A day of wariness, a day of intrigue. Ashur Galand sits in his room with his crossbow in hand… waiting. Waiting for an assassin to burst through his door perhaps… waiting for another representative of the Temple to come pounding… and waiting for his escort to Faraon's Dome to arrive.

The golden hues of dusk leak through the windows and fade into nightfall. The casino downstairs starts to liven up and get somewhat rowdy while the streets outside grow quiet. The escort should be arriving any moment, if Rhys' words were correct.

Galand clutches his crossbow in one hand, spare quarrels at hand on his hip, his other hand occupied with rolling the Scry-Dice he received recently on the table restlessly, watching them come up Death each time out of the corner of his eye…

A cheer erupts from downstairs, the sound of someone winning a big hand in the games. The aroma of food wafts past Galand's nose, as well as the scent of perfume from several of the fine ladies that also frequent the Beggared Poodle at night. A couple of them might even be feline.

The Khatta hisses softly under his breath, ears at half-back, muttering, "This is damned crazy. I could be down there having a great time. Instead I'm up here, wondering who's going to come through my door next, and trying to control my innards. How'd I get into this mess anyway?"

Something rustles past Galand's window; a flash of white, black, and blue.

Galand's head whips around to look at the window, his ears folding flat back into 'fight or flight' position.

Something outside scrawks angrily and then lands on the roof with a heavy 'thud'. A Vartan, probably, judging by the mass. Its hoof-steps pound over Galand's head as it walks across the roof, and then it reaches down to tap at Galand's window with a talon.

The Khatta pads toward the window warily, and calls out, "Who goes there?"

"A friend sent me," the Vartan scrawks. "I'm to give you a ride to Faraon's Dome, unless you'd rather try flying there yourself. Haw haw haw!"

The apparently edgy feline holsters his crossbow and sweeps the Scry-Dice into a pouch, tying it to his belt. He then goes toward the window and opens it, looking out and up. "All right. I'm ready to go when you are."

He finds himself looking beak-to-nose with an oddly colored Vartan. It looks like his nature color might have been white, but he has odd bits of blue and gray dye staining his feathers in strange swirling patterns. He offers Galand a hand, "You got the shiny?"

Galand reaches into his shirt and pulls out the pendant, letting it swing on its chain. "You betcha. Can we, uh… go? I'm not sure, but I may be getting some rather unpleasant company before long."

The Vartan eyes Galand oddly and shakes his head, chuckling. "I heard about that. Yeah… We'll get going." He hauls Galand up onto the roof as though the Khatta were a rag doll. "You got any quirks about flying? I need to know if you'd rather ride on my back or if I'll need to dangle you in front so you won't get sick on my feathers." Judging from that dye-job, he's probably rather proud of his appearance.

Galand blinks. "Having never really flown much before, I'll leave that to your best judgment."

Chuckling, the Vartan spins Galand around so quickly that he almost tumbles off the roof. Strong hands grip his shoulders and just when it seems as though he's going to fall, the roof seems to tumble down away from his feet as the hippogryph takes to the skies. A blast of chilly wind slams into the Khatta's face and the horizon flip-flops.

The Khatta's eyes widen, then squeeze shut as he tries not to yelp in surprise, managing to choke it down to a raspy miaow.

The winds continue to buffet the Khatta, but the iron grip on his arms and shoulders holds firm. "Yer doin' pretty good, fluffy. Haven't tossed yer cookies yet!" the gaudily painted hippogryph laughs.

Galand swallows, and manages a grin. "Strong stomach built on years of Bazaar food." He opens his eyes, a little calmer now, and starts to actually enjoy the view somewhat.

"Baw-haw-haw! Yer all right, spots," the Vartan scrawks. Below, the city has already drifted out of view, showing up as only a few pinpricks of light against the darkness of night. "My name's Skye. Watch yerself up ahead; it gets chilly for a minute."

Galand chuckles softly. "My breed of Khatta likes cold, Skye. The name's Ash. Ash Galand."

Skye suddenly power-dives straight down, jolting Galand again. The world starts spinning wildly and the air gets thin and bitingly cold. Then, as soon as it starts, it stops again. Ahead is Rephidim's Underside. Dome-like buildings glow softly in the starlight.

"Breed? What breed izzat? I figgered you were part Savanite or somethin', and they seem to like it in the hot parts of Sinai," Skye scrawks, banking towards one of the larger domes ahead.

"Well, the way my father told it, the family line originally came from somewhere around the Vykarin Wastes. Really, I'm comfortable cold as hot. This fur's wonderful insulation. As for the part-Savanite theory, well… " Galand pauses a second, then says, "I don't know one way or another, but it's sometimes soured a good deal, if you know what I mean."

The Vartan backpedals with his wings as he prepares to land on a platform a few hundred yards ahead. "Whyzat? People think yer a slave? Yeah… I guess that would kinda ruin my work all the time if people kept thinking I was a spotty. Maybe you could get a dye-job like me!" He laughs heartily, shaking his feathers out and shaking Galand in the process.

The cat says nothing, letting out an odd feline yelp at the shaking!

A back-blast of air slams into the Khatta as his 'ride' lands solidly on the stony platform. The strong hands that have been clinging to him during the entire trip let go abruptly.

Galand shakes himself off and gives himself a moment for feline 'composure grooming,' then asks Skye, "Okay… Where now?"

The Vartan pauses to preen his feathers out. He eyes Galand and jerks his head in the direction of a silver archway… one that an Eeee and a Rath'ani currently occupy.

The raccoon is dressed in a bright green kimono that doesn't hang well on her pudgy frame. The Eeee is in a uniform of some sort that Galand can't seem to place. The bat walks up to the Khatta and offers him his hand. "On behalf of my master, I welcome you to Faraon's Dome."

Galand smiles and shakes the hand offered. "It's an honor. I'll admit… I'm not sure what to expect."

"Come this way, please." The Eeee seems to flinch ever so slightly as Galand shakes his hand and then turns on his heel and walks towards the doorway. "Alas, Master Faraon is busy with some guests… but I've been instructed to provide you with all you need to know."

Giggling softly, the raccoon bows to Galand grasps his arm. "Faraon had me prepare a special meal for you! I love cooking for guests!"

The Khatta nods thoughtfully. "All right. I'm ready to listen… and I also have something to show you." His ears perk up at the thought of food. "Really? Why thank you, Madame. I trust it shall be as tasty as you are charming."

The Khatta is whisked away through the dome, past beautiful gardens and statues. He eventually finds himself in an ornate room with ivory walls and a low table with cushions piled up around it instead of chairs. Odd-looking glass hookahs sit at all four corners of the table, imbedded into the orange wood of the table.

Skye takes up a position near the door, apparently serving as much of a guard as a transport Vartan. The raccoon dashes in and out, first depositing a wineglass in Galand's hand, then setting plate after plate of food on the table: candied fruits, spiced meats, steamed vegetables and rice, sweet breads and assorted butters and jams to eat them with, and a large pot of aromatic stew. The bat seats himself across from Galand, his wings neatly folded behind his back and his hands in his lap. His eyes never leave the Khatta during the entire ritual of setting the table.

"So," the bat finally says after the whirlwind passes, "I hear that there was some trouble last night with Iaokim?"

Galand nods, settling onto the cushion, and saying, "Yes… his brother apparently wanted to determine my motives where his brother are concerned. I think he came away with the impression that I'm somewhat more than just the 'hired help,' as he put it."

"The Astromancer met with you? We have heard nothing of that." The black-furred Eeee's brow creases in a frown as he sips at a glass of blood red wine. "It was inevitable, I suppose, although still quite a nuisance. The Astromancer provides very little of a threat as long as we remain subdued and as long as he continues to have his princess as his personal slave."

Galand hmms. "It's not the Astromancer I'm worried about." He unties the pouch from his belt and dumps the Scry-Dice onto the table, away from the food. "I found these in a velvet bag, nailed to the inside of my door last night. Soon as I touched the bag, it disintegrated, spilling these all out."

As the dice rattle and roll, the Khatta says, "Bet you a shekel they all come up 'Death'."

The Eeee's frown grows deeper as he watches each of the dice roll a death rune. He picks one up between his spindly fingers and examines it critically with his blood-red eyes.

"Interesting," the bat murmurs. "Shadowspite seems to have taken a fancy to you… although I don't think you're her target. Don't take this the wrong way, Mister Galand, but you're too small of a prey for her tastes."

Galand chuckles softly. "I see… so this could be a warning, or an invitation?"

"A distraction," the Eeee hisses, flicking the die from his fingers and sending it tumbling over a ledge behind him.

Galand hmms. "Well, she's succeeding. Very well… Do you know who might've hired her out to hit Iaokim?"

Frowning, the bat takes another sip from his glass. "If Shadowspite had been hired to kill the candidate, he would not have walked out of Three Thieves alive, I'm sure of it. There is the chance that she's getting haughty or careless… but in light of recent events I believe that you and the candidate were just a useful tool for her to get to her real target much easier."

The cat sips from his glass, his eyes widening. "The Astromancer?" The way he says it isn't a question.

"There is a duke that resides in Rephidim during the winter in Gallis. He is rumored to have burned peasants' crops to the ground because he felt they were not producing enough." The Eeee shrugs. "All rumor… None of it can be proven. Regardless, there are many people that do not care for the Duke of Chesing, and the Temple makes a point of keeping guards posted near his residence just in case someone decides to seek their vengeance against him.

"Usually the Temple posts guards. Yesterday they did not, because of a certain threat they feared would kill the Astromancer or the Candidate."

Galand groans inwardly, rubbing his forehead. "Let me guess: The Duke's not going to be burning any crops for a long, long time, right?"

The bat nods his head, half-closing his eyes and focusing on his wineglass.

Galand curses softly. "Vhai on a stick… I'm sorry. If I'd known… "

"Would you like to put a stop to this, Mister Galand? How would you like to bring down the Assassin's Guild for us?" The uniformed Eeee sets his glass down and looks Galand in the eyes.

Galand blinks, his eyes widening even more. He takes a steadying sip of his glass, swallows, and asks, "What would it require?"

"We would have to put you in a disguise of some sort… and of course you would have to be able to kill people." Narrow fingers trace the lip of the wineglass idly. "Faraon has only now recovered from Shadowspite trying to bring him down with the Astromancer's assassination, and our attempts to point the blame back on her were unsuccessful. This is something that will need work on the inside."

The cat says, "The disguise I can handle… as for the killing people… " He flips his cloak back, pulling out his crossbow, still folded, and setting it on the table. He reaches into the sleeves of his shirt and pulls out a matched set of daggers, and finally reaches down the back of his shirt, pulling a much longer blade, almost machete-length out of a spine sheath. He flips it into the air, catches it by the handle, and lays it flat on the table with the rest of his armaments.

The feline smiles, a curious blank, empty look filling his eyes. "This is what I wear for a casual afternoon. That tell you anything about my lifestyle?"

There's a heavy CLICK directly to Galand's right as Skye's arm jerks upwards, almost bringing his flintlock to bear on Galand. After seeing the Khatta simply place the weapons on the table he lowers his arm a bit, but keeps the gun in hand.

Galand turns and smiles at Skye. "Relax, old boy. I'm not here to cause trouble."

"You are armed like an assassin." The bat grins, bringing the tube of one of the hookahs to his lips and blowing out a strange puff of blue smoke. "I think with a proper disguise you will fit right in." He waves at the Vartan – who scowls and lowers his weapon the rest of the way.

The Khatta grins, that cold, faraway quality still lingering in his eyes as he gestures to his weapons. "May I?"

Another puff of blue smoke. It smells sweet and heavy, like perfume on an exotic dancer in some faraway land. "By all means." The bat nods.

Galand picks up his blades one by one, tucking them away, and finally re-holsters the crossbow. The warmth returns to his eyes as he samples some of the food, making very appreciative noises. "This is excellent. My compliments to the chef. So… what exactly did you have in mind?"

"We may be able to get you past the Faceless Men and into the Guild. You won't have a very high position and will probably spend most of your time cutting the throats of drunkards who can't pay their bar tabs, but enough of a foothold that you may hear useful bits of news." The bat takes a long draw from the tube and blows another heavy stream of smoke into the air. "There are many people who are jealous of Faraon's power, so jealous that they hired Shadowspite to murder the Astromancer and blame it on poor Master Faraon. Can he help it if so many people in Darkside look to him as a friend? The Guild became jealous, and sent us scrambling to recover. Rhys was an interesting bonus to our recoveries, but he is one of very few cards we have left to play, and requires special work to play properly."

The cat nods, musing, "Yes… Rhys is of a rather volatile nature sometimes. Nice fellow, though."

"Volatile, yes… of course." Another blue puff of smoke. "He'll make a fine Astromancer someday I'm sure. It's a shame he failed the test, but his victory was stolen from him. Eventually he will reclaim it."

"All right… What do I need to do in order to do this? And I'd also like to know just why the Assassin's Guild is in such bad need of bringing down." The Khatta leans forward. "And though it pains my soul to say this, what's in it for me?"

The bat nods to the Rath'ani, who vanishes out of the room. "There are many people who listen to gold, enough to give us just enough of an opening to slip someone inside of the Guild. As for why – when the Astromancer was murdered, Faraon lost a great deal. He lost business partners who felt he was reckless and greedy, he lost property in the fires in Darkside, and he lost his chance at having a hand in the Temple so that 'businessmen' like you and I could go about our 'business' unbothered." The raccoon returns and places a box with strange scrimshaw designs of dragons on its surface into the bat's hands. "As for your payment… "

The box opens. Inside is at least thirty gold coins, as well as assorted gems and bits of jewelry. "You will be well paid. That I assure you." The box slowly closes again, its treasures sparkling in Galand's eyes before vanishing under the heavy wooden lid.

Galand swallows, his eyes glittering momentarily. "I should say so. However you and the Master think is best for me to be paid, that's well and good."

Smiling, the bat places the box back in the raccoon's hands and turns back to face the Khatta. "This will, of course, also be work added onto your duties with the Candidate. We need him protected and kept happy, for when he becomes the next Astromancer, he will probably be most eager to repay his friends for their favors towards him."

The Khatta nods and smiles. "Yes… it's good to have friends, both in the useful sense, as well as the regular sense. I genuinely like the lad, so I'm trying to be a bit of both."

"Do keep us informed if the Astromancer gets nosy again. We have ways of keeping him out of our business, but if you pull on a string too may times it just might break." The Eeee touches the tips of two fingers together and then pulls them apart.

Galand nods. "I understand that concept… hmm. Odds are, Rhys will want to leave the Temple again. Even though you say Shadowspite was targeting someone else, I still think there's a danger to him. If I try to keep him at home, he's likely to become… cranky."

The bat taps his nose with a fingertip. "Perhaps you could bring some entertainment to him then. We most definitely do not wish to lose our little friend… and we also do not wish him to be cross with us."

The cat hmms at the bat. "I agree with that. However, the first 'entertainment' that springs to my mind is one that, alas, his frame is a bit young for. Hrm… any ideas?"

"Just pay him a visit every so often. Drink with him, bring him some food from the Bazaar, tell him news about Sinai… although leave any news about the Savanite Empire out of it. That only serves to stress the lad further." The bat brings a small candied bug to his lips and crunches delicately.

Galand nod. "He, ah… doesn't seem to like the Savanites much. I'm surprised he's reacting so well to me, considering the slight resemblance."

"A Savanite cost Rhys the Astromancer seat. You can't blame him for being somewhat bitter." The Eeee dusts some crumbs from his shirt. "You can talk, and you do not talk down to him. Archelaus may have accepted being a child and allows his personal slave to mother him, but Rhys is very independent and dislikes being patronized."

"I try not to patronize anyone. It's bad for business. No… I talk to Rhys as I would any of my business associates or friends. He's got a wicked sense of humor, though he tends to get a bit excitable when drunk," Galand says.

The cat pauses a moment, then says, "If he does insist on being let out of the Temple, I'll do what I can to keep him safe. You've my word on that."

The bat nods, refilling his wineglass. "If the Astromancer bothers you again, let him know that there are friends privy to his little secrets… friends who could destroy his little nursemaid if he continues to poke his nose where it is not wanted. The Astromancer's slave is a criminal. She served under a corrupt Inquisitor, nearly murdered him, and then manipulated her way out of prison and into the Astromancer's possession, where she now treats the most powerful person in Rephidim as though he were her kitten. The idiot child accepts it as well."

Galand hmms softly. "I've never met this 'little princess' of his, at least not directly. Quite the schemer, eh?"

"She derailed our plans rather messily. Rhys had the Astromancer seat right in his hands, but Tahir's slave coached the boy while she spied on Rhys and judged his reactions to things. They gave Archelaus the seat out of pity. He'd burned his hand and was in the verge of blaming it on Rhys, but the slave knew what was going on and told Tahir how to use the situation to his advantage. We were quite disappointed when we heard the news. It has caused us to have to restructure many of our plans." The bat pops another bug into his mouth, this time chomping on it violently as though he were delivering the killing bite with his own teeth.

The cat sighs, "Well… for Tahir's part, he does seem genuinely concerned for Rhys. I can't fault him for that, even if he is being puppeteered by the Savanite. I think I can avoid him, though. As I said earlier, I think I made enough of an impression upon him that he'll leave me be."

The Eeee nods. "It would be worthwhile if you could get in good with the Astromancer, but one thing at a time. We would be happy to put you up for the night and give you a tour of the Dome. Are there any more questions you need to have answered?"

Galand indicates the Death Dice. "Do you think I really need be worried about those showing up mysteriously?"

"We don't know how much of a threat Shadowspite is to you. She may want to kill you since you've seen her face. She may just take a sick pleasure in watching you sweat. We will provide you with room and board here in the Dome if you like. You'll be safer than the Temple's treasures and will have lots of 'diversions' to keep you from worrying too much about an assassin's blade."

Galand mrrowls, "And what happens if one of the Assassins tumbles to the fact that I'm not all I seem to be?"

The bat shakes his head. "If your cover starts to show signs of risk then you will need to inform us. We will do what we can, but don't expect miracle rescues if you make a stupid mistake and get yourself caught. Just remember the gold that will await you should you succeed."

The Khatta nods amiably. "Sounds like a fair deal, then." He arches an eyebrow and murmurs, "Ah, what sort of 'diversions?'"

In reply, the Eeee places the hookah pipe between his lips and blows out another stream of blue smoke from his nostrils. "Faraon's Dome caters to most any vice you may have. Fine food, women, gambling… We also have quite a few recreational 'medications' you will find most stimulating if you would like to give it a try. We have dreaming herbs from Abu Dhabi and Yorspice from Himar… very hard to obtain these days."

Galand hmms softly. "The food, women and gambling I can handle… as for the 'medications,' no thank you. I don't like things that alter my perceptions that completely. It's a good way to wind up taking a dirt-nap if one isn't careful."

The Eeee frowns slightly. "That is a shame. Faraon may be disappointed… but your decision is your decision." He shrugs. "Anything else before Skye escorts you to your room for the night?"

Galand arches an eyebrow and asks, "What do you mean, disappointed? I mean … what's expected of me by Faraon?"

"Faraon is rather proud of his gardens here… especially proud of the gardens that most people don't usually see when they come to the Dome." The bat pulls himself to his feet. "As for what Faraon expects… he simply expects you to honor your friendship with him. Friends help one another, but you'll see more of that later. For now, simply enjoy yourself."

The cat ahs. "Honoring friendships is something I couldn't not do any more than I could stop breathing. Some of my friends helped me to be where I'm at today, and it's only the decent thing to do to help one's friends and allies." He smiles. "Unless you can think of anything else… "

The Eeee nods to the Vartan, who in turn nods his head. "Skye will take you to your room. You'll be staying in the gardens for now, but the slaves tend the plants and will leave you alone for the most part. From there you can freely make use of any of our facilities. When we're ready, we'll give you instructions on what to do next."

Galand nods, standing and offering his hand to the bat. "I thank you for your hospitality, Mister… ?"

"Nightshade. My name is Nightshade." He does not take the proffered hand this time, and instead turns on his heel and jumps off the ledge behind him. A few seconds later a black silhouette can be seen flying towards another ledge on the other side of the garden, one that looks as though it holds a gigantic statue of a golden lizard.

Galand blinks, lowering his hand. He asks Skye, "Does he do that a lot?"

The 'statue' suddenly moves its head to look at Galand. The Khatta can juuuuust make out a head nod in his direction. It appears that there is a dragon in the Dome after all.

Galand notices the 'statue' moving, and bows deeply and respectfully.

"He doesn't like people touching him. Nighty's a strange one… Avoid him if you can," the Vartan says gruffly, tracing one of the blue squiggles dyed into his feathers with a finger. "I hope you know what yer gettin' inta, Ash."

"Well… I certainly hope so as well, Skye." The Khatta looks over at the Vartan and sighs, "At least this way I stand a fighting chance of making it out with my skin relatively intact. If not for you lot, I'd still be ready to shoot the first thing in sight, sure Shadowspite was coming after me. This way… I can help Rhys out, I can help Faraon and you and Nightshade… and I incidentally manage to garner a bit of wealth and power. Everybody wins, at least on my side."

Galand sighs, "'Tis better to die on one's feet than live on one's knees, after all. This way, maybe I can make a difference."

Skye looks out in the direction of the dragon. "Yeah… everyone wins, except for one poor little sap that probably will never know what hit 'im. C'mon… I'll take ya to yer room." He makes a sweeping gesture towards the door.

Galand nods, following as directed. "Well… as they say, that's life in Rephidim. I don't know, maybe I'm a bit jaded, but… if you don't watch your own back, who's going to do it for you?"

"I'm just hired help. The less I talk the less trouble I'll be in. Jes watch yerself, Ash. That's all I haveta say. These guys may talk nice, but they won't flinch at sending someone like me to do ya in just as quick as Shadowspite ever could." Skye slowly leads Galand down several rows of twining plants and vines. Some of them even appear to be glowing.

Galand hmms softly. "You've a point. Point well taken, my friend."

The Vartan stops at a wall of plants. He reaches out and pulls at something and the vines move out of the way, revealing a doorway hidden behind them. Skye opens it up and walks on through. "The Dome is fulla secret passages. It lets the slaves move around without the guests noticin'."

The Khatta, carouser and gambler-turned-bodyguard-turned-spy-and-assassin nods absently, murmuring, "I imagine that comes in handy." He looks down the doorway, still distracted by his thoughts.

Beyond is a sweet smelling garden with strange bluish flowers tended by several Savanites. Houses are built into the sides of the walls in the large round chamber, probably big enough to fit a city block into.

Galand looks around him. "I must say, this is impressive. I've never spent much time Downside… it's not what I expected."

Skye taps one of the Savanites on the shoulder – a scrawny female with dirt-caked clothes. "This is Digger. She'll take care of whatever it is you need. As long as yer here, consider her to be your slave. I need ta go back topside. Seeya, Ash." The Vartan taps a talon to his brow and ducks back through the doorway, closing it behind him.

Galand makes a noise, trying to get Skye's attention. "Uhh… I… don't… understand Savanite sign."

Digger dusts off her dress (a rather futile gesture really) and bows to Galand. Unfortunately the Vartan has already vanished.

Galand looks at Digger. "I don't suppose you've any idea how I'm supposed to understand you, do you?"

Digger smiles and shrugs. She holds out one hand, palm upwards and traces a finger back and forth across it.

Galand blinks. "You can write?"

The Savanite nods her head, looking rather proud of herself.

Galand smiles, patting Digger on the shoulder. "Well then. Why don't we head inside and sit and talk of many things? And though I hate to impose upon you so soon my dear lady, I could really use a good stout drink about now. Nerves, you know." He grins halfheartedly. "I've been getting that a lot lately, I'm afraid."

Digger bows and motions for Galand to follow her. She walks over to one of the 'houses' built into the rock wall, pulls an iron key from her pocket and unlocks the door. She holds the door open and bows again.

The Khatta smiles at Digger, and walks inside, gesturing for her to follow. Halfway in, he says, "Drat! I hope we have something for you to write with, otherwise the conversation's going to be rather one-sided."

After Galand enters, Digger follows behind. The inside of the building is immaculate. Plush furniture and other expensive decorations decorate the cabin. The Savanite wanders over to a cabinet in the wall and removes a bottle and a glass, placing them on a coffee table near Galand with yet another bow. She then walks over to a desk and removes a pencil and several sheets of loose paper. She holds them to her chest and turns back to face the Khatta, keeping her head bowed low.

Galand pours himself a glass and takes a sip, saying to Digger, "Oh, do look up, dear lady… I cannot have an associate who keeps staring at the floor."

The cat adds with a wry smile, "You'd be forever bumping into things."

The Savanite nods and slowly raises her head back up.

The Khatta studies the Savanite for a long moment, looking as if he's uncomfortable with the idea of having a slave. After a while, he finally says, "Um, Digger… listen… I've not had a personal servant anytime in at least the last ten years. I… well, just relax, if you want to. I'm not going to yell at you, or beat you, or any of the other ugly things you hear about. I'm just sitting here, trying to figure out how I got myself into all this."

Galand chuckles, softly, "Though it's a bit late for that. Anyway… don't wear yourself out standing there on my account, because frankly my dear… I've not a clue what to do with you, honestly."

The corner of Digger's mouth curls up in a smile. She scribbles on the paper in her hands and then holds the sheet out to Galand. "You are a Friend of Faraon's. We've heard whispers about your dealings with the Astromancer and the Candidate now and again. You must be very proud. There are those who hate the Astromancer because he keeps a slave, but some of us think he is a very great man. It will be a sh – " It looks like she had written more, but scribbled it out hastily.

Galand's left eyebrow shoots right up. "It will be a what? I play bodyguard for the Candidate, occasionally take him out for a drink, or bring him news from the outside world, while the Astromancer pretty much doesn't like me, or is dubious of me at best. While I am a little proud that I've managed to fall in with such company, it does have me worried for my skin at times. As far as him keeping a slave, well… Personally, I never saw the point in slavery anyway. You seem like an intelligent enough member of the species. Just because you can't speak like the so-called 'normal' people of the world can doesn't mean you're a bloody idiot."

"In fact, I've often noted that those who speak the loudest often have the least in the way of brains," adds Galand with a smirk and a chuckle.

Digger scribbles a bit more and holds up another sheet of paper, "Nothing. Just – you probably will not have to worry about the Astromancer after a while. I am surprised that you were not told."

Galand hmms softly. "Nightshade did mention something about how they'd soon have him out of the way. They didn't tell me directly, if that's what you mean." He shrugs, stretching and twisting his neck. "Well… I've got to say I'm not terribly fond of him. After all, he could've politely asked to see me, and I would have. He didn't have to send his goon squad to fetch me like some fuff'nar's toy. As far as what they do with him… that's their business, I guess."

The Savanite bites her lip and simply nods, her smile fading.

Galand sighs. "However… I don't want to see him come to unnecessary harm." He rubs his forehead. "And I thought I was just taking a bodyguard job. I didn't know I'd be taking on an entire Guild."

Galand looks at Digger and asks, plainly, "Ever have one of those weeks where you wish you could've stayed in bed?"

Digger glances at the window and closes the drapes. She picks up her pencil again and nervously scribbles on a new sheet of paper. "I could get in trouble for saying this, but I will risk it. You seem like a kind man. Be careful of what goes on around you. This place is a pit of lies and deception. They use people here… as puppets, as pawns, and as tools. I hope you do not lose your use to Faraon, because that day could be your last. The greatest risk to the Astromancer's own life is probably the dragon himself when he decides to put his own puppet onto the seat."

The Savanite gathers up the papers and stuffs them into the furnace. She then pauses to scribble down one final note, "I must hurry back to the gardens. The Dreamweed is in bloom."

Galand reads the paper, frowning a bit, and touches it to a nearby candle, holding it while it burns. "If I get out of this, I'm going to have a long talk with Rhys about who his friends are… I – " He stops for a second. "Deception… Fear… Denial… Paradise… Pit… Dagger…

Digger claps her hands together and vanishes out the door, leaving Galand alone.

A lone cat stands from his seat, walks to the drapes, and looks out upon the paradise around him, murmuring, "But even the loveliest gardens have snakes… If this is the Pit of Paradise… I wonder if that makes me the Dagger. Oh, vhai… " He goes back to his chair, snagging the bottle, and proceeds to lose himself in it for the night.