Lady Ussi, called Mistress Botheri Escuro, the Viper, gazed down at the map, "My ssonss, iss thiss confirmed?"

Uhssu, her eldest son and chief adviser rolled his shoulders, "Yess and no mother. Everything I have been able to verify iss true, but the last hass not been. Yarizoss confirmed two new Agentss were looking for the one that wass disspatched, but four unussual people got off the boat."

Ultlu, her youngest son and Master of Shadowblades, tapped a claw on map. "Sshallahai iss at Trebor, and the Agentss, however many there are, have vanisshed. Thiss puts the planned asssasssination at rissk. With another piece on the board sset against uss, the balance has sshifted."

Utsszi, her middle son and top field agent, interlocked his fingers deep in thought, "Perhapss, and perhapss not. If the Agentss went back to the capital Padan, then they would sstill be aboard sship."

Uhssu tipped his head forward, staring into the middle distance of his thoughts, "Thiss close to the deadline, we either posstpone until next year, sstrike as planned, or abandon the plan altogether. We do not have time to make changes."

Lady Ussi rapped her claws on the table, "Yarizoss iss dead, there iss no abandoning the plan. Ultlu, Utsszi, opinionss?"

Utsszi raised one claw, "Do we know who any of the Agentss are?"

Ultlu hissed in frustration, "what difference would it make?"

Utsszi blinked slowly, "The firsst dictum: know your foe."

Ultlu subsided, conceding the point.

Uhssu shrugged, "The one Ultlu had disspatched was called Elfyr, but my informerss have learned no other namess."

Lady Ussi flicked her tongue, "Yarizoss mentioned a Cretu, pressumably the human male, wass learned in Primordial. Doess that make make any conectionss?"

Uhssu and Utsszi both stiffened in their seats. The both began to speak over each other, then Utsszi yielded to Uhssu.

Uhssu cleared his throat, "This Cretu is likely a sscholar or sspellcaster then. I have heard rumorss of a new Primordial primer that he was credited with co-authoring. The name iss alsso familiar from older reportss, but I cannot place it."

Utsszi stepped into the silence, "I can place him. Aris Cretu, the bladessman who was responsible for the Chedal disaster. Giving him time to plan and act iss the worsst thing that we could do."

Lady Ussi pondered this for a moment "Perhaps not just a pawn, but a Pawn then? Ultlu, my Master of Sshadowbladess, the sstrike must go in at dawn, and musst not misss."

Ultlu bowed, "I will lead them mysself."

Aris Cretu could not remember his dream, because the black-cloaked person was kicking his boot. This meant that the black-cloaked person was a professional soldier, because you don't try to shake a soldier awake by the shoulders unless you have already divested him of all of his weapons and tied him down.

"Alright, alright, I'm awake. Did I die again?"

The figure stared down at Aris, and gestured to the featureless black plain that they stood on, "You aren't awake, nor are you dead, and that's the problem."

"Eh?"

"Discord on the air, black threads severed in the dawn, time runs short."

"you still can't give me a direct answer, can you?"

The figure shakes its head, "no, and if you think about it, you know why. Wake, and Act."

Aris opened his eyes as the crash of thunder announced the start of a thunderstorm, "Elfyr? Get up, we need to get moving."

Talae turned from her watch, "what's wrong Aris?"

Elfyr groaned his way awake, "what she said. We're only three hours from Trebor, and I don't want to wake the guards before dawn. They tend to stab first and ask questions third or fourth."

Aris looked at Talae, locking eyes with her, willing her to understand, "we are out of time."

Keleric Erro, Commander of the Quesguard, decided to take a pre-dawn patrol of his camp and check the sentries around Trebor. His men were professionals, not selected for their shy or retiring ways, but a surprise inspection should help keep them on their toes.

Indeed his sentries were doing their jobs well. Half of them were highly visible, patrolling back and forth at regular and predictable intervals. The other half were well hidden, tucked into cover with blades close to hand. The Sergeant of the picket at the back of the convent emerged from a shrub to salute him on his rounds.

Keleric Erro returned the salute and stopped to take the Sargent's report. It was the last thing he ever did.

Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, gave a word of praise to the bowsnakes. They had opened the attack early, but they had caught the commander of the Queesguard in the opening volley. His strike plans were only slightly disordered, and he had gained a large advantage.

"Sstart the sstrike. Leave none alive."

The camp of the Queensguard was almost caught unawares. No more than a third of their number were awake, and only a tithe of them had weapons ready to hand. They died hard and loud, slaughtered to an elf, but they did accomplish two critical things. They took more than their fair share of foes with them to the grave, and they raised the alarm, giving the convent pickets invaluable moments to act.

The convent pickets fell back, collapsing on the reserve squad posted in the visitors quarters of the convent. Arrows continued to fall around them, and only the low walls around that structure would give any cover.

Aided by the pre-dawn showers just beginning to fall, half of them actually made it. Thunder rolled in the distance as the senior surviving Sargent, Paran Ilijor, took command of the twenty-three survivors.

He looked about at his command,

Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, winced as his two surviving officers reported in. He had lost the commander of the assault on the camp, along with half of the snakes assigned to it. Matched with the squads who had ambushed the pickets and bowsnakes, he had only fifty-six snakes left, including himself.

"Ela, take twenty-five ssnakess and encircle the visitorss quarterss. Your task is to pin the foe in place. Azssi, take another five, fire the main chapel, and confirm the dead. I will organize the rest before leading the final asssault."

Aris Cretu's nose started twitching, "Does anyone else smell that?"

Little Bird looked up from tending to Elfyr's leg again, "smell what?"

"Smoke."

Paran Ilijor dumped another serpentine body from his blade. The first wave had been turned back, broken against his Queensguard, but he had lost men as well. He didn't know how many exactly, but the number was too high, whatever it was. He had no way to call for help, no way to get his Queen out thought the snakes surrounding his position. All he could do was hold on and pray for salvation.

The enemy fell back beyond the wall, but he could hear their officers already regrouping them. This next assault would determine the fight, whether the foe had the numbers to break his position, or whether it would come down to a siege and the messenger bird bringing the heavies to bear in time.

The second wave came on the heels of his shout. The brutal shock of snakes against disciplined and motivated steel threw the foe back for one fleeting heartbeat.

"HIT THEM!" A hard voice on the wind, coming from behind the assault wave commanded, "BREAK THEM!"

The snakes regrouped in the pounding rain, illuminated by lightning crashing across the sky. They came on again, and Paran's world devolved in steel and blood.

Ultlu, Master of Shadowblades, roared in frustration as his second assault wave faltered, "HIT THEM! BREAK THEM!"

His snakes surged forth once more, and the Queensguard began to fall. It would only be a matter of time now.

AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!

The warcry comes from behind him, so Ultlu turns to face the oncoming threat. He has just long enough to see a hard-eyed man swing a greatsword before he sees nothing at all.

Queen Shallahai picks up a fallen sword and stands in the doorway of her rooms. She can hear the fighting outside, knows that all that remains of her Queensguard are the three injured elves behind her. As the first snake comes down the hallway, only two things keep her alive. One is the width of the hall, forcing her foes to come at her one at a time. The second is the swordskill she picked up behind her father's back. The swordmaster she hired in secret wasn't of the old school, he knew that swords had points for a reason. Her first economical thrust put a foot of steel through her foes throat. She recovered her stance before he had finished falling, and put another thrust into the belly of the next foe.

AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!

The warcry distracted her third opponent long enough for her to tangle him up in a duel. Help had arrived, and she only needed to survive a bit longer.

AILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAILAI!

The warcry comes again, echoed in two throats this time, and the tempo of combat beyond the walls of her quarters escalates again.

Her foe died as a gory thunderbolt connected with his spine. She steps back and watches in sick fascination as eighteen inches of steel vanish back though his chest before he slumps to the ground.

Queen Shallahai gets her first sight of her savior, and nearly throws up. He stands the full width of the narrow hallway, clad in gore and viscera. A red rain of blood drips from his blade and armor. He spits a thick red liquid on the ground before speaking, "You are well Queen Shallahai?"

She finds her voice, "We are. Thank you Aris Cretu, Lord Trebor."