Rades swore that when this war was over, he'd have at least a dozen bumps on his head. This time when he woke up he was no longer out doors. But he was definitely cold. Opening his eyes, he looked around the pitch black room. He felt ice beneath his feet and he was careful to stand up. He explored the small chamber finding only a locked, oak door. Flickering firelight came from the crack under the door.

It was a half hour later when Rades heard voices and boots coming in his direction. Getting to his feet, he crouched behind the door and waited. There was a clunk as someone took the bar and threw it aside. The door opened a crack. Rades held his breath.

As the door opened wider a figure stepped through the door and slammed it quickly behind him. Rades punched out at the figure. And missed when the man ducked in the pitch blackness. The Lieutenant reeled backwards as the figure slammed a fist into Rades' stomach and again in the chest.

Rades rolled across the ice in a attempt to get away and received a kick in the chest that knocked the air out of his lungs. A second kick sent agony shooting up his leg. He flailed about with his fists and connected with the man's cheek. Groaning, he got to his feet only to be kicked in the chest and bump his head against the ice wall.

The man snorted and spat. A second later Rades received a blow to the shoulder. Only this time it wasn't a fist, but a wooden flail. He groaned and slumped against the wall.

"Ha!" laughed the man. Rades moaned and struck out at the sound, feeling his hand connect. There was a thud as the man fell backwards. The Stornium scampered forwards and brought both fists down in the man's stomach.

A punch sent him rolling backwards, a kick to the groin following it up.

"You're a foolish bastard, Lieutenant! You're taking on the best of the best in a room with no light and hope to win? I promise you, you'll never see the light of day again!" shouted the man. Rades felt a hand grab his head and jerk it back painfully. "If you answer my questions, I might let you live."

"Never," Rades said with a vow to Jehovah in old Stornium.

"That's your problem," the man spat in old Stornium, to show that he'd understood. Then he tortured Rades. He laughed the whole time, taunting him with threats in old Stornium. Rades was not, thankfully, conscious when his torturer gouged out his eye with a knife.

Pothax frowned as he studied where the tracks ended. The ice gave no hint as to where the enemy had went. Dillard came forward to stand beside the cutthroat. "This is going to take awhile," muttered the Doxon.

"Poor Rades," said Dillard with an oath.

Larry swung down from the bow of Rat's Nest and glared at the ice. "Where to now? There aren't any damn tracks to follow!"

"Shut up, Larry," spat Dillard. "This is an old trick. Though usually the escaped person uses water, or rocks to cover his tracks. We're but half a league from Fort Phal so I'm beginning to wonder if we're not closer than we think. They took horses. That would suggest that they didn't have far to go or they would have stolen a cat or dog sled."

Larry looked at the knight in puzzlement. "Huh?"

Pothax nodded slowly, and looked at the ground. "An underground fortress?"

"Perhaps," said Dillard with a nod. "However," he said, gesturing at the seemingly endless landscape, "where would you want to start digging?"

Larry groaned.

"Where's Mathex when you need him?" asked Pothax, heading back to the ship.

"It looks like were at a dead end until we get Mathex up here," said Sir Dillard. "Unless we catch another poacher, of course."

Victoria looked from Dillard to Eluth and Roreed. "Didn't Mathex give you two any lessons?"

"Well-" began Roreed.

"Ah, not enough that we could think of anything, other than an giant drill," snorted Eluth.

"Well, start working with one of the metal smiths and see if he's got any ideas. Until Carlo, Brenda and those knights get back with more supplies and Mathex, we should at least try to find a way into that fortress. That's if Dillard is right and there is a fortress," said Victoria. She waited until the two knights had left her new office before turning to Dillard. "Continue scouting that region with Pothax, Larry and as many knights that you can find. There has to be an entrance there," she ordered. "If there really is a fortress there."

Dillard smiled. "Where would you build a headquarters?"

"Not that I don't agree, Dill, it's just that I don't want to waste all our time in a wild goose chase."

"I think it's time we went home, Chek," said Waytorn, stifling a belch. He held out a hand and helped the General stagger to his feet. "Adieu, Ladies." The women at their table smiled and waved. "Well," said the King Cutthroat as soon as they were out in the street. "Those women were either drunk, blind or actually liked me."

"Or hated Bardelias. They might have done it just to spite Bardelias. That one girl who was there last night, ye know the one who said scars were considered in minotaur society to be a sign of romance and courage. That speech certainly drew plenty of women to our table! There were girls wanting to know if I had any scars! Who knows, in a few years it might be a new fad to have a scar! Sort of like tattoos!"

"They were also drawn to the uniform you wore today. You wouldn't have any spares, would you? I don't know what they like about uniforms, but I want one."

"I don't think I have anything that would suit ye. Ye could find a good tailor though and have him make some that actually fits ye!"

Waytorn wasn't listening, he'd spotted someone. Someone he'd posted in crime basements around Jaton as a former Kobalix assassin and to be killed on sight for a reward of two thousand silvers. "Follow me," he hissed to Chek.

The General sobered instantly. "What is it?"

"One of Kobalix's henchmen. Could be a poacher too!"

Chek nodded and followed, drawing a dagger from his belt.

Waytorn crossed the street and climbed up the side of a building with all the ease of a burglar. Chek followed more slowly and with much less agility. When he got close to the top, Waytorn reached down and helped him up to the roof. Together they scampered across the roof, Chek sliding on the ice and nearly falling over the edge at one point.

Below in the alley there was a muffled struggle as the man struggled with someone else. Whoever it was, he was giving the assassin a tough time, proving to have been trained in combat. He was however, pushing the man farther into the alley.

Waytorn pointed at a ladder leading up to the roof so Chek would have a way down and slid over the edge, clinging to the wall like a spider. Chek watched him go and shook away the effects of a long night of drinking. He climbed down the ladder until he was just above the assassin.

Waytorn was already down on the ground, creeping slowly up behind the assassin. Chek judged that now was the best time to jump, and leapt at the assassin. His feet contacted with the man's chest and pushed him across the narrow alley and into the wall. The Stornium landed on his side on the ice with a curse as he ripped his new uniform.

The assassin jumped forward, his knife flashing as he stabbed at Chek's chest. His hand was kicked aside by Waytorn and the dagger landed in the snow beside a young maiden. Her clothes were torn and her one breast was showing. The assassin was also a rapist, unless he was planning on also killing her for some political reason.

Waytorn jerked the assassin backwards and slammed his head into the cold wall. A second later he kneed the man in the stomach and backhanded him over the head as he doubled over in pain and fell to the ground beside the rising Chek. He knelt down on the man's back and gave him a two handed blow over the head.

Chek spat on the corpse as was Stornium custom and kicked him aside. "Sohn auf eine hundin! He ripped my shirt!"

Waytorn nodded and pointed at the shivering young maiden. Her clothes hung about her in rags and she'd lost her coat somehow. Her hair was disheveled and hung over her tear-stained eyes in clumps. Shrugging off his cloak, he offered it to the maiden.

Only just realizing her immodesty, she thankfully accepted the cloak and quickly hid her shivering and shaking body beneath the folds of the cloak. "Merci, Roi Waytorn." She tried to smile, and nearly fainted.

Chek caught her and helped her to stand. "Will ye need help to get home, Fraulein? Ye pretty shook up!" She nodded and the Stornium lent her his arm for support. "I am General Chek of the Royal Stornium Army. My friend here is King Waytorn and you are?"

"Zsa, uh, Susanne Rougeta."

Waytorn nodded. "What district do you live in Mademoiselle?" He picked up the assassin's dagger and tucked it in his belt.

"I live on Beaunid... sorry, I mean Roger street. They changed the name recently."

"Follow me, I know a short cut." Waytorn recognized her then. This was the girl who had stood up and proclaimed that scars were considered a sign of romantic people in the Empire. He also remembered someone saying she'd stayed at Evicoth for a number of years, which would explain the training she'd received there. "This man was one of Kobalix's assassin's. You're very lucky we managed to get here in time. There is no thank-you necessary though. I've been looking for this guy."

Susanne smiled weakly but thanked him anyway. "Merci beaucoup, Roi."

"Great work, Waytorn!" congratulated Prince Nebonex. He clapped the Culprit on the back and waved at Willium from across the grand hall of the palace. The King of Arthian hurried over to see what the Prince wanted. "Waytorn caught a poacher! The man's willing to lead us to the poachers' headquarters!"

"You're sure? This guy isn't gonna lead us on a wild goose chase, is he?" demanded the King.

"I just got word from Sir Carlo. Before they had reached Fort Phal a minotaur, poacher prisoner escaped along with several traitors. They were tracked to this one point north-east of the Fort and it's believed that there could be an underground fortress in the ice in that region. So they sent back for Mathex and more supplies so they wouldn't have to dig a couple hundred holes just to find it. If it's there. Carlo doesn't believe it's really there. Anyway, Waytorn's new prisoner claims the Lair, as he called it, to be to the north-east of Fort Phal. It matches!"

Willium smiled. "Looks like we've got the chance to put a stop to this war. Tell Carlo that the new fleet is leaving today and that we've switched him to a Iceship called the Snowchisel. He can start interviewing a new crew."

"I already told him. I've assigned General Gisoni, Pollex and a handful of minotaurs to the Snowchisel also. Mathex too, he's the main reason they came back for more supplies."

"Excuse me gentlemen," said a young man. "Are you Roi Waytorn?" he asked turning to the Culprit.

Waytorn nodded slowly.

"I've come on behalf of my sister and my father, Lord Rougeta to invite you, and your friend, General Chek, to my father's estate for supper tonight. My father wants to thank you personally for rescuing my sister. In addition he asks that you become a guest in the household for sometime. He is a bit of a fan as am I."

"Tell your father that I'd be honoured by his hospitality. Also that I feel somewhat awkward being called a hero. I never got into this business with the idea of becoming a celebrity."

"Neither did my father," smiled the young man and turned away.

"Huh?" Waytorn questioned. He shrugged at Nebonex and Willium and pursued the young man. He turned around a corner and the Culprit followed.

The hall was empty. Slowly a smile crossed the cutthroat's scarred face. Tonight might reveal some pleasant surprises.

The Snowchisel was a fully rigged clipper with not three masts, but four. There was the foremast, the middlemast, the mainmast and the mizzenmast. The ship was the biggest Carlo had ever sailed, requiring at least fifty sailors to handle it properly. Carlo had insisted on eighty. Then there was the minotaurs and a group of knights, totaling a hundred people on the ship.

There was fifty ships in the flotilla, a hundred men each, totaling five thousand people. Their cargo was enough to support them and the ten thousand people living in Fort Phal for several months. They moved at a rapid pace, making the Rat's Nest look like a jack ass in comparison with a stallion. Though they could only move as fast as the slowest ship, they were still going at least fifteen knots by Carlo's estimate.

They were about half way to Fort Phal when Carlo looked up to see a rip appearing in the main course sail and a second rip in the fore course sail. The two sails were the biggest on the ship and already the ship was starting to slow down. "Lis!" he shouted to a long legged, female sailor. She looked up at the knight. "Get up there and see what's wrong with the course sails!"

The woman nodded and scampered up the rigging to inspect the sail. Surely the canvas hadn't ripped. The west wind wasn't that strong! She came back down, holding a crossbow bolt in her hand.

Carlo swore in old Stornium and ordered the helmsman to tack east. He ran forward, grabbing Lis' hand and leading the way to the bow of the ship. Sure enough there was a rip in the forestaysail as well. Climbing up on the bowsprit, Carlo watched the snow in the distance. It moved occasionally.

Lis saw it too and ran towards the stern and up the foremast until she got to the buntline. Looking at the horizon, she saw a line of moving snow. "A trench!" she shouted, pointing. "Tell the helmsman to turn! Or we'll get stuck!"

An elderly sailor laughed at her. "We're going to fast, we'll go right over the trench!"

Lis opened her mouth to reply, but a crossbow bolt ripped through the staysail beside the man. "Not if we slow down," she shouted. The ship was already slowing down due to multiple new rips in the sails.

Carlo shouted frantically for the helmsman to tack south, but it was too late. He could see the Folk in the trench raising their weapons to attack. A boulder hurled through the air and struck the stem of the bowsprit, causing it to break. Carlo leapt upwards and caught the rigging for the forestaysail and held on for dear life. The bowsprit dangled below him, dragging against the ground and slowing the ship down more.

"Hang on, Carlo," shouted Gisoni. The huge minotaur, rushed up to the bow and stood on what was left of the stem. He offered his hand to the knight. Carlo thankfully took it and the minotaur hauled him aboard.

"Man the catapult's! Retreat a half league and set up trench."

It had started. Once again they would be caught in trench and tunnel warfare with the Ice Folk. Brenda didn't know much about the last Ice War. Just that it had been disastrous. The Ice Folk were used to the snow and ice, their speed at digging tunnels far better than the Kinians and their aim with a longbow tended to be better too. Brenda never did get that lesson from Dame Larel so now it was Mathex who was teaching her. Unsuccessfully.

Their trench was but a hundred yards from the new Folk trench and already there'd been several skirmishes with the fast digging Folk. A group of knight's, Brenda included had taken up the task of digging a tunnel that hopefully would reach under the enemy tunnels and come up on the other side. There were advantages and disadvantages to being behind enemy lines. The advantages were surprising the enemy from behind, gaining access to enemy territory, sabotaging enemy tunnels. Unfortunately the disadvantages were being caught behind enemy lines with no chance of reinforcements, revealing a useful tunnel to the enemy and exposing the Kinian's tunnels to sabotage as well.

Mathex, however had devised several traps that would aid in that. One of these was a smoke tunnel. If the enemy ventured down the wrong tunnel, the one meant as a trap, they would be caught in a ice cell and choke to death from the smoke from the petroleum lamp left in the cell. A similar one would have a pit at the end of the tunnel. Since they probably couldn't see from lack of light, they'd stumble right into it and be trapped.

They had unloaded the catapults from the Iceships and were continuing a barrage of rocks and ice at the enemy, though the Ice Folk were concentrating their efforts on their tunnels. The artillery wouldn't hold out, everyone knew that from the beginning so they were determined to block the Ice Folk's attempt by smashing their tunnels.

About all of this, Brenda wasn't really concerned. She continued to dig her tunnels and passages through the snow and ice. It got extremely hot down in the tunnels with no ventilation and sweating under several layers of cloaks and a thick woolen sweater she'd bought last year during Winterfest. Since she was isolated and she was sweating, she figured it wouldn't hurt to take some clothes off. No one would see. She continued to sweat and eventually she had only her sweater on with the sleeves rolled up around her elbows. Soon she began to wonder if she should take the thick thing off too. She was sweating buckets it seemed and it was stuffy down in the tunnel.

Looking around to make absolutely sure no one else had ventured into this tunnel, she striped off the heavy sweater and tossed it aside. The cold air felt good against her heaving breasts and she took a deep breath before she resumed digging with her shovel.

Carlo had nothing else to do. His ship was not in the best of shape and he couldn't go anywhere anyway. So he joined the tunnel diggers. He however chose a different route. Straight down. If he went down far enough he knew he'd get to a layer of snow that had been there for centuries. He also recalled Mathex or somebody else saying that this layer was warmer than the rest, being closer to the core of the earth or something like that. What ever the case, the knight trusted whatever logic that said that the layer would be softer, almost slush and real easy to dig in.

The snow and ice seemed to go on for ever though and his pit was getting larger and larger with apparently no end. At one point he began to question if he was correct in his logic, but continued on stubbornly when he reached the fifteen-foot deep mark and decided to at least go to twenty.

He fell through the snow at the seventeen-foot mark and ended up in stuck in what felt like water, not slush. "Halp!" he screamed, the cold starting to get to him.

Pollex, Gisoni's Lieutenant, appeared at the top of the pit. "What's wrong?" he shouted.

"I fell through. I'm stuck. Help me out will you? I'm going to freeze to death!"

The minotaur grumbled and climbed carefully down the pit and hauled the knight out of the freezing slush. He looked at the hole at the bottom of the pit and stood wondering. "Why isn't that stuff frozen?"

"I don't know. Go get Mathex. If we start pulling that stuff out we'll have a super tunnel that will reach all the way beyond enemy lines."

Pollex shrugged and went to fetch Mathex.

The minotaur scientist built a bucket system with a crank. Soon they had water to drink and cook with, without having to wait until the ice melted. in the pot so they could start the meal. In addition they now had a fastly growing tunnel that stretched in all directions far below the Ice Folk's tunnels.

The layer was perhaps five feet thick. Carlo knew this because his feet had touched the bottom. How far it went in all directions he didn't know. The water seemed to be filling up just as fast as he and several other knights were taking it out. Perhaps it went on for ever. They may never empty it

Meanwhile Mathex was working on several other projects, including building a siphoning system to distribute the water more quickly.

It wasn't a human who saw her working half naked in the tunnel, Brenda thanked. She didn't mind a minotaur though. The Minotaur General Gisoni only blushed and looked down. "You look awfully tired. Sir Carlo has apparently dug a well. Would you like a drink?"

"Actually," said Brenda, stretching immodestly. "I'd like a cup of Colnic coffee but I doubt we have any." She set the shovel aside. "You gave me a bit of a surprise there. I almost thought you were a human! I'd be pretty embarrassed!"

"I won't tell anyone. In fact, I'll tell others that I've given you a special task and that you're not to be disturbed so you'll have your privacy."

"Thanks. Do you think there's any Kinian wine around here to drink?"

The minotaur shook his head but reached inside his uniform and handed her a small bottle of Minotaur Vodka.

"Thanks again," she said and took a drink. She handed the bottle back and went back to digging. "Send Pollex or somebody to tell me when it's time to eat."

The minotaur nodded and left.

It was a half hour later when she noticed a crack of light seeping through the end of the tunnel. It wasn't the ice reflecting the torch light either. Getting down on her hands and knees she began digging frantically, determined to see if she'd reached the other side. She poked her hand through the hole to pull more snow out of the way.

A dark skinned hand grasped hers and pulled her forward through the hole. Snow crowded in around her and froze her naked skin at the touch. It felt like someone stuffing snow down her back only worse. She scrambled to her feet when she was through the hole and yanked her hand away.

A young Folk warrior stood before her, his hands around a wooden spear as he pointed it at her. He was quite surprised to find a woman, let alone half naked in the dead of winter. His hesitation cost him though as Brenda kicked the spear aside and pinned him against the ice wall of the tunnel he too had been digging. She clamped a hand over his mouth and muffled his shout.

"Sorry," she said in the Folk Tongue, though there was many different Tongues. She hoped she'd spoken the one this warrior knew. "Be quiet or die." She unclamped her hand.

"You shall die Kinian," he replied in the Tongue. Brenda had chosen the right Tongue though she didn't dwell on that thought and blocked his arm as he tried to punch her.

"You are my captive, boy. Start marching," she ordered, knocking him into the wall and twisting her fist into his stomach in a fashion she knew was very painful though it did no real damage. She drew a stone dagger from his belt and held it up to his throat. She'd left her own with her pile of clothes.

The man was no more than thirteen winters old and she knew it was considered a great shame to be beaten by the enemy, especially in this society, by a woman. A half naked one at that. To surrender was to disgrace one's family and his tribe's honour. The boy would never be able to live out this disgrace and death would be a much more honourable way to die. But he couldn't even wiggle out from under this powerful woman's pin. Even though he felt it most pleasurable to have her naked breasts pressed against him, he wanted out. Or at least be the one to do the pinning.

So he decided to go along with the hope that he'd be able to do when on the her side of the now completed tunnel. Then he would sneak into the enemy lines and kill them all. He'd be a hero. Feigning reluctance, he said: "I will go if you promise no torture."

Brenda nodded and slowly unpinned him. She motioned him towards the hole with his dagger. He crawled through the hole carefully. When she reached the other side he'd be ready. But so would Brenda. She knew roughly what his plans were and knew she'd be quite helpless when she crawled through the hole.

Once he was through she followed, but when he grabbed the stone dagger she didn't struggle but let him have it. Then she went forward with all the seductiveness she could manage in such a desperate situation.

To say the boy was surprised when this woman practically launched herself at him tearing off the remainder of her clothes and starting to undo his was an understatement. Shocked out of his mind was better, even if it was something like what he'd planned. He dropped the dagger and started to help her take off his clothes.

No sooner had the stone dagger hit the ice packed floor had Brenda scooped it up and held it up to the boy's throat. "Get off me!" she ordered in the Tongue.

The boy lay there on top of her, wondering how she'd managed to trick him. His face flushed angrily but he did as told. He grumbled insults in his own tongue and spat at her as he retied his clothes.

Brenda kept her distance as she pulled her pants back up and pulled on a cloak to hide her nakedness. "March," she ordered.

A short little fellow met Waytorn at the door and nodded at him and Chek. "You are Waytorn and Chek, I presume?"

"Yes, we are?" replied Chek. "Pleased to meet you Herr?"

"Maurice, Monsieur. I am the butler. Please come in. I have heard much about you two," said the short fellow. He smiled and scratched his chin.

"Most of it bad, I'm afraid," said Chek, entering and wiping his boots on the welcome mat. A maid stepped forward to help him take them off.

"In this business, it usually is," muttered Waytorn, entering behind the General and wiping his boots on the mat. A second maid came forward and helped him to take them off.

"This way please," said Maurice, motioning them to follow. Waytorn and Chek fell into line behind the man. The architecture within the huge mansion was twenty-fifth century baroque while on the outside it had been twenty-fourth century Kinian gothic. The number of servants and the gold and platinum furnishings in this household rivaled King Searle's palace. It was obvious this Lord Rougeta was very well to do. It's amazing there wasn't a line up of burglars outside taking turns to get inside, thought Waytorn.

Maurice stopped before a heavy Arthian Oak door and turned the silver plated handle. The door swung open and the two guests stared upon what was the most lavishly decorated room either had ever seen, far surpassing the palaces of Kinian, Arthian, Colnic and Stornium. There was but a single candle in the entire room, but it shone like there was a thousand. The room, floor, walls, furnishings and even the paintings framed on the walls had either platinum or silver in it. The room was like a giant mirror and as such the one candle was reflected what seemed like a million times over. Out of this shining brilliance walked a tall, middle-aged man with a platinum cane.

The light was fairly bright and it was hard to make out the man but as he came closer, Waytorn made out a small nose, steel blue eyes, and a handsome face. The King Culprit had been suspecting that he knew this man, but didn't. He'd never seen him before in his life. "Greetings Roi Waytorn, General Chek," said Lord Rougeta. "I am Pavo Rougeta. You may call me Pavo."

"Thank you Pavo," replied Waytorn, glancing at Chek with a shrug. "We are honoured by your presence and thank you again for inviting us."

"It is but a token. You helped my daughter and I wish to return the favour. I wish to learn more about you. Come," he said, gesturing down the hallway. "We have much in common."

"Indeed," said Waytorn under his breath. "I just wish I knew what it was."

"I've always prided myself upon my ability to estimate a man and despite your premature gray hair, Waytorn, I'd say you're about thirty-three or thirty-four. Am I correct?" asked Pavo from across the lavishly decorated dining table."

Waytorn looked up, surprised at how accurate a guess. "Thirty-one," he replied.

"Marvelous!" Pavo laughed and took a drink of Ambrosia. "Tell me. is the story of your unreturned love true? Or is that but another bards tale?"

"No milord, that is true. One of the few that is, I'm afraid. What be your interest in it?"

"I too suffered from unreturned love in my younger days. I-"

"You keep saying that we have much in common. Your son is an escape artist, your daughter has been trained in combat to the point that she is capable of holding off an experience assassin and this house is testimony that you're half as rich as I am, in which case I lost track half way when counting how rich I am. Who are you?"

"You don't know me?"

"No, I honestly don't."

"Before Hitlot put his plan into action I was an assassin of his. The unusual thing was that I suffered just as you do now from unreturned love. It wasn't until I was in the throes of battle that I realized that all this time I'd been in love with one of my comrades and she in love with me. She too had suffered briefly from unreturned love," Pavo smiled at his wife, a beautiful red-headed woman with brilliant bright eyes and a figure most women her age would kill for. "I disappeared during the battle and returned to Hitlot's castle where I began stealing my Lord's massed wealth. Everything you see here was once his. Did you never wonder where all Hitlot's wealth went when he died?"

"I still don't know who you are?"

"I had a nick name once. Do you recall some of the more famous assassins?"

"There was the Paladin Assassin, though he was called the Lion back then, Hawk, Scorpion, he's one of my best men now, the Panther, Dirk, Bloodhound, Cobra-"

"Whoa! Slow down! You said it!"

"Bloodhound? I killed the Bloodhound two years ago when he tried to claim the Crime Throne!"

"No!" shouted Zsa Zsa. "He's the Panther. And mother is Dirk."

"But they both died-" blurted Waytorn before he realized what had actually occurred. "Oh!"

"Now that you know who I am, Roi Waytorn, I shall tell you something. I was recently paid a visit by one of Kobalix's men. He wanted to hire me to kill Lord Redhawk. They're very concerned about Lord Redhawk for some reason. I refused and had the man killed." Pavo's son grinned. "It is obvious the new leader of Kobalix's men got pretty mad and that's why he sent that assassin after my daughter and another one that showed up in my house earlier this week and is currently buried beneath the rose bushes out in the garden.