The past few days have seemed like a dream. Galand has been fed the finest food and drink, and has been treated like a noble duke or prince by the inhabitants of the Dome. When he hasn't been wining and dining, he's been shown the many secret passages and tunnels in the Dome and now knows how to move about it almost undetected, and even has a good grasp of the sewer system tunnels and how to take them back to the top of the island. It is neither a fast nor a desirable means of transportation, but one worth knowing about.

Digger has been his dutiful servant and has always made herself available whenever Galand has needed her. Skye shows up now and again as well, but most of his visits seem to be for Digger, with whom he has quiet hand-sign conversations at the edge of the garden every morning. Oddly, he always leaves the meetings looking sad, while Digger seems much happier.

Today a note appeared on Galand's door, telling him that tonight would be the first night of his new 'job' and that he was to meet someone who would provide him with an adequate disguise for Darkside and the Assassins' Guild. The note stated that the disguise expert would be there 'around noon' … which is only a few minutes away.

Galand sits in his chair in the study of the quarters granted him by his mysterious benefactors and looks out the window at the garden, his fingers steepled before his face in meditation as he considers things known only to him…

About half a dozen Savanites can be seen tending several small bushes with deep blue and purple flowers on them. It appears that they pluck only the blue ones and then stuff them in baskets to be carried off to who-knows-where later.

One of the Savanites glances over a shoulder and bows to someone out of view. It points in the direction of Galand's residence.

The spotted Khatta notes this, or doesn't. It is impossible to tell from the outside as he continues to consider the flowers outside, the hands of the Savanites upon them, and apparently the very air in between, silent and blank-faced as he mentally gears himself toward something that the more sensitive, more cultured side of him would rebel against…

Someone knocks sharply at the lacquered door of Galand's new house.

Moving nary a muscle save for those in his jaw, Ashur calls out, "Enter."

The knob rattles and a feminine voice grumbles something unintelligible. Things get quiet and then the door swings open… showing the backside and digitigrade legs of a Kattha. Her auburn hair is in tousles as she attempts to haul two buckets full of liquid and manage a cumbersome pack on her back. Her creamy beige tail lashes back and forth angrily.

Galand gets to his feet, moving as suddenly as if a switch was thrown. He says quietly, "Here, let me help you with those." He takes the buckets from her and places them inside, turning to look at his visitor.

"Thank… you," the Kattha replies, rubbing her arm. She appears to be a Siamese, her face dusted with dark brown that fades into lighter tones on the rest of her fur. She pulls a few errant strands of reddish-brown hair from her eyes and hauls her pack off her shoulders. Probably the most noticeable aspect of her would be those eyes – a cold greenish blue that glares daggers into everything they gaze at.

The gray-and-black Khatta nods and smiles. "Sorry for not getting the door. I wasn't aware you'd be hauling so much with you. I ah, assume you're here about the disguise job, but would you like to sit down and take a breather before we get started? Something to drink, or eat, perhaps?"

Those icy eyes look Galand up and down, sizing him up. "No," she tersely replies. "If you will be so kind as to help me with the buckets, I would like to get this done as expediently as possible." And with that the Kattha takes up her pack again and proceeds to head upstairs towards the washroom.

Galand blinks, shrugs, and picks up the buckets, lugging them up the stairs after his visitor, asking, "Might I at least know who I'm addressing?"

"My name is Lilith," she answers, kicking open the door to the marble-tiled washroom with a sandal-clad foot. "You are Ashur Galand, correct?"

"Yes, that's me," Ashur replies, "Pardon my saying so, but you seem, well … rather upset about something."

Lilith places her pack on a table and then moves to the large stone tub set in the center of the floor. "You might say that, yes. Forgive my bluntness. There are other things I would rather be doing today than this … but I have a debt to pay." She moves back to her pack and starts pulling out bottles and vials of various sizes. "Set the buckets near the tub."

Galand does as he's told, replying, "You and me both, Lilith. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a favor for a friend turned out to be a bit more than I personally expected." He carefully sets the buckets down, looking curiously at what's in them.

One bucket contains a strong smelling clear yellowish fluid while the other holds something black and odorless. "Ha. At least you can leave whenever you want," she snorts, her tail lashing a bit more. She turns around, holding a set of scissors in her hand, and walks over to the spotted Khatta. "If you would be so kind as to remove your shirt."

The Khatta chuckles, removing his vest and shirt, joking, "I thought you'd never ask." He hangs the clothing on a convenient peg, and turns around, folding his hands behind his back. As is apparent from his build, all the years of carousing haven't taken effect on his frame yet.

Galand considers a moment, then says softly, "And I'm not so sure about leaving when I want. I get the impression that if these people wanted me to stick around, I'd be sticking around, either as a comfortable captive or as fertilizer."

"At least you were given a choice." Lilith circles Galand. "Your tail will need to be trimmed down. It is too easily distinguished as it is. The rest should be a simple matter of the fur dye and some ear-tips. I thought solid gray would be a good color for you, and I will instruct you in the means of applying and removing the dye as we go along."

Galand nods, and asks, "I take it this is going to be an all-over dye job?"

"Yes … but I'll allow you your privacy. The dye and the removal of it is the easiest part," the Kattha answers, grabbing Galand's tail a little too roughly and inspecting it.

A barely suppressed wince, and Ashur says, "All right, though I'm not terribly modest as you might have guessed." He thinks a moment, then turns his head to look at Lilith. "When you say 'trimmed down,' you are talking about just the fur, right?" He gives her a smile and a wink to show he's joking.

Lilith looks blankly at Galand with those icy eyes and then snips a rather large chunk of hair from the tip of his tail. "Right." She continues snipping.

Galand sighs. "Ah well, it'll grow back, assuming I make it through this with my skin intact."

A smirk plays across she Khatta's lips as she continues with her work. Apparently her hand is rather skilled and after several minutes of snipping, Galand's fluffy tail has been pared down to something that resembles a short-hair Khatta's. "Now for the hair on your head. Black is the easiest color." She stands and brushes some fluff from her dress. "Please take a seat near the tub. I have to be careful to not stain the rest of your fur as I do this."

A long and suddenly-not-so-fluffy tail swings around into its owner's view for inspection. Galand hmms softly, and says, "All right." Taking his seat, he looks at Lilith and purrs, "If you don't mind me asking, what do you do when you're not here, working for our, ah … benefactors?"

Lilith grabs a couple of bottles and several towels from the wall as well as a strip of cotton. "I am always working, unless you count eating and sleeping. I have a rather large debt to pay." She drapes a towel over Galand's shoulders and begins fussing with his hair.

Galand closes his eyes, purring at an only just barely audible level. "You've got skilled hands… " He hesitates, then asks gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The Kattha makes a faint snarling noise as she hoses Galand's head with slightly-too-cold water. "No. I do not."

A brief pause, then, "All right, I'll respect your privacy then. I just thought … well, it helps to talk things out with someone sometimes." Ashur falls silent, apparently unsure of what to say that won't bring a negative reaction.

A noxious chemical oozes like tar from a bottle as Lilith continues her work. "I've heard that line before. Now, while we wait for this to set, I'll instruct you how to use the other batch of dye. It is fairly simple." She picks up the bucket full of black ooze and dribbles about a cupful into the water.

"It wasn't a… " Galand sighs, and doesn't finish the sentence, his face starting to return to the Zen-like mask it was before Lilith knocked. "All right. What needs be done?"

"This is the dye." Lilith gestures to the black bucket and then to the tub where the waters have become a milky gray color. "This is specially made for you. It will hide your spots and blend with your natural color. It also will not wash off in normal water, which is what the second chemical is for. A spoonful per gallon is all you need for either dose, and I suggest that you carry around a vial of each in case you need to get into or out of your disguise quickly."

Galand nods. "All right. Anything I should be wary of?

"Mind your roots. Don't go more than a week without re-applying the dye." Lilith pulls out a small bag from her satchel and fives it to Galand. This one is full of small capsules. "There is also the matter of your scent. One of these a day will change your natural scent just enough that you will not be recognized, although I suggest washing your old clothing that might contain your older scent before you wear it again. Now if you will allow me to handle your ears, I will be on my way and leave you to your bath."

Ashur takes the bag, and nods, sitting back again. "I'm sorry if I pried too much, Lilith. Aside from Digger and Skye, I've had little contact for the last few days. One can't talk to me, the other says little, mostly talking with Digger. It's made me a bit starved for intelligent conversation."

The Kattha pinches Galand's ears. "I am not good at conversation, Ashur Galand. I am a bitter woman who has had her life ruined by men too much to consider them to be anything more than toys and vessels to pull money from. I do not like it here, I do not like being made work for anyone but myself, and I do not like so many men ruling over me as they do here. I am not someone you wish to have pleasant conversation with, I assure you."

Galand snorts. "You sound almost as jaded as I am. I see the whole of Rephidim as an opportunity to make or take fortune. When I go along the Bazaar, I have to be careful not to do too well, else the Merchants' Guild generally sends someone after me. I consider my father an idiotic control freak and my mother lovable but generally spineless. My sister is the only one of the lot worth anything. It may have been caused by different things, but we're two of a kind, you and I. You've been hurt? I respect that, I regret it, and I hope you eventually manage to grow beyond it, but it's not an excuse to be rude to people."

"I know what it's like, you see … When most females come on to me, all they're interested in is either the money, or a hint of danger in their lives – bored housewives out for a thrill or something to upset their cuckolded husbands. I'm either a gold mine or a petty amusement to them." Ashur absently bangs his fist on the side of the tub. "Just once I'd like to find someone who wasn't actively trying to use me. Just once."

A moment's consideration, then Galand adds, "But that's what I've come to expect, so that's generally what I get."

Lilith tugs painfully at Galand's ear. It feels different now, as if something was attached. "You may construe it as rudeness. I see it as honesty. I am also finished now." She sets another pair of bottles in front of Galand. "Those ear-tips will only come off along with your ears if someone yanks at them." She gestures to the two bottles. "This is the application glue; this is the chemical that will allow you to remove them. Mind you do not get them mixed up." She goes back to the table and begins scraping her various supplies back into her now lighter pack. "Skye will be here in two hours to take you to your meeting place with the Faceless Men. I suggest you prepare yourself."

Galand sighs. "Rudeness and honesty are close cousins sometimes. Thank you for the help, and for what it's worth … I hope you get out of here as soon as you're able." He stands, brushes his palm off on his trousers, and offers his paw.

"And I hope you're intelligent enough to get out of here alive, Ashur Galand." Lilith grasps the Khatta's hand and shakes it lightly, then vanishes out the door. The echoing sound of the front door outside closing heralds her departure.

Galand sighs, gathers up his clothes and puts them back on, placing the ear-glue bottles in one belt-pouch, the dye and remover vials in another, making sure they're adequately padded. Then he looks around for a mirror to examine himself in.

There is a mirror right over the sink. The washroom is a rather decadent one with an inset tub, plumbing, and several other luxuries. In the mirror's reflective surface, a spotted Khatta with triangular ears and raven-black hair stares back. The larger tub that will supposedly dye Galand's fur completely gray still sits quietly in the center of the room, steaming softly.

Galand looks at the tub, shrugs, and strips off his clothes, padding over to the tub and lowering himself into it.

"Almost forgot the spots … That would've been bad," Ashur murmurs as he starts rubbing the dye into his fur.

Several hours later, Galand finds himself wandering through the ruins of Darkside, heading for the Old Well. Skye had been waiting outside, quietly signing to Digger. He had barely recognized him even though he'd been told of the disguise. Galand now looks like a plain gray Khatta dressed in black and dusty brown robes. Night has fallen; the walk to this particular part of Darkside took several hours – allowing the darkness to creep in slowly.

The orders Galand was given were simple: go to the well and drop a silver shekel in … then wait for the Faceless Men who would come to give him his 'initiation job'.

The gray Khatta walks up to the well, glances around warily for watching eyes, then drops a silver shekel into the well as instructed.

The coin glints bits of starlight as if falls … and then noiselessly vanishes. No sound at all, not even the expected splash or clink of it hitting bottom.

A Kavi staggers down the road, chattering an off-key drinking song to itself.

Galand folds his hands into his sleeves and stands by the well, his face a blank mask, betraying nothing.

Noises continue to rustle around the Khatta for several minutes, but no one bothers with the Khatta – then suddenly everything… gets… quiet. Eerily quiet; not even the night-bugs can be heard or the sounds of the street.

A single ear – swiveling from side to side, then forward – is the only sign that the Khatta notices at all as he continues to stand and wait, hands folded inside his sleeves, with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Ashes," a hollow-sounding voice hisses from an alleyway to Galand's right. Two cloaked figures emerge noiselessly. They're dressed in robes that look ceremonial in their own way. The species of the pair is impossible to discern, as they both seem to have some kind of obscuring spell covering the open hoods of their robes. "You are Ashes… the initiate?"

Galand turns towards the pair and bows deeply, saying softly, "That would be I."

A scroll is dropped at the Khatta's feet, wrapped around a white chitin dagger. "Here is your assignment. When you complete it, you will drop the weapon into the well. Do not wash it off."

Galand bows deeply once more, and says in that oddly neutral voice, "It shall be done as you say."

The Faceless Men wordlessly turn and vanish back down the alley. Slowly, noises begin to creep back into the night, as whatever it was that shut off the sounds is lifted.

Galand stoops to pick up the dagger with the note wrapped around it, tucks it into his robes out of sight, then walks into the darkness.

Although Galand lacks any particular training in stealth, his new coat melds with the shadows fairly well … or maybe nobody wants to meddle with a man who just had a meeting with the Faceless Men.

His almost inhumanly blank expression and steely cold gaze likely help as 'Ashes' begins the journey back to where he began, staying close to the shadows where he can, walking with a nondescript gait.

After traveling what he deems to be a safe distance, Ashes slips the note off the dagger, tucking the blade into his belt and unrolling the parchment to read what is written upon it.

The message is written in strange bluish ink and appears to be information about a contract between a casino known as The Golden Chance and the Assassins' Guild. Apparently when clients do not pay their debts, they are occasionally made an example of. In this case, the 'example' is a Kavi named Snipe who has a twenty shekel debt. The note says nothing about collecting money from him… simply that he is not to live to see another sunrise. It gives explicit instructions on where he lives and the spots to find him. Currently he would probably be at home preparing to leave or at a particular house of ill repute that he also has a debt with, but whose owner apparently isn't willing to kill him just yet.

Ashes folds the note, tucking it into his belt-pouch, and starts walking towards Snipe's home, his face losing its expressionless features as he starts to exude an air of insignificance. Certainly he's no one worth bothering with.

The walk is a long and chilly one, but after a bit the run-down building Snipe calls home comes into view. It's a leaky, trash-covered house that might have been an apartment or someone's house at one point … but now looks as though it might fall down the next time a storm hits. The only sign of life is a small glow in one of the upper windows.

The black-robed Khatta pulls the hood of his robe up, glancing discreetly up and down the row for observers.

There are a few bits of movement in the streets here and there as the night dwellers make their rounds, but none of them so much as glance at the Khatta.

The light in the window winks out.

Ashes glances up, then takes up a position at the corner of the house, melding into the shadows…

Nothing for a long moment. Maybe the Kavi took a different way out of the building? Maybe he caught on to Galand and made a run for it? Just when it seems like the Khatta missed his chance, the door opens up and a portly Kavi wanders out, whistling a merry tune to himself.

The Khatta steps away from the building, purring softly, "Mister Snipe?"

Fur bristling, the Kavi jerks at the interruption and then relaxes, turning to Galand with a grin on his face. "Tha's me!" he chatters, oblivious to Galand's intent. "You da merchant Hob tol' me to expect today? I thoughcha wuz gonna meet me at Smee's. Huh."

The Khatta smiles, and purrs reassuringly, "I was in the neighborhood and thought I might catch you early. Business waited on is business lost, after all." He steps closer to the Kavi, an amiable, open smile on his face.

The chubby Kavi's tail wags back and forth. "Great! Howzabouts we go to Three Thieves and talk about the Zolk over a few bottles, eh?"

The feline smiles even wider. "Sounds like a plan… " He steps very close to the Kavi, his hands unfolding from the sleeves, still partially hidden. Once within striking distance, he purrs, "Mister Snipe, I think you'll like what I have to offer you. It is … shall we say, a golden opportunity." And with that, the dagger flashes out, aimed for the Kavi's throat!

The Kavi lets out a gurgling scream and dives backwards, but not fast enough to keep the knife from leaving a thin red line across his throat. The momentum sends him tumbling back and rolling onto all fours. "DAGH!" he screams. The line starts to ooze blood, painting his white throat crimson. "What are you doing? What do you want?" he mewls, shivering. Too scared to run, he simply scuttles backwards.

Ashes advances on the Kavi, planting a booted foot on Snipe's hand and pressing down hard. "Call me the God of Debt Collection." He lunges, the dagger flashing in a downward strike!

The knife flies wildly as the Kavi, despite his pinned hand, manages to squirm out of the way. He then rolls around and chomps the Khatta on the leg with his teeth.

The Khatta assassin apparently heeds the pain not, as he calmly reaches down, grabbing for the Kavi's throat with one massive paw to squeeze it, the other paw bringing the dagger down, aimed at Snipe's back. He chuckles softly, "You're at least making this fun." His claws slip out of their sheaths as he purrs coldly, "Cat and rat… "

Snipe squirms wildly in Galand's grasp, the Khatta's claws digging bloody rivulets in his neck deeper and deeper with each movement. "Look … I have a whole bag-full of iron shekels in my room if you'll just leave me alone! PLEASE! I've got a wife and kits… They'll die if I don't keep them fed! PLEASE!!!" He shivers violently again and a trickle of acrid-smelling liquid drips from his pants and onto the cobblestones below.

Ashes shakes his head and sighs. "They always say the same thing. Good night, Mister Snipe. It's been a pleasure." With that, he brings the dagger in for a killing stroke.

The knife finds purchase in the Kavi's neck. It catches on a tendon and doesn't quite do the job instantly. Instead, Snipe just continues to dangle there, screaming fits and coughing up blood. His voice becomes increasingly hoarse as his life essence flows from his mouth and throat like a bright red river. Slowly his movements become less violent and his screams fall into whispered prayers and sobs.

Ashes tches softly and purrs, "You just positively refuse to die, don't you? A little lesson, Mister Snipe… " He twists the knife. "… We all fall down."

… Then, it's over. The Khatta holds dead weight in his arms, dripping blood, sweat, tears, spittle, and other fluids onto the cobbles as it goes limp.

Thus ends Snipe… a debt of twenty shekels paid in full.

Ashes smiles a satisfied little smile, then carries the dead Kavi up to his home, settling him down on the porch in an almost peaceful-looking pose, at least until one notices the blood. Then he pulls the dagger from Snipe's throat, folds his hands in his sleeves still holding it, and walks serenely back toward the well, once again looking like a normal night-dweller.

The ivory colored knife… well… it's no longer ivory anymore. On the walk home, a few Gallah mutts and Jupani glance in the Khatta's direction, perhaps smelling the taint of blood upon him… but he's left unmolested the entire trip back. Half an hour later, he finds himself standing at the lip of the Old Well. The light of the stars and Procession have faded as clouds begin to form across the sky.

Ashes glances around, making sure there are no witnesses. He takes the ruddy dagger from his sleeve and drops it into the well, hilt-first, then folds his hands in his sleeves and waits.

Again, there is no sound as the blade falls in. And minutes later, no sound at all save the shift of the Khatta's robes in the wind.

The Khatta stands, looking totally serene, perhaps even a little satisfied … as if he had just come from a warm meal or a warmer companion … and waits.

A single robed figure steps out of the shadows and nods to the Khatta. It drops two tenner coins at his feet and then turns away, heading back from whence it came.

Ashes stoops to pick up the coins, examining them before tucking them away.

The noises of the street slowly seep back in as the Faceless One departs. The coins amount to twenty shekels, which might be enough to buy a nice dinner or a bottle of wine if Galand doesn't go too extravagant.

Ashes pockets the coins and starts the long walk back to where he was deposited by Skye earlier, keeping his hands in his sleeves and keeping his gaze to himself. His eyes are flat, expressionless … except if one were to look into his eyes, one might get the impression that there was something – or someone – in them, quietly screaming, and just as quietly being suppressed out of sight.

The walk is a long one and rather weary, but eventually Galand finds his way to the Inn where he was to meet Skye. He has to go through quite a few uncomfortable streets that lengthen the trip and leave his feet sore after a while. But as always, the instructions are good for the last little word and the Khatta finds himself on a rooftop with a familiar white Vartan with dyed feathers.

"Evening Skye," the Khatta says, striding up to the Vartan, "You ready?"

Skye drains the contents of a chitin mug at his side and nods. "You smell terrible, Ash," he scrawks, kneeling down to give him a hand-up onto his back.

The Khatta smiles, his face still devoid of any emotion except a sort of beatific brooding. "Yes, well … bodily fluids do that. I'll wash up when we get back." He climbs onto the Vartan's back and finds a purchase, bracing himself for lift-off.

"Bo… " Skye begins, and then scowls and shakes his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know." His wings snap open and he jumps up into the air, taking the usual flight towards the Dome.

Ash says above the sound of the wind, "Believe me, you don't. There's a part of me that doesn't either."

The Vartan angles his flight downwards. "You got any plans for dinner? Digger wanted me to ask you if you wanted to eat with us. I think she's decided to go all mother-cat on you or something."

A moment's consideration, then Ash nods. "Sounds good. … Uh, I don't understand Savanite sign, though. Perhaps she'd teach me, or you could?"

Chilly winds buffet the two as Skye flies past the edge of the island and heads towards the Underside. "Sure. Digger's a pretty good teacher, almost as good as she is a cook. Haw!"

The Khatta chuckles, the first really human sound he's made since meeting up with Skye. "I'll take your word for it. I do think I should clean up before she gets to me, though. She might react badly."

"You might wanna lose the disguise too. Digger probably won't like to be reminded of what you were up to tonight. This whole thing has her pretty upset, but she won't tell me exactly why," Skye scrawks.

Galand hmms. "I don't know. I think it might have something to do with that princess that the Astromancer keeps on."

"As for me," Ash sighs, "I've got it locked away now, in a bit of my mind I don't look into any more than I have to. I'll feel the guilt later, if I feel it at all."

The Vartan slows his flight and prepares for his landing. "Yeah. Her name's Leeta, I think. She's like a hero to Digger. Seems to be a love/hate thing with most of the slaves in regards to her." He makes a confused sounding noise and glances back at his passenger. "Jes don't let yourself get too numb. There's already too many people here who let the Dome suck their hearts out."

Galand chuckles. "My friend, my problem is that I guard my heart too closely for anyone to suck it out. My father tried with guilt, numerous women have tried it in order to get money out of me, and a few people have actually tried to cut it out. I'm … dealing with it, but I'll be fine."

Skye lands at a service platform for the Dome and shakes his feathers out. "I think you know the way back to yer place from here. I'll be by in about an hour to grab you for dinner."

Galand nods, patting the Vartan's shoulder. "Thanks again for the lift, my friend." With that, he heads for his quarters, his face assuming that curiously blank look again as he walks through the Dome.

A tired and rather messy Ashur it is that finally trudges into his cottage, closing the door behind him, peeling off clothes as he goes. He places his bloodied garments in a basin of cold water to soak, and readies a warm bath of the dye-remover…

He sits in front of the mirror and starts to remove his fake ear-tips, pausing to look at himself in the mirror – or rather, at 'Ashes.' He studies the image for a long moment, then murmurs, "Hello there… Are you the new me?" Not receiving an answer, he finishes with the ears, strips the dye out of his hair and settles into the tub.

… And even though the water is almost scalding hot, he is shivering…