After the capture of Machkat, and the Temple raid on the Blood Kings' den, the Kavi gang appeared to have been broken. A few days later, Durog caught a single Kavi in the act of trying to set fire to the Black Rock. No harm was done, except to the mongoose, who ended up in Temple hands. Machkat was executed shortly before First Ones' Day in 6104, along with Claws-Ice and some of the other Kavi gang members, whom Faith said were part of the Blood Kings leadership. The remainder of the captured gang were sold into slavery, and taken off Rephidim.

Business has been erratic, though normally good, over the better part of a year which has passed since the Blood Kings incident. Leads for work will trickle in from the Shadow Wolves or former satisfied customers, and some periods have been so busy that Piper has had to turn jobs down for lack of time. Still, it comes and goes in waves, and today happens to be one of the slow times.

Piper is settled in near the door, quietly practicing on his pipes in a spot where the music will carry outside. A mug of milk sits at his feet to wet his throat whenever his playing dries it out. The tune is happy and simple, but the notes hold hints of complexities here and there with missing spaces in the song and the occasional somber note. His tail wags back and forth in time to the music.

A customer enters the inn, breaking the reverie of the young raccoon waitress, who had been leaning against the bar, listening to the music and staring off into space. The man orders a loaf of bread and a bowl of stew, which he eats quickly, and then is gone again, leaving Gallah and raccoon alone again in the main room. After a few minutes, April wanders over to the piping canine and stands there quietly, waiting for the song to end.

The Gallah pricks up an ear towards April and bobs his head towards her. He finishes his tune with a fancy flourish and then whistles out a single questioning tone, a silly sounding note that asks what he can do for her.

April giggles and claps her hands together for him, then asks, more seriously, "Has the Bard's Guild given you any trouble about that?"

"No, Mam'selle, but I also do not perform publicly." He peers out the door. "At least, no more public than this or like our time at the fountain. Do you think I am doing something that might make them upset at me? I only play for fun after all."

"I don't know." April slips her hands into the pockets of her apron. "Maybe it's okay as long as you don't get paid for it. It seems like everything bad is about money."

Piper tucks his pipes back into his belt. "I would not say that, Mam'selle. Money can buy one nice food and pretty clothes, oui?"

The raccoon smiles. "Whee," she echoes him, with deliberately bad accent. "Money's not all bad. It's just that all the bad things that happen are because of money."

"What has made you think about such things, Mam'selle? Still thinking of the Blood Kings?" The dog scoops up his mug and laps noisily from it.

"I dunno." She scuffs her foot in a circle, leaning back against the back of a chair, and seems about to say more when someone enters. It's a young Zerda, wearing oversized robes that brush the ground, and carrying a pack slung over one shoulder, out of which sticks the end of a long ruler. The pack has numerous outside pockets, and the tips of pens and devices not readily identifiable poke out of them. The Zerda's large ears swivel about with his head as he looks around the room, and he starts when April asks, "May I help you?"

Piper tries to nonchalantly lick off the milk splashed across his nose as the Zerda enters. Mustn't make a bad impression, after all.

"Oh, um, ah, yes," the Zerda stammers, fidgeting with his pack. "I'm looking for a Gallah called, um, er … " He lets the pack down from his shoulder to his elbow with an awkward motion, and rummages through the top of it, while April exchanges a glance with Piper, fighting back a grin.

"As I am the only Gallah here, Messieur, I think you must be looking for me." He hops up from his chair. "Are you in need of an exterminator, Messieur? I am having a special on Gooshurms at the moment."

The Zerda, intent on his search as he fumbles through slates and tubular scrollcases, doesn't seem to hear the Gallah at first. He shakes his head, peering at one slate after another, then starts again, swiveling his head to look at Piper. "Oh!" He looks the canine up and down, and then says, "Piper!" when he spots the pipes in the canine's hands. He appears palpably relieved, then he adds quickly, "Um, you are Piper, right? I mean, you must be … "

"Oui Messieur." The Gallah stretches his neck to try and get a look at some of the scrolls. He can't think of anything possibly important that he could have done enough to bring someone to write his name down anywhere. "Are you in need of my services?"

"Well, uh, umm," He glances to the barmaid, who offers him her most winning smile, then back to Piper. "Could I, uh, speak to you? Alone?" The Zerda drops the slates back into his pack and tries to shove it back up to his shoulder. It bangs into the door frame instead, and he winces.

Piper tilts his head to the side, his tail wags nervously. "I suppose so, Messieur. I do not believe that there is anyone in the sleeping area right now, or we could find someplace in the Bazaar as well if you would prefer." He winces a moment after the Zerda does. "Can I help you carry that, Messieur?"

April brings a hand up to hide a giggle, and her eyes sparkle mischievously as she looks to Piper. "I'll just be behind the bar if you need me for anything," she offers, retreating politely.

The Zerda says, "No, no, that's fine. I've got it." He fumbles with it more, and manages to get it against his back again. "Uh, here will be fine." He glances around, then starts purposefully towards the door leading to the innkeeper's own quarters, and the inn's two private rooms.

The Gallah gives April a confused look and then jogs after the Zerda. "Not that way, Messieur! Those are the maitre's chambers. Messieur Blackrock would not be pleased if we barged in on him, I would wager." He points across his shoulder to the dorm. "This way."

"Oh!" The man's big ears pinken. "So sorry!" He pivots, the motion given extra spin by the weight on his back, and staggers off balance for a moment. Then he straightens again, and marches determinedly after Piper. Once they're inside the common room, and the Gallah has indicated which bunk is his, the vulpine drops his bag onto it with a heavy sigh of relief.

"You carry quite a few things, Messieur. If I still had my wheelbarrow, I would let you use it to make your load easier." Piper seats himself on an unused bunk across from his own.

"Oh, it's quite all right," the Zerda assures him. "I'm used to it. Uh … any road … " He puts a hand to the side of his head, blinking a few times as if at a loss to remember what he's doing here.

"Oui, Messieur?" Piper tilts his head to the side.

"Oh! Oh, of course!" He snaps his fingers, then sags onto the bunk beside his pack, looking earnestly at Piper. "I'm here – uh – first, promise me you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you? Please?"

The Gallah puts a hand on his chest. "You have my word, Messieur."

"Good!" He nods a few times, large ears waggling with the motion. "I've got a Special, Secret Project," the vulpine confides, the capital letters audible in his voice, then he drops his voice even lower, so soft that Piper can hardly make out the words. "I'm making a map of Rephidim's – " and whatever he says next is too low for the Gallah to hear.

Piper leans forward, straining to hear the Zerda's words and almost falls out of the bunk. He flails for a moment and then regains his balance. "Pardonnez-moi, monsieur. But you wish to make a map of what?"

He has to repeat it a few more times before he finally says it loudly enough for the canine to catch it. "sewers!" And then he claps a hand to his muzzle, as if worried that now his whisper was really a shout. "Uh … er … any road! I was told that you were, uh, familiar with the sewers, though not from maps, of course, but from actually, uh, walking in them and er, stuff. I was hoping to, uh, retain your services. So that you could, um, help guide me around. Down there."

"I do not know the full extent of them, Messieur, and I have never been much of a guide. But work is slow at the moment and I suppose I could do it." The mutt rubs his nose in thought.

The Zerda perks his ears. "You will? I mean, you will! Wonderful!" He claps his hands together. "When can you start?"

Piper looks around the room. "I have no work at the moment, Messieur. I would just need to gather my things, finish my milk, and could start whenever you require me to."

"Oh! Splendid!" The vulpine beams. "Now would be perfect! I'm quite, uh, anxious to get back to work. You'll, uh, bring your pest-killing things, right?"

The Gallah smiles and nods, hopping up to dig around in his locker at the foot of the bunk. "Naturellement! Although if we encounter any Darkside thugs I can only suggest we run. But the animals that inhabit the sewer should not he a problem. Would Misseur mind if I brought along a sack to take in anything I kill for their bounty? If I find anything it could mean it would not be as much of a charge to you."

He looks relieved again. The Zerda appears to vary rapidly between two primary emotional states: anxious and relieved. "Wonderful! Yes, that will be just fine, do whatever you like with the vermin." His eyes suddenly widen as he registers one of Piper's other comments, and his demeanor swerves sharply back to "worried." "Uh … thugs?"

Piper gathers up several packages of herbs and bottles as well as his quiver and bow. "Oui. Do not concern yourself too much over them, Messieur. They tend to mark their territory and I should be able to tell if we are entering a regularly traveled area. But in Darkside it is always better to be safe than sorry."

"Oh! Oh, uh, er. All right." The vulpine doesn't look as though it is all right. "Um." He pauses, screwing up his face in a frown, then snaps his fingers, and continues, "Now, remember, don't tell anyone! My project is Very Secret and we're not to let anyone know what I'm doing! … Okay?"

"Vous avez mon mot," Piper barks. He pats himself down to make sure he's not forgotten anything. "I am ready to go, Messieur. Just show me where you wish to begin."

At the bowels of the city, Piper soon finds that the Zerda's work, to all appearances, is exceedingly painstaking and tedious. As clumsy as the vulpine is, he relinquishes his precious pack to the Gallah in short order, after the fourth time slipping on muck and plunging himself into filth. Fortunately, most of his tools are easily cleaned, or well-sealed in protective cases. The Zerda seems to be good at his job, despite his fumbling, using various arcane measuring devices, compasses, and tools that defy ready comprehension as he goes about tracing dimensions and locations onto slate tablets.

Piper keeps his eyes glued on the slowly churning muck flowing down the pipes just in case something decides to pop out of it. "So tell me, Messieur. What made you decide to make a map of the sewers? So few people seem interested in them except for hiding places."

The vulpine makes a shushing noise at Piper, glancing around furtively, as if he thought it was somehow conceivable that anyone watching them could mistake what he was doing for something other than cartography. "I'm not allowed to say," he confides to the Gallah. A distant vermite warbles to its mate, and the man shivers. It's apparent that he considers Piper as much bodyguard as guide; while the disgusting odors and filth don't seem to bother him, the creeping, crawling life obviously does.

The Gallah can't bring himself to go after the vermite. He is still enough of a Gallisian to not wish to deny romance to anyone, even if it's only a vermite. "May I ask who recommended me to you, then? I never really thought of myself as an expert on the sewers."

"Oh, Inve – " The vulpine claps a hand over his mouth mid-word, then mumbles, "Uh, I probably shouldn't say that, either." He sounds queerly abashed.

Piper's ears perk up and he grins widely, the tip of his tongue falling from his mouth. "Really! Um … I mean." He tries to compose himself. "Of course, Messieur. I understand."

The distant chittering of a pair of vermites echoes down the long tunnel, then Piper catches a vermite "alarm" cry – one he's all too familiar with, when vermites detect his own presence and warn their brethren to flee. The area around them soon grows quiet as the scuttling creatures evacuate, leaving them in silence save for the churn of the far-off pumps. "I'm glad you understand," the Zerda says, affable. "Oh! I never told you my name, did I? I'm Jojo Mapsmith."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Messieur. There are so many people with last names, I should think of one for myself someday," the Gallah barks absently, peering off in the direction of the noise, or lack of it now. "Something frightened the vermites, which means that something bigger than a vermite is moving around here." For safety's sake, he draws out an arrow and holds it against his bow. "You may wish to finish up."

"Oh!" Jojo fidgets, almost dropping the slate he was working with as he looks around nervously. "What – what is it?" he asks, hastily coiling his measuring rope together again, and hitching it to the belt of his robe, before stowing the slate.

A sucking burble comes from the Gallah's left, and a large bubble in the sluggish liquid forms and then pops on the surface.

"It could be a shadow falling across one of the grates and scaring the vermites, or it could be … " He stops abruptly and angles his bow at the water. "Messieur, please step away from the stream, but please do so slowly and quietly."

The Zerda looks on the verge of shrieking, eyes wide, but he manages to contain it. He straightens, stiffly, after grabbing his pack from the ground, and walks, with deliberate but shaky strides, towards the nearest ladder leading out.

Another bubble forms on the oily surface of the sludge, and pops with a blorp, as Piper watches.

Piper keeps his eyes on the water, a growl forming in the back of his throat. Finally he lets out a single sharp bark at the sludge, to either frighten away whatever might be in there or draw its attention from the Zerda.

At the bark, Mapsmith does shriek, and he bolts for the ladder, scrambling up it with startling speed, pack bouncing on his shoulder as he does so.

The surface of the liquid, meanwhile, ripples only with the same sluggish flow that it has had the entire time the two were down there.

The Gallah jumps and then lets his breath out. "Calm yourself, Messieur! It may be nothing." He slowly loosens his grip on the bow and carefully probes the sludge with the arrow.

Schlorp! Something beneath the liquid seizes the arrow tip and jerks strongly at it, pulling downwards.

Piper yelps! He seems torn between pulling back on the arrow and hauling whatever is in there up or letting go and getting a second bolt out to defend himself. He bites his lip and chooses the former, tugging back on his arrow to see how strong the thing in the water is.

The Gallah manages to keep his grip on the arrow, but his current position – crouched by the edge of the liquid – doesn't afford him much traction or leverage. As he pulls the arrow upwards, it seems like the sludge undulates after it, hanging on, and his feet slide forward on the slick ledge. Then the sludge tugs with unexpected force, and Piper finds himself toppling into the stream after his trapped arrow.

( Please let it have eaten already … ) The Gallah squints his eyes shut and tries to force his nostrils closed as he topples, his hands still gripped tightly on the arrow as it may be his only weapon if the thing is dangerous.

Sploosh! The overpowering sewer stench floods his nostrils and liquid runs into his ears. Something brushes against his leg, feeling hard and smooth, while the tug on the arrow continues. Then, abruptly, the pull ceases, and the sudden release causes his arms to snap back against his chest from the recoil.

Piper tumbles over backwards, his jaws locked tightly shut. He tries to recover and paddle back to solid ground, the arrow still clenched in his hand.

A few moments of tense work, and the Gallah finds his flailing arms bumping into the maintenance ledge. The sewer sludge is thick enough that he's buoyant in it. Whatever grabbed the arrow or touched his leg doesn't seem to still be coming for him, though the channel is startlingly deep. His feet still haven't hit the bottom.

The dog starts pulling himself up. ( I hopeMam'selle April will not mind boiling some bath-water for me tonight. Otherwise I may end up sleeping on the roof. )

As he's placing his left foot on the ledge, his right still dangling in the liquid, another blorp noise echoes in the tunnel behind him, along with the pop of a sewer-bubble. A hard object brushes his right foot.

Piper hovers on the ledge, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he pauses, poking his foot around to try and feel the thing in there, curious if he's dealing with some large monster, a bunch of small things, or just some random sewer junk floating around.

A Zerda-head pokes into the tunnel, interrupting the shaft of light from the manhole above. "Uh … Piper? Are you, er, all right?"

The foot swishes for a moment, than something – a hand? A tentacle? – encircles it and yanks.

"Mmm-hmmm," the Gallah vocalizes in reply. He doesn't feel like opening his mouth when there's sewer gunk on his face. His tone abruptly changes when his leg gets grabbed. "Mmm-MMMMLPH!" He starts skittering his hands and free leg across the ledge, trying to pull his foot back.

Piper's hands and foot slide against the slimy floor as he scrabbles for traction, but he finds a pipe and manages to lock his left arm around it. The tug-of-war continues, and the pipe creaks – whatever's down there is strong! – then, with another sucking sound, his right foot abruptly pulls free – minus his shoe.

Clanking sounds come from the ladder, as the Zerda creeps down to the first couple of rungs. "Uh … Piper?"

The Gallah shakes the muck out of his fur as he retreats further up the ledge. "Messieur, could you lean back a bit, I could use the light at the moment."

"Er, sure!" Jojo scrambles off the ladder and out of the sewer again. With sunlight shining in, the dog glances around the dimly lit sewer for the bow that came out of his hands during the scuffle … but it's nowhere to be seen.

"Bte forte," Piper murmurs as he starts to back up towards the ladder. "I hope you only eat shoes!"