Light pours into a dark room in the upper level of the Embassy, as the door swings open, letting in a guard bearing a lantern. The guard in question is an Eeee, and the light isn't really for his benefit so much as for the lone occupant of the room – a golden vixen who bolts from her bed, but immediately stops as a second guard gestures with a chitinous blade. The two guards part way, making an opening for their boss to enter.

Brishen looks almost innocent, clad as she is in a simple white dress that whirls about her ankles as she slips between the taller guards. "Good morning, Maza – Why don't you sit down for a bit?"

The golden vulpine plops back down on the bed, her shoulders slumping.

Brishen smooths her dress out as she sits on the edge of the bed, spreading her wings in a deliberate, lazy arc that keeps the tips a few inches from the floor. "You're in a great deal of trouble – Not from me, necessarily, but from something you brought with you when you decided to visit my little gathering."

The first guard sets the lantern down on an end-table, better illuminating the room. The golden vixen says nothing.

Brishen glances at the guards, then at the door. She smiles faintly.

The two guards silently file out of the room. The door closes. That leaves only one fox and one bat.

Brishen watches the golden vixen for a moment, then shrugs. "You don't need to talk – Not really. But you do need to listen to me if you value your life. There's something in the Old City that very much wants you for its own. It tried to make a deal with me, an exchange to which I did not agree."

The golden vixen shrinks back, regarding the bat with wide eyes. It would seem Brishen has the vixen's attention now.

Brishen rests her hands, clasped, in her lap. Her eyes shine faintly. "I have some sympathy for those who have found themselves in difficult spots. The First Ones know I certainly find myself in them more often than not." She fixes the vixen with her bright brown eyes. "That does not change the fact that you stole from my guests, in my house. It is something that I will not forget."

Brishen takes a deep breath and continues. "It does however, change my mind about just what I'm going to do with you. I'm going to let you go, Maza, but I'm going to let you go on a few simple conditions."

"And … just what would that be?" the vixen timidly queries.

Brishen smiles warmly. "The first is simple. You said your husband worked for the Temple. I want his name."

The vixen stammers, "I … I meant to keep it a s-s-s-secret. B-but… "

Brishen nods politely. "And?"

The vixen says, "I'm not really married at all. I … I'm … " She looks away. "I'm his MISTRESS."

The golden vixen sniffles and says, "I'm … " Her lip quivers. "… I'm nothing but a TRAMP! It's Inquisitor Harengus. His wife has no idea… "

Brishen says, gently and very quietly. "Do you think he will defend you? Speak carefully, because I am going to turn you over to the Temple, and you had better find someone who will not deal with you as a common thief."

The golden vixen looks away, sniffling. "Dear Sanguine wouldn't … wouldn't … let them HURT me… "

Brishen's eyes do not leave the vixen as she nods. "Alright. Because that is the thread you dangle from. I will tell the Temple exactly what you were doing when you were caught. I will also tell them that it is your association with Inquisitor Harengus which prompted our decision to turn you over to the Temple, instead of dealing with you in our own fashion."

Maza gasps, "You're … you're going to TELL them about me and Sanqui – Inquisitor Harengus? B-b-but … the SCANDAL! And his WIFE!"

Brishen tilts her head slightly. "I will tell them that you claim a close friendship with the Inquisitor. The nature of this friendship is one that will eventually be revealed, I suspect, but it will not be by me."

The vixen just shrinks, huddling down on the bed and shivering lightly.

Brishen raises a brow. "You are in trouble then, aren't you," she whispers, sighing quietly as she stands. "I will arrange for your safe passage to the Temple. I will not tell them that you are the Inquisitor's mistress, merely that you are a dear friend fallen upon difficult times, or so you claim. The rest, I'm afraid, will have to be up to you."

The vixen doesn't say anything further. Under the current circumstances, she doesn't seem NEARLY so chatty as she did at the party.

The vixen at last casts a distrustful glance up to Brishen, then at last nods. "I guess … so."

Brishen looks down at the vixen. "As much as it may not seem that way right now, I don't want to hurt you. I certainly don't believe you're anything other than a willing thief, but I also don't believe you truly understand the consequences of your actions. Perhaps you should take this chance, however small, and do something with it. Because eventually, if you keep up with what you're doing right now, you will be caught, and the next object of your attention may not be quite so willing to set you free."

Brishen turns toward the door. "You'll be leaving for the Temple soon. I suggest you get your thoughts in order." Her dress gathers about her ankles as she turns to look back at the vixen. There is almost pity in her eyes as she adds, "Don't try to escape. It'd be bad. I don't think I need to explain how bad it would be." And with that, she leaves.

---

Later in the day, with the golden vixen conveniently carted away by the guards, Brishen is in her office, tending to ambassadorial duties, when one of her guards comes up, holding an envelope that looks like it has been chewed on. "Madame Ambassador? An escapee from the Asylum brought this. I thought you might want to see."

Brishen arches a brow. "An escapee? This is bound to enliven my day." She smiles tiredly and takes the letter, opening it as she eyes the guard. "What did this escapee look like, precisely?"

The envelope is addressed to Ambassador Brishen Kara of the Babelite Embassy to Rephidim. The return address has been chewed off. The envelope smells of perfume, though it looks as if this mail has suffered from the elements greatly. Only a few pieces of the wax seal remain on the back … but enough to indicate that this would be official correspondence … and well overdue for delivery by now.

Brishen sniffs faintly. "Hm." The seal is carefully removed and set aside, though there's truly little of it remaining. Then, the letter is removed from the well-gnawed envelope.

The letter inside smells more strongly of perfume, and a quick perusal indicates that it comes from Babel … from one of the Council offices. (Since the bureaucrat charged with writing this letter is mail, the addition of perfume might be a tad out of place … especially in such official correspondence.)

The gnawing appears to be done by some creature with sharp teeth, too large to be a vermite, too small to be a beasthound. Probably about the size of a lap pet.

Outside, a loud, high-pitched shriek is heard.

"That sounds like Keega," the guard remarks, sounding bored. "Must be having some trouble with the lunatic."

Brishen blinks. "Wonderful." She looks up at the guard. "Could you see just what made that sound?" The letter is read, albeit quickly, before its tucked away in a pocket for later examination. "And just what did this lunatic look like?"

The guard steps out to the porch and looks out the window. "Ah … white, winged, with golden features. And a horn on her head. Hmm. She's petting the Vykarin. I don't see Keega now."

Brishen smirks faintly. "I see. Make sure Keega is well. I'll deal with the lunatic, hmm?" And with that, a few flaps of her dark wings take her into the air, towards the familiar Exile.