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Prologue

The best machinations blossom from a naturally occurring event, pristine from any nudge from the schemer. It doesn't have to be a big event, as long as it is carefully chosen, and the ever-busy city of Kurut always offers a lush choice. The only difficulty, one that will part the Master tricksters from the amateurs, is that noticing that perfect, tiny, event and plucking it before it vanishes requires... some special talents.

--

Hung upside-down in the dark cave, the undead creature opens its dry leather wingsand lets its jaw drop agape. A buzzing flow of flies enters and leavesthat silent mouth, crawls on his white eyes, swarms in nervous clouds all around him. His lieutenants endure the hellish noise and rain of insects, managing to stay stoic in the windless tempest: you don't get high in the assassins' guild if you can't witness much worse with jaded boredom.

The flies randomly spread in the cave, "diluting" into a more discreet whispering "mist" before they find the openings to the light, to the world of the livings. There, they will be attracted by the many scents in the bazaars, the many sweat drops on various skins, the many fresh spots of shadow in corners.

Today, the billion tiny eyes of Carolinus the Blindand Silentwill be _everywhere_in town.

Small Risk, Small Reward

The three kobolds hold their hands togetherrespectfully before the ancient altar. A mysterious, but common, artifact of the Lost Era, the cartoony crocodile mascot in sunglasses stands on some kind of a... machine? Chest?The approximative plastic sculpture lacks enoughdetails to be sure:athing that blows blue air with stylized snow crystals. "Keep your cool," wisely advises its pedestal. It is said thatwhenkoboldspaytheirrespectsto him, he will grant themprotection againstthe burn of the desert sun.

But, today, AC Kid is mostly an excuse to inconspicuously observe the bazaar bellow. "Keep your cool." Rasi is trying hard to do just that, despite the devouring hunger --they didn't eat in almost a week and don't have a single coin in theirpockets,nor any valuable item to barter--,despitethe intimidating new place, and how much of a dent her self-confidence took during theirlast burglary. Long story short: Fleen lost two thirdsof his tail, Dahlia isstill adorningslave piercings (they'll have these cut openas soon as they can get a couple of copper coins), and she considers she lost a lot of her credibility as a leader. Even if she managed to help both to escape,and ifneitheris criticizing her. They had to move to a new town where their faces weren't known, in the first available caravan, and couldn't be picky despite Kurut's terrible reputation among kobolds.

No more mistakes, she can't afford any! First she needs an easy prey: low risk, low reward. Enough food to earn some time, to learn the unwritten rules of this place before they bitetheir asses. A good thief is patient, a good thief learns the territory and makes a plan before trying anything big.

Dahlia waves a hand to chase a fly and nudges her boss'sside: "Hey, look at the fat gob'. The one who is buying dates."

Fleens' belly gargles behind and the green male's face grows envious. "I would _kill_for a sweet date!"

Rasi turns back to face him. "Hey! Nothing stupid: you keep your dagger hidden in your sleeve, am I clear? We do not kill in Kurut, under no circumstances!" She knows the male, having lost a lot of hisbodyfat's reservewhen his tail was cut shorter, is starving the worst. The risk he acts on gut instincts without using his brain shall not be ignored.

"Awww, I know, I know."

She returns her attention where indicated. "Nice, expensive-looking, jewelry on this guy."

Dahlia nods. "And very vulgar. Look at his clothes, too, that pretentious snot is clearly not a high merchant."

"True. He's probably wearing most of his wealth, for the show. That's perfect: if we can get some of these rings without ruffling anybody important, I'll be pleased with my day."

"Same! His two gnoll bodyguards could be trouble, however, even if they're a touch scrawny."

Fleenbares his teeth, still too enthusiastic. "I can take the big one, easily, if we catch them by surprise. And you two deal with the other."

"I said no murder! Absolutely no murder, you drybrain! This town is _famous_for its assassins' guild!"

"So, what? These losers are clearly not assassins, they arrived with us inthecaravan, I recognize them. Theguildsurely wouldn't care!"

"They surely would! They are a guild:guilds do not take it kindly when foreignersstep on their monopoly."

"Oh..."

Dahliawinces at some realization: "I heard there were very few bloodcrimes in town. At first, it sounded weird to me, given their assassins' reputation, and I thought that their guards had to be damn good... but nowyou put it like this... we should really be cautious!"

"But we're in luck: hyenakeens smell strong. And rich gobs hate that. All we have to do is to wait for the sucker to return to his hotel, and leave them at hisdoor, and then we'll climb his wall and enter by the window.Or something like that."She kissestwoof herfingers, thentouchesthe crocodile's snoutwith them. "Thank you for the luck, AC Kid."

--

Trying their patience, the goblin spends two hours strolling all across the Teardrops. Kurut is split in three parts: the Teardrops are a line of craters, as arecommon around large constructions from the Lost Era. It is said that the primaldevils of the desert tried to erase everything the old Gods created, because the desert itches when it has things on its back.

The splatter of craters formssome sort of a canyon, surrounded by rockywalls. This offersprotectionagainstthe desert's wind and sand, so it is the rich part of the city: territory of the bazaars, traveling merchants, and bankers. When the sun sets and shines on the vitrified parts of the walls, like right now, the red glowswith shattered rainbow slices are beautiful and surreal.

Outside is the poor part of the city: Mirage-town, thus named because none of its buildingsis permanent,so its plan might change from the morning to the evening.When a big caravan arrives or leaves. It's noisy, it's smelly, the law is looser here.

Despite the look, withthesewalls, people circulate easily between both areas. There are many cracks large enough for narrow roads, and wider zigzagging ones that take the climbing route. And it is not forbidden: if you have no money in your pockets, the Teardrops will gently nudge you away by its high prices, how allinnsand tavernsdemand "decent clothing", and itsguards forbiddingexcessive loitering. Everyone is welcome as a worker, or to give merchants their money... but one needs some wealth to belong, to stick.

Then, there's the Needle. The three thieves had a moment of anxiety, as their prey walked in its direction, hoping they didn't underestimate his status and thathe wouldn't escape there. A few of the last fools --or drunkards--who tried to approach the impossibly colossal ruinwithout an invitation are now dried carcasses in the dust, prickled with enough crossbow arrows to look like dead shrubberies.

Luckily, the goblin stopped in a small hotel, under the shadow of, but reasonably far from,the Needle.

Dahlia whistles as she looks up. "It's even more impressive, seen from near."

Rasi shakes her head. "We aren't that near, actually. It's just the scale that... messes up with our senses.Its section is bigger than the remaining of the city."

"Seriously?"

Fleen is contemplative and awed as well. "My old man used to say that the legends about god Alkhim throwing his spear to show his followerswhere to settle were childish fantasies... he was an old fool, my pop: clearly, nobody can have _constructed_this thing. And it's even missing... well most of it, doesn't it?"

It's Dahlia's turn to nod. "My own father used to dig the sand for its broken bits of metal and blackmesh when I was a hatchling. Two cities away from here. Old folks said that it was going upall the way to the sky, and that when it was cut by the devils, a small bit fell downinthe desertand the rest fell up inthe stars. What do you say, Rasi, is that the truth, or fairytales?"

Her leader looks up ponderously, brushing away a bang of her hair from her snout. The concrete and the wires, the bolted laceworks of metal, these all look constructed. But,then, that cut top, blown in the shape of a spiked bowl bysome humongous explosion, large enough for the High Magus's castle, the water Baroness's lake and the whole spice gardens... who can _make_that? "Honestly? I have no clue. Let's refocus on our target, it's time to earn today's meal!"

--

AC Kid's benediction is still on them: a gentle wind is blowing in the desert, and cascades of dust are slowly falling from the Teardrop's walls, right over the hotel.That mineral fog is thick enough so everybody around is an anonymous shadow,conditions couldn't possibly be any better!Rasi makes a mental promise to bring the altar a nice offering tomorrow.

"Let's do this! Fleen, you're on the watch."

"Me? But I'm the strongest of us! What if you have to fight?"

"Fighting is exactly what I do _not_want to happen, but if itturnssour, you'll rush in: your muscle will be precious to reopen our escape, and we can get them into a pincher."

"Oh! Understood!"

"I'm going through that small window on the side. It probably leads to thethirdfloor'scorridor."

"Or you could use the window below, and get on the right stair where the gob is?"

"And where I'll run straight into his gnolls? 'Oh, hello gentlemen! Do not mind me, I was just strolling quietly through the window, doingnothing suspicious!'"

Dahlia has a good chuckle.

The male drops his ears in embarrassment. "Good point.Still, how will you pass by them, if you don't want a fight?"

"That's Dahlia's part: I need you to wait a minute after my entrance, then go through the main door to...cause trouble. Make as much ofa commotion as you can without endangering yourself. The gnolls will come to investigate, then I'll take my opportunity to lock pick the door, throw a handful of pepper powder into the guy's face, lock behind myself and grab all the shinies I can get."

"The guy is going to scream."

"It's part of my plan: the gnolls climb back up, freeing the way below. When I hear them starting to pound the door, I flee through the window. And we all scramin different directions.We'll regroup in Mirage-town, near that traveling merchant that fried the delicious-smelling fishes, to spend our first coins and celebrate.Any questions?"

They have no questions.

"Everybody sticksto the plan and keep their cool: it should be easy."

It Was Supposed to Be Easy!

Dahlia's heart is racing too fast. Luckily, she doesn't need to keep a straight face given the diversion she opted for: she takes a big breath, braces herself... and runs in! "Help! Help! My old mother is being mugged!"

She's shrieking as high as she can, while going straight for the stairs, but her voice dies and she stops when shenearly runsinto fivetall orcs in guard uniforms. Guards? Here? Why? It changes everything!

An elf in a dark robe calls from a corner. "What is your aggressors' species?"

"H-he... he's a big orc... w-with an eyepatch and a scar..." she invents fast. Is this a walking judge's robe he's wearing?

He looks at a female goblin he was sharing a spiced teawith. She shakes her head: "An adult orc in good condition is fifteen golds. But no more than ten with an eye poked out, yet still a dangerous fighter.It's not worth risking your men."

He shrugs. "Not a gambler, are we? It is late and nobody bit your baityet, this might be our only chance tonight."

"Better no deal than a bad one."

The judge returns his attention to the kobold. "Do you have money to afford assistance, miss?"

Mouth all dry, she shakes her head.

"Too badfor your mother, then. Please,be careful while returning home: the streets can be dangerous at this time of the day."

She steps away, slowly, then escapesfor good. Only once in the street, far from the ice-cold man, her brain resumes working and she understands what's going on: walking judges dispense the law everywhere needed on the bazaars, for a fee. They never bend the rules, too risky when they have perfectly honest ways to profit from them. For example by working with slavers, as slavery is a common punishment for various offenses.

The goblins are slavers, and the too obviously easy to rob one, with hisflashy rings andmeager protection, spending his night in the perfect place for a burglary,was a honeypot! She must somehow warn Rasi before she gets caught red-handed and sentenced on the spot!

And also preventFleen from rushing in! She waves frantically in his direction and gestures him away. Can he see, with all the dust?

It might still be time to stop everything. She hurries to the building's side and starts climbing the wall. Lizard folks with their small but strong claws are at ease onstone walls and can climb without equipment where other humanoids would need ropes and pitons; she reaches the small window fast and easy, hurries in... and struggles to squeeze her generous breaststhrough. She's quite more voluptuous than her boss! Crawling frantically, she manages... up to the hips. At which point the cruel reality that she's stuck hits in. "No, no, no!"

--

Fleen watches in consternation as his friend's tail lashes in the air while her feet pedal helplessly. "Oh, you got to be kidding me..." What the hell is going on? Why did she completely forgot the plan?And what should he do, now?

--

Rasi shivers at some discreet noise.Is someone trying to sneak behind her back? The two gnolls she has been watching are quiet before her target's door... and the expected diversion is growing worryingly late. She heard Dahlia scream below, and then nothing.

Keep your cool. It's probably just a minor setback: her friend only needs a little moretime. This happens. First, do not let yourself get surprised. She gets close to the wall and sneaks in the darkness to return upward. It's darker than it should be, as if the window she arrived through had been closed... she spots her stuck accomplice.

"Rasiiii! Help meeee!" she's whispering, desperate.

"Oh, for fuck'ssake! What are you doing here?"She hurriedlycomes tograb the other by the horns and pushes, to no avail.

"I came to warn you! It's a trap! They have five guards and a walkingjudge: they're slavers!"

"Ffffuck! Damn, did you warn Fleen?"

"I couldn't!"

"Ffffuck... hang on..." She trots away, changes her mind, and returnsto hand her oil lamp to Dahlia: "Try using the oil to free yourself while I warn him. I'll be back soon."

She places her ear on anearbydoor to check if the room is empty, and promptly picks it open to run to the window. There, she starts waving to catchthe male's attention.

--

Fleen is a great companion, with a lot of qualities. Cunning improvisation in the face of the unexpected, however, is not one of these qualities. "S-should I run to pull on her big purple ass? No... Rasi told me to wait here and watch, she was very firm about it... But then, this was not in the plan!"

As he's mumblingto himself--it helps him thinking--, he belatedly notices motions at a windowand frowns in concentration. It takes him some time to recognize Rasi through the dust.

"Whaaaa... Oh, I get it!" They are having trouble escaping, it's his time. "Hold on tight, I'm going to pound these gnolls!"

He charges.

--

Dahlia is coating her breasts with stinky lamp oil and wriggling with all her might. She has to be careful not to oil her claws too much, or else getting back down will be perilous. She has tiny groans at the effort.

Bellow, there's a brief commotion. Did she hear Fleen scream? Rasi runs on the tip of her toes to investigatethe corridor below,andcheckhow muchtimeremains. There's a brief commotion there as well.

The purple kobold's heart sinks, catastrophe again. She thinks she's about to free herself, but can she run without her friends?

"Get yourself in safetyabove,the time wecatch her, sir!" It was a male voice she didn't know. Maybe a gnoll. The fat goblin, visibly anxious,appears, turning his back to her and she blocks her breathing.

In a moment that feels endless, he slowly turns his head. They watch each other in shock. She resumes struggling.

"There's a third one!" He's about to run away, but he seems to notice that she is in trouble. "And she's escaping!" He's recovering fast from his fear as he realizes she cannot reach for a possible weapon at her belt. He even gets a cruel smirk. "Oh, no, darling: you are not getting away!" And her runs to her.

She hisses and claws him in the face. Angry, he replies with a painful kick.

She grabs him at the collar. "Nf... y-you... are going to block that window for me, fastso!" And she yanks him while pushing on the wall with her legs, with all her might.

Her plan was simple: lodging him through the window so the guards lost time before getting a chance to shoot at her,and stop her fall with a daringjump andclawing at the nearby opposite house, whichhas a wooden wall.

The "not falling to her violent death" part of that plan, mercifully, works perfectly. The stuckageofthe fat goblin part, on the other hand... Is it that his fat behaves a lot differently than her feminine roundness? Or all the oil she coated the window with? Anyway, the guy opens terrified eyes as heinstantlyslides through with an audible "shlorp", goes crashing face first on the opposite wall, rebounds, and smashes at full speed onto the stone-paved groundbelow.

There,he remains, lying face down and unmoving, neck at a weird angle: Dahlia just killed in Kurut.

The kobold runs away.

--

A fly comes landing on the green ear.

A New Job Opportunity

What to do? Where to go? Dahlia has been running for a while, without a plan other than putting as much distance as possible between herself and her crime. She even showed her face to five guards! And her friends have been caught! Last time, Rasi saved the day, but she's not the boss... she's not as brave and cunning...

In her panic, she bumps into a bat-keen beggar. "Sorr..." The frail-looking creature looks like he's falling backward opening his muzzle in shock, but he suddenly exhales a reddish cloud in her face, stopping her apology. Her field of sight narrows and her heartbeat calms down. She zigzags, head spinning.

On her way, a second bat opens his large wings to receive her. She's wrapped into darkness as she loses consciousness.

--

Dahlia groans and blinks, dazzled and groggy. It takes her a while to gather all her senses. She's sitting on a comfortable armrest, in an unknown house. She drooled onto herself while sleeping. She sighs, yawns and stretches. Then opens big eyes: oh, and she killed a goblin! It's coming back to her now!

She bolts up to inspect her surroundings, and nearly falls as her headstartsspinning. Somebody helps her to sit back. "Take it slow, you are not fully recovered yet. Do you feel any dull pain in your liver?" It's an unknown male voice.

"My?"

"Around there." Her abdomen is patted.

"No... Who are you? Where am I?"

"How many eyes have a wild dog and a tame cat?" He's touching her neck, probably taking her pulse.

"Is that some kind of a riddle? Four? Who are you?"

"Your heart is steady and you process language properly."

"Uhm... thanks? Where am I?" The room stops spinning enough so she can see the tall, slim, white bat.

Still not caring to address her questions, he walks to the door. But stops there without leaving. "My master will speak with you.Be respectful in front of him." And he... begins stripping?

The kobold mumbles a puzzled and anxious little "yes" as she carefully stands up. She wants to be mobile should he try something weird. Apparently, he didn't take any of her equipment, she even still carries her flat dagger, banded on her left forearm under her sleeve. And her pouch of pepper powder at the belt! Great, a lot less murdery, yet very efficient!

Now topless, the batlowers himself to his knees, face to the door. He has weird scarifications on the back, half hidden by his fur, an abstract pattern like a constellation or some fortune teller sigils, and he's mumbling something.

"Sorry, what?"

Suddenly, there is something horrible in the room. Something foul. Something forbidden and twisted. A presence that hurts reality by merely touching it. Invisible, silent, scentless... just fear and disgust oozing from the airitself. And it... contracts, focuses. It flows into the bat, now convulsing, through the drawing in his back until it disappeared in there enough for Dahlia to remember breathing again.

The bat stands up and faces her. His motion and expressions are different, even his voice. His eyes are lost far, peeking through her more than at her. "Aaaah, welcome. I hope my men didn't treat you too roughly?"

She swallows with difficulties. "W-who... what are you?"

"Who or what in this town has the rare power of remotely animating bodies, my dear?"

"I... I don't know... I'm new in town, no offense meant..."

"Oh, of course! Very understandable. I am not vexed at all." He walks to a bar where he pours some brown beverage into a tiny glass. "A drink, dear? It is not poisoned."

She doesn't want the drink, even less after that odd specificness. But there's something in the deep, monochord, voice that makes it feel terribly dangerous to say "no" to even his casual proposals. "Y-yes, please?"

He adds acube of ice from a little bucket that was ready nearby and approachesher. "My name is Carolinus, but you might have heard of me under one of my many affectionate nicknames: the Pale One, the Master of Poisons, Rotten Wings, the Blind Plague...some of them are a little corny, I'll admit, they are not of my choosing.People are so creative!"

"Y-you... You are the head of the assassin's guild."

He nods and hands her the drink.

She looks at it, hesitant. If he wants her poisoned, she will be, so... She sips the glass in one shot, she needs it. "Ooofh!"

"It is good, isn't it? Makes you feel alive. Now, what is your name, dear?"

"D-dahlia."

"Oh, very cute. Pleased to meet you, little flower." He picks back the now empty glass. "Do you have an idea of the reason why you are here, Dahlia?"

"I... I killed on your territory, sir... It was an accident, I swear! I didn't mean to get into your business!"

"I am pleased to see you seem full of good will, dear."

"W-what is... supposed to happen to me, now?"

He goes back to the bar, where he begins cleaning up the glass, turning his back to her. "The most common, uhm, process, is a swift execution by one of my menin a dark alley. But,once in a while, I will personally take care of the offender. You see, people call me a necromancer... they purely focus on the deathinmy arts, while, really, it is an insignificant detail to me. I am more a magician of the flesh, in general, dead or alive."He cocks his head. "Although, I'll grant you that, when I work, life tends not to last for long. So, for example, I could slowly break your limbs, then your spine, using your own body's muscles; or grow teeth on your intestine and command it to eat its way up to your brain, avoiding the heart and lungs; or make you simply open up and burst all around the room! It's all quite messy, quite vulgar and unpleasant. Sometimes a useful reminder of the rules to the populace, but I do not enjoy this at all."

Dahlia, half hidden behind the armchair, is nowtrembling and whitening.

"You do not look thrilled by the prospecteither. Are you?"

She shakes her head miserably.

"Good. Then, maybe we could find a way to avoid this unpleasantness? I like to think of myself as a very flexible guild Master... and you cannot rule all on abject terror: I find that about nine tenthsof abject terror and one of pleasantness is much more efficient. Would you kindly help me? Are you open to an arrangement, dear?"

"I... y-yes, sir! Very open, thank you! Anything! I want to make it up for you... Thank you!"

"I am grateful. You have no connection with the High Magus, water Baroness, or the local law enforcement, do you?"

"N-no?"

"Then having you, as a guildnon-member, murder on my territory without being executed is not an option.You are not covered by our classical exceptions.Which means I will need to hire you in order to spare you. It can be a one mission engagement, I wouldn't want to be... pushy."

"I... I'll do one mission for you and... we can forget this?"

He nods. "If you agree."

A puff of reliefinflates, thenbursts whenshe realizesthe implications. "Does... it mean I will have to kill someone?"

"This is what assassins do, dear. I give you my word, however, that it is neither someone you know personally, norsomeone you would be sad to see gone. And we will go with poisoning: the sensuality of the blade, I understand it, is an acquired taste."

She needs to clench at the armrest for support, to avoid falling. The prospect is dreadful, but she's not in a bargaining position. If she agrees, she can buy time. Later she can ask Rasi for help, she can find a way, she can escape. "Who will I kill, if I might ask, Sir?"

"You may not ask, no. Theses affairs require some discretion and you are a fresh member: the information you need will be given to you when you require it. No more. So, Dahlia..." He extends his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"

She gives him a weak handshake. "W-we do..." she mumbles with the tiniest voice.

"I am pleased. Then,Iwillhaveto abandon you and return to my busy schedule, dear. My man here will take care of the detailswith you. Welcome tothe guild!"

The bats' expression suddenly dissolves, and he collapses onto the floor.

--

The possessed bat recovered his body after Carolinus departed. He convulsed and vomited a little, and seemed in a great pain for a while... but brushed it all away without a comment. He never gave Dahlia his name either.

The next four hours were an intensive lesson in poisons. Well, in one poison and its antidote, specifically. They want her to assassinate someone from the Needle!

As they have efficient magical protections on their borders, she cannot bring anything toxic there: therefore she will have to cookit once arrived. The assassins studied the winds and used them to carry seeds so, unbeknown to the nobles, the spice gardens contain all the plants she will need at spots she was taught.

As she will share her target's meal, and dropping dead would give him a warning, she'll have to create the antidote as well and drink it at the right moment.

It is not that hard, but one has to be very rigorous. The bat slaps the back of her head at each mistake and makes her repeat again and again until she's perfect. They use safe plants, during that training, not the deadly stuff.

They also have a plan to get her on the Needle, which he didn't disclose. That's very worrying: leaving this place has to be as hard as reaching it! She can forget her chances to help Fleen and Rasi and to escape the guild if she finds no way out before!

--

He checks the time and, as if on cue, someone poundsat the doorbelow. "Go answer. If anyone asks, I hired you as my servant yesterday."

"Understood, sir." She trots downstairs. Could it be that easy? She wouldn't need to pretend to be someone else if he expected a fellow assassin... so she's going to scram! That idiot got his noggin fried by Carolinus, for sure, to allow her aloneanywhere near the entrance! She'll run like the wind, being very careful about bats! Once in a quiet corner, she'll paint her skin, or wrap herself to pass for a leper... and she'll think of a plan to save her friends. She can do this!

She opens the door.

"Grab her!"

"Eeeep!"

The orcs rush in and brutally pin her on the floor before she could understand what was going on.

"And search her: the two others had a concealed blade on them."

The bat is coming down from the noise and makes a surprised face when he sees a group of guards, a walking judge, and a female goblin in his house. "Sir, Madame... what, pray I you to say, is the meaning of this?"

The elf bows his head politely but glances with his usual coldness. "What is your connection with this murderer, sir?"

"Murderer? She is my servant since yesterday. Are you sure of what you say, sir?"

"I personally witnessed the vile act, sir, then tracked her scent with Miss Dikk'sgnolls."

"Well, I reckon that makes the investigation easier. I assure you I had no idea: I had pity of a poor, half starving, creature from the last caravan and this is how I'm repaid? An assassin in my home? Bringing the guard at my door, for shame!"

The elf looks at him in the eyes for a long moment, but his act of sadness and hurt dignity is perfect. "We have no reason to accuse you of any complicity, sir. But I'm going to have to take your servant away."

"Of course! Take her! Take her far from me, I never want to see her again!"

At her turn, Dahlia is taken by the slavers.What is going on? Will the assassins help? Is it part of their plan? Will she be reunited with her friends?

The Slave Market

"So... it's really true? Your name is Miss Dick?"

"Well, there was a Miss Penis in the caravan. You remember?The halfling."

"It was Miss Pence, I think. She just had an accent..."

Miss Dikk sighs heavily and turns to the two gnolls. "Alright, clowns, do you like having a paid job, rather than eating dead rats floating in a puddle of piss from the sewer, and, in a week or two, ending as part of my merchandise?"

This makes their ears flatten. "I... I said nothing, Miss Dick, it was all him," whines the second one.

"It's Dikk," she pronounces with a strong, guttural, K, "but if you morons can't process that, 'Boss' or 'Madame' will work fine! Now shut up and get to work. And never forget: when I have to sell misbehaved dogs, I castrate them first to improve their value."

"Y-yes, Miss Boss!"

"Sorry, Madame!"

"That's more like it."

The two starts walking around the stand and juggling with their painted arrows: "Fresh kobold! Ten golds for a badhome! Allhealthy, onepierced! Fresh kobold!"

"Louder! And swirl these arrows! Higher! I'm not paying you to half-ass it!Andyou'd better keep at it, because I must be gentleand smiling to bait the customers: from now on, every time I'll have to shout at you, I'll dockthree coppers from your pay!"

--

It's early morning and the slave market is mostly empty. The kobold trio has been reunited, but can't reassure each other: each is adorning a simple but efficient halter gag. They can only growl and groan, both of which arediscouraged by a lick of Miss Dikk's flogger. Oh, and they cantinkle, from the cold livestock bells hanging from their metal collars.

Similarly heavy shackles secure their hands together in their back, and their tail liftednear. Finally, they are standing on "one bar prisons", high poles with an egg-shaped tip inserted up the two female's mounds and the male's anus. If all three had a horrible time, poor Fleen's face is still a river of tears and his leg muscles keep twitching. Thepolesalso have a sidewayshole near the bottom, to anchor the spreader bars between their ankles.

They are utterly helpless and exposed. No move can offer any protectionor modesty, but even a shift of weight will rock that cruel rod penetrating them brutally. The goblin greased them profusely, and agooey liquid is still running between their thighs. On one hand, this probably prevented injuries, on the other hand,this makes keeping the egg down a constant struggle: if they are not standing at attention, well straight, at all times, the punishment is immediate.

When Dahlia got her slave piercings--ears,nipples,and clit, with sturdy ringsplied permanently closed--, she thought it would bethe most humiliating time of her life. Shewas mistaken: that happened in the wagon of a traveling slaver, but she could escape before the market. Being presented with them, in the open, unable to cover herself is a whole newlevel entirely.

The sun is still low, and the air is cold. Freezing and shivering adds to the sensation of nakedness and vulnerability. The goblin, bundled up into a fluffy sweater, is slowly sipping on her burning hot spiced tea as she walks in front of the line. "Fresh day, uh, my pretties?" If Rasi's eyes could kill, the slaver would drop dead. "Don't give me the puppy eyes, this is making your breasts perkier. Very nice."

When she reaches a hand to flick the orange kobold's nipples, she pulls away and growls.

"Sheesh, you'll get tired of this game beforeme, sugar." She walks around her tensing prisoner, grabbing the heavy flogger at her belt, pulls it far for a good dive, and lashes at full strength. Five times in a row, no gradualbuildup, each lick leaving deep welts on the tender scaly skin.

Rasi's revolted growls turn into pleading whimpers at the third hit. She obediently holds still when the goblin tries toying with her nipple again.The reddening slowly appears on her bottom and undertail.

"Good girl. See? With patience, even the dumbest animal can be trained." She pinches and twists that nipple. Rasi gnaws at her gag and winces, but manages to remain silent. "Where was I? As, yes: if I don't sell you today, I'll pierce you like your friend. I like your hair, too... youwould fit nicely in a cheap bordello, I think I'll give you makeup. The customer imagines better with a little help, you see."

She moves to Dahlia, who is looking down to avoid her eyes.

"What do you know! Our little killer has a better attitude!"She pinches fingers into her product's nostrils and shakes her head forcefully. "Still, you can't be trusted. If _you_are not sold today, I'll give you a big nose ring. It's very good for control. I might brand you as well, if you cause trouble: usually fresh slaves are more valuable, but sometimes it's better to pretend they were tamed by someone else. For my reputation."

She continues to Fleen, stops the time for a sip of her drink, and chuckles.

"Aw, you, on the other hand... the cold doesn't put you at your advantage!" She plucks his soft penis between two fingers and waggles it in the air. "Look how tiny it is! I'm lucky you're so burly, so I still have a chance to sell you for hard labor!"

--

The other stallsgradually fill up, and the first visitors stroll in. The slave market is still quiet and half asleep, not much sellinggoing on: the rich like to wake up later, so most of the curious eyes are tourists.

A wide variety of slaves are produced: fennekins, terrified in their harem outfits, tall fauns under a yoke, wereratsin tiny rabbit cages...But mostly kobolds, a lot of kobolds: Kurut's High Magusis a dragon and he despises "lower draconians". He sees them as an insult to his blood, and loves to "remind them of their right place in the world". If his personal consumption isn't that high, the nobles, being watched with envy by all, tend to dictate the fashionforall of their empire...

One of the early visitors, a dwarf, gave a few coppers to Miss Dikk so he couldfondle "the heavy bottomed one". Under her amused watch, Dahlia receives a firm butt massage from a callous hand while he compliments her about looking like his third wife. Ifless hairy. The purple kobold shakes and bares her teeth at him with no avail. The slaver looks interrogatively at her patron and points her flogger, but he shakes his head with a smile.

Instead, he leans close to whisper: "Your target will arrive near the end of the morning. He's from the Needle, you will recognize him easily as heand his following willbe the only visitorsfrom there today. Try not to get sold to anyone else, or the guild will abandon you to your new slave life." On this, he winks and gives her a good slap on the left cheek.

Poor Dahlia stays frozen, in shock.

Miss Dikk is very curious. "What the hell did you whisper to her?"

"I told her I had a cock the size of a barstool'sleg,and the vigor of a one-hundred-year-old young dwarf.And that if she wasn't nicer to me, I'd give you two golds to make her ass looser than her pussy."

The goblin has a goodlaugh.

--

The sunrises, and so does the temperature, fast. The arrival of a true crowd is about as sudden.

For a while, Miss Dikk's stall gets mostly ignored. People pass by and look with mild curiosity, but then they just continue. She's growing very frustrated, and takes her nerves on her gnollswhen she can get away with it without breaking her commercial "kind and smiling"act in front of too many eyes.

"Be damn louder, you lazy mutt! You're covered by all the other criers!"

"Y-yes, Miss Boss!" His voice is already raspy.

Another goblin from a nearby stall approacheswith a welcoming smile and tilts his hat to her. "It is not his fault... May I be so bold as to offer advice, Miss?"

The Miss's smile is, for once, genuine. "I'm new on this market, and I graciously welcome any advice from my elders. Mister?"

"Gluld. Preshnard Gluld."

She extends her hand, which he shakes. "Dikk. Shernikk Dikk."

"Welcome to our market, Miss Dikk, pleased to have you here. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully with your beautiful merchandise andyourfirm hold on your goons. Now,about your issue: ourbuyers here grew used to the luxury of well-reputed slavers. They are shy to give their money to newcomers, whom they assume --sometimes unjustly--to be amateurs."

"That is understandable, but problematic. How do I break their reluctance, then?"

"Oh, that's very easy, by using one of the keytools of thegood salesman: suggested, but not technically pronounced in any way binding before the law, filthy lies."

"I like where you're going."

"Specifically: paint a large number on each of them. Around fifty, sequential."

"Thus implying I already sold more than fifty of these critters! Mister Gluld, you are a wise man! Thank you!"

"It was a pleasure. Would you, per chance, like to share a drink with me after the market?"

"With great pleasure!"

--

About five minutes after Fleen has been labeled as "055", adarkelf comes checking him. He feels his muscles here and there, spreads his lids and then lips to examine his eyes and teeth. "This one looks sturdy. How much for it?"

"Ten golds. They are ten each, nine if you buy the lot."

"Thisiswaytoo much for a laborer. I give you eight."

"Eight? I'm sorry, sir, but that's stiff! Look at the product's quality!"

The elf walks around the male and pondersfor a while. "I work for the salt mine by the south. If you can provide me with strong and healthy specimens--any species goes--,I can become a regular buyer. I give you nine golds, last offer."

Miss Dikk peeks at Gluld behind, who nods to her encouragingly. "Sold for nine!"

Fleen is chained and, with a heartbreaking cry of pain and misery, is removed from his pole. He's dragged away before the wet eyes of his two friends.

Dahlia starts crying for good. Did this really happen? The reality of their situation only sinks in now: they are not just being tortured and humiliated by the horrible goblin. The group will be split. She will watch the others being taken from her,and then it will be her turn. Taken to a terrible life! And she can't do anything!

Rasi always was a considerate leader. Seeing her brother in arms lost and watching "little sister" sobbing without even being able to say a reassuring word hurts a lot more than the flogging.

--

The satyr couple consider Rasi and Dahlia, exchanging whispers and chuckling to themselves. The male's loincloth is doing a terrible job at concealing his massive erection, and she's pretty openly fondling her own breasts while he paintskinky images in her imagination, all in sensual murmurs.

Miss Dikk rubs her hands and is pondering about trying to sell them the pair for twelve a piece. She had not foreseen how the purple one's recent reminder from the assassin's guild would spur some resistance.

Dahlia doesn't hiss: for all she knows, these weirdos might love a resisting toy. No, instead, she pretends sickness: she goes as limp and tired as she can without impaling herself too severely, head dangling, and has a faint hiccup when the male lifts her breast. Then a muffled cough-sneeze around her gag. Putting all her energy in it, she even manages to dribble some snot through her nose.

He pulls his hand back. "Eeew! This one is not healthy!"

"The orange one looks fine, on the other hand."

Rasi curses herself for not having been as cunning as her friend, but it is way too late for the act.

"Can we try it before we buy it?"

Miss Dikk hurriedly conceals her anger. First save what can be salvagedof the sale, then deal with the damn misbehaving slave. Normally, she doesn't offer samples: best way to have non-serious customerstake advantage of her goodsfor free, and leaveit exhausted--thus less valuable--before the end of the day. The satyrs seem genuinely interested, however, and leaving them go displeased after the incident could damage her reputation. She nods with a wide smile. "Naturally! It's an excellent product, sir, I'm sure that once you give it a test ride, you'll refuse to let it go."She hums. "Now,how to give you some privacy..."

"Oh, we're not into privacy."

"Flaunting it is more fun!"

"A bit of audience participation, even, maybe?"

The goblin is losing control of the situation fast. Hopefully, they will buy... or at least won't damage the goods. They are so heated upalreadyit's too late to turn back.

"Get her off the pole, we're going to try her in the middle of the road!"

"Oh, yes! I'll hold her down for you, sweetpea! By the hairs, well bent."

"I'm going to ravage her anus, honeybee.Her other hole is too loose, for now."He winks at the Miss. "I'm sure you have some lube, haven't you?"

"Uhm, of course, but..." How to calm them down without being rude? "If you break it, you buy it, right?"

"Of course, it's only fair!"

"Can we invite other males, sweetpea? I want to watchsomeone masturbate inher long ears."

"Everything you want, honeybee. Miss? We will also borrow your two gnolls."

When he produces a heavy coin pouch and tosses two golds at the goblin, she forgets any objections. "Enjoy yourself! Take all the time you need to try it!"

--

Rasi gets raped behind Dahlia's back and she cannot see. She can hear it, however: her furious, and then pained cries around her gag. The rhythmic slaps. The crowd cheering and laughing at her public humiliation. The male grunts.

All the while, Miss Dikk is standing beside herlast remaining productwith her best fake smile toward the crowd. "Do you think you were clever, sugar? Doyou? I'll teach you to play sick on me! As soon asthese two are gone, I'm going to beat you so hard you will probably be unsellable for a day or two!"

Rasi doesn't return. The couple buys her for twelve golds.

The Target and the Shield

The crowd opens and people droptotheir knees as the Needle's nobles arrive: both the High Magusand water Baroness are gracing the market with their presence today.

The two eastern dragons are comfortably resting onlush silk cushions, lying along twelve palanquins each, carried by noble elves: only the "highest" species are allowed to serve them; if the last unicorn were still alive, she'd probably have the great honor to clean up their chamber pots.

The cortege isadorned witha colorful mismatch of the most expensive fabrics, with the most delicate and elaborate patterns... and rare, well preserved Lost Era artifacts: kimonos with detailed landscapes under transparent plastic ponchos, skim and revealing bodices,all "braided" in gold jewelry,and heavy gasmasks...No two of them look alike.

There is not a single guard, either.

Thuniland Undil, brothers and sisters, the thunder and the rain. One white dragon and one cyan, identically hieratic, identically perfect from the nervous lines of their predator muscles to the tiniest feather in their lush manes,ortothe arcsof their "mustaches".

He is glancing at the crowd with an air of barely contained cold rage, that is his average everyday expression, eagerly watching for any trace of defiance, anymark of disrespect.

She is being fed honey-coated grapesby a servant, and both her expression and the dribbles of water pouring gently from her palanquins express her supreme boredom to be here.

--

Glulg hurries to Miss Dikk's stall. "Quick! Call back your goons: they are not safe in the middle of the street!"

She follows his advice before asking. "What's the danger?"

"His Highness, he's in that mood again. It often happens after many large caravans arrived, when there are clueless foreigners needing to see to believe, and a high chance of a clueless fool to take his bait."

"His bait?"

"No time to explain! But watch out for anything suspicious! Especially from thefree kobolds. If anyone looks threatening to his Highness, in any way, if you have the slightest doubt: run away, fast! Now, we must kneel and shut up. Oh, and don't look up at him in the eyes, ever!"

--

Thunilslidesoff his palanquins and shakes himself. His court lets him lead at a short distance, completely exposed.

The slave market is full of clueless ones today, and the High Magus, if intimidating, is deeply hated by many; it doesn't take too long before the trap snaps on some poor idiot.

A yellow kobold has been particularly humble in his prostration, face near the ground in what looks like abject submission... but, in reality, is a way to cover his hands as he poisons his throwing dagger. His little sister was sold to a bordello this morning. He lets the dragon pass by him so he can attack from the back.

People around are highly attentive, and the hatred on his face betrays him when he prepares himself for the assault: spoiling his surprise effect, the crowd around him flees in confused, noisy, panic.

Thunil doesn't turn back. He straightens, closes his eyes,and spreadshis arms, offering himself passively. He doesn't bother using any of his many powersto protect himself. Well, not any of his _active_powers.

"Die! you..." The following lightningstrikeis blinding and deafening. Before he could throw his weapon, the kobold drops dead, his clothing set on fire. Three unfortunate bystanders, who failed to get far enough in time, were electrocuted as well. One fourth is screaming in agony. He could maybe be saved by a fast rescue, but nobody dares comenear before the dragon moves. And the dragon doesn't care.

He stays to roar at the crowd, straightening taller and taller as he goes, screaming louder and louder: "Witness the Shield of Alkhim, Kurut! Watch your Master! For I am HisChosenOne! His ProtectedOne! Until his return, Kurut! Until the Twilight of Days! I AM YOUR ONLY GOD!" He raises his fists at the end and uses his active powers this time: lightning showers him for several seconds, blue arcs running along his mustaches and arcing from his belly to the ground.

When you carry such terrifying firepower, you can turbo-ham your performance without findingany criticsin the audience.

From a distance, Undil stiflesa yawn and dismissively wagglesher fingers. A copious and highly localized rain showers his brother to lower him back to a temperature where he will not kill anybody just by approaching. It sizzles and smokes copiously. When she stops, the ground is still hot and only barely wet.

"Can we go home, now, High Magus? This place stinks."

"In a moment, little sister. While we are here, I will get myself a new toy."

She sighs. "We still have at least three kobolds you didn't kill yet."

"But none of them is a killer itself. I enjoy breaking a kobold that strayed this far from its place."

"As you desire, High Magus."

--

_He_is the target? That unkillable monster, protected by the gods? Dahlia starts trembling uncontrollably as the dragon is guided closer. This is her end: she has been hired to kill him, so, even if he's unaware of it, the moment she'll get in range, the Shield of Alkhim will strike. Hopefully, it will be so violent that she won't feel it?

--

Thunil is smiling with contentment, and the crowd --knowing how to read him--is recovering its liveliness. Business resumes, save in his immediate proximity where prostration and reverence aredue.

The purple kobold is terrified, as it should be, and its whole back is crisscrossed with cruel lashes from a fresh and severewhipping. As it should be. Very proper and orderly.

He looks down at the kneeling goblin. "Is it this one? The killer pest?"

"Y-yes, your Highness. She murdered one of my associates."

"Another goblin, I imagine?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"A menial crime, for most. Not tolerable from a kobold, however." He observes the prisoner, and sticks a finger toward the pole she's impaled onto.

--

Dahlia isn't struck? Why? How? Thinking fast, she remembers how the dragon passed by his would-be assassin without anything happening: the shield is only triggered by actually attempting to harm him! Future plottingdo not count!

She's shaken from her thoughts when he extends a claw toward the metal between her leg. A bolt of static snaps loudly in the air and pain explodes in her lower region. Another follows, then more, he's toying to make tiny arcs on the metal.

Zaps shoot inside her mound, cruelly burning, making her clench. The metal tip feels like a red-hot egg, that would pulsate and inflate. Her legs are clenching out of her control, and she's soon getting fucked brutally by the pole.

When she starts shrieking around her gag, the dragon laughs, delighted. "I like its noises. I will take it."

The goblin has a brief hesitation, then: "It would normally be twenty golds, your Highness. But, for you, I'd be honored to give her for fifteen."

Thunil smirks and clicks two claws together. One of the elveswho were following him nods, walks to Miss Dikk, and lends a solid kick in her ribs. She rolls on the floor, wheezing. The dragon thenlooks at his sister, who nods and clicks claws at her turn.

At her signal, the elf nods again. "Goblin, as is the custom of the water Barons, solelegitimate owners of the slavery business, her Providence the Baroness grants you the great honor of accepting your offering. It will be part of the payment of today market'slicense."

The High Magus concludes: "Be grateful."

Welcome to Your New Home

They left Dahlia's restraints on, but didn't add a chain. They trust she's aware that one can't outrun lightning, and will follow obediently on her own. She is. She's still gaping and dribbling grease under herself, every move pulls on her whipped skin painfully, but she trots to follow the stiff pace of the taller elves. Her livestock bell is tinkling merrily as the court chats, enjoying their walk back home.

The sun is high and harsh now. She was protected at the market, but it is now blinding her and cooking her back. She's sweating profusely and is panting short, growing more and more thirsty. How much the gag makes her drool on herself is an extra loss of water. The dragons are fully hidden in their palanquins, curtains closed in front of their faces, while the nobles carry large umbrellas. She tried to share their shadow, but they casually kicked her butt away.

The desert's sand is known to hide shards of glass or metal, so she's used to walking in boots. Luckily, she didn't injure her feet yet, but they burn likehell, and are hurt by sharp pebbles. They eventually reach the no man's land close to the Needle and pass the first dry cadaver. Then thefirst lines of magical frontiers: huge protective circles with carefully painted and repainted esoteric marks.

Orcs with crossbows salutethem, many holding the leash of a quadrupedaldog. This is when a noble whistles at her, and motions her to come. She's led to Undil's front palanquin, which remains closed.

"Do you see these hounds, little toy? His Highness likes to hunt your keen with them. It's cute to see Him run around, so full of a simple joy. On the evening, we then eat the prey, grilled well, with garlic and herbs. Oh, it has been a while since we last ate fresh kobold, little toy! They must all long for the hunt."

The ex-thief shivers. Don't panic, she reassures herself: she's only teasing you, she would never hurt you without her brother's permission.

"Do you want me to share a secret with you, little toy? If you were to run away now, I am certainThunil wouldnot shoot his lightning at you.I know Him well.And no guard wouldthendare aimtheirweapon. The hounds are fast, and tireless, but they _can_be bested inarace. It is true, I am not lying to you: now is your very last, minuscule, chance to escape."

There is a long silence. Dahlia looks around, checking how long she would need to run before finding the first hiding spots. She considers her chances to get rid of her restraints before dying from thirst and sunstroke. She finally remembers the assassins' guild and how angry they would be if she ran away from her mission. She's tempted. But she doesn't dare to try.

"A pity. You are not a very fun toy... nor an intelligent one: if I were in your situation, I wouldn't be so eager to preserve my life. Dismiss."

--

It's a steep zigzagging path to climb the Needle. Dahlia is exhausted when she reaches the "bowl" and finally walks on soft grass.

The gardens are beautiful! So colorful and filling the air with subtle scents! It is fresher here! Sphynxes are working in the fields while elves have random picnics here and there, playing music and doing theater. The castle and temples behind are way sterner. Then, there is the lake. Crystal blue, fresh and permanent enough to host a variety of fishes and flowers: an amazing wonder for a desert's inhabitant.

The normal way for a city-state to work involves several water Barons, jealously taking care and rationing the natural water resources their town has been built around. And playing an elaborate political chess with their High Magus, in intricate power balances.

True to its all-might no-subtlety Master, Kurut operates under a way simplified variation on thatscore: Alkhim is a cruel and demanding god, who threw his spear where only the strongest could prosper. That place had no resources. Nothing to allow life. Not even, the most important of all: water.

Instead, today, it has Undil, a mighty enough being so she could have been theHigh Magusherself,if big brother didn't claim the part. With her power of water summoning, there is no need for any other Baron.

Water made Kurut livable, but it wasn't enough to make it attractive and rich. The spice gardens were the dragoness's idea as well. Spices are rare, expensive, easy to carry and preserve, varied.The perfect combination to become a prestigious good. And the merchants starvefor prestige and reputation, sosuch unique good will drive the most elite ones to come. These elites will drive the lesser ones closer. Altogether, they will fire the growth of a huge market and from there the gold will flow. All it takes is a unique source of prestige, tobait and retainall the desert's merchants: he who controls the spices controls their universe.

The last piece of that puzzle is then not to get raided by a powerful neighbor. Thunil's power to single-handedly lay death on anentire city in half a day solves this easily.

Why all the guards, you might then ask? They do not protect the nobles' lives, here, indeed: they protect their quietness.

--

Chisisi looks at the sun and puts down his billhook: it will soonbetime for his turn. He takes a momentto carefully pile up the pepperbell herbs he collected, for his coworker to sundry later: it was a goodmorning, he's proud of his work.

For an elegantsphynx, working as a mere peon is somewhat debasing... but he got used to that, and to the luxury life up there. He's still wary of the dragons, but they won't bother them much as long as the work isconsciouslydone.Which it is.Then,he despisesthe elves: who said they were the superior species? Granted all the honors, and getting all the luxuries while all they do is sing and look pretty?

Well, theydon't get _all_the luxuries. There's this perk that, for some reason, the Master reserves to his workers. He reaches the line and salutes a friend. It shouldn't be too long of a wait, and Gyasi brought some beer. Neat! He asks no question to the departing ones: surprise is part of hispleasure.

Afew minutes later, he goes down the stone stairs of the play dungeon. The scent of sex and male arousal fills his nostrils and finishes preparing him. He hurriedly drops his pants and discards them near the door.

Today's "welcomed" new kobold is a shapely purple female. Lovely! Ropes anchored to rings at the floor and ceilings hold her in a severe strappado, legs parted above a bucket that is already half filled up with sperm. He sneers: that wet and messy kink of the boss isn't really his thing... but the power rush, on the other hand! She's gagged and has a slave bell. "Oh, I'm going to make you chime, pretty lady!"

He covers her and penetrates without much care. She's well loosened and sloppy already, and accepts his thick member without much resistance. Her toes and fists are still clenching, he got to her before she went too lifeless!

Steps in his back make him halt awkwardly and he looks over his shoulder to see Thunil arriving with an elf in a gimp. W-what's the protocol in _this_situation? He knows this normally happens, but it's his first time. The master nods encouragingly. "Keep going." And he goes leaning against a wall to observe.

Chisisiresumes bucking his hips, first hesitantly and then harder as his pleasures builds up and he forgets how weird the situation is. Soon he remembers the bell and rams more violently to make it ring, shaking the entire frail body under his assaults, lifting her feet and making her squeak.

The Master looks pleased when the male hunches and growls, shooting several new spurts deep in and plopping out... cascades of fresh white falling in the bucket.

The koboldis trying to peek between the dragon's legs, terrified. This almost makes him laugh: asif the Masterwould soil himself into a lowly kobold!

Time to leave his place to his next friend. He bows to his lord, who ignores him, and leaves.

Behind, he hearsThunil clicking his clawsto the elf. "I'm getting into a mood. Summon the Baroness into my bedroom in... ten minutes."

--

Undil tosses a bit of fat and cartilage from her meal to one of the kobolds crawling on the floor. Right into his face, specifically. He eats up eagerly.

Another is trying to feed a fish tail to the traumatized and sperm dribbling purple heap curled in a corner. She hisses with disgust.

"High Magus, is it absolutely necessary that these things eat with us?"

"They have to eat, or they will not last." At his turn, he glances at Dahlia, who suddenly finds the motivation to munch on her fish tail.

"In that disgusting state? While I am enjoying my dinner? The smell is..." She stops as she realizes that, in her annoyance, she raised her voice to her brother. This is never a good idea.

He hisses at her face,and she flattens hurriedly on the table. "I like to mark my possessions." As she lowersher maneand mustaches, he caresses a claw slowly along her snout. "_All_my possessions," he emphasizes, eyes locked in hers.

Her tail is shivering from the mix of fear and pure rage. She contains herself, managing a contrite grimace rather than a full baring of her teeth. "Y-yessss, High Magusss..."

Thisappeases him, but the cruel edge in his eyes doesn't fade away. "Your energy is lacking its focus and purity, today, little sister. You will spend this afternoon meditating in your temple, not swimming in your lake."

"Assss you command, High Magusss..."

Unkillable?

Thunil had other matters to deal with than his new toy, for the afternoon's beginning, so Dahlia is recovering in a small cell. It is bare, not even a bench nor straw on the cold stone ground. The small window is near the ceiling and has sturdy bars.

At least she's given some time to think. The gang rape was horrible, and it was mere foreplay.She still has to see Thunil at his worse! His playingwill break her fast, even if he doesn't decide to outrightkill her on a whim: she cannot afford to wait, she has to escape_fast_!

But she has very few aces in her sleeve. There's the poison. Not to kill him: if his shield miraculously spared her, his poisoning would lead to the brutal death of all theservantsand playthings. Screw the assassin's guild! If the stuff is as mean as she was told it was, however, it could mess with the guards something fierce even when dissolved in a big cauldron of food. And with enough of them incapacitated and her climbing abilities, a daring escape feels possible.

So,firstshe has to make the poison. And the antidote, just in case (mostly just in case the guild is somehow watching her). Then infiltrate the kitchen. Ideally before supper, so she can climb the Needle down by its side this night, hopefully before being too weak to manage.

Not so easy when she can't even leave her cell!

A... ball of water? Hits her hardin the cheekand she almost loses balance. Undil's smirking face appears from the window, delicately cleaning her fangs with a big toothpick. "Plotting misdeeds, little toy?"

"N-no, Mistress! I... I'll be good!"

"A pity. I really dislike you, little toy: you're putting his Highness in a mood I despise. I want you to die." She shrugs. "But life is harsh, we don't always get what we want."

"N-no?"

"I cannot kill you, He'd make me pay. But if you were to kill yourself, on the other hand... Or to anger Him by doing something stupid... A pity you're not plotting, apity, really. A pity you're stuck there without a way to misbehave."

"Y... yes, Mistress."

The dragon shrugs again. "I have to go back to my temple. His Highness will also be away from the Needle for a fewmorehours. Such a wasted opportunity for mischief. A pity."

Dahlia blinks, unsure what the other expects from her. Is this a trap?

Undil finishes getting rid of a piece of vegetable and licks her fangs. Then, she very deliberately drops her toothpick down the cell, not even making an effort to pretend. "Oooops, so clumsy. Bye-bye, little toy." And she leaves.

The kobold remains frozen for a long moment. It might be a trap, but it might also be her only opportunity.She's not in a position to be picky.She plucks the wooden tool with trembling hands. It's good quality wood, very sturdy. Lockpicking time!

--

Getting anywhere near the bowl's edges, the lake, or the buildings, would be suicide, with all the guards. But crawling in the plantations, hidden by the vegetation, to seek the poison's ingredients was a piece of cake. The sphynxes, numerous but clueless, predictable and inattentive were no problem at all for a trained thief in the gardens' favorable terrain. The strong scents of the herbs also helped, given her current state of messiness.

The recipe involves no boiling. She grindsplants between stones, measuresleaves with her fingers' width rather than weightingthem, diluteswith her saliva. She usesbig leaves, well folded, as makeshift "vials", and tiesdifferent knots at the stalks to avoid mixing them up.

She has the poison and the antidote!

Her time is running dangerously low, however, and she has no clue how to access the kitchen. But any victory helps with her morale.

She digs a hole to hide her creations, not far from hercell, then locks herself back in and hides the toothpick between two stoneson the wall.

Outside, a now-familiar chuckle resonates. "Such a mischievous little toy! You were worth every penny I paid your guild. I will be taking over from there: as his Highness's sister, I am immune to Alkhim'sshield. As for you... I _could_save you when we will kill all kobolds tomorrow. I could. But I didn't lie: I really dislike you, little toy. Being a good pawn will not erase what he did to me, because of you. Bye-bye!"

--

Dahlia is cunning, but not a mistress in cunning. She's been through a lot, she's terrified, hurtand exhausted. So she doesn't question why Undil didn't kill her brother by stabbing him in bed, if she's really immune to the shield. Or how stupid the dragoness has to be,to reveal her whole plan like this, before it is achieved.

No, right now, all she can think of is that she's done for.

Then she remembers the toothpick.

She has a new weapon, information! Thunil iswell known to bean old-school believer in a certain ideal of royalty and grandness. In certain old laws. If she saveshis life, no matter how much he despises her, no matter if he learns that she was supposed to assassinate him... there are great chances he will pardon her. And exile her, swearing to slowly kill her if he ever finds her again after, but she can deal with that.

--

Thunil is sitting on his throne, sipping a spiced tea with Undil. His sister, he's pleased to see, calmed down after her forced retreat in her temple. If she keeps up thisgood behavior and does not provoke him until dinner, he'll allow her back in her lake. He knows how she needs it to be happy.

But, for now, his focus is elsewhere: what will he do with that killer pest? Which will be more entertaining, to unleash himself for a fast rush, or to let her last? To crush her slowly and play more games? Now he's in a better mood, he thinks he'll...

"Maaaaster!"

He nearly spits his tea. She's out of her cell? And she _dares_toshout under his window?

"Your sister is trying to poison you!"

Undil stiffens and her mustaches twist in panic. Her reactions make him doubt.The tea's spice doesn't burn the same way it usually does, nowthathe thinks about it. He's febrile and oppressed.

"She has the antidote!"

"She... it's preposterous! You will not believe..."

He's standing up and blue arcs spark to hit the floor and furniture.

She's backing up, growing more and more afraid. "Don't hurt me! I'm your sister! I... I would have been hit by Alkhim if I tried anything against you!"

He smells the air and has no difficulties detectingherbs and damnkoboldhands. He reaches in her mane to pull out the antidote's "vial". His claws close onto her throat and he violently slams her on the floor, belly up. "You! I AM YOUR HIGH MAGUS! HOW DARE YOU!"

She's twisting frantically, choking. He's close to crush herwind pipe... and remembers right in time how much he needs her. Without her water, his reign will end before theweek. He relents and makes a few steps back, trembling in rage.

"You will pay dearly! I will make your life a living hell! I will tame you like a kobold! YOU MESSED WITH YOUR GOD!" His lightning slices the room, setting fire to the throne. He barely missesher. He was lucky: he lost control.

The poison. Think! Do the right thing, fast! He bites the folded leafopen and drinks half of the antidote. Then a little more: as long as she survives, she can suffer!

"Come here! Drink! You don't get to die before _I_allow you!"

Undil is twisted in one of the room's corners, covering her head with both hands, trembling. And then, just like this, she stops trembling and uncoils with a huge smile on her face.

Thunil understand he made a hugemistake. But doesn't catch whatit was. He has a violent cramp in hisabdomen and vomits blood in his muzzle. "H-how..."

"Oh, big brother. Even I could never dodge Alkhim's shield to poison you. I had to use the only actually immune person on this planet."

He's losing control on his musclesfast and is slowly collapsingtowardthe floor. He hiccups and loses a spurt of blood from under his tail with a most undignified noise. This is not how he imagined his end. "Kob... old... assass... in?"

She laughs aloud. "No, silly! You!"

Finally, he understands: the tea wasn'tgenuinelypoisoned, it's the "antidote" that was. He lost. But in his last seconds, he could still easily obliterate her with a hislightning. Only,this would destroy his legacy. It'd end the family's legend. Well played.

Thunil's head drops and his chest collapses in a last, bubbling, exhale.

His Highness the High Magus is dead, long live Her Highness the High Magus.

Undil laughs and laughs, hysterically.

--

It gets dark, and surprisingly cold, in Kurut, this afternoon. Something white start falling from the sky, and it takes several hours for the desert inhabitants to understand what is going on.

There are scenes of panic in the streets.

For one week, as a loving mourning from the new High Magus to the old, it will snow on the desert.

--

"Leave us alone."

The elves leave, letting the seemingly sad dragoness alone with the chained kobold.

Undil spreads her black veil to grin toothily at her prisoner. "They have many ideas about how I should end you, little toy. Some great ones! I could skin you alive, and make a nice pouch out of you." She chuckles. "But I don't want you to die anymore. You're the only one I can talk to, about what we did. The only one I can gloat with. You are precious to me, now, little toy!"

She slowly coils around her helpless prisoner.

"Of course, we can't have _you_talking too much. And we must make a believable show of you being punished. I'm going to muzzle you permanently. And have you on a chain near me at all times. Do not be afraid, I will not brutally destroy you like my brother would: I want to keep you for a while! I will tame you, I will teach you to crawl and to dotricks. We're going to have so much fun together, little toy! Eventually, you'll learn to like it as well!"

Epilogue

Carolinus delicately removes the worms from the, currently skinned off, left side of his face. He gently places the wriggly creatures in a bowl, careful not to hurt them: undeath is a constant struggle against rotting, and these dedicated little helpers are precious for the cleaning up, before changing spare parts.

One of his lieutenants arrives from behind and bows low. "Our spies confirmed that the target isdead, Master. Everything happened exactly as you planned." He bows again, is about to leave, and then changes his mind. "Master? May I ask you something, out of curiosity?"

The tweezer-holding dry hand stops briefly. A novice bat, who was observing the maintenance, gags, nearly falls, then straightens back with dropping arms. His right fingers twitch as the tweezer resumes working and the undead bat speaks through his mouth. "Yes?"

"Thank you, Master. Her Highness paid us a handsome fee for this kill... but eliminating the High Magus, one who was indifferent to the guild and who brought peace and stability to the region... This is too much of an important political decision for me to believe you accepted just for the bounty."

"You are right. Well thought, my youngfriend."

"So, why, if I may be allowed to ask, did we kill him?"

"You are allowed to ask." The bat pauses to nudge a few of his fangs. One of them is moving, he rips it off in a firm but controlled motion and gesturesanother novice to bring him a spare. "I saw Thunil hatch and grow into power. Oh, he was a genuine legend, a long time ago, ravaging the battle fields, insatiable forchallenges and conquest! His fire burned beautifully! Oh somagnificent! But then, he was cursed with the most horrible fate..."

"A horrible fate?"

"Yes: he achieved everything he dreamed of. Almighty and revered by all, he then became... complacent, stupid. He mellowed, save forhis boilinganger. A painful vision, I so pitied him. Believe me, my youngfriend, we didnot kill that dragon. He slowly choked on his crown a long time ago,we merely officialized the fact."The bat stops,to pick a scalpel and observe an assortment of freshmuscles on some tray.

His lieutenant awaits. He knows there is more to come.

"But for all his limitations, Thunil remained an efficient tyrant. As you said, he brought us decades of great stability."

The listener thinks he's catching the idea. "Which... is bad for our guild's business, Master?"

"Oh, worst my friend! Much worst! Thunil committed a heinous crime that someone trapped in existence for aslong as myself could not possibly forgive."

He turns his head sideways for better access, raising his scalpel, and for the lieutenant, it seems as if he was looking at him with his white eye.

"Hemade Kurut boring. But I have great hopesabout his sister."

The End.