Ancient Kvaeg, city of empire, city of wealth, city of blood. Tam-hattu smiled as the caravan approached the seat of the ancient empire. His plan to get here met no problems on the way, each wagon, even the slave carriers, travelled the one hundred fifty leagues with only minimal losses, mostly to one bandit group, who now fled in terror, with twenty fearsome new recruits of the Ankullu following them. The order to return with the bandits heads or slay themselves shocked some, but it was time for them to understand what being an assassin meant.
To the left of him rode his new leiutenant, Damharrutari. That his son was being so trusted by the Adresh made the assassin proud. It also left him feeling uneasy, for at no time since the boy hit puberty had the father and son been able to speak. Damharrutari's tutelage came entirely at the hands of the master, no other taught the boy the way of the knife. Or the way of darkness, Tam-hattu worried. Of late too many the master accepted and praised where mages not users of steel. This made the smile fade.
The once many fields in the valley now lay fallow. The Aradu Sadu cast long afternoon shadows over withered crops, clogged irrigation canals and fallen buildings. Even the once impressive system of graineries and roads was in disrepair. The legacy of the Blood War, the long battle the town had against the undead over the last few years. A battle they lost. Gedim of all sort now ruled this land, with the drinkers of blood the greatest of them. Away to the east, the line of hills called the Illumathudi stood out from the eastern sky, lined with trees dying from some blight, perhaps the same that claimed the crops.
Each stad they pressed into the land for the last few weeks, more scenes of destruction greeted their eyes. Many of the smaller villages and towns lay empty, testaments to the hunger of the Gedim, demons and other foul beasts brought in to wage the war between good and evil. Evil won, Tam-hattu judged. It was not the way he remembered any more. Once the blade all had honor. Now he doubted if any save his own blade did not bear some taint. Magic was not meant for killing, only steel was.
But magic had always been in the Allegiance of Blades, since the earliest days. Days long before he or the Adresh carried the titles each held now. Days before even their birth.
The week long march of the caravan up the valley to the city came to a close as the wagon master turned, tears in his eyes over the fall of a city that once helped build his personal wealth. "This far and no further will I go. You can see the city, there are no longer gates to hold you out. The Gedim have destroyed them all."
Tam-hattu intended to honor the agreement. It did no good to destroy a tool that could be used again later. His son, however, did not agree.
"You will enter that city, damkhar. You and all your people. This is the will of the Adresh." The man his boy had become possessed a deep and sinister voice, not the smooth baritone of his father. He had a way of drawing out his words that left no doubts as to obedience or its consequences. For the father, recognition of the maker of this destruction was rising. His son led this army, some had said. Old doubts vanished at the command in the voice.
One look at the Sarhazuu, both the lowlands and this high wide valley, told all that death rode here. Perhaps even beside him. "It is wise to leave a tool for future use."
"Oh, it will serve us, Ada. But it is up to the Adresh to decide if it will serve us alive and willingly or as one of the dead slaves." He motioned to where a large number of living humans worked at uprooting and destroying a garlic farm. A safe distance upwind, several vampires with crossbows watched over the workers, as ghouls strode between the workers, striking with claws and whips both, to spur on the destruction.
"The Crossing of the Shadow is soon. The gedim seem to feel the need to hurry it on." Tam-hattu looked away as a child was eviscerated. Killing to make a sacred blade was fine. Just to instill fear in those you work was foolishness.
The breeze stirred the air. Decay and dust clogged the air, increasing with the breeze. For several minutes after his comment, there was silence. Turning back he found his son looking at him with suspicious eyes. The silence in that stare prompted him to speak more.
"We used to kill cleaner than this. Kill fast, send them to the gods. That was the way I was taught." Looking back to the city, Tam-hattu shrugged. "If we kill all tools, soon none will be left, or at least none not in the hands of others." It was an old lesson, from his own youth. A lesson Raish and he argued over for decades since.
"Times have changed. When this Shadow Crossing comes, all the world will acknowledge us." The hint of the prophecies of the fallen did not salve the wounds opened in knowing his son was lost, as was his tab. The dark ones had some grip on them. While agreeing the northerners needed to die, he did not feel that the one they wanted to capture alive should be left alive.
"My son, I tell you this. I will die for Raish. But, even he can be wrong. This one they claim is the Dark Slayer of their mad ravings, I have met before. In this town. If there was a day to have turned him to our side, that was the day. Yet he held out against us." Tam-hattu shook his head, sadly. "This one and his master are deadly, young man. I tell you this not to make you have fear, but to respect their skills."
"We have the great death master on our side, father of my flesh." The last was an insult. The boy was no longer his, in anyway.
"A death master who failed to learn what his allies learned by dying the eternal death." Tam-hattu stared flatly back at the boy he had sired, and spat his own insult, knowing it would reach ears that would damn him with their mouths. "Hortog is a fool. No ally of his lives yet. None, save that woman he nurses into oblivion as his next vessel. Even that he fails in. Those with an anima cannot be transformed by phylactrical magic. If they could, I would have used such by now in the making of the blades I oversee."
Nothing, just the flat stare of a man looking at a traitor.
"Fine, believe what you will. But I act for the guild as much as you in having doubts." Shadows fell across Tam-hattu's face. "Until a new master of metals arises, I will say my mind, even to the Adresh."
"Oh, I know you will, tab-lu, I know you will." The Adresh's voice came from the wagon next to them. "Damharrutari, in this I actually agree with your father. Hortog is a fool, incompetent and lacks the vision to see beyond the prophecies." The old man's face peered out from under a dark hood. "Listen to him. Disagree with him if you wish, but always listen to him. Tam has the soul of caution, precision, and skills with a knife you have yet to dream of. Your father gave your body the reflexes you have, but it is but an echo of his skill. Yet to be honed."
Sakkal Damharrutari looked at the guild master with reverence, and a hint of doubt. "We must slay the doubters." A mantra of fools, Tam looked hard at his old friend, who laughed.
"Yes, but if you bear a knife, you believe in death. Choosing which death is part of it." Raish looked sadly at his childhood friend. "Yes, choosing a death. Yours, or the merchant's."
Tam-hattu felt a chill, recognizing the tone of no bargains that voice carried. "Then for now, this merchant may die. But if we run out of tools, who will bring us what we need?"
Wrinkles marked the contempt for others the Adresh always bore, though never before openly. "They will serve us, or die. We of the Blades must rule all."
Having no argument to turn on his master, he turned his face to the mountains, shaking his hands to indicate the blood would not stain them. There was no penalty for refusing a knife, only for failing when one accepted.
Kvaeg being a larger city than most others of the continent, it took the remaining daylight, and more hands of Sin, the greater moon, across the night sky, they arrived at their goal, the kirhui. Home to the Lugal who once ruled the land, the temples of the Ilum and now the Allegiance of the Blades. There a man stood bound in chains, awaiting them. Powerful in build, hair and beard falling from once elaborate coifs in wild tangles. Holding the end of the chains, something that turned Tam-hattu's stomach. A lillitu stood there, surrounded by more hell-spawns, alu, lilu and other lillitu. All of these were sex deomns of some sort.
For this demoness, clothing was useless. Her body exuded sex, naked and having only a flowing mane of flame red hair, flowing from head down to the cleft of her buttocks. Full breasts equal to her head in size, full and jutting out firmly, barely moving as she danced mockingly around her slave, like those of a girl moving to first bloom of womanhood. The flow of curves from breasts down to hips so enticing. Every man felt the stir of her scent and aura, even one as jaded to life as Tam-hattu. His manhood strained at his loincloth, hardening swiftly to a painful fullness. The cotton of that garment on every man creaked, stained with the seeping liquids to oil the entry of paradise she bore. Only looking to her lower legs, scaled green things with bird feet, let the assassin control his urges.
"All is ready, En-Sharru. The empty ones who took this city have agreed to let you use the ancient temple once more." The E-Dingir-Ri-Ne-Ta, holiest of the ancient temples, long denied to them by the Lugal of Kvaeg, at their disposal, if not their use. It amazed Tam-hattu how much headway the Ankullu made in redeeming the prophecy. Even if he doubted the words of a seer, this alone gave the assassin hope for the future.
Tam-hattu risked a glance away, seeing a smile on the face of his master, who acknowledged being called high king. "Indeed, my Naditu? This is well. I see you hold on chains the last Lugal of this city. Seachrib, is that not his name?"
Tugging the chain, she sprawled her slave forward to kneel at the feet of her lover and master. "Yes. I give him as a present for you to consume. I am sure you failed to properly eat on your way here." Something in those words rang a bell for the head of the Rakkabu. Raish never ate in public anymore, not even in private, at least where his intimate friends could know of his meals. The way the succubus spoke said something deeper than just a slaking of hunger was the reason.
"Perhaps inside, Lillithu-kala. I am eager to see the E-Dingir-Ri-Ne-Ta and be blessed by its Ni." All sighed at the thought of being enwrapped and infused by the awesome aura of the gods the temple was said to grant. It washed away the shock at her name. Lillithu, mother of demons, greatest of all the lillitu, mistress of sex, queen of perversion. Eater of children. mother of Ki-Gul-La, the deamon of destruction yet to be born.
"Then enter. The current Ensi of the city was indisposed until the sun set, as you know. He will greet us later, once he has feasted upon the blood of virgins to restore himself from the passing of Apsu across the sky over us." Lillithu bowed to her master, a sly smirk on her face. "Come inside and we shall have you fed, as well as finish this great magic you wish done."
No more words were said, merely a gesture to lead them on from the Adresh. Lillithu turned, giving them all a good look at her perfect flanks, buttocks of a young woman so firm and yet full, Tam-hattu found himself reaching into his kilt to adjust his manhood within his loincloth. He noted that many, but not all, the others did the same.
The red mane glowed as they entered the vast gates, so wide the wagons rolled in five abreast. Around the square, the holy heart of the city lay in a circle within, to the right the old palace of lugals, to the left the dark tombs of those already dead, and further around the circle lay the armory, treasury and E-Ummani, the house of the wise ones, the seers of the lugals.
And in the center rose the ziggurat of E-Dingir-Ri-Ne-Ta. Alan, the holy statues decorated the eight corners of its tiers, of which nineteen rose above the city. Tallest building in the world, each tier ascending eighty cubits, in line with the sacred eight sides. The alan depicted things holy and unholy both, forms of men and women locked in lust, combat or just repose. A few showed beasts and humans fighting, and on the top, the holiest of the alan, the potrayal of Gudanna the bull and Inanna mating, to make the first men and demons.
On the south face, the stairs of the gods climbed the mass, the only way to the upper tier, where the temple entrance lay. Once at the foot of the stairs, the caravan stopped. Their merchant guide shook in fear, as the Adresh dismounted, looking at him. The frightened man glanced numerous times up the stairs, to the broader balcony atop the ninth tier. There stood the block of black rock known as the eater of men, altar of sacrifice to the assassins' god Engaregar, ploughman of backs. Sacrifices there in the past to placate the god were well known in the legends of the city, until the god was abandoned.
Laughing, the adresh motioned to the merchant to join him. "My sukkhal was teasing, damkir. We would not ask that you submit to sacrifice, merely to be part of the celebrants, so you may spread the word that the faith is renewed here." Raish Qadarlu waived his hand to the stairs. "Walk with me, as we ascend to the temple, join us in being blessed by the Ni that will make us all Kalag."
No man could resist the lure of having the power of Kalag, the ability to speak with the force of the me of the gods. Gin-kubabbar, the dreams of urns filled with silver coins, showed in the greedy man's eyes suddently. "Thank you, Adresh. Or will you take a new title here?"
"Indeed I shall. Ath-Tar Sir-Bir-Gis, you will be raised up as well to a rank I shall tell you where we stop next. I am older than I look, I find it hard to talk while climbing stairs these days.
They all climbed the stairs for several hands of the stars across the sky, resting frequently to admire the various violent statuaries, but in silence, awaiting the words of the Sharru to say anything themselves. Upon reaching the midway point to the temple foyer above them, they all stopped to admire the great white marble statue of the Engaregar. The god portrayed was muscular, but lean. He feld a giant knife, lodged in the back of a young boy.
"Such a master work. I think all should be brought to this tier and made to spend days observing this icon of ours. Engaregar has fallen from the rolls of gods, but he still is here, merely awaiting a priest to offer one stabbed in the back to awaken him. I suppose the bloodthirsty god would accept a priestess, but few of them desire to kill, let alone the joys of the battle." His eyes fell on the damkhar, challenging the merchant to speak
"Surely, you jest, lord. This god is here to show the dangers of these acts. The dynasty that worshipped him fell from their own actions, being more interested in slaying men than the well being of the people." Nervous eyes sought the faces of those around them as the lord of assassins walked around the statue slowly.
The adresh remained silent for the complete circuit, at last stopping at the altar beneath the revolting statue. "No, I am not. I myself until recently shared your view, damkhar. Killing is not evil. It opens one to the zisura, allowing one to wield great power. Rise up in ranks by the practice and enjoyment of the taking of lives."
The damkhar looked unconvinced at first, but the mention of elevations in ranks reminded him of the promise made below. "So, in studying this statue, one gains enlightenment?" He peered at it, noting the details more clearly. The victim was clearly an innocent, the look of piety upon his face, holding the sacred symbol of the eternal circle. Some altar boy or the like to a religion long forgotten. The expression of the god as he took the life made him shudder. The sneer of pleasure and joy, the wild expression around the eyes, the animal hunger shown by the drool of saliva from the corner of his mouth, all spoke of his madness and hate.
The adresh merely smiled, sensing the bait laid down to be taken. "Indeed. But look at them. See the power flowing from the victim to our god." Using those words struck a chord with the merchant. Tam-hattu watched as Lillithu made her own circuit, finding despite the rest, he was unable to catch his breath watching her naked form. Nor could he take eyes off her long.
The merchant walked in closer, looking carefully at the point of penetration. The statue was built on a base that allowed one to climb in to inspect it better. He slipped, winding up with his hand on the god's giri. Pulling back sharply, he looked quizical, then reached out his hand again, caressing the smooth stone, leaning in closer, until cheek touched the hand holding the hilt. "So fine a depiction. I can even see markings on the blad."
Those words brought a sinister hiss from the Ankullu and Rabakku. None save of the Allegiance could live after seeing those marks, unless the blade was left in the intended victim.
Raish walked forward to the base. "Yes, having slain men all my life, I admire the reality of it. See the blood from the wound, the traces on his back, the earlier stabs. Even the look of shock on the victim's face, surprised a god chose him to slay." The adresh smiled at all. "This is a boy destined for high rank, given his god's approval."
The merchant turned outward, eyes glazed at the spell the statue and the adresh wove around him. Looking at the statue to avoid the succubus' form, Tam-hattu gasped as he saw the motions of her hands, realizing a spell was being woven by them in consort, something forbidden by the ancient texts.
"That I am a killer of men, it gives me an appreciation others cannot have of this." The leader came to the line of sight of his old friend, obviously aroused by his face. Then his lips moved in a whisper only the assassin could hear, hand making the shushing message sigil in the air. "Silence old friend. Spoil not this sacrifice to awaken the god we serve" He walked slowly to Tam-hattu, reaching out, touching his friend's face. "You are not who will rise to high rank this night. Kurbanshur, our merchant, is the one to rise up now."
All eyes turned to the merchant, who gripped the hilt of the knife in the god's hand firmly.
"What rank shall I obtain, master?" the damkir asked never glancing away from the statue, now closer to the giri meeting the back of the boy .
"Why that of the boy there, damkir. You will be Zigiri Giush-E Su-Utuu-bar Sharush." The merchant gasped as four of the Adresh's Ennu, the guardians of his body, grasped his limbs, laying him out on the altar, belly down. A fifth guard approached, using a common work knife to cut away the man's tunic. Damharritu himself approached and sang a hymn as he anointed the presented back with blessed oils, holding the knife by the blade for his master to take.
The man blubbered as the ennu backed off after tying him down, as the reason for his coming here became clear to him. "You promised! Adresh, you promised!" His fear broke the man's will, allowing urine to flow out of his body uncontrolled.
"Adresh? Did you not agree below that I am Sharru, and hence no longer bound to mortal ways?" Raish walked forward, slowly taking the offered knife from his sakkalhal . "Now you, and all other here, shall see why I chose the name I have. Lullu-Hulgisgiri, the treacherous fiery pointed knife.." As he spoke, the knife descended to the man's ribs, sliding easily between the fourth and fifth bone bars to seek the man's heart, allowing a fountain of blood to shoot up the hollow blade and tang, aimed by a special opening in the pommel to decorate the giri of the god imbedded in the metal victim above.
Raising his eyes from that sight, Tam-hattu met his tab's dead orbs. The words of the master of the Dark Coast assassins filled the assassin with dread. "Yes, I have given in to the darkness, and been exalted by it. Soon, all who bear the sacred blades will be as I. Even you, Tam-hattu." Scaled left hand rose from stroking the hilt as the life was expelled from man to idol. The rich, pungent scent of blood made the assassin tremble, even as the demoness approached them. He could not help what happened next. His mouth opened slightly, tongue exiting quickly to lick bits of the black heart blood from his master's claw.
"Yes, my tab. That is what you need, is it not. Take in the offeratory, and become as we are. Mighty in power, mighty in the zisura to conjure with. Mighty between your legs." Softly the words seduced him. The master's talons stayed at his mouth, turning to present new droplets of the sacred black fluid of the sacrifice for the assassin to taste.
After a few seconds, the claw came away clean, leaving Tam-hattu licking his lips, seeking a bit more of the taste. "Enough. Soon you will join me. But I have this one to attend to for now."
The damkir screamed silently, unable to catch his breath, as it fled him with his blood.. The Sharru returned his hand to the blade, holding still, only his breathing in rapid excitement making them different from the statue above. Time passed, as the lord of assassins showed patience, waiting for some signal, as the wicked giri remained in the chest, draining the man.
Then the sign he wanted occurred. The merchant gasped, shocked look on his face, as the fountain began to slow, the blood barely reaching the base of the statue, slowing as his heart gave up at last, lacerated on the edge. But the blade was no ordinary one. In the master's hand, it began to jerk and twist, like a snake trying to escape the hand, seeking refuge within the man.
"I... I... I am ... master, its twisting inside me, I can feel it... Ohhh." The merchant wrenched at his bonds, a vacant look on his face as his murderer held the penetration of the blade within the chest, holding it back from entering the man.
"Your name, tell us all who you are." The adresh pushed another few fingers of his four hand long member into the man's bid.
"AAAAHHHHH, More, more, give Zigiri Giush-E Su-Utuu-bar Sharush all your blood master. Let me give you my blood joyously! AHHHHHRG!" As the man finished, Raish thrust forward, sinking home all the blade's length, his face one of ecstasy as he obviously enjoyed killing the merchant.
"Yes, you are Zigiri Giush-E Su-Utuu-bar Sharush . You are now mine, as are your mind, spirit and wealth." The self raised overking made arcane gestures with his blighted left hand, chanting a new spell, less subtle, more potent. "Giri esh giri. Tud dur. Mud ush mud. Bubu Bar, la gubba dara-es urdush, sim Sharru! Sheg Menden sim muh ammaki inna, Ugim masanse! Bara Nigsaila, Zal mud Ilum-es silim'ma Gal Engarerar-du suki ne kianagh, mu nene mud, Za-akam Nig-gadu! Heam!" With the final word, the lord of the assassins thrust deep into his victim, seating the blade, which suddenly renewed pumping. Fitfully, but strong enough now to reach the blade. Thinking over the words, Tam translated them loosely from the ancient tongue to modern, marveling at the spell's complexity and simplicity.
"Knife to knife, form the chain as blood follows blood. Dragging along souls to bind firmly in eternal servitude to the great king! To whom we sacrifice humans to instead of weakness like cattle, oats. Not in image of let blood gush for our god mighty Engaregar HAIL! From this fountain for their blood it is thine. So Be It!
Watching the sacrifice that would never die, but never live again, Tam-hattu was amazed. to link every assassin's knife to this knife, making it a fountain of eternal blood horrified him. He trembled in fear of the command next to come, certain it would be to go forth and slay, instead it was a simple magical me command.
"Yush!" Follow.
The compulsion drove him forward. Each step up the stairs he fought the spell, to no avail. One could not fight a spell granted by the Kalag of the gods.
Each step brought more fear to the assassin, who noted the way the succubus played with several of the people marching behind his old friend. Hands toyed with hair, faces, bodies, in ways designed to dirstact and excite. So far, all he suffered was the sultry glances and gestures tossed to him when she caught him looking. Others were less lucky. Several she managed to make stumble, two fell off the stairs to severe injuries and one she drained of his life by means of a simple, long and passionate kiss.
Reaching the top, chest heaving at the pace set by Raish, he entered the temple at last. Within the octagonal structure, the eight central pillars, each carved in representation of the eight dark gods dominated the room. The interior was large, ten paces to the pillars, ten paces between them each. In the center of the room lay an altar of damnation, a black onyx and marble carved like a demon's mouth, open and fanged. Within that maw lay the sahan aradu, the descent to death. Darkest of all portals, leading into every realm, but opened only by human sacrifice.
"Set up the forge for the final works needed, Tam-hattu. While you prepare the fane for that rite, we shall converse with our allies in this endeavor." Raish smiled. "And remember, address me by my new name and rank, my tab, we need to impress that upon these entities."
A nod to indicate his acceptance of the mission, and gestures to the survivors of the climb started the change of temple to forge. Minor details kept the assassin busy, such as the placement of the massive anvils, erecting the ovens again, torn apart and now painstakingly having each brick set back into its correct place. Even a small error could free the Uzitibari-nefs from their bindings, letting the free to escape the ancient contracts that bound them to serving the Allegiance.
Even that could not take long though, the slaves knew the dangers, having seen such many times before, and survived the attacks of the elemental spirits driven mad over ages of forced servitude. Each knew their living the day out required precision beyond normal, when the great forge parts moved locations.
Behind him, he heard the murmur marking new arrivals. Some voices he knew, other strange ones joined the conversations, and from time to time, the mewling moans and whimpers of humans being drained by one of the lilu or lillilu broke the quiet commerce of words. Tam-hattu felt gratitude over bringing some extra slaves to serve the gathering, losing those skilled in the set up of the forge was costly and time consuming.
Feeling sure that most details were in hand, he turned to join the group outside the ring of pillars. Many he knew, some he did not. But one of the known beckoned to him silently. One that the assassin never managed to warm to, or even respect.
The body was that of a young man, only dead black eyes and withered hands like his master's spoke of the body told the killer of men that he faced the feared Necromancer of the Dark Coast. Bodies changed for that one, but never the deformities.
Much as he wanted to avoid that person, the compulsion cast upon him forced him to walk over, and speak to one he despised.
"Greetings, Hortog. I see another body has rotted away on you." No me could force a man to speak kindly to another against his will.
The scarred face grimaced at the insult, but waved it aside. "Actually, I have set that form to the side for now. The bearer of the weapon you call the Zib-Anitu knows it too well, I am afraid."
Shock rocked the assassin. Never before had the Apisu Namush admitted to fearing anyone, even the Hunter from the Grass, Sharursuki-U of the prophecy. "So, that is how it has fallen. At last you fear one of our blades, even that rogue one."
The face turned away for a moment. "I always respect your profession, but that one has defied my understanding. All that I did in the words of the seers failed. This conjuring, I fear, comes too late. He has passed the moment of decision to change sides."
The admission left a moment of silence between them. "I have long doubted he was the one. I fear in our rush to judgment, we may have missed the true Shashur." Tam-hattu turned away for a moment to hide his face from this old rival for his master's attention and ear. "But he no longer heeds my warnings."
Both takers of lives watched the forge's final items entering the room to be positioned for several moments. "I fear he will reject my counsel as well. One of my slaves found something in the libraries of Thogras that bodes ill for how even I read those prophecies. I apologize. You may be, no probably were, correct."
The mention of the city of sages intrigued the killer. "Thogras. You still are able to enter that place?" A chuckle of mirth came from memories from just a few years before. "I was certain they would have erected barriers against your intrusions, both physical and ethereal."
The snort he gained sounded almost draconic, making Tam-hattu turn to reassess the one he spoke with. "Not all barriers work perfectly. So long as she thinks her research is for her curiosity, the wards raised against me do not trigger. Keeping our methods of contact without the sacred canyon aids in that as well." The necromancer's grey and brown hair danced across shoulders as the head moved in negation.
Always if this one had hair, it was long, styled intricately as well. That, other clues of manners and speech and a tendency to dress fashionably often left Tam-hattu wondering if his rival once possessed a woman's form at birth. Little hints, taken separately meaning nothing, but assembled pointing to something larger, the assassin thought. This is how you study one you must kill. He still never doubted the day would come that this one would fall under his blade.
"So you will speak this, before or after we finish the blade." Arm moving to direct a few final positions of the ritual items of a forge, he turned to his opponent.
There was no hesitation. "Before. If the spell is locked on the wrong one, we could seal our dooms."
Nodding agreement, the assassin excused himself. "I must see to the final touches, but I agree. The spell cannot go forward until this is discussed." Walking away, the assassin was reminded of the saying about bedfellows, politics and strange companions.
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