturbing his dinner."

Rades nodded slowly. "Where are we going?" he whispered.

The man shook his head silently. "Kris didn't tell you? We're going to our Lair. Sort of a headquarters if you ask me. You ain't gonna like it there."

"Kristine said something about me not lasting long. What's going to happen to me?"

"They'll interrogate you, even torture you there," the man replied. "Then they'll throw you in the mines and work you to death. You're a slave now."

"What's in the mines?" Rades probed.

"Didn't you ever hear that curiousity killed the cat? Kris was right by Jehovah! You won't last long!"

"Why'd you take me? Surely you could find someone bigger that'd make a better slave!"

"Ya, but you have information that can't be found through spying. We need that information."

"Why?"

"Lad, you're persistent! Give it up! I'll tell you one thing though. Your armies don't stand a chance," the man proclaimed, reaching for a harness strapped to his belt. "Kobalix's engineers experiment with black dust and invented a thunder-bow. Now you've seen cross-pistols, but I own a thunder-pistol," he boasted, pulling a pistol from his harness. It lacked the small crosspiece of a cross-pistol.

Rades wasn't impressed. The thing didn't look that powerful. If anything it'd be as good as a slingshot in his point of view.

"Damn things are hard to reload that's all. They're working on creating a better type at the Lair. Something that can be mass produced."

"Black dust is forbidden," Rades muttered.

"Not where Kobalix's Legions are concerned. We won't make the mistakes Vormia did. A new age has come and Thunder-weapons will play a great role in it!"

"I doubt that," Rades retorted. "Last I heard, the minotaur Mathex was working on a steam-powered catapult. Whatever you make, Mathex can make something better!"

"Not against the thunder-cannons. Face it lad, the world is changing as we speak and you can either get run over in the stampede or hang on for the ride!"

"Minotaur tracks," muttered Brenda. She sighed heavily and got to her feet. "Carlo, is this north by northeast?" she asked.

"Close, I prefer to be more accurate though. Twenty-nine degrees east of the north cardinal point," he said, studying the tracks taking note of the horse tracks. "They can't move that fast since they took horses. We could overtake them easily and these tracks won't disappear due to snow or wind because it's such a clear day," he pointed out, hooking a thumb at the cloudless sky."

Brenda looked at the silver moon rising in the east. "It's too dark to pursue them now. We'll have to wait till morning. Besides, now that we know the general direction they went, we know where to start looking."

Gith set his paint brush down and walked across the palace parapet to where a lone figure stood in silence, shivering in the cold. He set down his cane and studied the man, unsure of how to proceed. "Waytorn," he called cautiously.

The King Culprit turned around and gave the painter a grim smile. He looked haggard and worn out, not to mention cold. "Yes, old man?"

"You have the appearance of the man with a problem," Gith commented. "You know," he said. "I have been told that I'm a reliant source of advice. People with problems seem to flock to me. How about you tell me yours?"

"So you can tell Lady Bardelias?" scoffed Waytorn.

"Unlike Lady Bardelias, I keep things confidential. Besides, I don't like that type of person. 'Thou shalt not Gossip' should be declared the Eleventh Order."

Waytorn laughed, though a bit strained. "Thank you, Gith. I needed that!" He sighed and his shoulders slumped. He looked very frail and vulnerable. "Perhaps I do need someone to talk to other than the Lord. Jehovah doesn't seem to be helping much lately," he said soberly. "I don't think he likes me."

"You never know," smiled Gith. "His Lordship works in mysterious ways."

"That he does," said Waytorn thoughtfully. "This is a matter of the heart Gith. I'd prefer if you kept it the utmost of secrets. Will you?"

"Of course, of course," said Gith. He motioned the cutthroat to sit and sat down himself, his back to a battlement. "Go ahead and don't rush. People tend to skip bits and pieces if they're not watching what they're saying."

Waytorn nodded silently and sat down beside the old man. He studied Gith's Arthian Oak cane briefly. "this will take quite awhile," he muttered. He glanced at Gith questioning.

"Please go on. I'll try not to interrupt unless you confuse me."

The cutthroat nodded thankfully. "Five years ago I met a young lady named Larel. She was a foolish girl at the time and had wandered into one of the roughest sections of Jaton. She stopped to ask a whore for directions and the woman just scoffed at her.

"I must admit the first time I saw her, I was only looking at the money pouch tied to her belt. Perhaps I should have turned around and looked for better prey, but I pressed on hopefully. However she asked me for directions, mentioning her father was the owner of the Timothy's Club. The Club was, and still is the most popular restaurant in Jaton. It was exclusive to the very rich or the nobility. I'd never thought of kidnapping and ransoming people, but I did then. I led her to a place where I could keep her locked up and she foolishly followed, calling me a kindred spirit. I led her into a cellar claiming to know a short cut and locked her down there.

"I didn't know how to read or write at the time so I had to bring a fellow cutthroat, a former noble sentenced with murder and abduction, in on the ransom. We split it fifty-fifty. I figured there'd be more than enough for both of us.

"So he wrote the ransom note and I went to keep Larel company. She tried attacking me at first, but after she finished weeping, she settled down.

"Perhaps I was a bit too friendly, but by the time the ransom was paid she decided she loved me too much to leave me. She was infatuated of course. She was too busy day-dreaming of romantic tales of highwaymen and such to notice my hands were stained with blood everytime I came to the cellar with food or to visit her.

"I didn't want to support both of us so I taught her how to fight and how to shoot the crossbow. She became particularly adept at the crossbow."

"Dame Larel," Gith murmured.

"Aye. That's her," Waytorn muttered bitterly and continued. "I on the other hand was becoming renown amongst the underworld for my skill as a cutthroat. I even took on an occasional murder job or as an assassin."

"What's the difference?" asked Gith.

"A murder job is when you're paid. Sort of like a mercenary. Assassin is when you kill a political, military or some person in the nobility. Someone with power," Waytorn explained. "Like the Lord Redhawk before the one we know."

Gith raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Hitlot hired me as an assassin and I went to Castle Redhawk and would have killed him hadn't someone not beat me to him. If he hadn't died, Redhawk wouldn't have decided to fight fire with fire and hire Wynic Doxon. Perhaps Hitlot wouldn't have been assassinated and he'd have conquered all of the Kinian Mountains and beyond.

"So Hitlot lost the Kinian crime throne and a man named Raoul claimed the throne. His reign was somewhat uncertain and his men weren't totally loyal to him. I saw this as my chance to challenge the throne and claim it for myself.

"At the time Larel was considering Knight School even though I was against the idea. She said she didn't like this way of life and asked that I join her. I loved her, but my greed got the better of me. I wanted that throne. It wasn't until I had it that I realized I'd lost Larel. The scars on my face that I gained during my victory only complicated my plight.

"She said she didn't want to ever see my face again and we've barely spoken since." Waytorn was on the verge of crying. Gith hadn't thought the cutthroat capable of such an emotion.

It occurred to the old painter and thought it strange that Waytorn be called Waytorn. A man torn by his passions to the point of nearly breaking. He knew not which way to go or what to do when he got there.

Waytorn changed the subject to the crime world, finding that extremely easier to talk about. "Since I had killed Raoul right in front of his men, I had gained their trust and loyalty. They admired me for my courage and integrity. I led them to a victory against the Arthian crimelord, then the Avolic crimelord, the smaller Stornium crimelords and finally establishing a foothold in the Minotaur Empire by capturing Marsc from Kobalix. And now, thanks to Wynic, I've extended my dubious reign even to the minotaur isles."

"What of the Ice Lands?"

"Not worth it. Poaching isn't that profitable and the Ice Folk are nomadic so anything else would be too dangerous. Kobalix was a fool to send men there and establish a base when he needed men down in Arthian."

"Do you feel better now?"

Waytorn looked up thoughtfully. "Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, I do. Thanks Gith! I feel like a huge weight's been lifted off my shoulders." He frowned. "I haven't solved anything though."

"I think you should start courting again," said Gith, standing up and stretching.

"How?"

"You could start by going to the Timothy's Club. Take somebody like General Chek with you since Rades isn't around. He's a likable fellow and sure to ease the situation."

"Thanks Gith."

"No problem." Gith smiled thoughtfully at the Cutthroat King. "Have you ever thought of retirement? I've quite enjoyed it and you're certainly rich enough!"

"Like a king, I have to die to lose my throne. Abdicating would be like suicide. I'd be challenging every greedy killer within a hundred leagues radius of me to start taking shots at me."

General Chek looked up suspiciously. He didn't trust Waytorn, that was certain, but he couldn't think of any reason not to accompany Waytorn to the Timothy's Club. He'd been wanting to go, and after all, Waytorn had offered to pay.

"I'm a bit shy, you see-"

Chek couldn't help it. Waytorn shy? He burst out laughing in the cutthroat's face. "You're kidding me," he gasped. "Ye? Shy?"

Waytorn's scarred face turned red with embarrassment.

Chek mistook the redness as anger and abruptly quit laughing. "Sorry about that," he said soberly. "It's just I was suspecting a trick or something. "I'll go with ye and introduce ye to the Ladies."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome," Chek replied in old Stornium.

Zsa Zsa wasn't used to Kinian society. Her parents had sent her east to the University of Evicoth, the best in the known world. Her real name was Susanne, but she had changed it to the minotaur equivalent which sounded more dashing to her. Now that she had returned to Jaton her old friends had decided to take her to the best club in the city to celebrate. The Timothy's Club.

The wine tasted unusual to her, having become accustomed to drinking Minotaur Vodka back in Evicoth. Nevertheless she drank it, blinking back tears and ignoring the burning sensation in her throat. Then she nearly choked and had wine fizzing in her nose. She coughed and pointed at the source of her attention.

Her best friend, Dominique, looked up at the stranger. Her eyes went wide and her grin broadened. "He's cute," she noted.

"Understatement!" laughed Perrine, the tall young lady beside Dominique. "he's gorgeous! Invite him over Dominique! I-"

The man turned and they saw the right side of his face. The maidens choked, but it wasn't the wine. They stared at the man's face, horribly scarred and burnt. A hush went through the crowd and there were whispers of the King Culprit.

"I'm having second thoughts about this," Waytorn muttered, noting the hush of the crowded club, and the scattered looks in his direction. Some were curious, others were a mix of awe and revulsion. Still other looks of distaste and sneers struck Waytorn like crossbow bolts in the chest. About a dozen of them.

"Don't worry," said Chek, laying a hand on the cutthroat's shoulder and pointing out a table near the dance floor. "Com'on. Those people who don't like you are probably arrogant, selfish, self-serving backstabbers. They aren't worth worrying about!" He nudged Waytorn towards the table.

The Emperor of Thieves walked forward, a bit unsure of whether to keep going or leave. No, he said mentally, they aren't going to make me flee. Not before a few stares. He walked on, gaining slowly in confidence.

Chek breathed in deeply, enjoying the intoxicating smells of wine and brandy. He eyed the crowd for anyone who might make good company. His eyes passed over Lady Bardelias without note and he spotted a young maid carrying the complimentary platter for new club members: Roasted venison and a bottle of Kinian brandy.

Waytorn sat down at the table and the room took on a more talkative air. To the cutthroat it seemed to explode with gossip, both good and ill concerning the new club member. His attention went to lady Bardelias, who's voice seemed to carry throughout the room.

The barmaid arrived at Waytorn's table. She forced a smile and set down the platter. "New members are encouraged to make a musical request. The bardmaster and the band know every song you can think of. Pick a song."

The food smelled good, the entertainment was great, but the service was less than polite. Waytorn smiled ironically. "Fools and lovers," he said thoughtfully.

The waitress frowned and walked away. The song was a sentimental, sometimes comical story. Totally unlike what she has expected. Something more like The Highwayman was what she had been thinking of.

"He's so short," whispered Dominique. "In the stories, he's always seven feet tall and covered with weapons. I only see a single dagger. He doesn't even have a sword!"

"Maybe it's not really him," argued Perrine. "He could just be a soldier. A Stornium or maybe a Colnician."

"Or," said Zsa Zsa. "The stories are wrong and that's really him. Bards tend to exaggerate things to make it sound more interesting. I truly doubt he's murdered a million people cause that's the same amount of people who died during Kobalix's Quest. The story of him killing Emperor Nebonex isn't true because Kobalix ordered that assassination and Kobalix and Waytorn were arch-enemies. If-"

"Shhhs!" hissed Dominique. She clamped a hand over Zsa Zsa's mouth. "We don't need a lecture. Okay? So maybe he isn't seven feet tall. Does it matter? I still say he doesn't look capable of killing anyone."

Zsa Zsa tried to open her mouth to argue that skill has more to do with fighting than strength. Dominique kept her hand clamped over Zsa Zsa's mouth however and she couldn't move it. She decided to drop it; there was no use arguing with Dominique.

"Someone snorted.

Dame Larel had come to the Timothy's Club to get drunk. Now as she stood in the doorway to the room she looked at what seemed to be the focal point of the room, where Waytorn sat with a man she recognized as a Stornium general though she couldn't remember his name. On the other hand, she thought, now is my chance to apologize.

"She overheard some young maidens gossiping about the cutthroat and listened in. The knightess snorted when the one girl said Waytorn looked harmless. Harmless? Waytorn? The King Of Cutthroats harmless?

The King Culprit looked up, his eyes piecing through Larel like a razor-edged sword. There was fear in his eyes. There was also a mixture of sadness, remorse and something Larel wasn't sure if there was a word for it. A kind of combination of despair and loneliness.

To Larel's eye he looked vulnerable. Perhaps there was some truth to what those maidens said, she mused, making her way through the tables towards the cutthroat's table.

Zsa Zsa ignored her companions and studied the tall woman. She was in her early thirties or so, lean and determined looking. The current fashion in Jaton was to have a shiny ceremonial sword; gold and silver pieces had rocketed in value. This woman, however, carried a simple steel blade, barely decorated beyond a ruby in the hilt. A warrior perhaps? The crossbow strapped across her back and several daggers in her belt and boots confirmed that. Her clothes were richly made, but lacked the jewelry of a noble. Knight, she guessed.

The Dame walked determinedly across the room in the scar-man's direction. Zsa Zsa poked Dominique in the ribs and pointed after the Dame. "She's gonna sit with Waytorn!" she hissed.

Dominique frowned. "Why would she want to talk to Waytorn? If that scrawny runt is Waytorn that is," she laughed.

"How about we go over and sit in the table beside them?" asked Perrine.

"Are you nuts?" snorted Dominique. She jocked a thumb in the scar-man's flashily dressed companion. "His bodyguard would probably kill us if they discovered we were eavesdropping! Besides," she said, pointing at a fancily dressed woman moving to the table. "Lady Bardelias has already decided to claimed it."

Waytorn swallowed hard and looked from lady Bardelias to dame Larel. Of all the times for her to talk to me, he cursed. Lady Bardelias will have a hay-day making up gossip about this night. Then again, he thought, what do I care? I can have Bardelias murdered easily.

He hardened his resolve and poured himself a drink.

Larel opened her mouth to speak. The room quieted to the point you could hear a pin drop, or should have if the chef out in the kitchen hadn't been lecturing a waitress. She glanced around, startled, but stubbornly continued. "Waytorn, may I join you?"

Several nobles hastily stood up and left. A few more discreet ones went through the kitchen and out the backdoor. The buzzing of voices resumed as people began to question and gossip.

"Yes," Waytorn nodded.

The knightess took a seat across from the King. "I want to apologize-" A gasp and a barrage of voices interrupted her. Looking around and glaring at Lady Bardelias, Larel snorted. "I didn't know Lady Bardelias had become a spy," she said loudly. "She's a very lousy one."

"Well," said General Chek, his voice resonating throughout the room though his mouth didn't open. "Me vater always said lousy spies usual end up to be dead spies. Perhaps we'll see a murder tonight if we're lucky!"

A bulky bodyguard stood up menacingly. he fingered a huge broadsword at his belt. "Could you repeat that?" he asked flatly.

"Sit down Jeffrew," hissed Bardelias.

The man ignored her and clamped a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Repeat it!" His face flushed.

Chek sat down and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.

"Repeat it!"

Chek looked up casually. "Are you talking to me? Repeat what? I didn't say anything! Did I say anything, Waytorn?" he asked the cutthroat. The King shook his head, playing along.

Jeffrew's face turned a shade of purple. He kicked his chair aside and drew his sword in rage. Lady Bardelias cried out in alarm and ordered him to sit down. This scene would undoubtedly cause gossip, but it wouldn't be about Waytorn, it's be about her. Bardelias dreaded being gossiped about.

Two bouncers stepped between Waytorn's table and Jeffrew. One flung a small flail, yanking the sword away, while the other knocked the bodyguard over the head with a scepter. A third one caught the body before it could reach the floor and began hauling it away.

General Chek looked around the room to see sparse nobles and curious courtiers. However there was a line up of people at the door wanting to get in to see what had happened. Some of those were people who had just left and were returning with friends. "Don't you just love this place! The service is great!"

Waytorn nodded, smiling mockingly at Lady Bardelias. "Larel," he said slowly. "Apology accepted."