"They say they found another one last night. Neck and wrists all torn. Lying in an alley like my Saris' broken doll."
"By Valaorn's bloody knees Brissa, isn't there a rumor in this city you don't believe?"

- It bloody well had something to do with upcoming Clash of Champions I thought. To many foreigners in the city, causing trouble and spreading rumors. Take this Bane story fer'instance. An urhound crawls up outta the sewers and attacks a few people'n suddenly the whole town's full of hot air and nonsense. Send a few pyromancers down to smoke the sewers and see how long these attacks last. Thats what I said.

- My shop lies just up Cart street, far enough off the market to avoid most of the riffraff but positioned well enough for the discriminating connoisseur to track me down. "The Facet's Reflection", that's me. Jewels and fine metalwork done at a reasonable price. Even have an enchanted item from time to time. I spent a piece of my youth in the classrooms of the fabled Lyceum Academy so I know whereof I speak.

- Brissa's was local seamstress …mends and washings and such, and a lovely woman all round. Full of big, soft curves just like I like them, and I won't deny wrinkling the bed-sheets with her a few times myself but by Sallin's sweet song the woman had an ear for the gossip.

"You can't explain away this one as idle rumor Warriq. My sister Mallidin says she saw them pull the body from the alley. That one down by Market street, you know the one, near where that crippled juggler performs."
"Mallidin's as flighty as a Muse with a love crush. She still claim her pet Warder bird speaks the riddles of Paradox?"
"Oh, lay off her, she's done you no…."

- Out from the bright street walked a robed figure, thin as nail and tall enough so that he had to duck coming through the door. Outlined against the bright street he looked over my shop, sizing it up like he couldn't decide to come in or burn it to ashes.

"Do you do rings?" The voice was dry, like a desert, but sophisticated, clean and crisp like winds through the mesas. I'd heard voices like that before, in my student days, standing in front of my theory lectures, droning on tonelessly for hours.

- He pulled down the hood of his robe to reveal features the colour of sandstone. Bald as an Aamanian's backside he had a ridge of spikes along the center of his skull. Sindarans have two brains you see, each one smarter than you or me and both cramped into those emaciated little skulls. A roll of skin, like some fleshy beard jutted out from his chin and curled up under his chin. His eyes were so big and bloodshot that they looked like cracked mirrors.

"Sure mate. What type are you looking for." Sindarans have a passion for collecting things, and are notorious among shop-keeps across the western lands for being right picky.

- He stepped from the doorway and up the counter. Brissa moved her ample bulk to make way and regarded my new client with curiosity. "You in town for the Clash then?" she inquired.

"No." He didn't even look at her.

"Oh, business then? Family?" She's real sweet, but not the brightest candle in the chandelier.

- This time he didn't even answer her. He just asked me straight out, "How proficient are you with magics? I observed the pentacle on the sign."

"Three years in Enchantments, Lyceum Academy."

- He nodded at this and pulled a ring from one incredibly long finger and handed it to me. The thing was of thick red iron, quarter of an inch thick and heavy as a drac pup. On the face, a child danced, lines of light or magic coming from his up hands. Vines etched along the rim. I could feel the magic trapped inside, throbbing like a heartbeat.

"Can you ascertain the identity of this object?"

"Not at a glance, no. But if you'd like to leave it…" He yanked it out of my hand with such force he nearly broke my wrist. For a second his eyes flared, wild and jagged. He stared me down, and neither Brissa or I moved an inch.

- I saw a Thrall wrestle down a wild Mangonel Lizard in the arena once. Trapped in a headlock, the lizard bucked and kicked, trying to throw the warrior. But it relaxed slowly, giving in until it lay docile in the Thrall's arms. But you could see its eyes … glaring up at the warrior, like maybe one day it would have its revenge. Watching the Sindaran slowly relax gave me the same feeling as watching that lizard.

"My apologies. The ring holds sentimental value and I would be loath to part with it. Here." He reached into a black leather bag slung 'round his shoulder, I could here the clink of glass from inside. He pulled out a small scroll and unrolled it on my counter. On it was a perfect drawing of the ring, stretched out like someone had broken it and laid it flat. He dropped a small handful of coin on top of the scroll.

"See what you can accomplish with that. I will return in a nightsky to check on your progress."

And with that, he left.

- A couple of hours later, I'd just closed up for the night. Brissa had just gone out the back door with a load of my laundry when I heard her scream. The alley was draped in the orange and shadows of suns-set. White sheets soaked in red blood spilled all around the alley and there she was, hunched over Brissa's body. Beautiful and naked, skin as black as nightmare, eyes like rubies on fire, Brissa's blood running down her hands.

- I don't know why she didn't kill me. Not hungry or maybe I startled her, but in three quick jumps she climbed up the wall and disappeared over the rooftops, leaving me to cradle the body of poor old Brissa.

- As you can see officer, it has been a long, strange, sorrowful day.

Causidian Calliope rubbed the bridge of her nose and squinted to read her notes in the dim light of the alley. She shot a sharp glance at the bored looking constable holding the scintilla pole. He straightened and lowered the glowing globe.

"Thank you Mr. Warriq. If I have any more questions I'll let you know. For now just try and get some rest."

The shopkeeper left and closed the door. Calliope turned to look over the mess in the alley, feeling the dried blood crunch underfoot. "How many is that now ?" she thought. " Three, in nearly as many nights, four if you include that caravan master. And what in oblivion's name does the Sindaran have to do with it?"

Two Monads walked by, carrying the corpse on a stretcher to the waiting black wagon out in the street. Even at this time of night a crowd had gathered, eagerly peering past the guards to try and see something they could take home to fuel the growing rumors. In the defuse light of the scintilla globe, their eyes shone like scavengers from the shadows.
Calliope shuddered and walked from the alley.

Part I Half A Life
Part III Let Sleeping Sindra Lie
Part IV Blood in the Garden
Part V Memories and Fireworks

Next: Yasif's Story

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