"Am I mistaken, Crowbar?" Jadhara asked, into the silence of the theatre. Lemuel's name was one to conjure with, and what it conjured, apparently, was stunned silence.

"Nope. You'll be able to see for yourself in a minute, now you've said his fucking name. Did I not mention that?" McKenzie asked exasperatedly.

"He is reckoned a god. The standard terms of any Arrangement or Appointment exclude any liability for divine intervention. Allshield, you have not failed."

If Allshield had any emotional reaction to this news, he didn't show it. He didn't even get up.

"This is pure nonsense!" Bladehand snapped. "The gods are not in the habit of manifesting solely to eliminate trollish gangsters!"

McKenzie felt a flash of magic. "Well, not solely. I was in town on other business, and just happened to find myself in the area," a new voice said.

McKenzie shot a look at Jadhara. "See? This is what happens when people ignore me. Vengeful gods from the dawn of time turn up and ruin everyone's fucking day."

He turned to face the back of the stage. Lemuel, dressed in white clothing of the local style, had appeared. There was a bearded man in red robes with him - and he was toting an AK47. They both radiated magic: the gunwizard was maybe a 0.8 on the Danandra-do-not-fuck-with-scale. Lemuel was a localised supernova.

"Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt," the guy in red robes said, with a pronounced accent.

"Are you Russian?" McKenzie was moved to ask, despite this being probably one of the less important things currently requiring his attention.

The man nodded. "Da. I am really Russian, and this is really gun, Mr. Crowbar. I know about you from the boss here and from back in the old country before that, so I know you are not worried about bullets even in the head-"

"Finally, someone gets it," McKenzie interjected. "Hall-e-fucking-lujah."

"-so do not make me use it on your friends, okay?" The man finished.

McKenzie grunted.

Bladehand had lost his smug demeanour. Everyone could sense Lemuel's power, not just McKenzie.

Allshield rose to his feet, seeming to be completely unbothered by the sudden arrival of the being that had thrown him several streets through a wall. "The clause applies," he announced. "My request is withdrawn."

"Whoop de fucking do," McKenzie muttered sarcastically.

"Well, you've certainly been a busy boy, old friend," Lemuel said. "Although the mission was to infiltrate the Guild, not decimate it's ranks." He prodded at a body with the toe of one shoe: very earthen brogues rather than local boots, McKenzie noticed. "Come with me - we must go and find our other colleagues."

"Fuck your mission and fuck you too, Lem," McKenzie said, in no mood to engage in persiflage. Was he cursed again? Was he free? He wasn't immediately exploding into violence directed at Lemuel, it was true, even though he really, really wanted to. Was it holding him back?

"Nice to see you again too," Lemuel replied. "Well then ladies, gentlemen and assorted sentient creatures: I am only here to collect Crowbar and leave, not to mete out the justice which I'm sure you all so richly deserve. This is something for which you should be profoundly grateful."

Bladehand nodded warily. "I see no reason for unpleasantness. Brothers and sisters, let us adjourn temporarily. Brother Crowbar has a personal matter to attend to and-"

That was as far as he got. Allshield's fist shot out, smashed through the magical shield in a shower of sparks and deprived Bladehand of consciousness. He was slammed backwards, knocking over two or three of his followers.

"An adjournment is unnecessary," Allshield said. "I was not here for the election. That was my vote. Brother Crowbar and Brother Crowbar alone is the High Assassin. Does anyone wish to dispute this?"

Allshield, it would seem, had a bit of a reputation: there were no takers. In fact, in the face of deities from history suddenly appearing and their leader being punched out and deposed by a mobile statue, most of the assassins in the room seemed to have decided that enough was enough. Each assassin bowed, murmured 'High Assassin', and made a swift exit: either in a flash of magic or simply walking away. Only one was bucking the trend: McKenzie saw Anjarong vault down from where he'd been fighting in the stalls and head towards the stage.

Lemuel clapped slowly. "Ah, golems. It really is a shame there are so few of you left. Well, mission accomplished, it would seem, McKenzie. I sent you here to infiltrate the Guild, and you end up as High Assassin. Top marks. Now, let us be gone."

"Nightwing, Allshield, I'd go, if I were you. This is personal and it's likely to get messy. Explosions and fireballs messy," McKenzie said.

Jadhara shook her head."No, I believe I will stay. Allshield, you should take Bladehand and go with Curveknife to his sister. She will deliver him to a Client he blackmailed, who does not forgive such transgressions. That seems just."

McKenzie realised that Curveknife must be Anjarong.

"I too will stay," Allshield said, surprising McKenzie. "Curveknife can take the traitor to his justice by himself: he will not awaken soon."

"Perhaps later, if we live," Anjarong said. Apparently he was bent on pointless heroics, too.

"Seriously, all of you, do one," McKenzie advised.

"I will not abandon the High Assassin," Allshield said.

"I quit. Find a new one. Now go," McKenzie said.

"I will not abandon the man who set my brother's spirit free," Anjarong said.

"We're already even on that. Go," McKenzie told him.

"I will not abandon the friend who risked his freedom and liberty to restore my own," Jadhara said.

Lemuel looked genuinely touched. "See, McKenzie? Trust and loyalty. Inspiring, isn't it? You had this once, as a soldier in service of the Great Work. You can have it again. Come back to the path of light and-"

"Don't you ever fucking shut up about that? You sound like a bloody Jehovah's Witness," McKenzie cut in, then turned back to Jadhara, Allshield and Anjarong. "Please, pretty please with fucking sugar all bastarding over it, go. I don't want anyone here hurt."

"There's no need for violence, McKenzie," Lemuel said. "If you come with me and return to your role in the great plan, then your charming friend and her associates will come to no harm."

McKenzie gritted his teeth. Lemuel, damn him to hell, knew him too well. He didn't have to explicitly threaten Jadhara - he knew McKenzie wouldn't let her get killed. McKenzie exhaled, and thudded the sword into the stage. Lemuel had won this round. He started to take a step forward.

"No!" Jadhara said.

"Out of options, Poshblades," McKenzie shrugged.

"Think about something, Crowbar," Jadhara said. "Why is he asking you?"

"Don't be subtle, Jadhara," McKenzie said. "Just come out with it."

Jadhara sighed. "He's not simply ordering you to go with him or do his bidding," she said, eyeing Lemuel. "He is endeavouring to persuade you, because he cannot make you. Just like Bladehand knew his only chance at victory was to persuade me to leave, Lemuel the White knows his only chance is to persuade you to go with him. If you take that step, I very strongly suspect you'll lose your freedom. I'm afraid, in all good conscience, that's not something I can allow you to do."

"Blimey. Tensest moment out of forty eight hours full of very little else but tense moments, and you manage a speech with 'endeavouring' and 'in all good conscience' wedged into it," McKenzie observed.

"And you manage to point it out," she noted.

McKenzie realised that she was right. Lemuel suddenly looked infinitely saddened. The Russian looked nervous: not what you want to see when an automatic weapon is involved.

McKenzie pulled the sword out of the stage again. "It is fuckin' broke, then."

Lemuel sighed. "Yes, McKenzie. Your sagacious friend is quite right. If you had left with me of your own free will I may have been able to repair it, but you have somehow contrived to destroy any trace of compulsion it once possessed. The curse is indeed broken. It was a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Unique. Irreplaceable. And you have ruined it." Lemuel glared at him.

"Oops," McKenzie said sarcastically, then his eyes narrowed. "You better start worrying, Lem. You're a fucking dead god walking," he growled.

Lemuel shook his head. "No, old friend. I'm not worried. Oh, I freely admit that a confrontation - especially on this world - could all too easily end with the destruction of both of us: not to mention the entire city and who knows how much of the surrounding countryside. That thought might stay your hand, but you're not the sort of chap who thinks that far ahead. No, I stand here without fear because while your friends are in the firing line - literally - you won't do anything. It's one of your best and worst qualities."

He was right. It was a standoff. McKenzie glared at Lemuel. Lemuel maintained his look of infinite sadness.

"Um, what next?" McKenzie asked Jadhara in a low tone.

"Negotiate," she said.

"With him? He's a fucking arsehole!"

"I heard that," Lemuel said.

"Good!" McKenzie told him.

"He's a potential Client," Jadhara said. "He evidently had plans for you here. He's lost his power to compel you to follow his orders, but gods are rarely short of other means of inducement."

"Nuh-uh," McKenzie said. "No way. I don't need any money."

"There are currencies other than gold. He could open doors for us," Jadhara said.

"I can open doors by myself. You reach out and turn the handle, and if it doesn't open you hit it until it does," McKenzie shrugged.

Jadhara looked upwards, took a deep breath, and expelled it. "Doors such as portals, which can transport people from one world to another," she said, and gave him a meaningful look.

"Oh!" The penny dropped.

"Finally." Jadhara rolled her eyes.

"Lem," McKenzie said. "Let's cut to the chase here. I want to get back home. You want...well, fuck knows what you want, but like Jadhara here says, maybe there's room for a deal. What's a two-person ticket home gonna cost me?"

Lemuel's eyebrow raised "Two people?" He asked.

"I have made many enemies in my lifetime, Lord Lemuel - powerful enemies who do not forget or forgive," Jadhara said. "But none who can reach across worlds. I would sleep easier at night under different stars. Also, I do not intend to sleep beneath them alone - that will be three 'tickets' please, not two."

McKenzie looked at Jadhara inquiringly - as did Anjarong, although Allshield didn't react. Jadhara merely smiled.

"What you ask is no small undertaking, Assassin," Lemuel said.

"I severely doubt the reciprocal Arrangement will transpire to be a small undertaking," Jadhara countered. "You would hardly require Crowbar's services otherwise."

"There will be sacrifices required, my dear. Human sacrifices, lest you mistake my meaning," Lemuel added.

"Fortunately for these purposes, people undeserving of life are not in short supply. I'm sure we can scare up some likely candidates," Jadhara replied.

"Steady on!" McKenzie cut in.

"You weren't so bothered about Aghkar's death, don't pretend you've suddenly developed a conscience." Jadhara waved aside his objection.

"Yeah, but you don't just calmly state it like that," McKenzie told her. "I thought you were all about the ethical target policy thing?"

"I am," Jadhara replied. "But there are many more Aghkars in Vyrinios, and any of their lives are more than a fair trade for such a prize."

"Remind me not to get on your wrong side," McKenzie told her.

"Oh, I will."

Lemuel had been considering this while they bickered. "Hmm," he said. "What quintessence has broken, it may yet repair. Here is my price for your three journeys. Swear me your allegiance, McKenzie - as anyone might normally swear, no curse for you this time - and, how shall I put this? Throw your recently acquired magical weight behind my attempts to bring your erstwhile associates back under the curse's power."

McKenzie snorted. "Like fuck I would! No deal, Lemuel."

"If you're worried about their opinion of you, I'm sure we can keep your involvement a secret," he offered.

"God, you're a real piece of work, d'you know that?" McKenzie shook his head.

"I merely do what must be done to ensure the-" Lemuel started.

"-success of your mythical fucking plan, yeah. Whatevs. It's still no deal. There is no power on heaven or earth – any earth - that will make me help you re-establish that bloody curse," McKenzie said, with feeling. Then he turned to Jadhara. "Sorry."

Jadhara shrugged. "We have merely opened negotiations, Crowbar." She turned and addressed Lemuel. "The High Assassin's word is final in such matters, I'm afraid. However, we are more than-"

"Silence," Lemuel said, and Jadhara, with a surprised look, fell silent. "I am no common criminal to be bartered with, mortal. I had hoped to avoid unpleasantness, McKenzie, but as ever when dealing with you, I am left with no choice. You will join your powers to mine and re-establish the curse, or your friends here will die. Callena, Sharinta and Danandra will die. Anyone on this world that you care about will die. My vengeance is no small thing, McKenzie. I am as implacable as you, and I-"

McKenzie abruptly snapped. He launched himself at Lemuel with a snarl. The Russian fired - McKenzie felt the impact of bullets into his chest and forehead, but the man might aswell have tickled him for all the good they did.

Lemuel didn't make the mistake of lashing out with magic - instead his response quite literally brought the house down. With a flicking gesture, Lemuel caused the theatre's roofbeams to tear themselves free and slam into the stage with splintering force, forming a wooden barricade. McKenzie slammed into it, and finding it impossible to smash through, tried to jump over it. Lemuel made it higher and wider with additional beams, making a fort around himself and the Russian.

This, of course, caused the roof to fall in, but Lemuel had a use for that too. Chunks of plaster rained down and filled the air with choking white dust, and then the roof tiles started attacking McKenzie. Tile after tile slammed into McKenzie, smashing themselves to pieces against his hastily raised arms. It was a sizeable building so there were a lot of tiles, and every single one hit him.

McKenzie growled and tried to bat the tiles out of the way, but it was useless. Soon he was buried under a pile of smashed ceramics.

Lemuel wasn't finished yet, though. The pile of tiles raised up into the air in a whirling mass of red, with McKenzie somewhere in the centre of it, held there by thrashing tiles. Then they began to glow.

The other people in the building hadn't simply stood and gaped through all this. Anjarong and Allshield were both heading for the exit - Anjarong was dragging Bladehand and Allshield was dragging Nightwing.

"No!" She was trying to get loose.

"There is nothing you can do to help the High Assassin," Allshield said - he had a firm grip on both her arms. "If we remain here, I cannot envisage any other result than our deaths. We must escape while we can."

"I feel this dishonour as keenly as you, but Brother Allshield is right!" Anjarong agreed - unlike Allshield, he had to shout in order to be heard.

Then there was a blast of heat. Nightwing, struggling against the golem's protective grip, saw that the tiles had melted and coalesced into a glowing red sphere. Then there was a blast of cold, a creaking noise and a loud thump. A blackened, smoking ball of ceramic was occupying stage centre, where McKenzie had been standing. It rolled ponderously forward, tipped over the edge of the stage and thunked into the stalls, where it came to rest. The roof beams fell to the stage: Lemuel was finished with them.

The sphere started, almost immediately, to crack – as if under intense pressure from the inside. With a frown of effort, Lemuel surrounded it with a spherical shield, holding it in shape. The shield continued to spark and shimmer as McKenzie tried to fight his way out, but there was a thick layer of ceramic preventing him from touching the shield directly. It held.

The trio of assassins had reached the doors.

"Boss?" Sergei asked Lemuel, taking aim at the fleeing quartet.

"Seal them in," Lemuel ground out.

Sergei muttered a few words of magic, and the doors slammed shut. Allshield slammed his fist into them, but they held. He tried the wall to either side: same result.

Lemuel was sweating with effort as McKenzie continued to rage away inside the ceramic sphere. Huge sections of it would expand outwards with showers of magical sparks before snapping back. When the sparks hit the floor, bizarre and unpredictable things happened. They started fires, turned what they struck into glass, made it levitate or teleported things randomly about the theatre. When they hit a corpse, they brought it back to life for a few seconds: soon there was a chorus of screams and moans competing with the building shriek of overstressed magic.

"Er, boss?" Sergei asked, suddenly a lot less enthusiastic about his current role in the proceedings.

Lemuel raised his hands in front of him, as if he was physically wrestling with McKenzie. Sergei dodged another curtain of sparks, then turned his head to look with a certain amount of longing at the exit. He yelped as he felt something try to pull the AK47 from his grasp.

It was the reanimated corpse of a pale-haired elf assassin, his head nearly separated from his shoulders and flopping around.

The corpse's face was set into an expression of fear and shock, and it's mouth worked silently, attempting to form words. Then another spark turned it to stone.

Sergei swallowed, then tried to retrieve the rifle from the statue's stony grasp, but it was stuck fast. His nerve abruptly broke: "Fuck this," he muttered to himself.

"I will, um, see you outside boss okay?" Sergei gabbled, then fled, abandoning the gun. He ran for the exit, bringing down his magical seal as he approached.

"Er, no hard feelings, okay? When your boss is a god, what can you do?" He said apologetically to the assassins as he scurried out past them.

Allshield didn't try to stop him, but dragged Jadhara out through the door, with Anjarong right on his heels, still pulling Bladehand behind him. Magical shrapnel followed them out into the lobby, wreaking more havoc – they kept going, out into the street. Jadhara fought Allshield the whole way.

There was chaos outside – people were running away from the theatre, as well they might: not only was a pall of smoke rising from it, but said smoke was illuminated from beneath by repeated magical detonations in lurid colours. The racket of tortured magic and the moans of the temporarily-undead were hardly any less frightening. A few city guards were hanging uncertainly around, aware that their oath of duty meant they couldn't flee, but unsure what they should do. There was no sign of the terrified mage.

A section of the theatre wall abruptly exploded outwards as a particularly violent fountain of sparks set a new distance record. The rubble spontaneously self-assembled into a grasping hand which reached towards the assassins, but then dashed itself to gravel as it came up against a hemispherical shield, which seemed to encompass the entire theatre. The noise of magic and moaning subsided – but inside, the destruction seemed to be rising.

"Who's doing that?" Jadhara asked, reaching out toward the shield.

"That would be me, madam assassin," came a male voice from behind. "I wouldn't recommend touching it – it's not quite as stable or well put-together as I'd like, to be perfectly honest. It's powered by the magical fallout I created it to contain, you see, and it's very unstable in there."

"It will serve, Master Talius," a woman's voice said with firmness. "You have wrought well."

Nightwing whirled around to see the Archmage of Melindron, a pair of elven mages, another mage and a cleric of Arctan standing in the street. They had not been standing there a moment before.

"Your Wisdom!" Nightwing said, characteristically remembering the correct form of address even in the throes of extreme stress and worry for McKenzie. "Please allow me back into the theatre – my friend is in there, he is in great danger, and-"

"We are also here to help McKenzie. I presume you are Nightwing – your assistance would be appreciated but you would be killed almost instantly if I allowed you through that shield, and Madam Listra would not, I fear, forgive me," the Archmage interrupted her.

Nightwing blinked at her. "Then how can I hel-"

"Tell me – quickly but accurately - what happened in there," the Archmage asked. Nightwing did so – having collected her wits again in the past few moments, her précis was quick but covered every salient point, and was, of course, flawlessly well constructed.

"Then we are too late," one of the elven mages – the female one, whom Nightwing presumed to be Danandra of the Cloud Kingdom – said, once Nightwing had provided her eyewitness account.

"On the contrary, I believe our timing is perfect," the Archmage replied with equanimity, then addressed Anjarong in flawless Izmodeian. "Good Brother Assassin, I would not impugn your skills, but I believe you may best help McKenzie by conveying the comatose man who I presume to be the former High Assassin into the custody of Lady Jenata. This is probably best achieved via your sister, who conveniently is currently running towards us. You had then best see to her safety – this may get 'messy', as I believe McKenzie might say."

Anjarong didn't waste any time querying how the Archmage knew that Onzanali, who was approaching from behind at high speed accompanied by several other weres, was his sister, or how she knew about McKenzie's deal with Jenata. He simply nodded and dragged Bladehand in her direction, waving for Onzanali to return to the building she had just exited.

"Excellent. Master Golem, you appear to have taken charge of protecting Nightwing. I will not waste time by trying to persuade her to retreat. Could I prevail on you to continue to do what you can to protect her?" The Archmage asked Allshield.

"I accept your charge. I shall protect her from this malevolant deity or die trying," Allshield replied.

"Allshield, you should leave-" Nightwing started to say.

"I have spoken," Allshield cut in, and stepped between her and Talius' shield. "Proceed, Your Wisdom. I would see the High Assassin restored to us."

"Very well. Danandra: you are an exceptionally fine practitioner of teleportation. Your task will be to retrieve McKenzie so we can put a stop to this dangerous confrontation," Xixaxa said. "Heska: Danandra has talent and expertise enough for this task, but she is wanting power. We shall supply that."

Dananda swallowed, looking uncertain. Heska nodded – and then put her hand on Danandra's shoulder, as did the Archmage.

Danandra still looked unconvinced she was up to it. It was hard to blame her – while the Archmage had been issuing instructions, the last remnants of the theatre had been consumed by magic: the shield was now containing a maelstrom of naked magical destruction.

"You can do this," Talius told her. Danandra set her jaw and nodded.

"When we have him, Lady Callena, and our former master emerges from the ruins to claim him back, there may be a need for protection," Xixaxa said to Cally.

"Your Wisdom, with respect, we are none of us here so innocent that I would be able to protect us from a god," Cally replied.

"You misunderstand, Lady Callena. I do not want you to protect us: I want you to protect the city from us," the Archmage clarified.

"Oh. I see," Cally looked surprised, as well she might.

"Vyrinios, of course, is just overflowing with innocence," Danandra murmured.

Xixaxa didn't pass comment on that. "Let us proceed before this escalates further. When you are ready, Danandra," the Archmage said.

Danandra reached out with her will – she would have to extend it through two shields in order to retrieve McKenzie. Talius' shield allowed her through with goodwill, and the sense of his magic sent a pleasurable sensation running through her that she had to work hard to not be distracted by. Beyond it was chaos: Lord Lemuel was throwing inconceivable magic into containing McKenzie, and McKenzie was lashing out against it. Danandra drew on the power supplied by the Archmage and Heska and steadied her mind. She drove herself through the roiling sphere of Lemuel's magic – it was powerful, but had a ruthless quality that repelled her - and located McKenzie, who was thrashing around inside, fighting both physically against the ceramic, which had re-melted, and magically with bursts of rage-fuelled quintessence. She had to wrench her will to one side to avoid one.

McKenzie! She thought at him.

"Wh-" McKenzie tried to answer, but his mouth immediately filled with red hot molten tiles and he started thrashing around all the more, making it impossible for Danandra to get her magic around him.

Will you stop that and keep still! She hissed mentally. I'm trying to get you out of here!

McKenzie ceased his struggling long enough for Danandra to initiate a teleportation. She fed power into it and released the spell – the magic flared, came up against Lemuel's shield and failed. She tried again, this time leaning harder into the power supplied by the Archmage and Heska, but failed once more. This time she lost concentration, and felt her grip on McKenzie loosen: it was too chaotic. She fell back against the Archmage and Heska with a gasp.

"The interference within was too great, I take it?" The Archmage asked.

"Yes. I tried, twice, but-" Danandra started to explain.

"Then you have succeeded," the Archmage cut her off, "if McKenzie can be relied on to recall that he can reproduce the effec-"

There was a sudden detonation from above. Everyone looked up to see a figure falling from the sky. McKenzie had materialised in the correct location horizontally, but, it seemed, had been less successful in judging height: or keeping it quiet. Everyone stepped back as he thudded into the ground.

He rolled over onto his back, spat out some powdered, smoking tile dust, and blinked. Everyone looked at him.

"Next time I start to think my day might have finished getting worse, can someone remind me about what just happened?" He finally said.

"Crowbar!" Jadhara said. "Are you injured?"

"No. Monumentally pissed off, yes. Injured, no. Thanks for the teleportation tutorial, Danandra. I think." McKenzie stood up and, for the he'd-forgotten-how-many times that day, dusted himself off. He regarded the shield. The magic roared on inside it – Lemuel, it seemed, hadn't noticed his opponent had decamped. "Right. Can someone bring this thing down for me? I've got a sudden need to go kick a god really hard in the bollocks."

"McKenzie, even I do not know who would emerge triumphant if you were to resume your confrontation with Lemuel. I could not even say if either of you would survive. I do, however, know that the release of energy would be indescribably catastrophic on a scale seldom seen in history. I will be forever in your debt for breaking the curse, and doubly so for your refusal to ally yourself with Lemuel in return for a way back to your own plane of existence, but if you persist in trying to kill him I shall open a portal to hell right under your feet and drop you through it," the Archmage told him.

"You think that'd be enough to stop me? I'll find a way back and when I do you better pray that Lem-" McKenzie began to snarl.

"Gods above, McKenzie, will you listen!" Danandra shouted – this was surprising enough that everyone stopped to look at her. "The Archmage knows you'd find a way back. The entire reason she's making that particular threat is you wouldn't be hurt. It's you, you'd probably, I don't know, marry a succubus and beat up the devil at the wedding reception. Her actual point, if you'd stop blustering long enough to bloody well understand it, is that you wouldn't be here to continue a fight with Lemuel that would inevitably result in a magical explosion large and terrifying enough that even I wouldn't want to be anywhere near enough to see it because it would level the city. Now, can you please stop being an aggressive idiot so that maybe, just maybe, we can get through today without you destroying Vyrinios?"

McKenzie blinked in surprise, then turned to the Archmage. "Okay. You could've been a bit clearer, to be fair. Next time, Xixaxa, maybe lead with 'if you carry on like this you'll blow up the city', okay?"

The Archmage raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, what was unclear about 'indescribably catastrophic on a scale seldom seen in history'? Too many syllables?"

McKenzie glowered at her, then sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry. Any time now though, Lemuel's gonna suss out that I'm not in there anymore and come out swinging. What do I do then, use offensive language?"

"I imagine you probably won't be able to stop yourself, no," Danandra commented.

"What we will do, McKenzie, is resist him. Together," Xixaxa answered.

McKenzie frowned. "Sorry, didn't I just get a sarcastic bollocking for suggesting doing that?"

Xixaxa sighed. "There is no time for me to elucidate further. Will you please follow my lead? No more violence: no matter what happens."

"McKenzie, please listen to her," Cally spoke.

"She is, without doubt, our best chance at surviving this," Nightwing added.

"I strongly suggest you take the Archmage of Melindron's counsel, High Assassin," Allshield said, surprising McKenzie. "Not for no reason is she addressed as 'Your Wisdom'."

"Yeah, thanks for the tip, Rocky, but I still haven't entirely forgiven you for throwing my arse through a wall yet," McKenzie said. "Since I'm outvoted everyone-to-one, though, fine: it's your show, Xixaxa, so- Hey, where's Leni? I thought you nicked her back from Iyanus before Lem offed him. Please tell me she's dead."

"She's here – but this is not the time for explanations," Xixaxa said. "Now, would you please be so good as to put your hand through Master Talius' shield and deal with all the magic within?"

"Just like that?" McKenzie queried.

"What makes you simultaneously very useful and very dangerous is that there is no upper limit on the amount of energy a quintessent may hold," the Archmage answered.

McKenzie moved forward.

"At least that we know about," the Archmage added. "Without too many side effects."

McKenzie hesitated. "Are you fucking with me?"

The Archmage actually smiled.

McKenzie snorted his opinion of that, but plunged his hand through the shield nevertheless: making a particular one-fingered gesture as he did so. The effect was immediate, and would actually have been quite pleasant for McKenzie if the situation hadn't been quite so fraught. The magic within seemed desperate to escape from the limits Talius was imposing upon it, and rushed almost eagerly into his hand. Talius' shield flared then died, and McKenzie sparked a little bit.

The theatre was completely gone: not just damaged, not even merely demolished, but gone. When Talius' shield came down, it revealed a perfectly hemispherical crater of smooth, melted stone: as deep as Talius' shield had been tall. Only two things remained within: a large ceramic sphere hovering in mid-air and Lemuel.

Lemuel didn't seem angry or vengeful to discover that his quarry had escaped. With a sigh, he levitated himself up and out of the depression and let the sphere fall: it started rolling from side to side, like some sort of large-scale demonstration of momentum.

He set himself down on the edge of the depression, facing McKenzie and the others.

McKenzie hadn't stopped making the gesture yet: he blew on his finger, which was still sparking slightly, and then put it away as if holstering a gun. Lemuel ignored this.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Xixaxa," Lemuel addressed the Archmage. "Are you the spokesperson for this deputation I see before me?"

"Lord Lemuel," the Archmage responded. "I am."

"You swore, not so long ago, that you would not make any more attempts to break the curse," Lemuel sighed, looking once again infinitely saddened.

"An oath one is compelled to swear under duress is oft-times looked on askance by the gods," Xixaxa replied equably.

"Not this oath, and not this god," Lemuel told her.

Xixaxa inclined her head. "In any case, I kept it's terms. We stand now in the aftermath of a charm I cast long ere I bent knee before you in the forest."

Lemuel nodded in acceptance of this. "And for that, I'm afraid, you must die."

Danandra, Cally and Heska all shouted in dismay, but nobody moved.

Lemuel raised his hand. McKenzie was about to go for him, but then the Archmage's earlier injunction rang so loud in his mind that there was little doubt she'd just repeated it, somehow: no more violence!

Lemuel pointed a finger at Xixaxa. Xixaxa simply stood.

Lemuel lowered his arm. "What have you done?" He asked.

"I'm afraid I've been a little less than honest with everyone. The curse is not broken, Lord Lemuel. I never intended to break it. Even I would not dare destroy that which a god has wrought – it's probably bad luck. I'm afraid I couldn't quite resist the urge to tinker a little bit, though. You know how it is." Xixaxa smiled – she had, McKenzie noted, a downright evil grin when she felt like it.

"What have you done?" Lemuel repeated his question.

"Oh, I made a few alterations here and there. Only one is germane at the present moment, though. The injunction against causing harm now covers all of us, Lord Lemuel, including you," Xixaxa answered. "It's not quite what it was - I believe we could hurt each other quite severely, if we were to really put our hearts into it – but nobody else is dying today."

McKenzie had the satisfaction, then, of seeing Lemuel look shocked. He burst out laughing. "Xixxy, you are one sneaky conniving cow, and I could seriously kiss you right now."

"Pray restrain yourself, Lord McKenzie. We are engaged upon serious discussions at present," Xixaxa replied smoothly.

Lemuel snarled and raised his hand towards Allshield and Jadhara. "Not everyone stood before me was a tool of the Great Work, McKenzie. Let us see how much mirth you can summon when your assassin friends are-"

Allshield thrust Jadhara behind him, and turned his back on Lemuel to act as the shield he was named for: but nothing happened. Lemuel stopped, and – to McKenzie's renewed laughter – shook his arm as if something within was jammed. He tried the same on Talius, again with no effect.

The Archmage coughed delicately. "I took the precaution of extending the curse to cover the more recent arrivals."

"What was meddled with may yet be repaired," Lemuel said threateningly.

"Indeed. One needs only a co-operative quintessent to provide the raw power. Do you happen to know one?" The Archmage replied with an innocent look.

Lemuel snarled again, in helpless fury.

"Oh man, I take it back about today. Best day ever," McKenzie said. "I owe you like eight thousand drinks, Xixaxa. Pricy ones, with little umbrellas in and all different colours and what have you. He seriously can't kill us?"

The Archmage nodded. "The flip side of that coin, McKenzie, is that you cannot kill him. I would enjoin you both not to renew hostilities. Such a confrontation – and I will be clear this time – would destroy the city."

"Don't destroy the city. Yep. Check," McKenzie answered.

"It may be a price worth paying to remove enemies of the Great Work," Lemuel answered.

"But you wouldn't remove any enemies, she just told you you can't actually kill us, so you'd've blown up a city for no good reason, you twa-" McKenzie started.

The Archmage held her hand up. "McKenzie, let us remain civil, please."

"He literally just pointed at you and said die. Like thirty seconds ago," McKenzie reminded her.

"I am aware of that, McKenzie," the Archmage answered. "To his credit, he did it politely."

McKenzie gritted his teeth. "So what next?"

"I suspect the Archmage will pick up where we left off, High Assassin: we will make a deal," Nightwing answered.

She was right on the money. The Archmage spoke up. "Lord Lemuel, we are not without common ground. You may no longer compel us to do your bidding, but we would not count you amongst our enemies. Where our interests align, we will agree to act for you on this plane. Some of your Great Work may yet be accomplished, with us as willing partners rather than slaves."

"In the case of the Guild, that will not be on a pro bono basis, although a discount could be arranged for repeat custom," Nightwing cut in.

Lemuel scoffed. "A god does not bargain with mortals."

McKenzie raised his hand. "Hi, remember me? Immortal here. Pretty sure the jury's out on Xixaxa, too, and Rocky probably only has to worry about erosion rather than wrinkles." He didn't mention that Nightwing was also, presumably, equally immortal.

"You should be silent," Lemuel snarled at McKenzie. McKenzie felt the force of his will, but he was able to counter it with his own.

"Not my strong suit, Lem, you know that," McKenzie replied. "Also, I'm starting to reconsider your discount already."

"I thought you wanted a way home. That is already off the table," Lemuel responded with a sneer. "Live or die, you are staying right here, McKenzie – and so is your pet killer."

"I kinda figured," McKenzie said with a shrug, although internally he was viewing the lost opportunity with far less equanimity. "But you admit there is a table, then."

The look Lemuel gave him could have frozen a lake – a volcanic one.

"You know, a figurative one. Not a real table. What I mean is that you've just admitted that actually there is a negotiation happening here because you said that-" McKenzie started to explain.

"I think you can stop right there with the explanation, McKenzie," Danandra advised with a sigh. McKenzie obliged, having already realised that he was starting to sound a bit daft.

Lemuel said nothing for a few moments. Now that nothing was actively raging against a shield in an alarming manner, people were starting to approach: curiosity was outweighing fear, although they kept their distance.

Lemuel turned to the Archmage.

"The needs of the Great Work outweigh my own pride, and always will. Let us assume that we agreed a deal. What would you desire in return for this co-operation?" He asked.

"That you leave this plane, only act here through us, cease any attempts at controlling or destroying us and make no future attempts to do the same," the Archmage answered.

"And you don't take this out on anyone back home – not Christine, Susie, Jimmy or Anaharra - nobody. They don't end up as hostages for you tryin' to get round this," McKenzie added.

Lemuel looked at each person facing him in turn, as if weighing their usefulness. Then he seemed to arrive at a conclusion.

"I agree," he said.

"Good," Xixaxa replied.

McKenzie could feel the sealing of the deal almost physically, as if someone had just rubber-stamped the world. "Fuck, you actually went for it!" He said to Lemuel, surprised. He'd been expecting violence, no matter what Xixaxa had been saying.

Lemuel shot him a glare. "This accord will endure only as long I judge it is of use to the Great Work," he said warningly.

"Yada yada," McKenzie shrugged.

Lemuel turned to the Archmage. "I shall contact you soon, Xixaxa," he said.

"Great. Now fuck off," McKenzie said.

Lemuel glared at him again, then, as if he was made of dust, blew away upon a gust of wind.

"Last word goes to me, then," McKenzie said, with a smile, and then turned to the others. "Result! Right: pub. Drinks are on me. Let's go."

"This is hardly the time for a celebration, High Assassin," Nightwing told him. "There is much to be attended to. The Guild will be in disarray."

"Yep. Handle that for me, will you? Oh, can you pop over to the Unsheathed Dagger first and let Listra know you're okay? She might even stop being pissed off with me then," McKenzie said.

Nightwing opened her mouth to object, but the Archmage cut in.

"Your assassin is correct, McKenzie. The Guild cannot be allowed to become unstable and fragment. Chaos would ensue," Xixaxa said.

Cally had noticed the people starting to edge toward them. "Erm, should we possibly think about leaving?" She asked. Nobody listened.

"Unstable and fragmenty. Yep, probably – that's why I asked her to handle it. It's called delegation, look it up. Also, when did she become 'my' assassin?" McKenzie frowned.

"About the time you started assuming you could tell her what to do, perhaps?" Danandra asked with a raised eyebrow.

McKenzie looked at Jadhara: she didn't have a particularly warm expression on her face.

"Remember when, oh, all of ten minutes ago you asked me to remind you not to get on my bad side?" Jadhara asked archly.

McKenzie winced.

"Okay. Point taken. Sorry," he said, then inclined his head to her. "Sister Nightwing, as I'm inexperienced in Guild politics and you know all about it, could you please take point on damage control until such time as I can resign and you get the job like you fully deserve for being so generally awesome?"

Nightwing's expression thawed a little. "Very well, High Assassin. I am not sure, however, that your resignation would be a wise move at this point."

McKenzie dropped his contrite tone. "Wise or not, I'm doing it. It was a manifesto promise, even, I stood on that stage-" McKenzie pointed, then realised he was pointing at nothing, "well, where the stage used to be and promised everyone I'd resign straight away. You had a really good seat, I'm pretty sure you can't have missed it."

"High Assassin, this is not a laughing matter," Nightwing said in a serious tone. "Also, I distinctly remember that you said you'd probably resign."

"Stop chucking bloody facts and common sense at me!" McKenzie shook his head. "Can we stop with the 'High Assassins' please? I'm totally serious. I am spectacularly bad at responsibility. 'Hey, McKenzie, please go and get this thing done' works really well. 'Hey, McKenzie, what things should we go and get done?' doesn't work at all," McKenzie explained.

"Lord McKenzie, even I cannot guess what dangers lie ahead. Even if our former master was to accept his recent reversal placidly – which is far from certain – there are still threats aplenty on this plane. It is incumbent upon those of us gifted with power or position to use it in defence of others. Put aside the henchman and become the master," Xixaxa told him.

"It's like you're talking..." McKenzie answered uncertainly

Danandra scowled. "Allow me to translate: grow up," she told McKenzie.

McKenzie blinked. "Well that's fairly direct," he said.

"You keep telling us you don't do subtle," Danandra shrugged.

"Fine," McKenzie sighed. "Why do you want me to stay on as First Assassin?" He asked Nightwing.

"There are many within the Guild who do not agree with the direction I wish to take it in, but now that the new High – not first, please do try and remember that - Assassin agrees with me they must comply. Ordinarily they would simply assassinate or challenge you to get you out of the way, but since you are, as you have just pointed out, immortal and if not impossible then prohibitively difficult to kill this option will not be open to them. That you are known to be a friend of the Archmage of Melindron will also weigh heavily upon their minds," Nightwing explained.

"I didn't know you cared, Xixaxa," McKenzie told the Archmage.

The Archmage inclined her head. "You have freed me from slavery, Lord McKenzie – and it's occasionally refreshing to have someone around to remind me that great wisdom cannot be assumed to come with great age."

McKenzie narrowed his eyes, then turned back to Nightwing. "Okay. You win. I'm in. Let's pretend for a moment that I have no idea what to do, though. Is there like a manual or can I-"

"Okay!" Cally cut in. "Seriously, there'll be a crowd here in moments. Is this a discussion we should be having in the street?"

"Yeah, good shout. Also I don't want to have to explain to the old bill why the local theatre's been replaced with a massive hole in the ground and a giant marble," McKenzie agreed.

"Let us repair to the Guild Headquarters," Nightwing suggested. "There is nowhere in Vyrinios more private."

"Right, I'll hail us a few-" McKenzie started, then blinked as, along with everyone else, he turned into a small tornado for a few moments and found himself standing in front of the Assassin's Guild.

"Cabs," he finished.

"Shall we go in?" Xixaxa suggested.

"What happened?" Leni asked. She had appeared in the square, along with everyone else. She looked, McKenzie noted with more than a little satisfaction, somewhat the worse for wear. She was bereft of her armour, with only the padded clothes that went beneath, was unarmed and looked to have been beaten up.

"It's been decades," McKenzie said, not missing a beat. "The race of trolls has gone extinct – took some doing but I kept at it. As the sole remaining troll on the planet, all the fury of all the gods at your stinking race is now focused upon you. Have a nice day."

Leni looked wide-eyed.

McKenzie gave a bark of laughter. "Only kidding. Actually we did a deal with Lemuel. We're all off the hook apart from you - he's going to send you to a personalised hell where you'll be eternally tormented by bespoke demons in five, four, three-" McKenzie raised his watch and counted down.

Leni stayed looking wide-eyed.

"Psych!" McKenzie laughed. "What's really happened is that we've found a way to kill Lemuel, but it involves feeding a troll to a giant snake, so if you have any last words then now would be a really good time to-"

Danandra – who was smirking with great satisfaction at Leni's discomfiture - appeared to be willing, for a change, to let McKenzie go on and on as long as he felt like it. Cally interrupted, though: "As amusing as this is, can we go in? It is hardly less busy out here than where we just left."

"You're no fun," McKenzie sighed.

"I am too!" Cally replied, with unexpected heat. "Just because someone has to have some common sense doesn't mean I'm any less fun than Sharinta."

"Blimey, Cal! Fine, you're fun, I didn't think you'd take it so personally. I mean the outfit, for starters, is-"

Cally blushed, remembering that she was still wearing her skimpy disguise. "Sorry. It was just growing up with Sharinta she was always 'the fun sister' and I was always 'the serious one'."

"Oh-kay," McKenzie said. "Mental note: never bring that up again. Let's go in." He walked up to the door, which opened before he knocked.

"Welcome, High Assassin, and congratulations on your victory. I'm still somewhat miffed you chose an alternative venue, however," Revlius' voice greeted him.

"The theatre was so thoroughly destroyed during my confrontation with a god from the mists of legend that there isn't even a nail left over and will probably be a magically radioactive hole in the ground for centuries to come, so, y'know, you're welcome," McKenzie replied.

"I see," Revlius replied. "On reflection, perhaps there is something to be said for outsourcing every now and again." The door started to swing shut again. "Erm, is there any chance that the aforementioned deity might make a re-appearance in your vicinity at any point?"

McKenzie put his hand up to stop the door. "No – you're good. Seriously, there's an arrangement now. Maybe even an Arrangement with Capital Letters and Subtle Emphasis."

"I'll take your word for it, High Assassin," the door swung open again. "Nightwing, Allshield: greetings. I see we have some important guests."

"We'll need a comfortable and private meeting room, please Revlius," Nightwing said. "With refreshments for eight."

"Will the Client not be partaking?" Revlius asked, as a further door swung open to reveal a comfortable chamber with a selection of chairs around a table, which was already prepared with quills, ink and parchment. A smaller table at the rear of the room was already stocked with chilled water, wine and a selection of food – for people.

"There is no Client here," Nightwing replied, as they all walked in.

"I see," Revlius said tactfully.

"Anyways," McKenzie said, as the door closed behind them, "I heard what you said and everything Xixaxa but seriously can we kill Leni now? Way overdue."

"Motion seconded," Danandra said quickly.

"Revlius, you've got somewhere we can dump a body, right?" McKenzie asked the room at large.

"But of course! I am, after all, an assassin's headquarters," Revlius replied.

Leni tensed to flee, but where she thought she could go was anyone's guess.

The Archmage shook her head. "No. If the revised curse is to have any power at all, it must cover all of us. We're no longer required to save her life, but neither is it within our power to end it."

"Seriously?" Leni asked, something like hope starting to return to her eyes.

"Alas, yes," Xixaxa confirmed. Danandra glowered.

"I'm not letting her just fuck off to, well, to be a troll, though," McKenzie stated. "We can just let her wander round infinite rooms until she starves to death. Natural causes, that is. Revlius can do that without even breaking a sweat."

"Your confidence in me is most pleasing, High Assassin. It would, of course, be a trivial undertaking," Revlius replied, and a large trapdoor opened up in the floor. "Alternatively, may I interest you in a bottomless pit?"

"Outstanding. Rocky, be a mate and shove Leni down there, would you?" McKenzie said to Allshield, quite cheerfully.

The golem twitched, which was a very weird sight. "High Assassin, I regret I have already failed in this task. I cannot move."

McKenzie expelled his breath in irritation. "Yeah, never mind, I figured that might happen. Close the trapdoor, Revlius."

Leni breathed a sigh of relief. The trapdoor closed.

"Now I gotta spend all my time making sure she doesn't fucking eat anyone," McKenzie grunted in annoyance.

The Archmage narrowed her eyes. "Well, we can't have you distracted, High Assassin." She raised her arm to point at Leni, who shrank back.

"Erm, Your Wisdom, don't do anything too hasty okay listen I was under a lot of pressure and-" Leni started to yammer in alarm.

The Archmage was not listening, however. There was a flash of power that nearly made McKenzie wince, so powerful was it. Leni was surrounded in an aura of green light, which shrank slowly, simultaneously turning paler green and, finally, white. Then it faded.

Everyone was surprised at what the Archmage had done, Leni most of all, but, characteristically, it was McKenzie who broke the shocked silence.

"Holy shit Xixaxa! You've...elfified her!" He exclaimed.

The Archmage had, indeed, turned Leni from a troll into an elf. She was tiny, shorter even than Danandra, blonde and – despite her current expression of incredulous disbelief – almost painfully pretty. She clutched her suddenly oversized clothing around herself and shrieked.

"What have you done?" Elfmaid Leni asked the Archmage, aghast.

It was Danandra who answered, with a savagely delighted laugh. "She's turned you into prey, Leni. Every member of your former species who sees you – who even gets a distant whiff of you – is going to be very interested indeed. Welcome to my world."

"Welcome to her world without the benefit of magic," Cally added. "And don't expect any clerical help, either – your new appearance doesn't wash away your existing sins."

"Oh shit!" Leni spoke – her voice was girlish and musical.

"Aw, she's so cute when she's panicking in the throes of an existential crisis!" McKenzie joked.

"What am I gonna do?" Leni asked.

McKenzie shrugged. "Get eaten, probably."

"I can't defend myself like this!" She protested. "Please, turn me back!" She appealed to the Archmage.

Xixaxa smiled, and said nothing.

"Why change back? 'Helpless damsel in a dress waiting for the first troll to happen past and unwittingly dispense poetic justic' is a good look for you, Leni," McKenzie told her.

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Leni said, then turned to McKenzie. "Hey, McKenzie, new deal: you keep me from being eaten and I'll let you do whatever you want with this," she used one arm to indicate her new body.

"You can stop right there," McKenzie said, curling his lip in distaste. "I'm so not interested. Also: self respect much?"

"Shit!" Leni said again, then seemed to have a difficult internal argument with herself for a moment. "I'll tell you how trolls get away with what we get away with – and how to stop it, for good. Just protect me."

McKenzie blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you're not going to just make up a line of bullshit? And I'm busy, anyway."

"Then get him to do it!" Leni pointed at Allshield.

"Rocky don't work for free, Leni," McKenzie said. "If you want his very impressive bodyguarding services, you pay for 'em, same as anyone else."

"You're learning, well done," Jadhara congratulated McKenzie.

"Thanks," McKenzie said. "In fact, Leni, this is the deal: you tell me the big troll secret and I'll go and do something about it. If everyone starts seeing trolls for what they are, there's gonna be a lot less of them anywhere near civilisation pretty much overnight: good news for the new you."

Leni looked rebellious for a few moments. "You gotta get someone to look after me until you deal with it, though."

"Melindron will agree to fund the costs of a bodyguard until the High Assassin delivers on his end of the Arrangement," the Archmage said. "I too have found it curious that trolls do not have a worse reputation."

"Probably safer if she just stays here," McKenzie said.

"In this weird creepy talking building?" Leni didn't sound enthused.

"Pretty sure you've just guaranteed yourself shitty service for the duration of your stay," McKenzie snorted.

"I wouldn't dream of being so petty," Revlius interjected.

"You officially have dispensation to be as petty as you want as regards her," McKenzie answered. "OK, good. Deal or Arrangement or whateverthefuck – I'll deal with you later. Revlius, drop her through a trapdoor and keep her somewhere safe until I get round to it, please."

"Hey, wait, I don't want to-" Leni started, but Revlius complied swiftly – the floor swung aside underneath her, and she disappeared with a startled yelp.

"OK then – pub?" McKenzie asked.

"We still have a number of issues to resolve, High Assassin," Nightwing reminded him.

McKenzie sighed. "Yeah. Worth a try though."

- o O o -

They sat, ate, drank, and came to certain agreements, some of which were Arrangements and some of which were different again. The Archmage was insistent that there were things that needed dealing with, in the future. McKenzie sent a text to the mystery number letting them know Lemuel was on his way back to Earth – it was worth keeping that channel going, he thought – but apart from that paid attention and kept his phone in his pocket. This was, after all, important.

There were a few other interruptions, though. Nightwing despatched a messenger to Madam Listra: he returned with Cally's usual clothing and a message for Nightwing: this was mostly private, but Nightwing did tell him that Listra no longer considered him to be quite as much of an idiot as she had before and Hennara hoped that he would visit again. McKenzie decided not to ever return to the Unsheathed Dagger: he'd caused more than enough trouble for them.

There was also a polite, exquisitely well-worded message for the attention of the High Assassin from Lady Jenata. She wished him a successful tenure, thanked him for delivering the previous High Assassin into her custody, informed him that 'nothing will ever be seen or heard of that gentleman again', and released him from any remaining obligations with the greatest of goodwill, as she surmised he would be a busy man with many demands on his time. She expressed her regret that she had forced Onzanali into a conflict of interest and assured him that she held herself entirely at fault and that Onzanali would not be so used again. She also asked him to convey her regards to Revlius, which he did.

"Want me to invite her round? You could have a good old chinwag, talk about the old days, discuss interior decoration for the undead, that sort of thing," McKenzie asked Revlius, after conveying said regards.

Revlius seemed surprised. "I do not believe I have ever had guests of my own, before."

"Well, I'm setting a President, then."

"Precedent, High Assassin," Revlius corrected.

"OK, one of them too."

"I shall look forward to it. Thank you, High Assassin," Revlius replied, sounding as genuinely pleased and excited as it was possible for a disembodied voice to sound.

Well, at least I'm making a good impression on the building, if not my actual fellow assassins, McKenzie thought.

There was a lot to discuss – it was agreed, sometime just before midnight, that they would adjourn and continue in the morning. Almost everyone was going to the Melindronian Embassy, except Allshield, who bowed and thumped off to who-knew-where. Jadhara also inclined her head and turned to leave, presumably for a reunion with Listra. McKenzie stopped her for a moment.

"Jadhara, I, shit, look – I'm sorry it didn't work out, what we were hoping for," he told her.

Jadhara smiled in return. "The initial negotiations weren't particularly promising, McKenzie. Don't worry – I didn't get my hopes up."

"Reckon we might learn a thing or two if we can track down Comrade Magikovich, though," McKenzie added, quietly.

"The mage who was armed with a repeating musket?" Jadhara asked, equally quietly.

"Yeah."

"The thought did occur. I'll make some discreet enquiries – but he is an associate of the new Client, so we must be cautious," Jadhara said.

"Understood. You going to be alright?" He asked.

She nodded. "I believe I will be. I'll see you tomorrow, High Assassin," she said, and left.

He turned back to the others, who hadn't departed yet. "Well, I suppose I ought to ask if I can kip at your, um, embassy, Xixxy," McKenzie said.

"Your suite has been prepared for you, High Assassin," Revlius hinted, somewhat reproachfully.

"There's a suite?" McKenzie was surprised.

"Of course, High Assassin," Revlius answered.

"You are, naturally, entirely welcome to accompany us," Xixaxa said.

"Know what – thanks, but I think I will stay here," McKenzie answered. "I want a word with Leni, and I don't want to hold everyone else up."

Although Danandra looked a bit unsure at this, it was agreed.

Cally gave him a hug, which was nice. "It got kind of lost in everything that's happened today, but it's good to see you again, McKenzie. Thank you for my freedom. I think Sharinta knows, too, wherever she is. I'll see you tomorrow."

The Archmage led everyone outside, but Danandra paused in the doorway. She seemed to have an internal dialogue of some kind for a few heartbeats, and then addressed McKenzie.

"Are you okay?" She asked, carefully framing the words.

McKenzie blinked. "Blimey, Danandra, are you...expressing concern?"

Danandra almost – but not quite – winced. "Yes. Bear with me, I'm out of practice. It just occurred to me that to all intents and purposes I'm the closest thing to your oldest friend, at least on this planet. It also occurred to me that you had to give up something you wanted very much for the sake of your friends' freedom. So yes: concern."

McKenzie was genuinely touched. "Thanks Danna. I'm fine. Not exactly my first disappointment, and all things considered I think I came out on top, today," he answered. "Are you okay?"

Danandra nodded. "Fine." Then she did something even more unexpected: she hugged him. McKenzie patted her on the back, surprised.

"Look after yourself," she said, when she let go.

"I promise. You too. You do remember we've got another meeting in like eight hours or something?" McKenzie replied.

"It's you, McKenzie – eight hours is enough for you to start a war or blow up Vyrinios," Danandra pointed out.

"Okay, you may have a point. I'll keep it calm, I promise," McKenzie said.

"Try, please. Goodnight, McKenzie." And she left.

McKenzie closed the door. "Okay – let's see what Tinkerbell has got to say for herself. Take me to Leni, please, Revlius."

- o O o -

Leni, it turned out, had a few very interesting revelations. McKenzie even wrote them down.

About an hour later he retired to the High Assassin's suite. McKenzie had been imagining some sort of luxurious chamber done out in black silk and velvet, and that was exactly what he got. It was devoid of any personal belongings – either Bladehand had been a man of austere personal habits or Revlius had gone full Marie Kondo on it. McKenzie was too tired to care. He shrugged off his jacket, dumped it on the floor next to the bed, and then collapsed gratefully onto it.

"Wake me up, y'know, before I'm supposed to be seeing everyone again, 'kay Rev?" McKenzie muttered into the pillow.

"Very good sir. Goodnight," Revlius replied, apparently having no issue at all with being called 'Rev'.

It didn't take long for McKenzie to fall asleep.

Oi! He shouted into the darkness. Weird hissy rustling-noise voice! You there?

You are triumphant, immortal. The white god is defeated and departs this plane in bitter shame, foiled by your power and the Highwitch's magic. Persuade her to join her power with ours, and no force in the universe can withstand us. The rustling, hissing voice sounded sibilantly exulted.

Not bein' funny, Rustle, but I'm not your Human Resources department. You want some recruiting done, you can do it yourself, although given your usual pitch I can see why you might want to outsource, McKenzie replied.

There was silence in the void for a moment, then: My name is most certainly not 'Russell'.

McKenzie would have leaned back and held his hands up, if he had any right then. Okay, didn't know you felt so strongly about it, sorry man. He said.

Neither am I a man, the voice added, sounding less than impressed.

Oops. You can't blame me for that, it's not like you've made a video feed available. Sorry, um….madam? Miss?

Why have you summoned me? The voice asked, without confirming either it's gender or marital status, which was probably extraneous information anyway.

Okay, well, last time we had one of these cozy little chats you hinted quite strongly that you might have a permanent solution to my white god problem.

He is an enemy we have in common. A powerful one, to be sure – but even the mightiest tower can be brought down, if you know it's weaknesses, the voice replied, in an insinuating fashion.

Right, you might not know this about me yet, but I really don't do subtle hints and portentious implications and all that bollocks. Can you kill him, yes or no? McKenzie asked flatly.

There was a pause.

Seek out my avatar, and you will have your answer.

There was no breathing in the void, but McKenzie sighed anyway. It's never straightforward with disembodied voices, is it? Fine, I'll come 'seek out your avatar'. Make sure the kettle's on.

There was no response.

McKenzie returned to a normal sleep. He figured he'd earned it.

- o O o -

McKenzie and co. will return