The air was laden with the smell of alcohol in all its different forms: in the cup, to the mouth and from the bowels returned. The sawdust on the floor was enough to muffle the sounds of falling feet and bodies but had no effect on some of the louder customer's strained voices, be they in song, fight or merely calling for another round, to which the shrill call of one of the establishment's fine ladies would respond as they walked, in attempted sultriness, to the where their customers sat. That is, of course, if sitting is defined as being upon one's ass. Sitting alone in one of the quiet corners of the tavern, a lone figure appeared a vanished in the flickering light of a single candle. He came in and out of view like a shadow, appearing long enough to take a drink from a glass of what passed for wine out here in the Fringe, then disappearing again, leaving what appeared to be an empty seat in a very occupied booth.
Pulling out of the backdrop again and draining the last drops of the thick liquor he beckoned a surprised young serving wench from her route back to the bar, bearing with her a tray of empty mugs. "Yes milord," She said, "Another drink?"
"Wine, when you get a moment love." He said setting his glass on the tray and proffering a couple of brass coins for her trouble. An interesting change come over the girl as the coins hit her open palm. Smile widening and inflating like a bullfrog she bustled off. She returned within a matter of moments, set his wine upon the table, and dipped a very practiced curtsey. For half a moment the man at the table feared he would be pushing her breast from his table, when, much to his relief the swell of her bosom returned to its tide mark at the edge of her low cut blouse. Eyes glinting in the lone candle's light she settled, leaning on the table. "Are ye all alone tonight milord? Tis a terrible thing traveling alone my lord. All those nasty things along the road and all, I mean some of the nasty things we have in our own sewers give me the willies. Big rats and such milord. Would be nice to have a big strapping man about to keep them out at night. Anyway it must be trying. How long 'av ye been in the city?"
"All my life." He said not really paying attention.
"Really milord? I might of sworn you were an Adventurer, traveling the world and doin' good deeds for ladies in need and such."
He laughed a little at that, "One of those idiots? No. I just got back from a business trip." He said eyeing the door.
"Must have been dreadful lonely milord. Long cold nights and such." She said reverting to her original plan of attack.
"I had a fire." He said.
"Just lonely then. Fine, strapping lad like you shouldn't have to spend nights alone." She said fiddling with the string of his cloak. Somehow the man suspected of all the purses on his being there was only one she really cared about right now.
"I was with someone." He said looking back to the door suddenly, as it opened slowly to the night. A silence flowed over the rabble like a wave as many sets of liquored eyes looked towards the entrance at the woman who had just walked in.
Walking with a slow practiced gait that tapped out a strange cadence in the silence the woman moved like the plague through the now still isles of the tavern. She had an air about her that kept even the most lecherous hands from reaching out to grasp at the bounty that strutted past their table. She was big for one thing. Not as much tall, or large, or even long, as she was as big as a very sharp dagger pressed against your throat was Big. Actually she was quit short, and walked about at about the eyebrows of the wenches in the tavern who watched her with undisguised worry. A woman like that could seriously cut their profits. As she took her seat next to the shadow in the booth and propped her booted feet on the end of the table she looked almost for the first time at the serving girl. "Beer," she said simply and made a dismissive gesture.. Her voice worked like a trigger and suddenly the rowdiness that had filled the bar before now took off again, if somehow altered by the dangerous, if alluring, beast in their midst.
"Any messages?" the man said.
"Three," she said, "I made arrangements for tonight because it's a rush job. He should be here in a couple of minutes."
Sighing heavily and picking up his drink he sniffed it warily, picking up on the faint traces of a number of interesting herbs that have the habit of finding their way into peoples drinks in places like this. Setting it back down and leaning back he sighed again.
Taking her beer and giving only a cursory sniff the woman leaned forward and took a swig. "What's wrong Levon?" she said, "You told me to go check the messages."
"Its nothing Seleen," he said, "Its just got back. I thought we might take it easy a couple of days. You ?"
"Maybe we still can. This might not be all that important. It might take a couple days to get strait." She said pulling a dagger out of her boot and fiddling with it. She had the bad habit of playing with sharp objects with a deft ease that made most people flinch. He had once asked her if she ever considered what might happen if she slipped. She had laughed, thrown he auburn hair back and considered for a moment. "I guess," she had said, perched in the windowsill of their apartment playing with a knife he had been using while preparing their dinner, "The whole point is to refuse to slip. After a while you even forget how to."
Fading back into the shadows again to watch, Levon chuckled under his breath at the memory. She had a disarming way around her, Seleen. One minute she could be in the process of beating the crap out of someone who tried to get a little too handy with her, and the next she would give you a glimpse of that rare, glimmering knowledge that always rested just beneath the surface.
The door opened again, but this time no one looked. Hooded and cloaked a nervous figure worked his way through the press, barely avoided a moving wall of cleavage, and caught the backlash of some good-natured quaffing. Finally, more worn then he was when he first entered the tavern; he sat down on the bench across from the pair.
"I have a job for you." A man's voice, quavering slightly, said in an imperious tone.
"We sort of figured when you set up this meeting Mr. Schell." Levon said popping suddenly out of the air behind him.
Flinching and turning quickly the man let out a forced, nervous laugh. "Quite 't realize you were both here." He said squeaking another brief laugh. "Yes. Guess you're both quit skilled. Perfect for the job I suspect."
"Matters what the job is Mr." She said still fiddling with the dagger.
Gliding silently Levon sat down beside Seleen again and touched his fingertips together as he rested his arms on the table. This was his realm, this was business. "We're very busy people lordship. Personally I've had enough of this cloak and dagger shit to last me a lifetime. We just got back in town, I'm tired, and your keeping me longer from my bed, so this is how this is going to work You tell us the job, we discuss payment, and then, if my associate and I are so inclined we do what you need and we get what we want. If not we part ways and you know our number." He said efficiently. "Of course." he said considering, "We know yours as well, lordship."
The man coughed, "Well of course, we've all done this before." Shaking he pulled out a small folder and laid it down on the table. "About three days ago my house was burglarized. Some documents where stolen from my private vault. I've alerted the constable of course," Lie number two Levon thought, "But I fear he won't look where the crime truly lies. That's why I contacted you two. I've heard you do jobs for people, and with good discretion?"
Seleen smiled suddenly, looking all the world like a leopard eyeing a small mammal it had discovered in its den, "Of course we do my lord. Of course we do. Now, where exactly would this .send us?"

"Bloodroot Manor. I have reason to believe Lord Bloodroot is responsible for the theft. Purely professional of course, I'd have done the same." He said waving his hands now, as if theft and black mail were perfectly normal and acceptable business practices, "but the matter remains. Do you accept?"
"Payment." Levon said.
Without pausing to think the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large purse and threw it on the table. The tinkling of gold has a way of putting a dent into the most raucous of crowds, and this was no different, but within a couple moments the conversations lifted up again, if altered once more. Restrained.
Pulling the purse in carefully the man pulled out a coin at random and bit it. Rifling through it with professional skill and not finding a stray copper among the bounty the man nodded. "Enough, but expenses may arise."
"Expenses?" Levon asked.
"If we need to call in a priest or something." Seleen explained, "We will have appropriate documentation if such need arises."
"Al-alright." Schell quavered.
"Good. Now which documents are these?" Levon asked.
After a couple minutes of questions and verifications they shook and Schell departed rather quickly. "Well love." Seleen said standing. "Shall we get to work?"
"Work?" a raucous voice said suddenly from the crowd. "You a Seamstress girl?" A chorus of nervous, but drunken and therefore brave, laughter followed.
"I've sown up some pretty bad cuts. Of course I also gave them." She said eyeing the bleary eyed man. He was balding, pudgy and probably married from his harried expression.
"Aye, I'm sure you have, Beautiful." He said in a patronizing voice.
Levon, shadowlike, came forward. "How about we skip all the crap and just leave before I have to let her hurt you."
"Who asked you Prick?" the man said.
Shaking his head and sighing he turned to the woman, "Seleen," he said plaintively, "Lets not bloody them up too much okay. No steel unless necessary."
"No fancy magic tricks either then love." She said, "Or nothing too fancy at least. Non of that 'headology' stuff either. Their bodies aren't much use with a mind."
"They seem fine right now." He responded. "Alright." He said easing his staff from behind the chair and shifting his thick leather vambrace on his wrist.
"Common lassie." Another man said, "How bout ridin a real man?"
"You seen one lately?" She said and hit him. Grabbing him up in a choker hold she hurled him across a nearby table. Levon would give Seleen one thing, she was raised in barroom brawls, "In that case how bout the last one standin?"
Within moments chaos erupted. On one side of the tavern Seleen sent men flying through the air or grabbing themselves in pain as she moved like a whirlwind, dodging, kicking, punching and making rude and biting comments. It wasn't until she broke off the table leg though that she really got cooking and within seconds a respectable pile of concussed men slept quietly, if bloodily, at her feet.
One man rushed forward to grasp Levon around the neck, but release in horror as the skin on his hands suddenly boiled and swelled as if burned, and howling in pain he dunked them into a pitcher of ale. Slamming another three down with his staff before they could react he threw a handful of green powder from one of the pouches at his belt into the face of two others. It took a couple seconds before the herbs took effect, but when they did the man's eyes grew wide, even as the pupils contracted into dots, and they screamed for their life's worth. Another couple men convulsed onto the floor as Levon released a pent up bolt of psychic pain that dropped them to the ground. Anyone even remotely trained would have brushed it away like a fly, but the drunken minds of the men exploded as it hit them. His fingertips slammed into the throat of another man and twisted, leaving a sensation that would make him feel as if roaches were marching through his windpipe for at least a couple hours. Simple cantrips and tricks that even an educated man would be rid of easily, but these louts, growing up thinking wizards were the illusionist in the street, pulling pigeons from behind your ear for a penny, had no idea what hit them, especially when he lifted a bit of flame from the fire and threw it into their faces. He felt almost sorry for them so after that he resorted to his staff and fist, paired with the terror that he'd already instilled in the remaining men, to clear the common room.
It was over quickly. Standing among the sleeping and concussed or simply smart enough to stay down the couple eyed their handy work.
"Well guess you're the last man standin love." She said stepping over the gently sleeping, if badly bruised body of her last opponent. "And to the winner, a kiss."
Wrapping his arms about her and pulling her close he kissed her fiercely, "Shall we retire my lady?" he said stepping back and proffering his arm
"Well I don't plan on sleeping but I'm all for going to bed." She said laughing. Taking his arm the two walked through the wreckage of the bar as if strolling through the garden. He stopped when he noticed the bargirl curled in the corner, starring wide eyed at the fallen men. Sighing he reached into his purse and dropped a couple gold coins into her lap. "A little advice girl. Get out of here. I know a lady named Ms. Terble, down the street. Do you know who I'm talking about?"
"The old lady with all the cats?" She quavered, tears still running down her face.
"Yeah, that's her. Go see her, and tell her Levon sent you okay? Go on." He said and watched as the girl got up, picked the fallen coins off the floor and ran for the door12,6
Seleen smiled at him archly from where she stood leaning against the door.
"Oh shut up." He said defensively.
"I didn't say anything." She said taking his hand.
"Oh yes you did." He said, "I just couldn't hear you."
Her laughter bounced off the cold, close walls she led him down the street and into the night.

. . .

Sunlight crept warily through the streets of Azaron, acting like a long term resident; avoiding certain streets and not even looking down the alleyways. It was especially careful as it broke through the Fringe, before scaling the walls of the inner city and resuming its usual pace. It crept silently through the window of an apartment, set just above Baker Street and slid between the ruffled silk sheets it found there. Opening his eyes for the first time Levon sat up and began to work out the knot in his back. Weeks of sleep under bushes and on tree roots had made sleeping in his own bed seem like a luxury and feel like a beating. Slipping out of bed, careful not to wake Seleen, he crept across the room to where he'd left a pair of pants hanging across his chair the night before. Working at a kink in his neck he stumbled into the kitchen and as quietly as was possible at six o'clock in the morning, began to put together breakfast. Levon was by nature a night person, staying up until the sun came back up, and falling asleep until about noon was his ideal of a perfect schedule. Sadly the world in general disagreed. The sun came out too early and set too quickly. "In a perfect world," he'd told Seleen "Day would last all bloody night and you could sleep through lunch."
Closing the blinds and cursing quietly he set the porridge onto simmer, slipped on a shirt and ran down the steps and across the street to the grocery. Ms. Palm, an elderly lady obviously past her prime even if she didn't feel it, sat before her shop in a rickety old chair, her youngest son William had made her. Ms. Palm had twelve children, 9 boys and three girls, all of whom had done what good children do. Grown up, moved away, wrote often and sent money. "Good morning Ms. Palm," he said.
"Oh, Levon deary! When did you get back in town?"
"Last night Ms. Palm." He said picking up a bag and rooting through the vegetables. "How have things been?"
"Quiet." She said as if this was the way it should always be. "Mrs. Miller down the street got a new stove, and Mrs. Gunder's daughter Elizabeth got married to Stuart Giller. Beautiful reception. She wore red of course."
"Ah, so they held it at the Hall?" Levon asked with interest.
"Of course." Ms. Palm said as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Priestess officiated and everything. Beautiful reception. Hope I see another before I leave this world to Mother's arms." she said. Levon smiled and began picking out eggs. Ms. Palm, probably the closest thing to a matriarch the street had, had been badgering him for years about getting a proper marriage. To a proper girl. She liked Seleen and all, she said, perfectly nice, respectful girl. A bit wild, not really wife material, she had said on numerous occasions. Not that Seleen minded. She actually rather liked Ms. Palm, if only for her honesty and the gingerbread scented iron fist she used in governing her neighbors.
Levon had met Seleen six years ago, traveling between Azaron and Necrothal on business for his Master, Eldrige. He was an old man, between 80 and 90, and a professor in everything from Art to Zoology. Levon had started working for him after his mother died of fever, leaving him to fend for himself, his father having left them a couple days after his birth. Eldrige, a .professor had taken the boy in after catching him trying to filch his purse. He paid for Levon to take classes in philosophy, politics, theology and number of other skills, even going as far to send him to The Academy of Arcane and Occult Studies, in Necrothal, for two years. Eldrige had a number of business dealings throughout the realms and when Levon had reached 16 Eldrige had decided that he had enough skill and knowledge to start traveling for him, representing Eldrige when the old man was too weak to do it himself. When the War had come Eldrige lost almost everything, and had only a few small enterprises here in Azaron to keep him. It was on the return trip from a last ditch effort to stabilize an account in Necrothal that Levon had heard the scream. A piercing cry had split the night and he, instantly jumping to the conclusion that someone was in trouble, had run to the rescue. He had been right that someone was in trouble, but they didn't need rescuing.
A group of men, wannabe bandits really, had decided a lone female traveler would be easy pickings. Seleen had proven just how wrong they were. After helping her dispatch the rest