A bard in time saves...

[Lanya Caliope]

His voice brought her awake enough that when his toe nudged at her, she raised her head to give him a bleary, unfocused glare. Nightmares still clung to her mind and colored her vision, but she blinked to clear the drowsiness away and the nightmares went with it.

She stared at him a long moment in silence, unsure of what to say to distract him from what he would be able to see. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen from the dried tears, and her face was sure to be a mess. She dropped her knees as she considered, letting her legs stretch out along Metarie's front walkway to clear up the tension within the muscles. Her arms raised above her head and her torso lengthened as she stretched, letting out a hard sigh at the end of the stretch before favoring Everett with her more normal expression. A hint of an obviously strained and ironic smile tugged at her lips.

"Aye. We drew lots and Metarie's broken ribs won."

She used the door-frame as a brace and pushed herself to standing, absently dusting the seat of her pants as she stared blankly into the distance. The moment passed. She gave him an honest smile now and opened the front door behind her, bracing it to indicate he should come inside as well.

"I'm going to make some breakfast. You can have some, if you like."

The was a semi-order hidden within the statement which she injected without conscious effort. It was not her home and this was not her guest, but hospitality demanded she treat him that way regardless. She stepped into the kitchen - a room she seemed incapable of leaving lately - and began gathering the supplies for flapjacks. The automaton returned while she worked, guiding her motions with mechanical detachment. She did not wish to speak but she braced herself for his questions. She had promised he would get answers at some point, once Lucian was well enough to sit in the conversation with them.

She ducked her head and stirred the batter to hide her trembling efforts to dwell on memories of her conversation with Lucian. There was no easier way to hide how depression than making herself busy with a meal. She could ponder while she smeared the cooking pot with butter and ladled the batter in to let it start to heat, and in the end serve her "guest" as well as Metarie should the elf rouse herself enough to join them. Depression was no excuse to let hospitality go.

The smell grew stronger as she turned the first batch of flapjacks, scowling at them as the underside revealed a mixture between too much butter and not enough time left to sit. The first two were always the worst of the lot.

[Alibi of Tyrants]

Lanya looked like one of those tavern women that Everett had slept with on occasion---after the fact, anyway, in the wee hours of the morning. Mountains of alcohol, snogging, and fucking have a tendency to make a woman mussed and red in the face during the morning afterwards. It was enough cause for him to elicit a small smile at the subtlety of his own humor. However, Everett had a feeling that the swelling and the dried marks on her face were indicative of something a little more. It was especially evident in the way she phrased her small joke. Absently he followed her lead without argument, but he immediately cut to the chase and through the formalities that should have transpired.

He sat down at the table as he did yesterday, propping his legs rudely and leaning back into the chair. Fortunately for Metarie's table, there wasn't any dirt this time.

"The little shithead left, didn't he?" Everett asked, slightly incredulous yet unsurprised. "He left right after he boned Metarie."

He shook his head. That was fucking ballsy. Stumbling and staggering along the road, near death and tortured---and he had enough spunk in him to get in between somebody's legs. And it was Metarie's legs, no less! Everett had a hunch that there was some form of chemistry forming between the two of them. For starters, they took way too long in the bath---nearly an hour had passed before she even bothered to emerge. Everett knew damn well that it didn't take that long to soak somebody's wounds; Lord knows that it didn't take that long at the hospital and for some of their wounded. Plus, he knows how Metarie operates: Short, sweet, efficient, and to the point. She throws in a little TLC to perfectly maintain her air of gentility, of course, but she never sticks around longer than what she has to. That's just the nature of the doctor, to keep one step ahead of everything when it comes to treatment.

Also, Everett wasn't deaf. After a fashion, he eavesdropped in his silence (it could be argued that it was just heard, but that was neither here nor there). The door wasn't closed; he could hear Romeo as he tried to flatter Juliet with phrases that were just as buttery as the pancake batter that Lanya slapped on the grill for the pancakes. The impressions were vague and indistinct, but he definitely heard a couple of those corny-ass questions of certainty of station in life. Then they frolicked around in the shower water like little kids, something that was also not too hard to hear when the door was open.

And here is Lanya, sleeping out on the porch after the fact. No doubt she probably did something like that to give the two potential lovebirds a little privacy. It was still a pretty shitty venture and a sign of one-sidedness.

[Camulous Smithson]

Now fully rested and cleanly clothed in a green civilian's tunic, a long black coat and brown pants, the captain of the guard returned to Metarie's house on foot. A dusty farmers' hat fashioned in the local style cast enough shadow over his face in the morning sun to hide his identity from the casual observer. Some of the people he passed on his way recognized him, but aside from the hat and coat there was nothing unusual about Camulous being off duty. Unlike the haughty battlemages, most of the guardsmen were proud working class citizens recruited because of their calloused hands, not blue blood.

From a distance he could see Lanya and Everett entering the house. It wasn't obvious why the man was there again, once more inconveniencing things. He must have spent the night there along with Lanya. Camulous did not want him there this morning, but there wasn't much that could be done about it. Hopefully the overbearing ass wasn't also a spy for the judges.

He pushed open the partially unhinged door and pulled the hat off his dirty blond hair once he reached the house. The smell of cooking filled the air around him. Against his common nature, Camulous let himself in and idled in the entryway. He was not the underhanded type, but he needed to know anything he could about Everett. When the man's voice cut over the sound of cooking, the captain walked in and put himself within view of Everett.

"Who else was here?"

[Lanya Caliope]

She did not bother responding to Everett's guess as she did not see a point in confirming what he sounded like he already knew. Lucian was not present within the house and Metarie would likely emerge from her bedroom soon enough to confirm or deny any more unscrupulous details of the night that had passed. Lanya herself did not know for sure if anything had happened between the two, and she wasn't the type to inspire gossip based on an assumption and a whim.

She gathered three plates and began stacking the flapjacks onto the nearest as she created them, leaving the first two at the very bottom of the pile so that they would be eaten last if possible. She wanted to finish off the batter so that there would be enough for three people, anticipating Metarie's own emergence from the bedroom at some point. As she stacked, she placed three onto the second plate she'd pulled out and carried this along with a bottle of syrup to Everett, setting it down next to his feet on the table. She gave the shoes a moment's pause, then looked at him and raised an eyebrow but remained silent. There was no need to say anything.

"I'm not sure what you'd like to drink. I suppose you may help yourself to what's available, or I could make tea."

The Captain's voice interrupted any answer Everett might have given and Lanya found herself wide-eyed with surprise for a moment. She blinked once to clear the surprise away, then smiled and nodded a greeting as she walked back to the kitchen. She continued cooking until the last of the batter was used, then shut off the stove and left the pan on the eye to let it cool down before washing it. Three more flapjacks were placed onto the third plate, and this she carried to the table across from Everett, setting it down and waving a hand at Camulous to indicate he should sit.

"Good morning, Captain. Join us for breakfast."

A companionable smile tugged her lips up without reaching her eyes. She would try to ignore her own sadness and focus on business at hand. Camulous had asked a question, and she would answer before Everett to try and avoid any crass remarks from the crude detective.

"Lucian - the man you thought was executed. I found him yesterday by chance and brought him here. He is marked by a brand left from the torture done in Justice Hall - I do not know much about it, though Metarie seemed to. He left this morning to remove any danger he might have posed."

The succinct summary was followed by a sigh as she rubbed a hand over her face. She suddenly remembered how awful she must look after her night and flushed with embarrassment. She moved to the sink to splash two handfuls of water against her face, then patted her face dry with a wash cloth and turned to regard the men to address any further questions they might have. She resumed the same position she'd taken the day before while speaking with Everett, leaned against the counter with her arms folded comfortably over her chest. She was exhausted and did not feel up to the conversation, but trying to avoid it would likely just fail again.

[Metarie]

The smell woke her first; the smell of something warm and comforting. Voices followed. The sound of voices seemed odd to her. There were people in her house. Metarie opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"The little shithead left, didn't he? He left right after he boned Metarie."

A numbing coldness ran through Metarie’s whole body followed by nausea. Leave it to Everett to make everything so… ugly. For the first time in a long time, anger rushed through her. With a grinding of her teeth, she threw back the covers and planted her feet on the floor. Her right arm wrapped across her ribs as the pain came. Another bout of nausea rushed through her, but this was because she hurt. Clenching her teeth and closing her eyes, Metarie stood.

A pair of pants, her usual kind, and a tank top was found so that she might be dressed for her guests. Still cradling her right side, still bruised, barefoot, and her left hand drawn through her hair to tidy it, Metarie emerged.

She did not look different. There were no external cues that implied anything happened. She looked tired, but one could not expect to look fully refreshed after such a long, harrowing day.

As she moved past the table, she spoke. “Do not put your feet on my table. If you cannot respect my house, you may leave it.” Metarie looked at the empty leather case. She had taken the last of the pain relievers the night before. She would have to heal herself. Taking a seat at the table, she pressed her hand against her side and began to concentrate.

“Who else was here?”

Camulous’ voice distracted her focus. Camulous? Metarie supposed having brought Lanya, it made sense Camulous would check on her. Metarie looked at Camulous. He was still the same. Rested, cleaned, but still the same.

"Lucian - the man you thought was executed. I found him yesterday by chance and brought him here. He is marked by a brand left from the torture done in Justice Hall - I do not know much about it, though Metarie seemed to. He left this morning to remove any danger he might have posed."

There was something not right with Camulous’ question and Lanya’s answer. Metarie frowned and stared at the plate of pancakes before her. Metarie replayed the words in her head.

Who else was here… Lucian… you thought executed… found him … by chance… marked by a brand….

Ahhhhhh…. Metaire leaned back and closed her eyes. A wry smile curved her mouth.

What kind of chance was it that allowed a man executed to live marked and broken?

No chance… no chance at all.
Found? Not by chance, but by design.

The connection? Not a once in a lifetime thing, but a manufactured thing.

Foolish Metarie! Once a puppet, always a puppet.

Perhaps the ugliness to which Everett ascribed the situation was applicable. Once they had had her will, but now they had her soul. Internally, she berated herself for losing her succinct and determined professional composure. Perhaps, being nearly raped did that to a woman. Metarie felt sick to her stomach, but kept it at bay.

Metarie opened her eyes and looked at Camulous once again. What would the captain have to say? Did it matter? Certainly, once he found out she would lose the tenuous friendship they had developed over the years. She would have become like just any other female. Dark pupils were dilated, making her eyes seem even more green set as they were in a face paler than usual. Slowly, Metarie's mouth curved up into a smile at Camulous. The smile was tinged with sadness and knowing.

Metarie felt fragile and it showed. For the first time since either man had known her, the quality that made her back straight, chin up, good-natured, and steady-gazed had deserted Metarie. There in the space of a look, for once, Metarie admitted she needed to be protected; needed to be understood and cared for, not that it would matter. Dropping her gaze, Metarie lifted the knife and fork and began to mechanically cut, spear, and eat neat little squares of pancake. Taking a sip of whatever drink had been provided, Metarie swallowed the bite.

"Yes, please, Captain. Do join us. Lanya makes an excellent breakfast."

[Alibi of Tyrants]

"Tea's fine," Everett replied to Lanya, giving her something of a half-grin. Again, he found his eyes sloping ever downward on the bard's person. If his eyes had the flammability of gas, then her whole person would've erupted into flame by now due to the proximity of the stove. He knows that there's an ass somewhere underneath of those flowing clothes, if he could just...

Metarie's voice dissuaded him from his idle pursuits.

The gumshoe removed his feet from Metarie's table. He didn't do this because she specifically asked her to, mind---he did this because he wanted to see the look on her face when Ramrodulous barked out that pretentious greeting of his. Maybe Everett was wrong about the man's dick size---the way he showboats around, he must have balls the size of grapefruits and a member the size of one of those sausage links that the butcher whips for you. Those things were definitely the size of a damned baseball bat. That's what happens when you're apart of the most pristine group of enforcers this side of the Ofriyu Mar. You're nothing but a walking set of genitalia, out to get your rocks off on showing just how much of a badass you are.

Everett picked up a fork on the table and idly moved it in a circle between his fingers. His dark eyes flickered intermittently between the players---Lanya, Metarie, and Camulous.

"Oh, damn," Everett mused, looking at the Captain. "You missed out on a possible three way, capitan. I bet you feel like an ass."

[Camulous Smithson]

Once invited to join them for breakfast, the captain smiled and accepted with an appropriate amount of humility and politeness. He had already eaten before leaving his house, but his home cooking was anything but satisfying and it was a good opportunity to speak to Lanya and Metarie about what he had in mind.

He quietly pulled out a seat at the table and rested the hat in his lap while Lanya explained that Lucian had shown up. His eyes went down to the table as soon as she mentioned the name. The young man never was scheduled to be executed - it was a suspicion Camulous had, which became a white lie for Lanya's benefit. Being caught in a lie was not a comfortable place to be.

But wait, what was Lucian doing here? How did he get released so soon? Surely there wasn't another escape from The Hall. How likely was it that he would bump into Lanya here, just by chance and with a brand on him? The judges were not in the habit of branding people, there was no law to justify that sort of thing.

Camulous narrowed his eyes and frowned to himself, deep in thought. Everything about the situation reeked of Moryldar's tampering. There were connections between this and the other recent events in the city. Deeply rooted connections he intended to figure out.

Lucian's presence in Metarie's home was a bad sign. As far as Camulous was concerned, it meant that the judges were watching them and somehow knew exactly where Lanya was. It was foolish to let him in here, not that Lanya could be blamed for falling for her friend's lies. Metarie too, had fallen for something serious.

He snapped out of it when she appeared and greeted him. He was about to speak, to chide her for letting Lucian into her home for what was presumably sexual reasons, when Everett made his comment.

The comment didn't make much sense, but one thing was clear; the man had a problem with Camulous, not to mention Metarie, and he was either venting or trying to pick a fight. Given the previous day's experience, it was unlikely to end well.

In his line of work he had enough experience with other men picking fights and causing trouble. It didn't get to him as it had the previous day. He only wondered why this uncouth fellow was in Metarie's house to begin with, apparently doing nothing but disrespecting her.

Accepting Lanya's invitation for breakfast made him a guest. In that position he didn't feel right judging, so he held his tongue. Instead, he avoided looking at the man altogether, and feigned interest in the cooking.

[Metarie]

The knife and fork were lowered to each side of her plate. Her knuckles were white from the tightness with which she held them. Metarie chewed deliberately and carefully swallowed her food. Her gaze remained on the plate. Once she swallowed, she spoke. Her voice was soft, but deliberate.

“Everett, please leave.” Metarie raised her gaze to look directly at Everett, “I am disgusted and disappointed by your constant disrespect of me, of my guests, and my hospitality.”

The cutlery clinked against the plate as she carefully released them to fall upon the table. The fragile woman of before was gone, replaced by the no-nonsense, business-comes-first healer with whom Everett was quite familiar.

“Go away. I do not want you in my house.” Metarie pointed toward the door with her left hand. The right cradled her ribs. “I have had enough of brutish, uncouth men to last me a lifetime. You may return when the kind, caring Everett I know you can be decides to reappear.” Kona stood as well, leaning slightly against Metarie’s leg, and gave a “huff” as if to emphasize Metarie’s words.

[Lanya Caliope]

The bard remained leaned against the counter; the batter she'd made was entirely gone once the three others were served, and it did not occur to her to make more. She told herself that she would eat sometime later. It would inevitably come up.

She made no comment and showed no reaction to Everett's insinuation, though part of her wanted desperately to burst out laughing and release some of the tension in the air. Instead, she let her eyes fall upon the captain where he'd joined their table, letting her thoughts run away from her. They were not far from his own, though she did not assume he had lied to her before. Her suspicions involving the government led her to believe that he was misinformed, and likely on purpose.

Metarie's visible anger made her uncurl her arms and step forward, intending to lie a reassuring hand on the elf's shoulder. She couldn't blame the healer for her fury or request, and did not wish to dishonor Metarie's privacy, but this Everett was a private investigator. He might come in handy.

She did not want to point this out - it was intrinsically obvious. And the elf clearly needed time to calm herself and gain control of her emotions. The bard came to a mental compromise which she decided to offer the detective, though she hated to broach the subject. It would have to do. She considered it a fair enough trade-off, and she thought it might gain enough of his interest that he would jump at the chance to see.

If nothing else, it was worth a try. She made her tone as soothing as possible, trying to communicate to Metarie that this was not intended as a slight while actually speaking to Everett.

"Everett, there is something you could investigate for me - if it would be no trouble. It's to do with the assassin who was hunting me."

[Alibi of Tyrants]

The gumshoe's cheeks reddened. He wasn't a big fan of being on the ass end of being brow-beat; it was his job to berate and belittle, after all. Plus, she was just too damn good at it for her own good. Sometimes he even wonders whether the elf practices this sort of shit in front of the mirror every day in hopes of therapeutic self-talk that gives a person strength of character. His dark eyes flickered over to Metarie and his jaw clenched.

"Yeah, Grandma. Whatever," Everett snapped as he planted the prongs of his fork into the moist pancake. Giving it a good wriggle, he managed to tear off a buttery hunk and popped it into his mouth. He continued, immodestly, with a mouth that was sort of full. "Until you can learn to keep your legs closed, we'll talk about respect. Until then, can the self-righteous "waaaaah waaaaaaah" bullshit." The gumshoe looked over at Kona too, giving the big wolfhound a steely look. "Yeah, that goes double for you too mutt."

He swallowed a portion of the pancake. In spite of being crabby, a sort of profoundness sparked across Everett's longish yet handsome face. Almost immediately did he look over to Lanya and silently acknowledged the perfection that were these pancakes. They were cooked just right: Golden brown, sweetly soft, and the batter-y taste melts against the tongue better than even some of the smoothest liquor around (and for a functioning alcoholic, that is quite the epiphany). He made a slight noise, gestured with the fork in the bard's general direction, and continued.

"And besides, I didn't come back here because I like making you miserable." He paused for a moment to rip off a hunk of pancake. For a second he looked the elven doctor right in the eye. "No, no. I got bigger fish to fry."

As if right on cue, Everett gingerly drummed the bottom end of his fork rhythmically against the tabletop and pointed at Lanya as soon as she asked her question.

"Case in point," Everett said, as if he polished off the rest of Lanya's thought with some sort of clairvoyance. "And since Ramrodulous is here, that means that those shitheads in the Shantytown are right. The end of the world is nigh!"

There was a slight pause for a second as Everett waited for everybody to get the joke that only he would get. When there was no such luck, Everett continued on.

"In other words, the Captain of the Guard has finally pulled his head out of his ass and discovered that foul play is afoot amongst his peers." He popped another chunk of pancake into his mouth, this time directing his attention to the Captain of the guard.

"What am I willing to wager that the assassin that was sent after Lanya, whomever he is, is in league with the people involved with Lucian?" Everett posited through a hunk of food. "Now, I'm not saying that lover-boy is in cahoots with shitty people; on the contrary, I think shitty people are trailing after him---and in turn, after Lanya. But whether one comes before the other, well, I don't know. Did Lucian bring this about and then catch Lanya in this by accident? Or was it the other way around?

"Which is why you, Lanya," Everett looked over towards the bard as he lifted the fork up and pointed it at her prongs first, "Have to start talking. I have a strong hunch that it begins with your little assassin friend coming after you, but I need confirmation."

[Camulous Smithson]

Camulous frowned and did not touch the offered food. The owner of the house had just asked a man to leave, and his response was more snide comments and self aggrandizing. That kind of behavior did not rub the captain well, but while some of the more bullheaded, chivalrous sort might immediately begin throwing weight around at such a display, Camulous did not. He was not there to impress the ladies or gain points for an honor code. It disgusted him, but more disgusting creatures were rampant on Pal Tahrenor.

He rested his hands on the table and waited, staring at Everett and just waiting for him to keep going or for Metarie to press the matter. Go far enough, and the sanctity of her house was not going to be sufficient restraint.

[Metarie]

Metarie cut her eyes to Lanya as the woman placed a hand on her arm and asked Everett to investigate something. Everett’s voice cut through the air between them.

“Yeah, Grandma. Whatever. Until you can learn to keep your legs closed, we'll talk about respect. Until then, can the self-righteous "waaaaah waaaaaaah" bullshit."

Metarie had still been gesturing toward the door. As Everett spoke, the expression on her face dropped until the look on her face was like stone. Her hand slowly dropped as well. Metarie stared at Everett as he continued to speak.

Had Camulous not asked her to offer hospitality to Lanya, Metarie would have told the both of them to move the discussion to Everett’s office. Everett tinged his fork against the table and plate. Metarie stepped away from the table.

“As you wish, Lanya.” Crossing behind Everett, Metaire laid a hand on Camulous’ shoulder and paused beside him. She then squeezed his shoulder slightly before leaving the room. She had a few ribs to heal as it was.

[Lanya Caliope]

She had not wished for any of this. Her eyes widened for a moment at the elf's statement, and she watched in some surprise as Metarie stood and made her way to the bedroom. Her own offer was something which likely would take the detective outside of the home, and entice him to return, perhaps in a more civil mood.

She suppressed a sigh. It had seemed like a good idea before, but now the elf just wanted to be away from them all. Lanya made a mental note to apologize in the future, should she figure out what exactly she'd done wrong. For the moment, she dropped the matter in her head and focused instead on trying to sort out and answer Everett's actual question.

There wasn't much she could verify or refute. She knew only what she'd seen first-hand in terms of government corruption, and she wasn't aware of any other players beyond the judge himself who might be a factor. If the corruptions was widespread, she could only feel a sense of resignation about this fact. She'd had some hope that it was just the one judge, naive though the hope was.

The bard took up the discarded breakfast plate and moved it to the counter next to the sink. She didn't want to throw away the food before the men had a chance for seconds, and she hated to waste the meal. Satisfied, she settled against the counter again, unwilling to sit at the table for no particular reason. She wanted to continue standing, and therefore she did. She hoped neither of the men pressured her into sitting.

"Your guesses are likely better than mine. I can only tell you what happened to me. I was the assassin's mark for an unrelated reason, but he approached the guard for help in capturing me. I ran when he tried to kill me, inside a tavern - he threw something I couldn't see and nearly impaled me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shooting through the following events in her mind to pick and choose what he would need to know for a summary.

"The captain captured me in the woods and took me in to trial. An older man - ah, Judge Moryldar? - made a deal with the assassin. I do not know what that deal was, but they lied to try and have me executed."

She paused, considering her request. The detective would likely think it was about the deal itself - the reason she was supposed to die. But he would only be half-right. The reason she would have been killed lay more than a year in the past, and there was information she wanted. She shifted, suddenly feeling nervous, but plowed ahead with a quiet voice.

"Everett, if you have a moment later on, there is still something I'd like you to investigate for me. Aside from all of this."

She glanced at Camulous to see if he might wish to fill in the blanks left. She did not know what the captain may or may not know.

[Alibi of Tyrants]

As soon as Metarie crossed behind him, Everett turned around a little bit in his chair and narrowed his dark eyes into slits. There was one more matter that he needed to address before she decided to go in to the other room and sulk over the rightness of his comment.

"You know you could at LEAST have the courtesy to sit at the table and listen to what's going on," Everett chided, but not in a very playful way. His voice sounded a little too raw, a little too angry.

But that suited him fine. He didn't give a shit about putting kiddie gloves on for the host. All things considered, if she wants to talk about respect than maybe she should learn to RESPECT the gravity of someone's situation. Everyone involved, Camulous included, was damn fortunate that it was HE who found Lanya lying there on the porch and not one of the people that wanted her dead. Sure, he was happy as all shit that Metarie finally lost her virginity---but that definitely wasn't the time to think with her crotch.

"You're not gonna find some tree-hugging Romeo in the adjacent room to give you the fucking moans, Metarie." Everett finally turned around in his chair to face Lanya just as she scooped up his plate. His back was turned as he finished with this statement:

"It's time to be responsible here. Whether you like it or not, you're involved now. Time to start acting like it."

Then Everett started to listen. The one thing that stood out to him the most was:


Judge Morlydar.

What Everett originally thought as an interesting little government "sinkhole" that housed all the manner of moderately positioned yet considerably dangerous government officials has become something that was a little more involved. In comparison to having the Judges involved in matters like this, these guys were just the icing on the cake. The Judges, well, they WERE the fucking cake. They ran the show around these parts. It's hard enough to get a case going against the people that are below them---one hundred percent of all his cases directed towards the wrongdoing of those government people were shut down preemptively by his "peers" in the Guard, under strict command of someone even higher on the totem pole than them or the Judges themselves.

It wasn't a stretch to say that the gumshoe was a little daunted by the mere mention of a Judge being involved in the unjust execution of someone who didn't deserve it. A part of him wanted to clap his hands together and just say, "Judge Morlydar? Yeah, honey, you're fucked. Pack your bags and leave town ASAP." Everett didn't believe in shitty odds, though. In fact, living in the heart of the pustular Marn all of these years only incensed his desire to strike at them when they were most vulnerable. He watched a lot of good people die over the years, directly at the hands of these tyrannical bastards or indirectly by their hands. If he could play his cards right here, he could very well strike a decisive blow that would be much more gratifying than any middle finger flagged in their face.

Already the gears were turning in Everett's mind.

"Okay," Everett finally said, taking a moment to digest everything that she said. Unfortunately, he didn't get much out of all of that except for the involvement of the Judge. "I'll be more than happy to look in to whatever the hell it is that you want me to look in to, Lanya. We'll talk about that in a while.

"Camulous." Everett turned around to face the Captain of the Guard. "What can you tell me about the nature of the deal? And the assassin?"

[Camulous Smithson]

The diatribe continued, even after Metarie had left the room to go rest in silence. What she had done was no more irresponsible than Lanya's embracing Lucian on his return and bringing him to her would-be hiding spot. What had the elf done that justified a stream of abuse in her own home, and moreover, what did it matter who she slept with?

Camulous didn't know, nor did he know why either of the ladies were continuing to put up with this man. The only reason he could come up with was that they were once lovers in a relationship gone sour.

He listened to Lanya's explanation of events which contained nothing he didn't already know. Dealing with the machinations of the governmental machine in Marn for his entire adult life gave him a good understanding of their usual motivations. Lanya's case was nothing unusual in and of itself, but something was wrong. Moryldar was up to something more devious that went well beyond her. The news about Lucian was another in the latest of a string of strange happenings. Nothing unusual, but suggestive of something more devious.

The captain's eyes lifted to Everett when the man said his name, face still set in its usual less-than-friendly frown typical of his working hours. Everett's complete lack of social competence was audacious - so much so that it made Camulous pause while he tried to figure out just what Everett's game was.

He stared at him, waiting a second for some kind of recognition of the immediate situation. With none forthcoming, he spoke up.

"If you were working with me, I would have taken off your other arm by now. Be thankful that you're not. I'm not sure what you're doing here, but you'll have better luck looking under whatever fetid rock you call home for information than asking me."