The walk back to the Captain’s Cat was not far though it was made longer by the darkness and the caution that came with it. Every corner they came to, Galier and his newfound companion would peek around, hoping to catch any ruffians lying in wait and hoping there were none. It was a strange pattern of walking briskly along the fronts of buildings, stopping at a junction, then dashing across the gaps. In the harbor district, it served to be careful.

As they continued their journey, Galier’s companion became more talkative. Her name was Lana, Lana Tel and as far as she knew, she was Maerinen born and raised. She did match the coloration at least, though her sallow skin and lank hair could have looked entirely different after a little food and a wash. Unsurprisingly, she lived on the streets, Galier did not ask about the particulars but he was sure that that knife of hers was a frequent tool in her life. He was surprised by how eager she was to stay in his inn, the name had spread throughout the Maerinen underbelly, its customers were apparently good targets for muggings, if they could be caught alone. Galier made a note to up security after she told him that one.

Galier learned little of import about the assassin or the meeting or that woman at the wharf during the walk, the conversation always drifted to food or the inn. Mostly to food. He had never really given any thought to how the poor managed in Maerin, they were mostly contained to squares and streets where he could easily avoid them. The life he led rarely brought him into direct contact with anyone who was not at least of a noble line. Even the craftsmen he employed could trace their name and sigil back generations and they were simple workers! He had no idea how the lower classes lived but he began to glean a little. Lana did not let the conversation stay on the topic of her life for too long but Galier gleaned a little. A little of the sleepless nights spent defending oneself or the days without food or shelter. It turned his stomach to think that anyone lived like that, much less so many. He knew those who could not provide for themselves were pressed into soldiering back home, he had once thought that barbaric but perhaps it would be better than this. Lana would certainly make an admirable soldier.

Galier avidly avoided talking about his life after what he heard of Lana’s. It did not feel right to talk about balls and parties and the veiled games of the nobility. It also conveniently let him avoid the topic of just why he was searching for the assassin. He certainly did not want to share the details of his failure.

Even in the dull early morning twilight, the Captain’s Cat looked inviting. Above the raised door was a single lantern wrought of bronze in a nautical style. Everything that light touched was blindingly colorful when compared to the dismal grey of everything else. When they arrived at the base of the stairs, Lana did not appear nervous at all anymore, just a little lighter on her feet than Galier’s usual clientele. Galier grimaced when he realized that could well be because she was not wearing any shoes.

The common room inside was dimmer than usual, only a few lanterns were lit and only two serving maids scuttled around the room, cleaning it of the old night’s filth. Each of them gave what could have been a bow as Galier entered, it was well known that he did not care much about formality here but they preferred to stay safe. They spared some looks for Lana but did not inquire even as Galier showed her to a table and made his way around the bar to the kitchen.

Galier spent little time in the kitchen so he was surprised to find them already full of bustling cooks and servers. He recognized few of the people in the kitchen but the head chef was a familiar face. Saphi had been with the Captain’s Cat before Galier had purchased it, before it had that name. Back then, it had been a run down inn serving sea captains and other officers, just barely better than the flophouses most crews frequented. Galier had seen to it that it became a much more respectable establishment. He was rather happy with how it had turned out.

“Ah! M’lord I wasn’t told you’d be here so early today!” Saphi wound towards him around the counters and cooks hard at work. She sported an already stained apron over a simple dress, it would be splattered with food shortly too. Her greying hair was tied in a messy bun at the top of her head, her hat was missing again.

“I had not planned to be,” Galier responded. He could not see any already prepared food in the kitchen but he had no doubt Saphi already had some stashed away for those few customers who came by in the mornings. “Do you have anything ready? A guest of mine is quite famished.”

“Of course of course my dear boy,” Saphi reached around him awkwardly and came back holding a covered pie dish. “Made fresh just a few hours ago!” She handed him the dish and then waved him out of the room. He quickly complied and was back in the common room before he knew it.

The empty common room was a strange sight to Galier. He had been there alone before of course but there was something different about this. The few people and warm light made the usually raucous room seem pleasant and homey, not at all its intended purpose. The handful of people tidying up did so with smiles, he caught a snatch of a hummed tune as one passed him by. If it were not for his grainy eyes and tired muscles to remind him of the still recent night, he would have been happy to sit at one of those tables and lounge the day away.

But he had more important matters to attend to. So he scrubbed the back of one hand across his tired eyes and walked back to the table where Lana still waited. She looked incredibly out of place in the tidy room. She fidgeted continuously with the sleeves of the oversized jacket she still wore. It was splattered with blood and darkened with dust. She looked every part the street vagrant. Now that she sat at a normal table in a normal room in the inn that Galier was so familiar with, her emaciated features were much more obvious. She looked barely human. Her shrunken flesh made her eyes and mouth seem much too big for her face. Her cheekbones looked like they would cut right through her skin, Galier could even see the shape of the bone around her nose. She looked like a corpse long left in the cold and dark, not rotted, just changed. Galier’s stomach clenched, he immediately felt guilty for it but that did nothing to dispel the feeling. It took more than a little strength of will for him to take his seat again.

The smell emanating from the covered pie dish Galier carried made him realize just how hungry he was but he did not think he could eat. He set the dish on the table and set aside the lid. He was hit instantly by a wall of the spicy, savory smell of the fresh pie. His stomach churned even harder. He pushed the pie towards Lana who was eyeing it cautiously. She looked to him for approval and he gave a reassuring smile. She immediately dug her thin fingers in through the thin pastry, not bothered in the slightest that it was not cut. She did not look up from it for even a moment as she shoveled steaming hot meat and pastry into her mouth.

Galier watched Lana eat, not wanting to interrupt, it felt right to just leave her to it. He took the opportunity to study her more. The ragged blond hair was common among the poor in Maerin. They were mostly of the new blood like himself. More prone to weakness and disease. It was rare for any of the new blood to make their way into the nobility, usually the best they could hope for was a distinguished role in the military or perhaps a role in a lord or lady’s retinue. Galier’s own family only held its position now because they had not resisted the first envoys from Phoenos.

Lana ate so quickly Galier thought she would be sick. He doubted he could eat even half the pie himself but she left barely a quarter when she finally stopped. She kept the dish close to her. There were surprisingly few crumbs left on the table and even though she licked her lips avidly, there was not much for that searching tongue to find. Galier shook his head in amazement, it was an impressive thing to see, even if it broke nearly every rule of propriety he knew of.

Galier waved over one of the serving girls roving around the room to collect the dish but as she reached for it, Lana grabbed her wrist. The look Lana gaver he was enough to send the poor girl scampering away with only the dish’s cover in hand.

“There is plenty of food here, you don’t have to worry.” Galier said in a placating tone. Lana only looked at him suspiciously. He decided to leave the issue alone for the time being.

“Well I’ve held up my end of the deal, now it's your turn. What do you know about that meeting at the wharf, who was that woman?”

“The Lady of Stars…“ Lana breathed, barely audible to Galier across the table.

“That is no name.” Galier said, he was beginning to become irritated, if she had no better information for him…

“She has no name,” Lana replied emphatically. Her tone was deathly serious and her sunken eyes fixed him with a level stare though her bottom lip quivered. She was afraid, even now, out of the streets she was afraid. “The Lady of Stars is not a woman, not as simple of a creature as you or I.” Her voice was like cold stone, it reminded him of the stories told to him as a child of men who had gone off on a hunt never to return. He swallowed with a throat suddenly dry.

“She can do things, things no woman should be able to do.” Lana’s eyes flicked around the room nervously, sparing time to peer into the shadows where lantern light did not quite reach. “No man can resist her bidding, no woman either. It's…” She winced and clenched her jaw so tight Galier could see the strings of muscle under the skin. “I have to stay away, far away, even then it is hard.” Galier’s blood ran cold. He knew what she was talking about, he had felt it. He almost thought he still felt it, like a cord pulling him, anchored to his chest.

“But who is she?” He asked, his voice was raspy and quiet, more quiet than he had meant it to be.

Lana shook her head. “Nobody knows. We don’t talk about her or about the meetings, it just isn’t done. One night she was just there then people started to come, once they come once they always come back. Except…” She swallowed audibly. “Except sometimes they don’t leave.” Galier could hear the hesitation in her voice, like she wasn’t sure of the words. “Sometimes someone will be there, at the meeting, on the wharf, but they don’t leave and they don’t come back.”

“What do you mean? Are you telling me they just disappear in front of you?” Galier was confused, more than confused. It did not make sense, even without Lana’s cryptic account, why would this Lady of Stars want to hold meetings for street urchins and beggars?

Lana shook her head again. “No, no. It's like… I remember seeing them there but then… I don’t.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know how to explain it. My memory gets so fuzzy, the meetings are hard to remember.”

“What about the assassin, did you see him there before?”

“I… Yes, I think so.” She did not sound certain at all. Still, it was the best lead Galier had.

The rest of their conversation was just as futile, Lana was not sure of anything aside from this Lady of Stars. Galier would have to start there. He did not relish going back there, the thought of what might have happened had he not been afraid to leave his hiding spot set him shivering. He knew full well that given the chance again, he would be unable to hold himself back.

As they sat there talking, the sun began to rise truly. Soon there were shallowly angled sunbeams pressing the misty windows on the far side of the common room. By that time Lana had already finished her pie and had downed two tankards of ale. She showed no signs of stopping. Galier was baffled, she was as scrawny a creature as he had ever seen, he had no idea where it all went. Still she eyed the door to the kitchen hungrily, occasionally licking her lips. Galier knew he could get little more information from her, she knew very little of use but he found it hard to pull himself away. He wanted to stay at the table, it was so rare that he got the chance to talk to anyone aside from the throngs of Maerinen nobility and even though they could be amusing in their own right, it was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone who was not putting up a carefully crafted court disguise. When Lana spoke, she did so bluntly. She got to the point immediately. It reminded him of Jormand, his old friend had never been much of a wordsmith.

Galier let himself be distracted. He lounged at the table and listened to tale after short tale about life in Maerin. It was a life as foreign to him as any. Lana mentioned people or places he recognized from time to time but always in a manner that he was not sure if they were truly one and the same. Once she seemed to stop herself after mentioning a particular nobleman whose businesses were easy targets. Galier had an inkling. There had been more than a few robberies at his supply depots as of late. He shrugged it off for the time being, there would be plenty of time to deal with that later.

Even though learning about the world below the one he knew in Maerin was fascinating, the stories that truly captured his attention were those that rubbed against the world he did know. The stories about the lord Thymachus’ nightly appetites were no surprise to Galier, at least not at first. As Lana went on, his eyebrows crept up his forehead inch by inch until by the end he thought his face would crack from shock and disgust. Lana did not seem to think it so horrible but Galier could not get the images of beaten and used women out of his head. Other stories were less gruesome though still potentially useful to know about. A group of nobles would meet at night in the harbor district where they thought themselves safe from prying eyes, Lana knew no names but from the descriptions she gave, Galier would be willing to bet that the short blond woman she described was Eliah Ealhold and the tall brown haired man was Ketrim Derran, Jormand’s older brother by a few years.

Speaking with Lana, Galier began to understand better and better how so many lords and ladies seemed able to keep themselves up to date on goings on they should know nothing about. A few well placed drifters and beggars, nearly invisible to noble eyes, would keep even the least bright lord in the know. Lana held a veritable treasure trove of information that she did not know to even be worth anything. Galier tried to explain how a few tidbits about a noblewoman used just right could secure her a life in relative luxury but she did not believe him. Well, even if she did not intend to use the information she had, Galier would. He could worm his way up the political ladder quickly with what she told him.

By the time Galier finally stood from the table, ight no longer shown directly into the windows. The sun had climbed near to its midday height and Galier was tired. When he stood, his knees protested and he nearly keeled over onto the table. He braced himself and managed to stand on his second try. He had work to do now, he could not waste time. He made sure Lana was placed in the capable hands of the head chef Saphi who immediately bustled her off to a room upstairs. Galier made sure she would be provided with new clothes and plenty of food before he left, he intended to hold up his end of the bargain as well as she had.

After arrangements for Lana were made, Galier stopped by his rooms to change into a nondescript blue cotton jacket and to tuck a long dagger into his usually empty belt. After last night, he did not feel so comfortable being unarmed. He hoped he would not need it.

When he finally made it outside, he was surprised by how late it was, the sun stood near its zenith and it was already swelteringly hot. The paving stones at the base of the wood stairs to the Captain’s Cat shimmered with the heat. He began to regret wearing the jacket before he even made it to the base of the steps. Fortunately a steady, cool breeze came in from the sea uninterrupted, it helped cut the heat though only a little.

His walk was quick, few people were on the streets, they would be eating their midday meal about now, hiding from the sun for what time they could justify. Once the buildings began to become taller, the roadway was cast at least partially in shade. Galier stuck to the shadows. He arrived at his destination before long: The tall, forbidding gates of Derran manor. The two guards standing outside recognized Galier immediately, he was well known to them. He was admitted to the wide courtyard beyond the gate where to his surprise there was another pair of guards standing watch and yet another across the courtyard at the doorway to the manor itself. Jormand’s father Martim had always been a touch more militaristic than other noblemen but such a blatant show of force was out of character even for him. Galier wondered why. It was more than a little unnerving, he had visited the manor not but a few days prior.

Galier quickened his pace as he walked up the pathway towards the door. The guards did not question his being there, he was let in without incident. He could feel the tension inside, servants scurried about without stopping to chat, in fact he did not hear a single word from anyone as he wound his way through the corridors towards the back wing of the manor where he knew Jormand would be, that man rarely left his chambers during daylight now.

Unsurprisingly, Jormand’s door was barred shut and no sound came from inside but what did stand out to Galier’s eye was the man standing at the end of the hall. He was unarmored and only carried a sword at his hip, not uncommon for the nobility, but from his posture and piercing eyes, Galier knew him to be yet another guard. Martim Derran was taking no chances with the security of his manor. Perhaps news of last night’s attack had already spread, Galier certainly understood a little precaution after that.

Galier pounded a fist on Jormand’s door for a long minute before he heard movement accompanied by disgruntled groans about the hour. It was a little past noon and still the man was in bed. Although, without the night’s events to keep him going, Galier would likely have been as well.

The Jormand that answered the door barely resembled the warrior from the night before. His curly brown hair puffed to one side and his face bore the striations of his pillow. His eyes barely opened. Even in his disheveled state, he managed to look dangerously angry, ready to bite the head off of anyone audacious enough to wake him.

“Oh, it's you.” Jormand said, his voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doing awake at this damned hour.” He opened the door fully to allow Galier to walk in. He did so with a spring in his step, as chipper as he pleased. The angry frown from Jormand was worth it.

“I,” Galier proclaimed as cheerfully as he could. “Have had the most interesting night.” He looked about the room, taking in the wide bed with its sheets tossed onto the floor against, still curtained windows barely letting in a sliver of light, and a small table with both chairs overturned. There was still a pile of clothes on the floor, the ones from last night by the looks of it, still bearing the bloodstains. Galier decided not to look at those.

“It seems yours was equally interesting.” Galier said as he righted one of the chairs and took a seat. It creaked a worrying amount but he was tired and it was a welcome rest. Jormand grunted in response and trudged back to the bed where he flopped on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“So which noble twit did you take with you last night then?” He asked as if according to a script. Galier did not like to admit that it was not exactly a bad guess.

“Oh, no noblewoman, in fact the only company at my table this morning was a girl I met down by the wharf last night.” That had Jormand sitting up straight, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“A bleeding whore, Galier? That's too low even for you!” He practically shouted across the small space.

Galier could not help but be a little offended, that his friend would believe something like that about him was more than a little wounding. It had been a long time since he had visited any of the city’s brothels, a very long time.

“Nothing like that,” Galier said, considerably less energetically. “I never even got to bed myself last night.” Jormand’s expression went from horror to curiosity in an instant. That was better. “I saw the assassin last night, after I left here. He was down by the wharf with a whole crowd of people. I followed him.” Galier raised a hand to silence Jormand who had opened his mouth to admonish him no doubt. “I did not confront him, only watched.” He left out the part where he had run for his life and hid in an alley. “There is something happening down there, every night according to Lana, that's the girl I was telling you about. They have these meetings, that's where the assassin was going.

“Who do you mean ‘they’” Jormand asked, butting in rudely.

“Common folk, beggars and the like, all dressed in rags. Well, except for the assassin, at the Lady of Starts.” Galier said gleefully, the name clearly piqued Jormand’s interest. “I don’t know who she is, neither does Lana, but she’s the lynchpin here, I tell you, organizing the whole thing!”

“And what whole thing is that, exactly.” Jormand did not seem to be quite grasping the magnitude of what Galier was telling him. He had never been the brightest but this was dense. Even for him.

“The assassin from last night, it's more than just him, more than just that one attempt.”

Jormand stood up from his seat on the bed and picked up the other chair from where it lay on the floor. He sat in it across from Galier and fixed him with a serious stare.

“I know.” He said gravely. “My father told me, just this morning, there were attempts just like the one on lord Ealhold all over the city last night. One right after the other. And they all describe the same man. Galier, what you’ve stumbled on here is something bigger than you, something you don’t want to be involved in.” Jormand spoke calmly but Galier could tell he was afraid. The guards make a lot more sense now. “Galier, three people are dead. Lord and lady Frothsteald as well as lady Kalagor. I don’t know what is going on but if my father is scared, scared enough to have guards patrolling the corridors here, well then I’m scared too.”

Galier was stunned. He had assumed the assassination attempt on lord Ealhold to be an isolated event. He had to get back to the Captain’s Cat and talk to Lana again, maybe she knew something more about this plot. It was the only connection he had.

“We have to do something Jor, we have to…”

Jormand cut Galier off with a shake of his head, his messy curls whipping around wildly. He looked down at the floor between his feet and spoke slowly as if picking his every word with the utmost care.

“We’re leaving, Galier. My father is making the arrangements now, we’re going home.” He seemed almost happy about it. He still looked afraid but there was hope in his voice.

Galier had known Jormand wanted to go back to his homeland from the day he arrived in Maerin, the city life simply did not agree with him. He never caught on to the fashion, the courtly way of life. He spent his nights brawling in taverns in vain attempts to relive his days of playing at war. Now he got to go back to that. And Galier had to stay, alone, in a city that was not as much a home as he liked to pretend.

“But why?” Galier asked. His voice wavered more than a little.

Jormand just shook his head again. “I don’t know,” He said sullenly. “They won’t tell me. Everyone that was killed was of the new blood I suppose, but I don’t know. Maybe father knows more but he's keeping his lips as tight as his bleeding strongbox about it.” He grunted a sigh then looked up again to meet Galier’s eyes. “You could come with us, it’d be like when we were children again.”

It was Galier’s turn to shake his head now. “You know those days were never as good for me as they were for you.”

Jormand nodded, it was the answer he was expecting no doubt.

“When do you leave?” Galier asked, hoping to refocus his friend on what was good news for him.

“Three days, father wants to get his affairs in order.”

“Well, we have time then. Come back to the tavern with me, we may as well have a pleasant few days, who knows when you’ll be back.” He doubted Jormand would ever return, not willingly, but he left that part unspoken.

Jormand offered a forced grin but when he stood up from his chair, he looked to be in better spirits. He walked across the room to a dresser and began rummaging through it, leaving bunched clothes on the tiled floor by his feet as he passed them by.

“Maybe I’ll get to meet this informant of yours.” He said in a muffled voice, his head was deep in the cavernous dresser now.

“Maybe,” Galier replied with a smile. The thought of the size disparity alone made him chuckle, Jormand stood head and shoulders over the average height in Maerin with shoulders as broad as a bear’s to boot. He would dwarf Lana if she were twice her size. “Maybe she’ll have some more information for you, I can’t help but feel she was holding out on me.”

Jormand pulled his head out of the dresser, a wrinkled brown coat in hand and a pair of trousers draped over his shoulder. “Holding out on you? Have you lost all your charms then? I remember a time ladies couldn’t stop talking to you.” He said it with a grin and even though he seemed still more dour then usual, it felt like a good return to form.

Galier shrugged in response. “She’s not exactly a lady, my charisma is like fine Ultrasian wine, my good friend. Endlessly seductive to the tasteful but utterly wasted on the masses.” He laughed self-consciously but Jormand joined in with his surprisingly high pitched laugh as if it were a grand joke.

Galier could almost forget the news he had just learned of or that his only friend in the city was leaving as he sat and waited for Jormand to make himself presentable. He could almost forget that he was as tired as he had ever been after a long night of exertion. He pushed down all of those thoughts roughly into the back of his mind. He meant to enjoy these next three days, it would be easy enough to do, Maerin had no lack of entertainment in the summer months.

So as Jormand got his jacket and boots all laced up, Galier thought over which parties to attend, which games to watch and which ladies to secure as their escorts. He would make Jormand miss the city when he left.