A Matter of Timing

The acolytes that the party has seen on duty so far have all been quiet and reflective, almost as if in a state of waking meditation while carrying out their chores.  How different they are now that they are on break!  The lobby outside the cafeteria entrance quickly fills with the din of youthful exuberance.  Soon the giggling mass begins to flow inside.

Seeing Bina as she rises, the acolytes stop almost as one and offer her a bow and intoned greeting, which she answers with a quiet bow.  Then the youths fall into line near the kitchen and begin assembling their trays.  Their talk is more muted now, and many a wary glance is thrown at the party.  It's not hard to notice that a lot of their attention is focused on Pru and her Night Guard outfit.  Pru replies by fixing a level glare on them as she stands.

The rest of the party all quickly finish whatever remains of their meals and stand to follow Bina out.  They don't get very far when Pru's wrister chimes.

"Sod it," she whispers as she raises the device to her face.  "I knew it had to come sometime."  She makes a hushing gesture to the party, puts on a pleasant face, pushes the receive button, and says, "Trenna!  Pu'Laru here."

"Pu'Laru!" barks a steely-sounding, masculine voice.  "What are you doing?  Where in the moss are you?"

Pru chuckles.  "Would you believe I'm somewhere on the witch mountain?"

"You're what?  Your whole team is in the rack...in pieces...sans you...and you're where?  Report!"

Pru licks her lips anxiously.  "What have they told you?"

"'They?'  You mean your team?  One dead, one in a coma, and two in serious condition and barely lucid?  Not much, I'd say!  All I got was what the punks that brought 'em to the hospital said!"

Pru takes a deep breath.  "We...got a call from a watcher.  Said a bunch of Blues were taking in a Yangae couple down in the tunnel.  We went down, saw the Blues.  Drau and Gatch were really in a socket, 'cause they just started shooting at 'em.  Don't know if they got anyone, but they scattered, and we went down.  Found the main group.  Yangae couple and some friends with the Blues.  Said there was no problem.  The Blues were escorting them.  Drau didn't buy it, sodding ass baked one with no call.  First blood on us.  No call.  They fought back, we got planted.  Probably deserved it, too.  Our bad blood, our loss.  End report."

There's a moment of silence, and then the voice in the wrister replies, "That's pretty much what they told us.  But I still want to know what you're doing over there!"

Pru glances around at the party and replies, "Investigating.  Something's up.  Something big.  I'm not leaving till I find out more.  My blood's on it."

"Alright.  I'll want to hear more.  And soon!"

"You'll get it.  Anything more?"

"Ah, just one more thing.  Got any lead on that Luskar woman?  High end's getting twitchy!"

"I'm on it, Riz.  I'm on a lead!  Like I said, something big!"

"You need backup?"

"No!  Not yet!  I need to work it out.  I'm on it!"

"Where on the mountain are you right now?"

"Can't tell you that.  Not now.  I'll ping it when it's safe."

"You're not in the Temple, are you?"

Pru throws an unconscious glance in Bina's direction.  "And why in peat would I be there, Riz?"

"Just pulling you, Pru.  Just let us know as soon as you find something.  Anything!"

"Got it, Riz!  I'm on it!  Off!"

Just before Pru pushes the close switch on her wrister, the acolytes break into a vibrant pre-meal prayer song.

Breaking the Fast or Fasting the Break?

The party arrives at the cafeteria to find it more or less as they'd expected.  The only other sentient life forms present are the kitchen crew, which consists of a few regular cooks and a handful of very bored-looking acolytes.

"Ah, you're here!" says the apparent head cook cheerfully in Her-Galad.  "Or would you rather I spoke Yangae?" he adds in that language.  He is clearly of the Foldorian race, but his ethnicity is unclear, possibly mixed (which is odd in Foldorian culture, as has already been noted).  The fact that he is wearing Hergoth-style makeup around one eye indicates that he is probably a Hertressk Yangae.

"Yangae would be better," says the junior priestess accompanying the party.  "That seems to be their common language."

"Alright," replies the cook with a smile.  "I'll try to leave out all the weird local words, too, right?"  He laughs.  Then he asks, "Where's your friend, Bina?"

"Something came up," is all she volunteers.  The cook apparently gets her drift, because his face suddenly looks grim.

"So what's available?" asks Lirassa.

The cook looks up at the Besteeng, makes a dramatic show of stretching his neck, and lets his eyes go wide for an instant.  "I'm glad you asked," he replies.  He gestures toward a wall, where a menu is written in Her-Galad, Yangae, Brekka, Somekh, and a couple of other languages the party doesn't immediately recognize.  "I'd just like to make one thing clear before any of you say anything.  We're here to feed people who have come for a spiritual experience, not a physical one.  Our food is made to satisfy, not to indulge.  If you want fancy stuff, please go somewhere else."

The menu is indeed very simple.  It includes a couple of basic Yangae staples, a type of bread known to the Besteengs and other post-Sarkon cultures, and a couple of Farbett food fungi.  Other than that, the only other item on the list is the very first one, which is also highlighted.  It says simply, "Standard fare."

"What's the 'standard fare'?" asks Pru suspiciously.

"What do you think it is?" asks the cook back.

Pru lowers her brows.  "Tofu?  Ganci nut paste?  Dami seed noodles?  Raw vegetables?"

The cook smiles and makes a sound reminiscent of a correct answer on a holovid game show.

Pru clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes.

"I'll have the standard fare," says Bina a little defensively.

"I will, too," says Mey'Luskar.  In answer to Pru's look of disbelief, she adds, "I've never tried it!  Besides, as long as we're going native..."

"Going what?" cries Pru.  "Don't you know the old expression, 'If it isn't right, fix it or toss it'?"

Mey'Luskar counters, "Do you know the expression, 'If the roots don't go into the ground, the branches don't go into the sky'?"

Pru frowns.  "Never heard that.  Who said it?"

Mey'Luskar looks at Mon'Fargret and smiles.  "Ty'Klemmo did.  His Civilized Eminence, I mean.  I think I'm finally beginning to understand it, too."

Pru shrugs.  "Whatever does you, lady.  I'll stick with my parvan."

The cook smiles broadly.  "Great, then!  What about the rest of you?"

Morning Comes to Mul'ein

The orb of Miyandei breaks over the surface of the sea, reaching out with probing fingers of cherry red through the misty sandbars and swaying grasses of Bal'tem Bay. At once the morning creatures begin the day's performance. It begins with the raspy croak of the tunies (kind of like Terran mudskippers, but much more vocal) and is soon joined by a symphony of twitters, buzzes, whoops, and clicks uttered by the many insect and amphibian denizens of the marshy shores. Last to come is the weird, booming bark of the bumpha fish, which provides an eerie sort of rhythmic accompaniment until the sounds of technology and civilization begin to take over.

Even with the luxuries of antigrav projection and repulsorjets, there is still no replacing the common boat. Commercial fishermen, sport anglers, and pleasure boaters are plying the waters long before Miyandei clears the horizon, their various engine hums and rapids shaking the natural symphony but never quite disrupting it. Inland, the coastal town of Bal'tem is still mostly asleep, but just beyond it Mul'ein is already coming to life. Eerie sirens mark the changing of the shifts in the factories to the north and south. Those hardy souls that fill the unpleasant yet oh, so necessary roles of urban society go about their jobs with the efficiency of well-practiced routine, working hard to get the worst done before the commuter traffic starts to clog the streets.

Meanwhile, the various hills that rise like sentinels above the urban sprawl stand in marked contrast both to the world below and to each other. Among the rugged peaks of Danteir to the north the chimneys of industry wake from the quiet of the night, their growing steam adding to the mists washing in from the sea. In Düa, near the center of the city, the sharp, rhythmic chants of exercising sports teams echo among the walled fields of Yanda University. In Danstül' Park in Ekr'in street hawkers, artists, and buskers are already setting up for the day's toils as joggers thread around them. Atop Sa'Barj to the southeast, the three great palaces of the highest of the local high stand silent, their occupants no doubt sleeping off the excesses of the previous night (as usual). And on the crown of the sprawling bulk of Erweina there is the faint sound of chanting on the breeze as the priestesses lead the dawn devotions inside the open-doored Temple.

But then a new sound cuts the harmony. From within the temple complex there is the bang of a door being flung open violently followed by the pat-pat-pat of bare feet running on a brick walkway. This is accompanied by desperate moaning, as of asthmatic breathing, as a half-panicked figure dashes out of the clearing and into the safe confines of the temple forest. The pattering and raspy gasps continue until they draw near to the gurgling of the spring-fed bathing gardens. They don't stop there. There is another bang as the gate is knocked aside, the briefest of splattering sounds as the shower curtain is plowed through unheeded, and then a great splash as the running figure dives into the main pool.

There follows a few moments of silence. Then the sound of a youngish female Hergoth voice can be heard saying, "Um...it helps to take your robe off first..."

To which Dabid replies, "DON'T LET IT GET ME!!!"

The Cleaner

As the party joins the Blues in spreading out to check out the fallen vigilantes, Blue Twelve proceeds straight to where the dark figure is holding Pru at bay with his sword.

"Why don't you finish her, dear master?" asks Blue Twelve impatiently.

"Because she is INNOCENT!" spits the dark figure in Her-Galad with a very strong Lyranell twang. He glances back over his shoulder. His eyes are no longer glowing, but with all the anger in them they might as well be. "She came here to rescue and protect one of her own. That's not a crime, is it?" He shuts off his sword (which then vanishes into thin air) and says to Pru in Yangae, "You. Over there." He nods toward where Mon'Fargret is tending to Vig. #1. "He needs help."

Pru looks ready to faint dead away in an instant, but she complies.

Blue Twelve is clearly shocked (and isn't the only one). "Dear master, what if she talks?"

The darkly-dressed person shrugs. "What if she does? She never gave the order to shoot. She never wanted to!" He gives Vig. #3's corpse a vicious kick. "This sludge-lump drew first blood in spite of her. By their own 'civilized' rules, that gave us every right to grind him into fertilizer. I'm sure she recognizes that." He glances at Pru and adds in Yangae, "Don't you?"

Pru looks up at him with fright, nods briskly, and goes back to assisting Mon'Fargret.

The dark figure turns his tangibly vehement gaze to Ham Sahladt. Surprisingly, he says something in Biton. Then he looks up and says (in Her-Galad again), "Blaghl, get the priestesses. We need them."

Blaghl bows and turns to go, but one of the Blues says, "Dear master, they're already coming!"

Indeed, one of the maintenance doors (the one on the right on the map) has opened, and Nekshi can be seen peeking out.

"Mon'Fargret," says the dark guy, "your friends are here. The way is open. Very good."

"Very good?" retorts Mey'Luskar half-hysterically in Her-Galad (the first time anyone has heard her speak that language) as she approaches, looking around at the fallen. "Very good?!? More blood on MY face!!!"

The dark figure looks at her, and his reaction is odd. His eyes widen for an instant, and then he looks away. "No," he says hoarsely. "Your face, and your soul, are clean. If there's any blame, it's mine." He looks over at the charred remains of the fallen Blue. "This is what I get for allowing myself to get rusty." He throws a vehement glance toward Nekshi. "And distracted!"

"But my..." starts Mey'Luskar in Her-Galad again, and then she gasps and switches to Yangae. "I knew some of them!" She takes a couple of steps toward where Vig. #2 is embedded in the wall. "Fel...she's...was...my friend!"

"Poisoned!" snaps the dark guy in Yangae, not looking at her. "She had the poison in her. Just like these two." He gestures toward Vig. #3 and Scan-helmet. "Any of them would have killed you in a second if they'd known the truth."

Realization crosses Mey'Luskar's face like a shadow. She puts her hand in her pocket.

The dark guy gestures understanding, still not looking at her. "She saw it, didn't she? With you?"

Mey'Luskar faints. One of the female Blues runs to her immediately.

The dark guy curses under his breath. Looking around, he says, "Fellows, here I'm known as The Cleaner. Welcome to my lair."

Visions in the Dark

(Illustrations may happen someday)

Ham and Mon'Fargret step out into the dim light of the main passageway and move cautiously toward the side passage where the scan broadcast was detected.  After a few seconds' pause, Mey'Luskar gathers her wits and follows, Dabid not far behind.  They arrive at the corner, and Ham looks at his scanner just in case.

Nothing.

"I don't think anyone's there," whispers Mey'Luskar.

"Allow me, my lord," says Dabid, and he steps into the entrance of the passage without waiting for a reply.  "The lady is right.  There's no one here.  But someone was here.  I can still see heat tracks in the cement."  He moves a short way into the passage and says, "There are stairs going down to a lower level.  Our visitor is down there.  But wait..."  He goes further in.  "This also connects with another side passage, and there are tracks there, too.  More than one set."

"We're surrounded," says Mey'Luskar.

***

The priestess resumes her tranquil smile.  "Well, telling me what you saw might help ensure that the mind-screw doesn't happen again."

Lirassa's lip curls.  Then she rubs the back of her neck, and her demeanor becomes calmer.  She takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and begins.  "I saw what looked like a brown dwarf star, spectral type L.  I've seen dozens of them.  But this one..."  She takes another deep breath.  "Something about it just guadet me.  Especially when it turned into a great, big eye!  And that face...it...uh..."  Her breath catches.  A puzzled look crosses her face, and she taps the back of her neck.

"Your implant won't stop the fear," retorts the priestess.  "It's too much a part of what you are.  I know what you saw.  My sisters and I have seen it, too.  I don't know why you were made to see it.  Did the face speak to you?"

Lirassa shivers.  "Yes.  Something about gathering the true, or wha..."

"What language did it speak?" interrupts the priestess.

Lirassa glances at Nekshi.  "Yangae!"  She turns to the priestess again.  "It was speaking Yangae!"

The priestess gestures understanding and looks at Nekshi.  "You saw the same vision, didn't you?"

"But they don't use that language!" protests Kuluf.

"This one does," replies the priestess gravely.

Arrivals

The van sets down on the landing area, and immediately the guide lights dim.

Four figures approach the van a bit warily. Two of them are priestesses. With them are a boy and a girl in acolyte robes, both apparently in their teens and rather disgruntled looking.

The investigator immediately gets out of the van and faces the four. No words are spoken. They simply bow to each other, palms pressed together prayer-style, and then look at each other for a time. Then the investigator opens the middle door of the van and invites the party to disembark.

"This is where we part," she says, "at least for now. I'm told the senior priestesses are occupied. The junior priestesses here will look after you. Your rooms are ready." Then she looks at Granite Spear thoughtfully. "Shurian...right. You need moisture."

She and the priestesses look at each other again. Again, no words are spoken, but the priestesses clearly react with uncertainty, even horror. They stare at Granite Spear, look at each other, and then look at the investigator again. They bow in perfect sync.

The investigator turns to Granite Spear and says, "I'm told both the pond in the garden and the main bath are open to you if you like. But if you use the pond, please don't eat too many of the fish."

Constable Pal'dun, who has also stepped out of the van, says, "Here's where I take my leave, too. Promise me that you'll do what you can to protect her." Then he bows Hergoth-style and intones, "May the Entity smile on you." The investigator echoes the greeting. Then the two Peace Forcers reenter the van.

As the van rises into the sky again, the two junior priestesses approach. There is a moment of awkward hesitation before one of them bows Hergoth-style and says, "Um, welcome to the Yanda Branch Temple. Your rooms are ready." She gestures toward a nearby building that is obviously a dormitory. Then she and her partner look at each other strangely. After a few heartbeats she turns to the party again and adds, "If you'll follow us, please." Then she glances at Granite Spear. "Um, or do you...want to go straight to the pond?"

***
When Ham's scanner beeps, Dabid practically dives back into the way-nest.

Confronting Ham (rather like a small, purple deer confronting a grizzly bear), he hisses, "What are you trying to do? Advertise our position to the whole damned tunnel?"

"They already know," retorts Mey'Luskar quietly. "That's what that noise was, wasn't it? Someone scanned us, didn't they?"

Revelations

Without waiting for an invitation, the Farbett who identified herself as Gek'nork plods right over to the alcove where Widjgleeby is waiting with Zeton and Ham. Sticking her head in, she rattles off a steady stream of very cheery-sounding Somekh. Then she pauses, scrutinizing the way-nest's occupants with her eyes and sniffer.

"Well, how interesting may is!" she says in very awkward-sounding Her-Galad. "So this one is biggest Hergoth I ever saw definitely!" She sniffs some more. "Doesn't smell Hergoth, but." Then she looks at Ham, thinks for a minute, and says in Yangae, "This one is Ibitonian!"

"This one is definitely Yangae," puts in her friend, nodding toward the other alcove where Mon'Fargret is just now peering out. Then, after looking at Mon'Fargret intently for a few seconds, she bows Foldorian style (which looks decidedly odd in the person of a Farbett) and says, "This one wishes the lord good evening! Is the lady okay?"

"Mm?" hums Gek'nork. Then the two have a "quick" conversation in Somekh, after which Gek'nork bows, too. "Oh! This one didn't know she was in the presence of a Manager! We beg the good lord's forgiveness!" Righting herself again, she adds, "So what brings the lord and lady down here to the tunnels, anyway?" Then she looks at Dabid and huffs. "Come to think of it, why is this whole lot down here, anyway? This just isn't right! I mean, really! Are you lost? Or maybe hi-ding?" Then she gasps. "Oh, my! You're not down here robbing Farbetts, are you? Or is this a purge? Nola-haya! Widjgleeby, manedama-messa-dendama-sobabamut-messa-dendali-fakaborg?!?"

"No, we're with Widjgleeby!" says Dabid defensively.

Gek'nork eyes him warily, and then she says, "But no one comes down here! Except the workers, of course. Oh, and the Farbetts! The only other ones down here are only here to cause trouble...or run from it! Either way, it's not very agreeable, is it?"

"Unless they're with that Cleaner fellow," suggests her companion, "or his bunch."

***
(Illustrations pending)

The van circles around and approaches Erweina from the south. The mountain becomes an ominous-looking form as it blots out the lights of downtown Mul'ein, black except for the steady beacon of the temple on its crown.

"The arrangements have been made," says the investigator. "Accommodations are ready for you. It won't be luxurious, but you'll be safe and comfortable. Most of the staff have bedded down for the night, but there are people there to look after you. You won't need to worry about anything."

"Except maybe my sanity?" mutters Lirassa. She heaves a long sigh and leans on her elbow against the window.

The investigator glares back at her. "You have nothing to worry about! I promise that you'll be left alone!"

"The problem is going to be getting the others here," says Pal'dun. "If they're with her, they've gone deep into hiding."

The investigator pauses. "Indeed. Very deep." She closes her eyes. "She's in pain, too. And afraid. She has opened her senses, which means her companions know her secret."

Pal'dun clicks his tongue. "You can sense all that yourself?"

"No," replies the investigator, "but we can." With that, she reaches under her collar and pulls something out. A brooch on a chain.

A brooch of a low-ranked priestess.

Questions, Questions, Questions...

As the trio marches off to the flat under escort, an ambulance flyer arrives, settling down onto the street near where the Annuitis merc fell. There are also a few more officers on flyer bikes coming in.

The trio eventually arrives at the flat to find it already being examined. There are a couple of armed and armored officers together with a small team of investigators with ordinary uniforms and scanning equipment.

On seeing the trio, one of the uniformed investigators, a female, looks at them thoughtfully, and then shoulders her scanner and approaches.

"You are Nekshi, right?" she asks in (rather proper-sounding) psy-translated Her-Galad. "And you are Granite Spear?" Without waiting for a reply, she turns and starts pointing at the holes in the north and northwest walls. "These holes were caused by high-speed, small-caliber slugs," she reports with obvious pride in her own cleverness, "most likely armor-piercing types with delayed deformation for increased impact trauma. The trajectory indicates they were fired from outside, the vectors converging on a site where a damaged weapon matching the profile has been recovered."

She points at bloodstains on the floor in two locations, and her look becomes more intent. "There were wounded at these locations."

She then proceeds to the hole in the wall next to the door. "This was caused by a shattering effect. Carbon scoring on some of the debris indicates that it was the result of a spontaneous thermal shock wave, most likely caused by a pulse-laser or low-power, pulse-fired plasma or thermal device." Her brows furrow a bit. "It was fired from inside the room."

Lirassa yawns. And then glares back at the chorus of stares directed at her by the surrounding Peace Forcers.

The investigator maintains her intent glare for only about a second and then strides purposefully toward the south wall. "These two holes," she says, pointing, "with matching damage paths traveling through inner walls, cookware, and exiting the building, were caused by a hadron-baffling weapon with a tight disruption pattern, such as a pinlaser or a phased-energy weapon in linear disrupt mode. The vectors and damage pattern indicate that the weapon was fired from a position outside in the garden."

Clasping her hands behind her back, the investigator approaches again and stops directly in front of the trio. Fixing her eyes on Lirassa, she says, "You're hard to read. Resisting me won't help you." Glancing at Nekshi and Granite Spear in turn, she says, "From both of you I understand that my description has been accurate. I also sense that you were the victims of a pre-planned attack. The report given to us by the security officer here corroborates this, and though his opinion of you is, shall we say, less than favorable, he has personally vouched for you. However, I have three serious concerns." She gestures toward the hole near the front door. "One of them is the question of who shot first." Her brows furrow. "I see that it was one of your party, as I suspected. I sense that you believed you were in danger and that it was a defensive action, but this can complicate matters. Next is the matter of the other members of your group." She gestures toward the blood stains where Zeton was hit. "This one was a Lybolt. The other was Foldorian. Where are they?" She pauses. "Do they need medical assistance? I'm not seeing anything clear. You're not totally sure, are you? A dark space...hmm." She pauses again and then clicks her tongue. "I hope you'll tell me more, especially with regard to the third matter." She takes a step closer toward Nekshi. "How did all this happen in the first place? What was the reason for the attack? What w..."

Suddenly she gasps, and her eyes go wide. The other Peace Forces whose faces you can see seem similarly surprised.

"Wh-what is...your connection with..." begins the officer.

Then the door bangs open.

"I believe I have jurisdiction here!" cries a hoarse-sounding voice in Her-Galad with a strong Lyranell twang. The officer that steps in removes his helmet to reveal Constable Betham. He looks absolutely exhausted. He also looks about ready to peel someone like a banana. "If there are going to be any questions, I'm going to ask them, feel? And who in Ganneth's Grave sent for you R'weinaia, anyway? Answer me that!"

The investigator strikes a self-important pose. "Central Command," she replies flatly. "You were clearly occupied and unable to..."

"...occupied and unable to...," echoes Betham, mimicking her Ergothei pronunciation. "Yeah, yeah, I feel. Well, I'm here now, and this is my game, so stand aside!"

The investigator makes a Hergoth gesture of indifference and clicks her heels. "As you wish, Constable. Do you wish to see the report?"

Betham glares at her with astonishement. "Report? But you've only been..." Then he sighs and waves her off. "Later! Later! Right now..." He glances around at the holes and blood stains and gives a Hergoth gesture of annoyance. "Waste!" he hisses. Then he walks over to the trio. Glaring at Lirassa, he snarls, "How surprised...or not...I am to see you here! At least you're not stunned this time. Yet."

Lirassa snorts.

Then Betham turns toward Granite Spear, leans closer, thinks better of it, and leans toward Nekshi instead. "She was here, wasn't she? You know who I'm talking about! She was here! Flames, I warned Mon'Fargret not to get involved!" He gestures at the blood stain. "Now look what it got you! Nekshi, I know you're not the sort to court trouble, except maybe for a good story, but you don't know what you're messing with here!"

"Neither do you, Constable," retorts the investigator. "I don't think any of us do."

***

Mey'Luskar stifles a sob, sniffles a couple of times, and then says weakly, "I never did explain what this is all about, did I?" She sniffs again. "Is that why we stopped here? Okay. I guess I owe you that much."

Those in the party without night vision can't really see what she's doing very well, but it's clear she's messing with something in her pocket.

"In about two weeks," she says, "there'll be an advertisement for a special broadcast of the Second Chancers' club performances. They'll also say that there's a video version of it for sale."

She clutches the item in her pocket.

"This is it. And it's not what you think. It's much worse. Much, much, MUCH worse!"

She breaks into sobs.

The Aftermath

Granite Spear dives for the side door of the vehicle, which is standing open. As she does so, she's given a sudden, unexpected push from behind, sending her flying straight out through the portal and onto the sidewalk. As she hits the pavement and rolls out of the fall, the door snaps shut with an abrupt thunk and pressurizes.

Granite Spear, Ham, and Lirassa stare in surprise as the vehicle lifts off the ground, retracts its wheels, pivots, and shoots off toward the river.

Back in the flat, Widjgleeby lifts Zeton like a rag doll and tosses him over her shoulder. (Luckily, her spine doesn't poke him in the eye, but it does give him a jab in the ear.)

Mey'Luskar regards Dabid blankly for a second or two, and then she looks down her nose at him and says arrogantly, "After thee, blue."

Dabid sighs. "Yes, lady," he replies with a curt bow. Then he turns and heads out the front door.

The Rakh Hits the...er...whatever it hits...

There is a flurry of quiet activity in the room.

Ham Sahladt is reconfiguring himself in anticipation.

Mon'Fargret is thoughtfully eying the woman outside through the narrow opening in the door while readying his gear.

Lirassa is crouching, tensed as if to spring, behind the chair, the reconfigured hot comb (which no longer looks like a hot comb) clutched in her hand and a very intense look on her face.

Dabid is standing near the media terminal actively wishing he were somewhere else.

Widjgleeby, smelling all the tension in the air, turns her attention toward the room but keeps her bec-de-spoon raised.

Mey'Luskar is trembling, but her fears seem to be about evenly divided between the Farbett and the person at the door.

Nekshi takes a step backward from the door, still looking puzzled.

Zeton moves quietly toward her, intent on moving her still further from the door.

Heaven only knows what Granite Spear is doing.

Mira (if that is her real name), can be heard to chortle. Then she says, "Alright, then. Fools."