Leni shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Your Wisdom, I don’t know that I’m okay with this.”

Xixaxa looked at her levelly. “It is taking me a good deal of effort to keep my mind focused on this, Lady Violentia. McKenzie, I grant you, maintains a surprising level of mental autonomy against this malign influence – but that is at a distance. He is not going to be able to manage the same feat as you draw closer to your target At some point during this mission, sooner or later, he is going to forget that he is there to destroy the Obelisk.”

“Then I will remind him,” Leni said.

“And at some point, that too will fail,” the Archmage continued.

“Then forgive me for saying this Your Wisdom, but what’s the point, then? If we are doomed to fail, why are we trying?” Leni asked.

“There is yet a chance for success. Your real mission is this: get McKenzie to the Obelisk, by any means necessary. Persuade him, bribe him, trick him, lie to him – anything. Just ensure he gets to it,” Xixaxa said intently.

“But none of that will do any good if he forgets what he’s there to do!” Leni protested, shrinking nervously into her seat. “I get that the whole point of all this is for McKenzie to tap into the Obelisk’s power and turn it on itself: but if he does that but forgets why he’s doing it...he’ll just be like any of the other poor fools drawn to it.”

“Not quite,” Xixaxa said. “You will have to trust me on this.”

“I-” Leni paused as she saw the Archmage’s expression. She was, after all, the Archmage. If she said something, you could be sure she had a reason. “I’m still going to try and do this the proper way, as much as I can. I’ll stick with him all the way to the end. I will see this done.”

“Perhaps we will be fortunate,” Xixaxa said. “Quintessents are...singularly unpredicatable. McKenzie may yet surprise us all – but remember my words, Lady Violentia. When his resolve fails, just get him to the Obelisk.”

Leni nodded in acceptance. “And then? Once he’s there?”

“Run,” the Archmage advised her simply. “As far and as fast as you can.”

- o O o -

McKenzie’s progress up onto the hull of the Posh Elf Titanic and across it to the hatch was marked by a few dramatic moments when he nearly fell off, a few detours to avoid portholes through which he might be spotted, and a few choice curses – but after a more than a few minutes of this he arrived at what he thought was almost certainly the hatch he needed. Gaining entry was almost laughably easy – he jammed one sword into the hull to get a bit of leverage, slid the other in where it looked like the hatch was secured and jiggled it about. This accomplished precisely nothing except to alert the people within that something was up – fortunately for McKenzie none of those people were drows and the hatch wasn’t even locked (who’d be daft enough to venture out onto the hull? Only muggins here, as per fucking usual, McKenzie thought). The hatch was opened by a wide-eyed Squawks, whose face immediately fell into an expression of relief that was probably not warranted. McKenzie gave her an encouraging grin nevertheless.

He climbed inside, into a mid-sized chamber with curved walls and ceilings – they were close to the stern. It was stacked with coiled rope, spare canvas for the fins, and other general airship-crap. It also contained a gaggle of elves and (human) serving girls. The drow seemed to not have access to their supply of restraints, but they’d done their best with rope – although some of the hostages had already broken free.

McKenzie held his finger to his lips in their general direction as he carefully closed the hatch. By some miracle, none of the highborn elves immediately complained loudly at him or corrected his grammar, and Squawks did not squawk. His eyes fell upon a red-haired woman in a purple dress.

“Are you Kefiralla?” He asked her in a whisper.

“It’s pronounced ‘Kerifalla’, actually,” she replied, in a hiss.

“Fuckin’ match made in heaven,” McKenzie muttered. “You can go stand at the back,” he pointed towards the outer hatch, before moving over to the inner hatch, behind which he’d presumably find drows to punch. “Everyone else, line up behind me. We’re outta here in three, two, o-”

McKenzie raised a leg to kick the hatch open, and held his swords in a manner that probably approximated a fighting stance in some discipline, although he didn’t know which one and had probably just seen it at the cinema – Jadhara’s attempts at training him and random martials arts films sometimes got a bit confused in his mind.

To his surprise, though, no violence was required: the hatch was opened for him before he could unleash a kick.

“Hey babes,” Shaveen greeted him with a pleasant smile. “You’re late.”

“Why is everyone a critic today?” McKenzie asked her, forgetting to be surprised as his default setting of ‘vaguely pissed off’ took the reins for a moment.

Shaveen, clad in tight-fitting black drow clothing that was definitely an improvement on her maid’s uniform, stepped back away from the hatch and motioned him through. The core room contained her, the core – humming out magic, to McKenzie’s sense - a plethora of what was probably highly critical magical gubbins that McKenzie thought he should almost certainly not touch in order to avoid the ship dropping out of the sky like a fucking rock, and several unconscious drows.

“Loving the derring-do approach, don’t get me wrong. Climbing across the hull, breaking into the core room and taking the drow by surprise – that is Assassin Guild AF. Also kinda hot, not gonna lie,” Shaveen grinned. “But – I’ve already taken care of things in here.”

McKenzie opened his mouth, then closed it, then said: “OK I don’t know what’s going on. Awesome outfit though. Um… what the fuck, Shav?”

Shaveen’s eyes twinkled. “I’m afraid I might not’ve been totally honest with you, babes,” she said.

“You don’t say,” McKenzie replied flatly, as elves and serving girls started emerging from behind him – the latter as surprised to see Shaveen as he was. “Um, given that you’ve mentioned the Guild, do you work for me? I don’t know everyone by face, yet, let alone names. Nightwing keeps putting the personnel folder in front of me, and I keep not reading it, and” – McKenzie went abruptly cold all over “– shit fuck, is that you, Jadhara?”

“And who,” Shaveen asked, her smile slipping slightly, “is Jadhara?”

“Not you, apparently,” McKenzie said, relieved. “Which is a good thing!” He added hurriedly. “She’s like...family, sort of. Woulda been totes awks, they would’ve had to have invented, like, a new scale for how awkward that would have been. I’m going to start again: hey Shav, fancy seeing you here, love the new look, who exactly are you please?”

Shaveen inclined her head. “Greetings from a fellow Guild member, High Assassin. Thieves’ Guild, in my case,” she said.

“There’s a Thieves’ Guild?” McKenzie asked, confused.

“Yes, McKenzie, there’s a Thieves’ Guild,” Shaveen explained patiently. “We might not have the posh city centre address but we do exist, you know. And before you start to get up on any sort of high horse about bein’ deceived, it’s not like I was the only one telling fibs, was I?”

“I stopped taking ‘being deceived’ personally a long time ago, Shaveen, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I really was,” McKenzie told her. “If it helps, I didn’t have any sort of agenda. I was genuinely attracted to you, I thought we were having fun together, and while it’s been pointed out to me recently that I apparently tend to overcommit, I was getting pretty fond of you.”

Shaveen smiled. “One thing I didn’t lie about – you really are a soppy twat. Why don’t we carry on that conversation over dinner in Vyrinios, when this is all over. You’re buying, High Assassin, and it better be somewhere posh ‘an all.”

“It’s a date,” McKenzie grinned. “As soon as I’ve seen the Obelisk. Wait, you’re not here to steal that, are you? I sympathise, but that would not be cool. The Obelisk is for everyone. We can see it together!”

Shaveen’s smile turned brittle for a moment, but then she laughed. “One thing at a time babes. Come ‘ere and kiss me.”

McKenzie was only too happy to oblige. He dropped his swords – they each thunked into the deck and stuck there, waving slightly. Shaveen put one hand around the back of his neck as he approached, and kissed him.

“Present for you,” Shaveen said, as she pulled away. McKenzie looked down at his wrist in surprise – she’d put one of the drow bracelets around it.

“Wow! Didn’t feel a thing,” McKenzie admitted.

“Now that’s just hurtful,” Shaveen said impishly. “I’m a proper good kisser, I am.”

“No argument from me - I meant this,” McKenzie clarified, holding up his wrist.

“I’m an even better thief than I am a kisser,” Shaveen told him. “Works just as well for putting jewelry on as removin’ it. I haven’t nicked nuffin’, though. Wouldn’t do to steal from the High Assassin. Anything coming into focus yet?” Shaveen moved her hand to his shoulder.

McKenzie smiled ruefully. The bracelet sparked, fizzled, and then turned to dust which fell from his wrist to the deck.

“Bling isn’t really my thing, babes,” McKenzie said. “Funny, usually stuff just sparks and dies, the dramatic turns to ash effect is new.”

Shaveen went wide-eyed, and tried to step away – but McKenzie had already reached up and seized her around the arm. “Let me go!” She snapped.

“It’s sweet of you, Shav, don’t get me wrong - but I don’t need rescuing. I know what they’re supposed to do. The drows use them to hide the truth of the Obelisk,” McKenzie told her.

“McKenzie, you gotta snap out of this. Think about what you’re sayin’! It controls us!” Shaveen told him.

“It frees us!” McKenzie argued.

“Plan B, then,” Shaveen said. Moving impressively quickly, she snatched something from around the wrist that McKenzie was restraining and jammed it into his neck. “Sorry babes, but you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

McKenzie winced at the sharp pain – but his skin was, of course, unbroken. Something small and metallic tinkled to the floor.

“Oh,” Shaveen said, her face falling – and then she began trying to break free in earnest. “Let go!”

She aimed a series of punches and kicks at him – the Thieves’ Guild syllabus evidently included martial arts of some description. McKenzie ignored them, bent over, and picked up a small needle from the deck. Shaveen went very still. McKenzie jabbed it into the skin of her hand.

“No!” She shrieked.

“Sorry, babes,” McKenzie said, touching her bracelet. It went the same way as the other one – there was a pathetic spark, and then it crumbled. “But you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Shaveen slumped towards the floor – McKenzie caught her before she could fall, and lowered her gently.

“Can someone get something soft for under her head?” He asked the group behind him. A wadge of canvas was provided. McKenzie arranged it under her neck, and, vaguely remembering something Susie had tried to drill into him once, arranged her into the recovery position.

“What’s going on, please, Mr. Wednesday?” Squawks asked.

“Great question,” McKenzie said. He started going from drow to drow, reducing their bracelets to ash. “The deal is this – we’re going to a place called Trollheim. It’s going to be wonderful, like holiday-of-a-lifetime wonderful. There’s an Obelisk and everything! Some of my friends, though, well...they may not agree.”

He turned to face the group of hostages. “Squawks, can you stay with Shaveen here and make sure she’s okay? I dunno what that needle’d been dipped in but probably she’ll be out for a while.”

Squawks nodded.

“Everyone else: find anyone wearing a silver bracelet, and then tell me where they are. Go!” McKenzie said.

Nobody moved. The red haired elf lady in the purple dress raised her hand.

“Yes, Kerifalla-Actually, you have a question?” McKenzie asked sarcastically.

“Is anyone flying the ship? The drow said you’d taken the bridge and one of them was controlling it from over there,” Kerifalla-Actually pointed to one of the magical contraptions near the core, “but that one seems to be unconscious on the floor now.”

McKenzie thought about that for a moment.

“Everyone else: find anyone wearing a silver bracelet and/or who knows how to fly an airship, and then tell me where they are. Go!” He repeated.

He got a much more enthusiastic response to that one.

- o O o -

Briztaz had not really known what to expect from this voyage. She hadn’t really wanted to be here, almost from the very start.

Certainly it had sounded good on paper – sticking it to the traitorous elves! Drow society was all about sticking it to the traitorous elves, after all. Everyone loved a good story about elves getting what they deserved. It was the bread and butter of many a drow folk tale, and if you went out into the world and returned with a few good yarns about how you’d deceived those bloody elves you could count on a few free drinks out of it. Yep – elves bad. Everyone agreed.

There wasn’t much in the way of job prospects in drow enclaves, so Briztaz had signed up for a bit of to-traitorous-elf sticking that sounded kinda fun but also paid the bills. The plan sounded simple. Buy an airship, advertise for passengers in a way that appealed to the worst personality failings of the worst sort of elf, rip them off for all their gold and then dump them somewhere. Great stuff.

Only...that hadn’t turned out to be the entire plan. That was certainly what the Captain and her inner circle had talked about when they were after crew members, but once they were underway...the little extras had started to be added. Such as trolls being involved, but it’s OK, just wear this bracelet. And then ‘dump the elves somewhere’ had turned out to be ‘sell them to trolls’, but it’s OK, we have a deal with the trolls, they won’t come aboard.

Sticking it to the traitorous elves suddenly didn’t sound like quite so much fun, at that point.

The Captain had anticipated this. She was well aware her interpretation of sticking it to the traitorous elves was more extreme than most, so she’d taken steps. ‘You’re free to leave at any point’ had turned into ‘we have your daughter – either these elves go to the trolls or she does’.

And then Briztaz made a huge mistake, and had spoken drow in front of a human who understood it.

This was such an unprecedented surprise that it had completely thrown her. Briztaz had barely interacted with anyone who wasn’t a drow – they tended to keep to themselves, only venturing beyond their enclaves disguised as elves or humans. How did a human know their tongue?

But the damage was done – the man had been a paid mercenary (or so she thought), suspicious by nature. He could endanger the mission. He could endanger her daughter. So she’d decided to deal with him, and the serving girl he was involved with – better safe than sorry. It was fairly bleak, she’d rather not have had to do it, but her daughter was on the line and that was that.

And then that turned out to have been an even bigger mistake.

Which was how she found herself crouching just within a cabin door next to a traitorous elf, working with her to ambush her own kind – and indeed anyone else they came across.

There was a knock on the door. Briztaz looked through the spyhole.

“Two human women,” she whispered to the elf mage. “But dressed like me. I recognise them as servants but they carry themselves with purpose.”

The elf mage – Saliseralla – nodded and touched Briztaz on her shoulder. Briztaz’s skin turned pale, her hair turned blonde, and her partially torn drow clothing turned into a dress. The knives at her waist didn’t change into anything, but they did become invisible.

If it had been an elf who’d come calling, the disguise would have been that of a human. Saliseralla was both clever and powerful. Briztaz was surprised she was but a student. Elven magical schools must be formidable.

She arranged her face into a concerned mask, and opened the door. The elf mage disappeared in a swirl of inky blackness.

“Quick, come in!” Briztaz hissed, stepping back.

The two human women stepped obligingly inside, and as soon as the door was closed they turned on Briztaz. One of them attempted to grab her by the arm, while the other reached behind her back for something.

But this was not their ambush – it was hers. Briztaz drew her knives and prepared to kill. The two humans reached for something at their wrists.

Briztaz lunged – the humans flicked something.

Two blades and two needles sparked off an invisible shield. Briztaz found herself unable to move.

“No!” Saliseralla’s voice said – with the crack of authority. “We agreed: no fatalities.”

She swirled into existence again, standing beside Briztaz.

“I doubt that they are about to extend us the same courtesy, elf mage!” Briztaz shot back, struggling against an invisible grasp.

The two human women, though, were similarly restrained. Even if they’d been of murderous intent, there was nothing they would have been able to do about it.

“Look at their wrists,” the elf mage said.

Both women were wearing bracelets.

“Let us go!” One of the humans said. “We’re here to help – you don’t know it, but you’re being...affected. You are-”

“Well aware of what’s happening, thank you,” Saliseralla finished.

“Then you know you need one of these,” the first human woman said, holding out a bracelet – or trying to.

Saliseralla held up her own wrist, upon which she wore the same. She added a flicking gesture to the movement – Briztaz found herself released.

“Oh,” the second one said. “Didn’t see that. To be fair, miss, that is a lot of jewelry you’re wearing there. Individual items kinda get lost in the whole jangly mess, if you know what I mean.”

“It has its uses,” Saliseralla told them. “Why are you here? Speak truthfully.”

“Our boss - she’s called Shaveen - told us to go through the ship, find whoever we could, and give them whatever spare bracelets we could find. If we found any drow, we were to subdue them. We’re from the Thieves’ Guild, we were here to steal from the passengers but now we’re just trying to take control of the ship and turn it around, and why am I telling you all this?” The first woman said, seemingly increasingly surprised the longer she spoke.

Briztaz laughed, somewhat bitterly. “You are not very observant for thieves,” she said.

Saliseralla wiggled her finger at them. Each thief looked at their own – they were each wearing a ring, and Saliseralla’s stash of magic wearables had been reduced by two.

“How did you-?” The first thief started to asked.

Saliseralla smiled infinitesimally. “Magic,” she said. “You’re not the only people going through the ship handing out protective amulets – but mine come with conditions, one of which is truthfulness. I do not appreciate being lied to,” the elf mage said.

“We won’t!” The first thief promised.

“We might because it’s kind of a professional obligation but I’m really frightened and not being able to move is making it worse!” The second said, then. “Shit! I didn’t mean that! Only I did!”

“I am both secretly amused by your predicament while at the same time being relieved that we might have discovered potentially useful allies,” Briztaz said, then let rip with a sulphurous drow curse.

“You got one too huh?” The first thief asked.

Briztaz nodded wearily. “You can’t even keep quiet. It really is the worst,” she said.

“Would you prefer I take it back?” Saliseralla asked.

“If you are willing to endanger our arrangement over the lives of two low creatures, then perhaps I will rethink our deal,” Briztaz growled. “We should not trust them! Let me test their loyalty – with steel, not spell.” She scraped her knives together meaningfully. The two thieves – still unable to move - went wide-eyed,

“Okay – and really?” Saliseralla prompted her – and as she did so, touched her on the shoulder. Her disguise faded: the two thieves gasped.

“She’s a drow!” One said.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Saliseralla remarked dryly. “Let my companion speak, though. Briztaz, the truth please.”

“I am not sure what I’m doing is entirely sane and therefore going in really hard on the drow master race thing that I don’t truly believe in anyway in order to bolster my failing self-confidence. If I hurt either of these two I’d feel terrible and not be able to look my daughter in the face when we rescue her from the drow faction that has kidnapped her in order to force my co-operation, who I am now, along with Saliseralla, other drow allies, and hopefully a very powerful assassin if we can ever find him, planning to betray. Please help me I am very frightened. Ugh! Why must I wear this thing, elf?” Briztaz said, frustrated.

Saliseralla gave another infinitesimal smile. “Doesn’t it feel better to say it out loud?”

“No! My feelings are my own! Only it does feel better because I’m sick of pretending and generally conforming to behavioural patterns that I have not approved of for some time! Argh I swear it’s almost worth losing my free will if I could only be quiet!” Briztaz snarled.

“Don’t worry, Briztaz – I won’t leave it on any longer than necessary. I’m not a fan of oversharing,” Saliseralla said.

“I both respect the position you’re in and simultaneously don’t want to be either stabbed or squashed by magic!” The second thief said. “And I’d probably say that even without the ring – please, will you let us go?”

“Certainly,” Saliseralla said. “In fact, I’ll even help you. Come with me.”

She didn’t wait for a response – all four women swirled out of existence.