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The bell in the old Tornhiem Chapel pealed its twelfth note into the crisp, cold air just as the snow began falling. The echoes faded, leaving the wind as the only sound. From the other spire, Shadow paused in his inspection of his gear to glare at the flakes illuminated from the lamps below. Snow would complicate things, and this was not a night that he desired complications. The black furred jaguar looked down at the town below him--somewhere down there, his mate was walking into danger. They had come at the request of their employer, the Emperor, to investigate rumors around the Countess of Tornhiem. Those tales painted the sika deer as a sadist and a kidnapper at the least; a murderer and a traitor at the worst. The Emperor liked to portray himself as a ruler that didn't interfere in local affairs, but these reports couldn't be ignored.

Shadow ran his sharpening stone over one of his knives as he watched the streets below. To investigate such rumors, and deal with them if they proved true, the Emperors had created the Nightguard. So two of the best Nightguard agents: Shadow and his mate Ra'jarr were dispatched to deal with the Countess. They had arrived two weeks ago, and tonight they would deal out the Emperor's justice.

The assassin slid the knife into its sheath on his belt and pulled out another to sharpen it. His eyes flicked to the market district of Tornhiem, looking for a well-dressed caracal. That would be Ra'jarr, in his guise of a noble with an anti-Imperial attitude drifting through the Eastern Provence in search of a new home to purchase. The Countess had requested his presence at the castle tonight to discuss "topics of mutual interest." Shadow (posing as his bodyguard) had been explicitly forbidden from attending this late night meeting with the Countess. No sign of him yet, though. Shadow turned back to the castle and watched the guards on their patrols. He thought again of the snow, and how it might change the grip on the roof tops. That could make it difficult to keep to the time table. In his mind's eye, he saw Ra'jarr smile and remind him that they hadn't exactly chosen easy lives. His mate was full of wisdom like that, even though he was only five years Shadow's senior. We live a lot in our years, the caracal would say when asked how he acquired such wisdom before the age of thirty. Experience counts for more than age. And you know better than anyone that if we don't get that experience, we don't get the luxury of aging.

From his perch, Shadow nodded in silent agreement with his mate. In half an hour there would be an opening in the patrols and he'd make his move to join Ra'jarr inside the castle. With a flick of his wrist he sent the dagger in his paw flying into a mortar seem in the stonework across the tower, then he reached down and adjusted the straps on his gear. Soon, this would all be over. Soon, he could stop pretending not to be in love with his caracal since, out here in the provinces, the gods' tenant to love who you will wasn't has widely practiced. Soon, they could return to normal life. He wondered if it would be snowing when Ra'jarr painted the town. Shadow let the thoughts keep him company as he watched and waited.

***

Like many towns in the Eastern Province, Tornhiem butted up against a hill upon which the count's manor house and the archaic castle stood. The town proper was enclosed by a broad circular wall with cannons pointing outward, and the chapel at the center of the circle. The castle hill had been flattened so that the gate to the castle was level with the rest of the city. From there, the castle climbed up the knoll and, in part, went into the hill itself with a squat square tower atop the summit. The count who had built the manor house all those years ago believed in keeping his work life separate from his private life, so he had left the castle's keep as the place to conduct business.

Ra'jarr huffed as he looked up at it, offended. Rather than trying to grab for power and the Imperial throne, the Countess should have spent her money updating and improving the look of her home--just because Tornhiem had begun as a hastily thrown together bastion on the then eastern border of the Empire didn't mean it had to continue to look the part a century later. The town didn't even cobblestone streets, or the new telegraph lines.

But instead of improving her city, she had chosen to waste it on foolish pursuits, and had called down the Nightguard's wrath upon herself. Pursuits that included the alleged murder of her husband, taking lovers who sometimes disappeared, and raising troops with the intent to fight the Emperor--and possibly attempt to take the Imperial throne for herself. Which was why Ra'jarr was out here in the snow, on his way to a late night rendezvous with the Countess. He sighed as he made his way up the main street from the inn he was currently staying at towards the castle--he wasn't going to paint this place when they returned home, it was too ugly. The caracal pulled his greatcoat tight, tugged on his hat, and fought down the urge to look up at the chapel. He could feel Shadow looking down on him from there, a small sense of security as he headed into danger.

Instead of looking, he smiled to himself. In spite of his dislike of the place, that would be a lovely scene to paint: the chapel with the jaguar hidden in the shadows he took his name from. He wouldn't approve, of course. Shadow was many things, but "artist" was not one of them. The younger jaguar hadn't understood his habit of painting the places they had been. We almost died there. Why would you want to preserve that? Shadow would ask. Ra'jarr would just chuckle.

That's the point, he'd reply. These places were worth dying for, so they are worth remembering.

The answer hadn't fully satisfied the then teenage jaguar, but a self-portrait of Ra'jarr in the style of one of the famous nudes in the Imperial gallery had stopped him questioning his partner's hobbies. All these years later, Shadow seemed to have come to terms with his practice--even offering comments when Ra'jarr was doing his sketches. Of course, he still much preferred Ra'jarr's other­ subjects. The caracal purred to himself as he planned out a painting in his head: the two of them sharing an intimate moment--nude and aroused, of course. Lying in bed, their shafts resting gently against each other's as they kissed. Or maybe, he would finally get around to painting that time they had snuck away from a party in the Imperial Palace, gone into the Emperor's personal chambers, only for the wolf himself to walk in on them mid love making. Aside from that particular incident, which Shadow was still embarrassed about, those types of paintings were Shadow's favorites. Ra'jarr chucked. You are so easy to please Spots. The thought, and the knowledge of his lover's eyes on him kept him warm as he finally approached the castle.

***

Shadow counted silently to one hundred as the guard took Ra'jarr's pistol and allowed him to pass the gate. After a week of observing and experimenting, they had worked this down to a science. The hundred count, followed by a trip across the roofs of the shops would put him at the castle wall right at a guard change. Shadow had done that exact thing many times in the past week. As his count reached seventy, he reached up and touched his chest just under his throat. Then he pointed at the dagger still embedded in the masonry--his little ritual before each mission: he touched his locket and left a dagger for himself to retrieve. He stepped out the window, letting the air rush past him as he slid down the spire, hitting a flying buttress in a roll and pausing briefly on a gargoyle before continuing his decent.

It turned out he needn't have bothered with the head start--the snow was barely a layer of cold wetness under his paws, and certainly not a hazard. The jaguar slowed to ensure he would reach the castle wall at the proper time. He was off by just a moment, and paused to allow the lantern bearing ursine guard to pass before he climbed the wall. He contemplated taking the guard out, going so far as to put a paw on the hilt of one of his knives, but decided against it. With the light from the guard past, he slipped over the wall and dropped to a crouch. He darted behind the manor house and did a final check of his equipment while a pair of guards armed with muskets, bayonets fixed, passed. He rose from his concealment, a mobile patch of darker night, and proceeded further into the grounds.

He reached the keep itself without any incident and paused to find the proper window. In what he could only describe as the gods' sense of humor, the only real way he'd found to get into the castle besides the doors was the window to the Countess' personal office. That meant climbing the main building for three stories and then possibly coming back down to find Ra'jarr. When they'd come up with this plan they'd hoped she would meet Ra'jarr there, but Shadow was unsure. The Countess seemed to place value on presenting herself as harmless--though the whispers they had heard made it clear it was a façade. She wouldn't be so foolish as to discuss treason in a room with an accessible window. She had hidden her records well enough that it had taken all of Shadow's considerable skills as a thief to locate the proof that she was planning a coup.

He looked up at the window as he pulled his bandana up over his nose. Even without gear, the castle wall was an easy climb for him. He started up for the fifth time this week, pressing himself against the stones as a gust blew through the castle. He waited for the wind to die before he resumed his climb, his claws out and digging into the mortar as he went. So far, everything was going according to plan. He reached his target window and undid the latch with a slender bladed dagger. A quick look confirmed that the office was indeed empty and he slid inside.

***

In moments of levity, the Emperor would quip that the most useful thing about being a canine was you could smell when something wasn't right. Ra'jarr had never questioned that statement, but never really believed it either. He didn't doubt it any more--even without a canine's more sensitive nose, the caracal could tell that something wasn't right. The guard leading him through the corridor smelled tense, even for someone engaged in treason. Ra'jarr felt suspicion begin to gather in his throat.

He pondered taking the guard out and giving up on the mission--it would easy, a kick to the knee and a dagger to the throat--but that would leave Shadow alone against a castle alerted to his presence. The jaguar could handle that, but the thought caused Ra'jarr's tail to flick. He couldn't allow his lover to face such odds, at least not without warning. The only thing he could do was keep going with the plan. He willed his tail to remain still as he followed the buck down the corridor.

It was only with his senses on full alert that he noticed the slight limp the guard was hiding. That brought the stories back to Ra'jarr's mind. The Countess's reputation for violence had spread far. Ra'jarr had seen scars that fur couldn't cover, broken tails, and torn ears that were credited to the Countess. He suppressed a shiver as they continued down the hall. This is feeling a lot less simple than we thought it was going to be.

The guard paused before a door at the end of the corridor and motioned the caracal inside. Ra'jarr paused and realized that he wasn't sure exactly what room this was. Shadow might, but posing as a noble to keep the Countess' attention, Ra'jarr hadn't had the opportunities to explore the castle that the jaguar had. His tufts flicked with the rapid movements of his ears as he steadied himself and entered the room.

The room wasn't the Countess' usual office, of course. If he was on schedule, Shadow was robbing that room right now to cover their tracks. The only furniture was a table and a pair of chairs. Tapestries hung on the walls, showing what appeared to be historical battles that Ra'jarr wasn't familiar with. All involved deer herds victorious over their foes. Across from the door, a fire crackled in the hearth, which the sika deer herself was standing in front of. The fireplace was flanked by two pennants: both of her family's personal crest--the town crest and her late husband's crest were nowhere to be seen.

His sweep of the room complete, Ra'jarr turned his attention to his host. She had changed out of the formal dress she'd been wearing at the party that evening to something simpler--and more form fitting, the assassin noted. Nor was she alone: the door was flanked by the biggest bull and stallion that Ra'jarr had seen, dressed in uniforms with the Countess's personal crest on them. Both were armed with daggers and pistols--the usual muskets the guards carried were nowhere to be seen. The danger instinct was screaming at the caracal as he stepped to the table--the guards weren't just there to intimidate, they were prepared for an indoor fight. This was a trap and he'd walked right into it.

His heart raced and his ears and tails began to twitch. He took a deep breath in the instant before his claws unsheathed and calmed himself. It didn't matter that it was a trap--this was where he needed to be. Events were still going to plan. I am the distraction, he reminded himself. I was always supposed to keep her attention while Shadow gets in. Then he'll come for me. He always does.

Ra'jarr calmed further. He wasn't looking forward to whatever torture or interrogation the Countess might have planned if this was a trap, but he had endured such things before in his Nightguard training. He could endure them again. Come quick, Spots.

"Ah, Lord Kar'sha," the Countess said as she turned to face him. "Do come in. Have a seat."

"Thank you lady, but I would prefer to stand."

"As you wish," she said with smile. "This won't take long."

"Excellent. My bed calls to me."

Her smile turned cruel as she took another step towards the caracal. Ra'jarr's ears flicked as he became aware that the guards were moving closer. A pistol cocked. He resisted the instinctive urge to prepare himself for combat, even as they lunged at him. He made a halfhearted effort to fight them before they took hold of him. A paw darted inside his vest and relieved him of his dagger.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"It's a precaution. A lady in my position must be careful."

"I am your guest. Here at your invitation."

"And I don't trust you. I know that stories are being spread about me. And I find it a little too convenient that a wealthy noble shows up in my town spouting anti-Imperial rhetoric. I think that he is not what he claims to be."

"And what do you think he is?" Ra'jarr asked with a hiss.

"What I know he is," the Countess replied with a cruel smile. Then her attitude had changed completely, as if she had grown tired of a game, and for the first time since Ra'jarr had begun this investigation the Countess appeared as dangerous as rumor made her. She stepped forward and reached out to gently caress his muzzle. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Should I?" he asked, deciding that she couldn't be referring to the past week. There had to be another time.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I would have thought a sika doe would have stood out amongst all the predators in the Nightguard. I never learned your name, but I remember you. A pity you didn't return the favor."

His tail curled at the mention of his true employer. He stared at her, truly seeing her for the first time. His ears flattened and his fur stood out as recognition dawned on him. He recognized her: a trainee in the Nightguard who had washed out for theft and insubordination. She smiled at him.

"Ah so you do remember."

"I remember a young doe that was told exactly what would happen if she committed any crime ever in her life," Ra'jarr growled. "And she has betrayed both her Empire and the Nightgaurd."

She tensed for just a moment, the only other sign of her nervousness was a twitch of her whiskers. The deer remembered the speech given to all those that left the Nightguard. She recovered in an instant, and again reached up to run a finger over his cheek fur.

"Betrayal is easy. It takes only a moment. And it pays more than service to a fool. I am my own master, free to follow my own destiny. I'm sure I could show you the benefits."

Ra'jarr looked around at the guards. They showed no inclination to release him, leading him to question the offer. Internally, he began the debate again: stick with the plan and buy Shadow time? Or say the hell with it and take the Countess himself? Despite their size advantage, he could free himself the guards' grip easily. Then it would be a simple matter to snap the Countess's neck. She hadn't advanced far in the Nightguard, so there was no way she was a match for him. Once again, the fear of having his mate face the wrath of the castle and town guards by himself won. He had to keep Shadow as safe as possible--whatever the cost to himself.

"I believe I will be hard to convince."

"I think you'll find I can be quite persuasive," the Countess said with a smirk.

"I don't believe so," Ra'jarr countered. "Your reputation for being rough with your toys proceeds you."

She stared at him in silence for a long moment before letting out a laugh devoid of mirth. The stallion and the bull holding Ra'jarr tensed. The assassin knew instinctively that the pair had served for the Countess's amusements before.

"So, you've heard that have you? And I suppose like all males you fear to let a female lead?" She gave him a wicked grin. "They all act tough, but you all end up begging in the end. I've yet to meet the male who can resist me."

You have,_Ra'jarr thought with an internal sigh. _You just don't realize it yet. He doubted she'd be happy with that discovery.

Again, he considered trying to escape and again the thought of leaving Shadow exposed held him back. The guards lifted his feet from the floor and began to drag him out of the room. His ears twitched and his tail flicked as his mind went out to his mate.

Hurry Spots. Hurry.