2 Midsummer, 6105

Inquisitrix Faith left de Bellefeuille Manor less than an hour ago, and Elise de Bellefeuille told her little else after her revelations regarding the elder de Ayde. The Khatta seemed to guess that Elise was hiding something from her, but when her inquiries drew nothing, the woman departed.

Now Elise has been forced to wait, again. Indigo's search through the household books suggested that twenty thousand shekels might be raised readily enough through their various accounts, but confirmation of that won't be available until the morning, when the banks open. Her message to Grant de Ayde earlier has, as of yet, received no reply. To relieve some of her tension while she waits for news, the white poodle has mounted her winged Drokar. These late-nightexcursions have become almost routine to her grooms and stable hands.

As Secrets picks his way, whuffling, across the grass of the Bellefeuille lawn, his rider catches, out of the corner of her eye, a scuffle by the front gate. Judging by his uniform, one of her guards is manhandling a disreputable-looking Eeee.

The woman brings her mount to a halt, her icy-blue eyes watching the scuffle by the gate. "It would seem that again visitors come unbidden … Come, Secrets." She gives Secrets, her winged Drokar, a gentle pat to get him on his way. Her right hand reaches beneath the folds of her cloak out of habit.

As she approaches the gate, she notices that the Eeee, his fur in mottled shades of brown, wears torn and muddied linen clothes. Abruptly, the bat breaks away from the canine guard, who yelps his agitation, almost losing his balance after his futile attempt to hang onto the struggling bat. Elise can now see that the bat's hands have been bound – but, unfortunately for her guard, his wings are not, and he flaps into the air as his Gallee pursuer makes another vain effort to grab one leg.

Elise wraps the reins around her left hand a few times, hunches low to her mount, and holds on tight. "Secrets, fly," she commands, the spurs of her usable leg pricking at the creature's hide. "In the name of the Temple, stop!"

The Drokar snorts and leaps into the air, soaring after the bat. The Eeee doesn't even turn to see who is yelling at him – he is intent on flying as far and as fast away from the manor as he can. Fortunately for Elise, the Drokar appears to be a faster flier, gaining on the bat as he flaps towards the Lesouhs' hunting forest, a little ways down the road from her own demesne.

Once she's sure she has a firm grip on the saddle, the Gallee noblewoman reaches again under her cloak and draws her ornate flint-lock pistol. For a brief moment she recalls having done this before, having leapt in to the airto draw a pistol on another sort of Eeee. "You will cease your flight, or I will drop you from the sky myself," she calls out in her tone of authority.

Something in her voice causes the Eeee to hesitate, his large ears swiveling back. He glances over his shoulder, and gapes at her, openmouthed. His wings stop beating, slowing his flight, though inertia keeps him gliding forward. The bat doesn't seem to be paying attention to his progress now, and if he doesn't start again he's liable to crash into one of those trees towards which he was headed.

"Pay mind to your flight, Eeee," barks Elise to the fleeing bat. "Land, and I will join you."

The bat soars for another couple of yards, then shakes himself out of his stupor and faces forward. For a moment, Elise thinks he means to resume his escape – then he cups his wings to brake his flight, and glides to the ground.

Gently, Elise guides her mount to touch down not far from the bat. Once down she holds her pistol out and to her side, where it can be seen and present an obvious threat even though it is not aimed. "Why were you on my grounds? Who are you?" the Gallee demands.

The canine guard who was wrestling with the bat earlier is running towards them, panting, and the bat looks over her shoulder at him, then back to her. The Eeee has a strange look on his face, akin to shock, or awe, and she's not even sure he understands her words. He whispers in Babelite, "It is you … "

"Me? What is it you mean? Speak clearly." The woman watches the man from Drokar-back, trying to judge the look in his face. He is in awe … but why? When she catches the movement of her guards she lifts her rein-bound hand to motions him to stop.

The woman considers a moment, then repeats her words in Babelite as well.

The guard comes to a halt a few yards behind her, breathing hard. "Forgive me, my lady. I apprehended him in Darkside – I think he knows something about your lady sister," he pants out. While he's speaking, the Eeee says something else in Babelite, but his words are pitched too high for her to make out. She guesses at part of his meaning – "Goddess-something." An oath, perhaps.

The woman glances back to her guard again, nods, and the points at the bat with her unarmed hand. "Do you speak Babelite?" she asks her guard.

The guard shakes his head. "No. And he speaks Standard well enough, my lady – I heard him talking earlier."

Again the woman nods. "Keep an eye on him as I speak with him." She turns from her guard and motions her mount forward. In Babelite she asks, "You mentioned … goddesses? What do you know? Where have you seen me before?"

"In … " The Eeee swallows, and he slumps nervelessly to his knees, his bound arms straight before him, head bowed. "In my dreams," he answers. He repeats the oath again, and this time Elise catches the unfamiliar phrase – "Godslayer."

The woman on Drokar back tilts her head, as if reeling from that last spoken word. Godslayer? He knows. She glances to her guard again and judges his reaction as she realizes her own expression has likely taken more than a touch of surprise to it, and then she turns to speak again. "What is that oath you speak?"

The bat's ears flatten against his head, and he twists it to one side, as if still wishing to escape but lacking the will to put the wish into action. "Not an oath," he mumbles, still in Eeee. "A name – a title."

"Godslayer … ," the woman on the winged Drokar repeats, tasting the title and finding it strangely bitter. "If Iam indeed this … 'Godslayer' … as you say, then why have you come? You obviously do not wish to be here," she then asks.

The Eeee starts to laugh, but the sound gets caught in his throat. "I didn't come, He," bound arms raise to point at the guard standing by, " – dragged me here."

"Ah … yes." The woman looks uncomfortable now, her thumb running along the twisted reins. That someone knows, let alone refers to her as Godslayer, she finds to be very disturbing indeed. She does her best to try and appear unfazed by the revelation – and only partially succeeds. "Yes, what did you say?" she asks her guard. "That he has information? Tell me."

"He was bragging in a Darkside bar about kidnapping your lady sister, my liege," the guard replies, with a short bow. "I overheard him and captured him when he left, to bring him to you."

For the first time, the Eeee reacts, speaking in Rephidim Standard. "I was doing no such thing!" he retorts, angrily.

As she listens to the man's response, the inside of the Gallee's ears pale, and her hand fidgets all the more with the reins. For the most part she presents a calm and proper figure – but for those who know her enough the small expression of apprehension give her away. Godslayer. She wonders if the kidnapping of her sister is in fact due to her fight against the Babelite pantheon. "Calm yourself, Eeee. Tell me your part of this, from your eyes. And may They help you if you are lying," commands Elise.

The Eee shifts uncomfortably under her words. "Wasn't braggin' about no kidnapping," he mumbles. "Was just drinkin' with my friends."

The guard watches the bat speak, his lip curled back in a snarl. He barks a short laugh at this response. "He said, my lady, and I quote: 'We bagged us a fine white snub for the holiday, and she gonna make us all rich.'"

"If I am indeed this 'Godslayer' of yours … ," Elise's eyes narrow, and she searches out the bat's eyes, "then you may wish to think on your words carefully. 'We bagged us a fine white snub for the holiday' – explain yourself."

The Eeee's ears compress further against his scalp, and he hunches his shoulders protectively. His eyes flick up to look at Elise for an instant, then he drops them again. He swallows, and takes a moment longer to respond. "Was just talkin' about m' business," he says. "Catchin' … birds. Caught a rare one. Collectors'll pay well for her." Though he stumbles over the word "birds", he seems more sure of himself as he finishes speaking.

"You are lying," says the woman angrily. Her own ears press back, but the expression is of quite the opposite intent as the Eeee's.

The bat cringes beneath the accusation. "Y' – y' can't know that," he answers, a thread of stubbornness mixing with incredulity.

"Is that so? I think you may know differently … Do try and and tell the truth, would you? I once heard someone say lies are rather like a … oh, … a disease," The woman brings her mount closer, so as to appear to loom over the Eeee. If he thinks me a Godslayer, than I will play the part.

Secrets snorts and tosses his head as he picks his way over the cobbles to tower above the kneeling Eeee. The bat curls his wings around his body as if to hide himself, then he flops forward, pressing his elbows to the road before the mounted Drokar, and his face against his tied forearms. "I'm sorry!" he cries, as if in pain. "It was your sister! They took her – I didn't know she was your sister, I swear it!"

"Why? Why did they take Katherine? Is it because I am a … Godslayer? A … debt perhaps? Vengeance?" demands Elise in steady and dangerous tones. She watches the man shrink from her, and wonders how many more like him there might be in the world now.

"No! We didn't know, Godslayer! I swear it – we didn't know!" He lapses into Babelite, writhing against the dusty, unyielding stones. "It was just a job! I didn't know!"

"I believe you," says Elise. Godslayer. She shakes her head at the idea, and wonders if she told him the truth of it if he would even believe. And she cannot even do that, lest she give away her involvement any further. A part of her reminds her it is true, and she finds that she might be proud of it. Evil gods. I am glad they are dead. "Now, who hired you? Answer truthfully and know my mercy."

"I … I don't know." The Eeee sniffles, burying his face against his arms, looking like he expects to be struck at any moment. "Some poodle, I guess. He talked to the boss, an' the boss don't tell us who we're workin' for."

"That is sufficient." The poodle nods, unwinding her left hand and reaching down to the Eeee. "I trust you will come along peacefully, and face the justice of the Temple? For your words here I might be inclined to see that your punishment is eased. Have you anything else to say?"

For a few moments, the Eeee doesn't move, just huddling against the ground. At last, he glances tentatively to her, noting her outstretched hand. He trembles, shifting awkwardly to his knees, flapping his wings for balance. He starts to get to his feet, then stops, raised to one knee. He looks at the poodle woman, seeming uncertain.

The woman holds her hand for a moment more, frowns, and withdraws it. He would not take my hand. Godslayer. Of course he will not take my hand. She recalls Mage Cyprian's words, how he told her they are the only gods he has. I only wish I could have killed them all, and she knows they would never love her for that. "Tell me," she says in Babelite, "how many others know of me? Of the dreams, and who call me … Godslayer?"

The unnamed bat looks away. "Don't know," he says again. "Heard a rumor, maybe, somewhere. Don't remember. Didn't know that it was … you. That it was true."

"But you knew when you saw me/? Are you from Babel? And tell me of this rumor?" she asks, each question spoken before he can respond. I must know, for if one knows, then perhaps an entire city does. Or more.

"Yeah. When I saw you on – " A glance at Secrets " – that. Then I knew. I ain't from Babel. But I had the dream. Most Eeee did. People … we guess. At who you were. We know who the Exile must've been – that mage, Envoy. But you … You're the one who shot her. Who took the scepter away. Who … " His voice trails off, and he stares at his bound wrists.

"Go on," says the woman.

The bat shrugs as best he can, his wings rustling. "You know the rest. Don't know who else knows it's you. Lotta rumors. About you, about others. Heard someone say it was some poodle, Lady Merci, from Gallis."

Elise laughs softly. "Lady Merci? For her sake and for the sake of the truth I tell you she had no part in that." The rider draws her mount back, turning Secrets slightly as if preparing him for flight. "Come, I will escort you to my manse where you will be held until the Temple Guard arrives. You will be jailed for a time, but I will come for you and see your reluctant truths are repaid." She lifts her pistol-carrying hand and gestures the guard towards the bat. "Bind his wings if you have the means. We will return, and have my carriage prepared. I believe I will pay Lord de Ayde a visit."

The guard nods to Elise, moving to tie up the bat's wings. "This time, you won't wriggle out of them," he promises the bat, grimly. The Eeee doesn't react except to wince as the canine wraps leather straps tightly around his wings, but as Elise finishes speaking, he lifts his head, a wild look on his face, then he subsides.

Lady de Bellefeuille is shown into the parlor by a nervous, elderly servant who would probably have refused entrance to a less … determined woman. She makes vague comments about the lord being "indisposed" but goes to fetch him anyway, at Elise's insistence.

Elise stands in the parlor leaning heavily upon her sheathed sword as if it were a cane. Flanking her are two of her guards: "escorts", she insisted – it's dangerous on the streets, she would say. As she awaits the Elder de Ayde to join her, she makes note of his apartment. Shabby and unsuitable. I had no idea he was this badly off. Despite the condition of his apartment, she finds it difficult to have any pity for the man.

Several minutes after the servant's departure, a rumpled, hastily-dressed Lord de Ayde appears. He smoothes down his black curls, peering at her through unfocused eyes. "Lady de Bellefeuille – " he begins, blinking at her guards. "What is it? Have you news of Lady Katherine?" He has a suddenly stricken look on his face, watching the seriousness of her expression. "It's – nothing – worse – is it?" The poodle has a hard time framing the sentence.

"Worse? That would depend … yes, quite a gamble, that, " answers Elise with bitter words. She does not stir from that almost casual lean against her sword, but her eyes narrow to a glare in a look as cold as the ice they resemble.

"What is it?" If he notes her choice of words, he doesn't show it. The dark poodle stumbles towards a chair, and steadies himself with one hand on it, searching Elise's face for an answer.

"Lord de Ayde, I have come to know you have a substantial debt to a certain men's club where you have gambled off much of your fortune. A debt most suspiciously close to that which has been demanded of me for the life of my sister." Her grip on her sword tightens, knuckles whitening through her carefully trimmed curly hair. "Lord de Ayde, so help me, I will have your head if you do not end this charade now."

The portly poodle blinks at her vehemence, looking lost and confused. He doesn't say anything for some moments, just stands there, blinking eyes that refuse to focus as he looks at her grip on the hilt of her sword. "Lady de Bellefeuille – y-yes, I have debts." His voice quavers as he speaks, and he tries to steady it. "But surely you cannot think that I – Lady Katherine – " He shakes his head, bewildered. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"I mean to charge you with plotting and aiding the kidnapping of my sister, hiring Eeee thugs no less, to gain the ransom and settle your debts," growls the lady. She shifts on her good leg so as to stand straight, moving her sword between her feet so as to resume leaning on it. "Do you mean to claim innocence?"

Lord de Ayde takes a pace back, his ears flattening against his head. He glances to the unfriendly faces of the guards, and then back to his accuser. "I – Lady de Bellefeuille!" he protests. "I do not mean to claim innocence – I am innocent! The worry over your sister – I understand your agitation – but – me?" He grips the back of the chair with his fingers, the tips digging into the cushioned fabric. "What possible reason could I have for kidnapping my son's fiancee?"

"You have a motive, and I have had men tell me a poodle is responsible. Your carriage did not return to your home after the kidnapping, instead was found to be elsewhere. Indeed you claimed to be at one place that night yet my sources find you were lying, that the times you gave are inconsistent with the information given. They all point to you, Lord de Ayde," answers the female Gallee. Her ears lay back, and her fingers continue to strain as if ready to draw her sword at any moment.

"What motive?" The black noble leans his weight against the chair, and it creaks. "Lady de Bellefeuille, what kind of monster do you think me? What kind of fool?" He turns his head away for a moment, as if pained. "I know that I have squandered a fortune. I have wasted my son's inheritance. I suppose that any kind of folly would not be too great to heap on the head of one such as myself." Bitterness and self-loathing tinge his words. "But I swear to you, my lady, as much an idiot as I am, I am not half mad enough to jeopardize not only Grant's happiness, but the only chance he will ever have at fortune."

The lady stands in judgement of the older black poodle, her finger tracing across her hilt as she considers him. After a moment she eases her grip. "I will listen to you. But may They help you if you ring false. Tell me, Lord de Ayde, would anyone have motive to frame you and your ruin your family name? Or your son? I can scarce believe all these indications your are the one are purely coincidence," she asks, her tone relenting to something closer to being even rather than angry.

As Elise modifies her stance, Lord de Ayde relaxes marginally as well, though he places his other hand beside the first upon the chair for support. "I … I know of no one, my lady. I don't flatter myself that I am without enemies. But one who would wish this … upon Lady Katherine … ?" He pales for a moment, then shakes his head. "No." He seems about to stop there, but one look at Elise's face and he continues, turning his face away. "I have heard of certain … people … in debt, like myself, who have been threatened, or had their families threatened. But if that were the case, I would have received the threat. There would be no mistaking their intent."

A nod, and the lady asks, "And your son, what of him?"

Before he can answer, the lady adds, "You have no gambling rivals? Men aware of your situation who might be prepared to use it to their advantage? No one at all?"

"Grant?" The dark canine gives another bewildered look. "Forgive a father his indulgences. I can't imagine that anyone would dislike Grant. As for gambling rivals … to be frank, my lady, I lose. My creditors may not love me, but everyone else in the business adores a loser." Self-reproach taints his words.

Again the lady nods. "And what do you know of Lord haut Glas? The man holds rather an … unpleasant opinion of your family. Have you any connection with him? He was a suitor to my sister before Lord Grant," she asks.

The black poodle frowns, blinking again as he tries to think. "Lady Katherine mentioned him, I think. She dislikes him, quite intensely, I recall. I must've seen him a time or three at various social functions, but I have no impression of him as hating me. Or Grant. He was … a cold fellow. Scornful. But a lot of people are, of me." He looks around his sad parlor, and sighs. "I am sure you can imagine why."

"There must be another. Someone. Your line is fraught with troubles. At one point your Gallisian line passed from poodle to an entirely different species, rather than pass it on to your line. And you cannot think of anyone who would wish you ill?" Elise asks. Her fingers drum against the grip of her sword. "It does not make sense."

Lord de Ayde winces. "What of Lady Katherine? Or yourself? Maybe it's not some enemy of mine … just someone who found me a convenient scapegoat." He feels his way around the edge of the chair, seating himself in it blindly. "Anyone who hated me would go after me. I have no mansion, no guards, no protectors save Grant. I am already ruined." He rests his head in his hands. "Why go to all the effort of kidnapping poor sweet Lady Katherine, when I am so much easier a target if someone wanted to hurt me?"

"Perhaps it is not you, then, that would be hurt. I will speak with your son when I am able. If you are not guilty then you have nothing to fear." The woman takes in a breath and glances to her guards, gesturing to the one right of her. "I will leave a guard here, for reasons I am sure you understand. I am sorry you are not feeling well, Lord de Ayde, and I am sure the extra help will be of use to you. I will send another guard when I am able, and will return when I can. If you have anything further to tell me, write, and I will see the letter picked up when next my servants visit the market."

Elise nods curtly. "On second thought, I will leave two guards here, and change them at a future date. Good evening, Lord de Ayde. You will excuse me if I am off. I have much to do, and I am running out of time," she tells him evenly. With a rustle of her cloak, the lady turns and hobbles for the door, leaving her guards behind.