[in cipher]
---------------------------

I arrived in Zanth and arranged for my rooms without incident. The keeper at the Inn of the Last Caravan claimed to have heard of me and my wares - in an attempt to pet my coat, no doubt. I'm sure few of his customers throw lumens about the way I do.

I spent several hours setting the necessary precautions in my room and then slept quite soundly throughout the night. Unusual, but I attribute it to the uncommonly agreeable breezes in Zanth. I awoke to the sounds of scarlet avir splashing in the canal outside my window. It was a pleasant way to wake up, despite how it may sound in the retelling.

It was the day of the Gala, so I packed my concoctions and headed for Temple Street, where most of the city's lumina would be gathering to bid for a guest pass to the most exclusive party on the continent. I had heard that this year, all the fighters would attend along with fifteen personal guests each. An inconvenient arrangement: even if the palace was large enough for the thousands of partygoers, it would be a mob scene. I had made plans for the Gala that would certainly have to be postponed under such conditions.

Malachai was going to attend. I came by this information quite accidently while passing a fighter's stall on the way into town. A young girl attached to an Ahazu honor slave was practically shouting at the top of her miniature lungs about the gown she was going to wear to the Gala, "whether Dismal liked it or not." Dismal! One of Malachai's pathetic associates. After a moment of feigned interest in a girl's ball-gown, I had all the information I needed. I considered taking the little thing right then, if I thought Malachai would have cared at all. The Ahazu didn't seem to notice me, which meant he was watching my every move, naturally. An unnerving creature...

Bah! You see my problem, Jumil? This journal is practically useless to me! I write about nothing but what I already know, and it bores me. But, a promise must be kept. I have not gotten any better at this, however, which doesn't inspire me to sit down with quill and paper. Sometimes I read my words from a moon ago and hardly recognize the voice. Was this why you made me promise? And will you ever read my words? I must admit, I doubt it.

My carpet at Temple Street did practically no business. Everyone was there to see and be seen, it turned out, not to buy alchemicals from a nondescript peddler just in from Zandre. I was surprised at the number of Greyfaces in the crowd, though I suppose I should not have been. Times have changed while I was away. Some of them made the signs and I reciprocated as best I could, for my own safety. None of them seemed to recognize me, however, which meant Malachai had kept many secrets.

In the process of showing my wares, I allowed my fingers to acquire a guest pass to the Gala. Near second mid-sun, I returned to my rooms to arrange a new face.

I arrived at the Gala as Yihor Noshi, Djaffir sculptor. I had spent many an evening listening to Noshi's tales during the caravan from Karfan, and had mastered his heavy accent. News of his passing had not yet reached the West, so I was safe to use his name. When in doubt, impersonate someone who wears a mask.

Fortunately, Noshi's incredible reputation got me in without a second glance, and kept the awe-struck courtiers at a distance. I was free to move about, for all the good that would do me.

I spotted the little girl and her Ahazu right away, and was glad I had not come as Zabeel the Zandir. I must have passed within a pace of the pair, and the Ahazu's dreamy grin again sent chills through me, as if he could see behind the leather covering on my face.

Chapel was next, making a spectacle of himself on the dance floor. He was graceful, to be sure, but with a grace that comes not from dancing. I realized then how to remove him.

Malachai took much longer to find. Moving intently through a crowd of thousands while appearing to stand casually and sip a drink is not easy. If I had known Malachai was operating, I would not have wasted time at the buffet, the gallery, the reception room, the orchard, and the aviary. Why does one man need so large a dwelling?

I finally came across Dismal, and his near-constant nervous glances toward the Fountain Wing told me where Malachai was. After a few moments of climbing and leaping, I found him in the Stellae room. Alone. Trespassing. Oblivious to me. My blood crawled under my skin. Only holy men receive miracles such as this: the moment was perfect.

And then my third eye opened. I felt the body behind me. I could hear murder moving in silence through the air by my neck. I dropped and whirrled, bringing my talents to bear. I was alone in the shadow. There was no one. When I turned back to the Stellae room, Malachai was gone.

It took me several long moments to restore my composure before going over the wall and returning directly to the Inn. I am in Noshi's rooms now as I write this. I cannot explain it, but I believe that something waits for me downstairs in my rooms, and I fear it. It is senseless, but the fear is real. I will try to force myself to go.

The Journal's First Entry

NEXT: Chapter Five: Gala Finale

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