The army of light advanced boldly across the battlefield, foot soldiers leading the way, knights charging up and down the flanks. Though the losses had been heavy the brave young general felt a wild surge of triumph as he watched from his exalted position. This was the day, the day when he would finally defeat his dangerous opponent, the Dark Lord. All his hard work had carried him this far, and now it was time to reap his just reward. Unable to suppress a gleeful smile he gave the order for the frontmost siege-tower to advance towards the enemy encampment. "Ha!" he gloated. "What do you say now, Prince of Darkness?"

"Pawn to D1, and the pawn becomes a queen", his opponent said in a calm voice as he gave the proud leader of the White forces an amused glance. "Check…and Mate. Looks like Black conquers once again, boy."

Young Edwin Odesseiron stared with mute surprise and horror at the chessboard where his unfortunate army had just suffered yet another crushing defeat. The Black army had seemed on the run, scattered and chaotic. Now he realized that it had all been an elaborate trap. "Not again!" the small boy moaned and raked his fingers through his unruly black hair. "I'll never be any good at this!"

"You're getting better", his teacher reassured him. "Why, today it took me all of twenty minutes to beat you. Give yourself some time."

"But…"

"No buts. I don't expect you to become a chess master overnight, and neither should you. Now, I could always make it easier for you by handicapping myself, but something tells me you wouldn't want that."

Edwin's mouth set in a stubborn line. "No", he said. "I want to win properly. Otherwise it won't count." He felt a small burst of pride as he saw the brief and approving smile that flickered across his tutor's face.

"That's the spirit. And now some advice about today's game. The pawns may seem weak and insignificant, but never forget that a pawn who survives long enough to reach the eighth square will become a queen, and a power in her own right."

"I'll remember that", Edwin said and eagerly nodded his head before he started putting the chess pieces away.

"Good. Now come with me. I believe your Mother wished to see you when we were done."

Edwin followed his teacher through the luxurious halls and corridors of the Odesseiron Mansion. It would have been wonderful to win the game, but if he was to be brutally honest with himself, he really didn't expect that to happen anytime soon. Vadrak Dekaras, the Odesseiron tutor, was also the Odesseiron House Assassin, and the deviousness necessary to handle both positions admirably guaranteed that beating him in any game of strategy was never going to be an easy feat. A tall, thin man with a habit of dressing in black, he also had the uncanny ability of always seeming to be able to read his student's mind. Such as right now.

"Yes", Dekaras said before Edwin had the time to more than open his mouth. "I do know why she wants to see you. And no, I won't tell you. That is her business."

They found Elvira Odesseiron in her study, reading a letter with a small frown on her lovely face. A beautiful woman, if intimidating, she currently wore the formal robes of a Red Wizard, creating a nice contrast to her sable hair and flashing dark eyes. "There you are!" she said with a smile. "Who won?"

"Guess", Edwin muttered.

"Don't take it too hard dear", his Mother told him. "I'm only able to beat him half the time myself. You may want to try to trick him into a premature attack towards the wrong side of the board. That works occasionally."

Dekaras cleared his throat, looking slightly annoyed. "Mistress", he said, "I believe there was something you wanted to discuss with the boy. If you have no further need for my services…"

"Oh, but I do. This concerns you too, you see. I've just had some disturbing news." She gave the letter a dark look.

Dekaras simply raised an eyebrow without saying anything, but he closed the door and relaxed into what Edwin secretly thought of as the 'crouching' position. Not that he actually was crouching of course, but something about him gave the impression of a large and dangerous animal that was motionless but ready to pounce in an instant.

Elvira rose from her desk and approached her son, carrying with her a light scent of lilacs and jasmine. "Edwin dear", she said, "you know I have told you before that you have a very nice singing voice."

Edwin knew, alright. Some of his worst memories entailed being forced to sing in front of a crowd of admiring ladies at one of his Mother's parties, all of them cooing over how 'adorable' he was. Edwin did not want to be thought of as adorable, and the same went for 'cute', 'sweet' and 'simply darling', all of them favorite expressions of his Mother's friends whenever they met him.

"So I thought", Elvira said, "that it would be a waste not to give that voice some proper schooling. Which is why I have decided that you should start getting a little introduction into the wonderful world of music. It will be useful for your spellcasting as well, in many spells it is important to use the exact right intonation or the spell will backfire. Fortunately it just so happens that I have an old friend at the Pyarados Operahouse, Lady Flora who is their current primadonna. She has very kindly agreed to show you around the Opera and give you some instruction. Isn't that nice of her?"

"But…", Edwin tried.

"I said, isn't that nice of her?" Elvira's smile never wavered, but Edwin could recognize the hint of steel in his Mother's voice. Clearly escape was not an option.

"Yes, Mother", he sighed. Perhaps if he sang really badly, he would be let off early.

"And I expect you to do your very best. I would be most disappointed if you embarrassed me in front of my friend."

"Yes, Mother", Edwin said again, looking at his shoes. It seemed he would have to suffer through the whole thing after all.

"Fascinating as this no doubt is, Mistress", Dekaras said, "I still fail to see what it has to do with me."

"I was just getting to that." Elvira thoughtfully tapped the letter against her chin. "You see, Flora is worried about something. She says there is something strange going on at the Opera House. Pranks, or something like that. She wouldn't go into many details, but it seems somebody is out to disturb her performances. I thought you could look into it. I am after all one of the principal owners of the Opera House. I need to take an interest."

The assassin's expression didn't change visibly, but there was the sudden sensation of a cold wind blowing through the room. "Pranks, Mistress?" he asked in a chillingly polite voice. "Don't you think that would be…how to put this…a waste of my talents?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You know perfectly well you haven't had much to do lately. I thought it would be good for you. You'll just get moody if you don't get to exercise your brain regularly, you know that as well as I do. You can take Edwin to his appointment with Flora and then do a little snooping around on your own."

"Very good, Mistress", Dekaras said in an entirely emotionless voice that told Edwin he thought quite the opposite. "I shall, as you so eloquently put it, 'snoop'. Anything else you want me to look into? Lost handkerchiefs? Kittens stuck up trees?"

"No, that's it", Elvira said. "Though you might be a dear and pick up a bottle of perfume for me on your way back. You know the kind I like. I've told Flora to expect you both in an hour, so you'd better hurry."

Edwin followed his teacher out of the room, being very careful not to say anything or even breathe loudly. The way the assassin still hadn'tchanged his expression told Edwin that he was in a very foul mood indeed. Dekaras, in fact, didn't speak in anything but monosyllables until they were halfway to the Opera House. It rained heavily outside, and so they had taken one of the family carriages. While comfortable enough, it also prevented Edwin from seeing very much through the narrow windows, and he was starting to get bored. "What's opera like, anyway?" he asked. "I've never been."

Dekaras gave him a considering look across steepled fingers. "I'm really not the best person to ask", he said, "given that I'm biased. I can't stand it myself. But if you feel the need for a brief summary, then I suppose I can comply. Opera is much like theatre, except that the actors sing rather than talk." He made a brief grimace. "The more tragic the story, the more popular the opera, in general. Or at least it is so in Thayvian opera. They frequently feature star-crossed lovers, bitter rivalries and blood feuds. More often than not all the important characters die before curtain-fall."

"That doesn't sound too bad", Edwin said.

"No? Then allow me to add that they don't simply die. After having received, let us say, a fatal stab wound, the dying primadonna then has to wail out a thirty-minute aria before she finally gives up her breath and puts the audience out of its misery." The assassin shook his head in disgust. "I much prefer silent deaths", he said. "The theatre isn't half as bad. I might stretch my imagination far enough to imagine a dying person making a speech, but I really can't see anybody singing when they've just been impaled or poisoned. I can't help it; it offends my professional sensibilities."

"Oh", Edwin said, not really understanding at all. "Do you know Lady Flora?"

"No. Most likely she is simply a hysterical artist out to get some attention." The assassin's black eyes narrowed in sudden warning. "And that", he said, "is a statement you will not repeat. Do you understand?"

Edwin nodded. He did, after all, possess some sense of self-preservation.

The Opera House turned out to be a building like nothing Edwin had ever seen before. It was large, and mostly square, situated close by the river where it crouched like some large and hulking animal. But the truly remarkable thing about it was the gargoyles. Every square inch of the entire building swarmed with them. Grinning gargoyles, leering gargoyles, gargoyles with rainwater spouting out of their open mouths. Large, small and middle-sized gargoyles. Gargoyles resembling demons and devils, others that looked like strange crosses between different animals, yet others that looked almost human until you noticed that they had, for example, a forked tail. "Wooow!" Edwin said as he stared at the hideous monsters in front of him. "That is so awesome!" Then he blinked. He thought he'd just seen one of the gargoyles, a fat one with big round eyes, turn its head and wink at him.

"It is rather extraordinary", Dekaras said, his voice taking on a lecturing note. "No other building in Pyarados has so many ancient gargoyles. As you can see, they are all enchanted into a semblance of life, something like golems. They are very good for keeping the pigeons away, or so I understand." Then he pulled the hood of his black cloak up against the still pouring rain. "Now close your mouth before you drown. Since we are expected I suppose the stage entrance will be the most convenient."

The stage entrance turned out to be a small door around the corner of the building. It was manned by an old man so bent and small that Edwin first mistook him for a gnome, with thin papery skin almost exactly the same color as his gray hair. "Visitors for Lady Flora?" he said in a solemn voice. "Very well. She mentioned that she was expecting company. Please come with me. Though why she bothers I really don't know. She should know better than to trifle with Him." After making this cryptic comment he led the way to a small and private sitting-room, somewhere deep within the bowels of the Opera House. It was warm and cozy, with several small couches and tables, and with sheetmusic stacked on the shelves. The one odd thing about it was that there were no windows, just doors leading off in different directions. After a few minutes wait one of them opened and the Primadonna made her entrance.

Lady Flora was a beautiful woman in her thirties, tall and impressive. Everything about her seemed big, Edwin thought. She had a wide and generous mouth, large and glittering dark blue eyes, and a rich mass of chestnut hair artfully piled onto her head. She was also rather full-figured, making her resemble a large ship as she sailed across the carpet to meet her guests, indigo skirts sweeping behind her. "Welcome!" she said in a rich and warm voice. "Elvira told me you would be coming. I am Flora Medora. Please, call me Flora."

After introductions had been made the Primadonna gave Edwin a friendly smile. "So, you are Elvira's young one, are you? She has told me so much about you. It will be a pleasure to oversee your introduction to the opera. You will find it is a fascinating place, with much to discover."

"Can I see the gargoyles?" Edwin asked excitedly.

Flora laughed. "But of course! There is a walkway near the roof where they can be viewed admirably. Not today perhaps though, it will be rather slippery in this rain. But there are many other things. The costumes, the trapdoors, the props…yes, I think we will be able to keep you occupied, quite apart from my giving you singing instruction. But there is another matter to be dealt with as well, one with which I believe your teacher is going to be kind enough to aid me."

"Ah, yes", Dekaras said. "The 'pranks'. Please, tell me all you know, without leaving anything out." The assassin was sitting in a comfortable armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The relaxed position made an odd contrast to his eyes, which had suddenly become even more intensely concentrated than usual. Edwin guessed, quite correctly, that his teacher had decided that Flora was no hysterical artist simply out to create a stir. If she had asked for help it would likely be a serious matter, at least in her eyes.

"It is hard to know where to begin", Flora said, her eyes serious. "First I must ask you how much you know about the Opera Ghost?"

"Opera Ghost?" the assassin said, his long nose twitching slightly with amusement. "I always thought that was a legend."

"Most people do. So did I, until recently. Oh, there had always been whispers of his presence here at the Opera, foolish chorus girls pretending to have seen him, strange voices calling to them in the darkness…that sort of thing. I never believed it myself. True, there could be a real ghost here, but then I would think somebody levelheaded would have seen it once in a while. But now…things have changed." The primadonna held out a bunch of letters. Edwin could see enough to tell that they were all brief and written in red ink. "They all say approximately the same thing", Flora said. "That I have 'disgraced' the Opera. That I should resign from my post, lest the wrath of the Opera Ghost fall upon me." She pursed her lips. "The last one was the worst. I found it this morning, lying on my pillow when I awoke, though both my door and my windows were still closed and locked." She held it out to the assassin who unrolled the parchment and read the threatening missive out loud.

"Interesting", he said. "'The Matron Mother is a magnificent part. You are unworthy of singing it. Let it pass from you or suffer the consequences.' And it is signed 'the Opera Ghost'. What a very unusual ghost this must be, to be able to put pen to paper like this, not to mention being so particular about the inner workings of the Opera House. No, unless I see his ectoplasm for myself, I have to say that I think it highly unlikely this is the work of a genuine ghost. I say there is a very mortal mind behind this plot. Is there anybody here likely to bear you ill will?"

"Many that I know of", Flora said with a rueful smile. "And certainly, many more that I do not know of. I am, after all, the Primadonna. Any position of power will bring enemies, and there are those who dislike me for personal reasons as well. But which one would do this, and how they would be able to get into my chambers like this…that I do not know? It worries me that they should have access to me in my sleep, and I want to find out who is behind this plot."

"Very well", Dekaras said, his sharp-featured face animated with interest. "I find your problem an intriguing one, and I will be pleased to look into it for you."

"Then I am truly grateful", Flora said. "Come with me, I will take you both down to the stage and show you around. With luck we will meet some of the other singers as well."

The stage was dimly lit, and it was set to portray some sort of dark cavern, with a black pool in the distance and an oppressive sense to it. Edwin stared at it in wonder as he followed Flora through the dark salon with its endless rows of empty red chairs. As he craned his neck backwards to look up, he saw the walls disappear far above into the darkness, the roof so high that he couldn't make it out. An enormous chandelier floated high above, a marvel of crystal and candles, currently unlit. On the stage a man and a woman were discussing something in quiet voices.

"We are currently preparing for the premiere of 'The Matron Mother', Flora explained. "It takes place in the Underdark, and is about the tragic love between Divisia, the Matron Mother of a Dark Elven House, and a human adventurer seeking the lost treasures of the Underdark."

"Charming", Dekaras said in a very dry voice.

"Oh, I agree. It is a load of nonsense and totally implausible. But there are some really nice arias. I sing Divisia of course, and the one I do when I poison myself at the end is quite lovely." The primadonna raised her voice as they neared the stage. "And here are two of my fellow artists", she said. "This is Rovel Rannyel, our best tenor. He plays the Hero against my Divisia." Rovel Rannyel bowed politely. He was a good-looking young man, with light brown hair, earnest blue eyes and broad shoulders. "And this", Flora continued, "is our dear ingenue. Cirindaeriella, though we all call her Ciri for short. She's a soprano as I am, and sings the part of Faerela, Divisia's daughter who attempts to steal her mother's paramour for herself."

"What's a paramour?" Edwin whispered.

"Never mind", Dekaras told him. "Ask again when you get older."

Edwin found Ciri very interesting. She was an elf, and he had only very rarely seen an elf before, and never spoken to one. She was also very pretty, with long golden locks that framed a mild and innocent face, huge sky-blue eyes and almost translucent skin. Delicately pointed ears bespoke her heritage, as did the slant of her large eyes, the small mouth that resembled a rosebud and the frail and flower-like beauty of her face. The lacy white dress she wore further empathized the impression of fragile innocence. "What a pretty, pretty little darling boy!" she cooed in a dove-like voice. "Have you come to partake of the music of the spheres, my sweet one? Are you Ciri's own little admirer?"

Edwin instantly decided to hate the elf forever and ever. "No", he said. "I'm actually a very small demon here to eat your soul. But now I think I've changed my mind, 'cos I don't want to get sick from all that sugar."

The elf just gaped at him, but Rovel Rannyel got quite red in the face. "Now see here, you little brat", he said. "You take that back right now or…"

"Or what?" Edwin asked. "You'll start singing to me? Wow. That is scary. Did you know that there's a piece of meat stuck between your front teeth?" The singer coughed and clasped his hand across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the offensive substance.

"Rovel?" Ciri asked in a wounded voice. "Didn't you promise me that you'd stop eating dead animals? Think about all the fluffy little lambs and rabbits, not to mention the pink little piggie-wiggies!"

"It was just a mistake!" Rovel protested. "I…forgot myself!"

Crystal clear tears rose in the elf's blue eyes, surprisingly enough without her getting either red-faced or runny-nosed. "You…you don't love me anymore!" she wailed.

"NO! I mean YES! I love you my darling, my dearest angel, my own. I just forgot!"

"You wouldn't forget if you truly loved me!"

"Now, now children", Flora said with an amused smile. "Settle down. As I was about to say, our young guest is Edwin Odesseiron, son of one of our beloved patrons. And this is his tutor, Master Dekaras."

"Charmed", the assassin said in a very dry voice. "It is so interesting to meet people like yourselves, talented visionaries and artists. How I envy the exciting lives you must lead."

Ciri smiled shyly at this. "I just want to sing", she said. "To reach out and touch people, to touch their hearts in my own way." Rovel gave her an adoring look.

Flora now led her guests backstage and towards the costume and props department.

"That was a very original way of greeting people you displayed back there, boy", Dekaras said, giving his student an unreadable look.

"Are you mad at me?" Edwin asked, feeling a little worried.

"No, not really. I thought it a rather succinct summary of my own first impression of the young lady. However, saying exactly what you think about people isn't always the wisest choice, satisfying as it may be. I don't want to see you get in trouble over insulting, say, a lich. Just try to rein in that tongue of yours a little bit."

"Oh. All right. I'll try."

"Good." Dekaras now turned to Flora. "Is Ciri by any chance interested in advancing her own career?" he asked. "To put it simply, is she after your position and would she send you these anonymous letters to frighten you out of it?"

"I think not", Flora said. "Ciri has a sweet voice, but it is unschooled. It doesn't have the power necessary for a part like the Matron Mother. And she's such a shy little thing, no fire, no ambition. I think she is perfectly content where she is."

"Perhaps. But perhaps somebody else is being ambitious for her?"

"Rovel?" Flora laughed. "Forgive me, but you do not know him like I do. Rovel is a true gentleman. He wouldn't concoct a plot like that. Besides, I doubt he'd have the brains for it. Ah, here we are now. The costume and props department."

The costume and props department turned out to be large room, filled with rows upon rows of clothes. Peasant clothes hung next to the jewel-studded garments of kings, soldiers' uniforms next to priest robes. Some were truly outlandish, clothes to make you look like strange creatures and beasts from all over the world. Mindflayer masks, complete with tentacles. White wigs to create the impression of drow. Mermaid tails. A long row of grinning werewolf faces. Most wonderful of all, a dragon. A large black dragon, with long white teeth and gleaming red eyes. Well, it was only the head and the front paws, the rest was just a wooden construct, but it was still marvelous. Edwin couldn't help himself. He had to take a closer look. He simply had to. With a loud crow of delight, he ran over to the beast and climbed onto its paws, eager to see better. And here was a rope, dangling from the side of the dragon's head. Curious, he reached out to give it a tug.

And then he felt a hand at his collar dragging him away. "Don't. Touch. Anything." His teacher's voice sounded as if it was coming from between clenched teeth.

"But I was only…"

"No. I know you, remember? Touch nothing without permission. I mean it."

Edwin sighed. "I never get to have any fun", he complained. Then he saw the look in his tutor's black eyes and thought it prudent to keep quiet. Even the dragon didn't look that threatening.

"Since your idea of fun and satisfying your curiosity usually involves destroying valuable property or getting yourself into mortal peril, no. You don't. At least not without asking first."

Flora winked at Edwin. "Here", she said and showed him two barrels. "One is for fake wands, the other for fake swords. Completely harmless, but they look exactly like the real thing. Go on, take a look."

Edwin peered into the barrels and drew out a fake wand, a red one almost as tall as he was. "A wand of Fire!" he said excitedly. He made a threatening gesture in the direction of the dragon. "Fear for your life! It's over!"

"Oh my", said a voice from somewhere behind the great beast. "I certainly hope not. After all, who would sing Mafistes tomorrow if I got burnt to a crisp?" The speaker now became visible as he came strolling out of the shadows. He was a short and stout man with a prominent jaw, and a thin scar on each cheek. As he spoke, he twirled his impressive black moustache between his thick fingers. He wore a flamboyant shiny red cloak, lined with black fur, and beneath it he had on a black vest, covered with small, sparkling stones. White teeth shone as he smiled at Flora and bent to kiss her hand. "Radiant as ever, my dear", he said. "And who are your guests?"

Flora's smile faltered a little as she pulled her hand away. Then it was back again, as she proceeded to introduce her guests. "And this", she said, "is Durel Fradelent, our baritone."

"The one and only", the man said with yet another oily smile. "But right now, I hardly remember my given name, I'm putting my entire being into Mafistes."

"Who's he?" Edwin asked.

"I'm glad you asked. Mafistes the Dark is one of the parts of our new opera, the Assassin accompanying the young Hero into the Underdark, secretly planning to slay him. I think I've got the look of cunning evil down pat now, don't you?" He twirled his moustache again.

"You certainly have got something", Dekaras said in an emotionless voice. "Tell me, how does your character fare?"

"Oh, he stabs the Hero just as he is about to escape to the surface with the Matron Mother. Then he is torn to pieces by the drider who were watching the whole thing."

"Of course. I should have known. And while he is being torn to pieces, does he by any chance sing an aria?"

"Oh yes", Fradelent beamed. "It's a really good one. But I prefer the one before he kills the Hero, myself."

"Let me guess. He walks up behind the man, stands around for a long while in the open, all the while singing about how he's planning to kill him, and then he stabs the poor unsuspecting fool in the back?"

Fradelent looked puzzled. "That is so uncanny! How could you possibly have known? Did Flora tell you?"

"No. Just put it down to deductive reasoning if you want."

"Oh. Well, I hope you'll get to see the premiere at any rate. Few people have the privilege of singing while working, but those of us who do are always happy to share. And now I really must hurry, I need the seamstresses to take a look at this costume. I don't think I'm going to stand out enough on stage as it is…"

"Perhaps you could make it entirely red", Dekaras suggested with a polite smile. "That would certainly seem to fit both your and your…Assassin's…personas."

"You know, I actually think I might do that. Thank you very much, good sir! It has been a pleasure, a true pleasure speaking to a fellow Art lover!" He waved cheerfully and walked off.

"Well", Dekaras said. "That was…fascinating. Tell me, is he always this…"

"Foolish?" Flora said. "Yes, I'm afraid so." She wiped the hand that Fradelent had kissed with a lacy handkerchief and gave it a disgusted look. "I wish he'd just leave me alone, but he refuses to take the hints." She sighed. "Come, we will go by way of Makeup. Then I think we will see to that singing lesson before it gets too late in the day."

Edwin shuddered. That was something he was definitely not looking forward to. He shot the rope dangling from the fake dragon yet another yearning glance. Perhaps he could get away later to investigate it a little further. Flora now walked on into an adjourning chamber, a long and narrow room with several mirrors on the wall. There was a table and a chair in front of each one, and the smell of powder was heavy in the air. Lots of small jars and boxes were standing on each table. "I have my own dressing room of course", Flora said. "All the stars do. But I thought you might want to meet Madame Mis. The chorus girls call her Madame Misery. You'll see why." The primadonna raised her voice. "Madame Mis?" she called out. "Are you here?"

"I am", said a faint voice heavily fraught with doom. "Who tempts fate by raising her voice in His chosen realm?" A very small person stepped out of the shadows at the other end of the room, where she had apparently been emptying a vase of flowers, judging by the fact that she was clutching a bouquet of dead roses in her arms. She was so small that Edwin almost thought her a dwarf at first. But she wasn't stout enough, he thought, and besides she had no beard. She was just a tiny human woman, with a hunched back and her black hair tucked into a bun so severe that it made Edwin wonder if it allowed any blood to flow into her skull. Her face was very white and pasty, so probably not very much at any rate. The woman was wearing a black dress that reached her ankles and that was buttoned up front with a long row of shiny buttons that resembled glittering skulls. A pair of small and very shiny boots peeked out beneath the hem.

"Now, now", Flora said with a kindly smile. "You know I don't believe in that sort of thing."

"You should", Madame Mis whispered. "You should. The Opera Ghost is everywhere. He sees all, he knows all. He will not suffer the frivolity and blasphemy you display."

"Blasphemy?" Dekaras asked. "Do you consider him a god, then?"

Madame Mis gave him a gloomy look. "What other God does the Opera House need but its Ghost?" she asked. "He is Lord and Master. Those who would defy him do so at their own peril. And they will regret it. Did he not show his ghostly visage only yesterday during rehearsal?"

"That was just Ciri being silly", Flora said with a slightly patronizing smile. "I saw nothing myself." She then introduced her guests. "Madame Mis is head of the Makeup and Costumes Department", she explained. "And very good at it she is too."

Madame Mis snorted. "The Ghost has been good enough to approve of my work so far", she said. "You will regret crossing Him." Then she gave Edwin a curious look. "And what of you, little one?" she asked. "Does the Ghost not frighten you? Does not the thought of him fill your innocent heart with dread?"

"No", Edwin said in a confident voice. "He doesn't scare me at all."

"And why is that? Are you then a cleric filled with the holy power of his God to walk the dark realm of the Ghost without fear of retribution?"

"No", Edwin said. "I don't need any silly old God for that. If that Ghost tries being mean to me, Teacher Dekaras will deal with him. Right, sir?"

"Indeed", Dekaras said with just the barest wraith of a smile. "After all, the undead may die once more. No one is invulnerable, and I do mean no one. This Ghost might do well to remember that, in case he should feel the urge to interfere with my student."

Madame Mis clucked her lips disapprovingly, but she said nothing more. She simply shook her head and scurried off, muttering quietly to herself.

"She is very much in awe of the Ghost", Flora explained with a worried look in her eyes. "And it's getting worse. The chorus girls live in dread of her ghost stories, you know, and she thrives on their attention. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps she is a little insane. But come. I will show you both to my quarters, and I will see what I can do about that singing lesson." Flora was rather silent and withdrawn during the walk back to her quarters. "I worry about Madame Mis", she finally said. "These tales of the Ghost…they bring her power of a sort. Those easily awed come to her in search of charms and such. And she enjoys the attention. I fear she resents my opinion that there is no true spirit behind the happenings at the Opera House."

"And does she resent it enough that she would wish to punish you for it?" Dekaras asked.

"Perhaps. A year ago, I would not have thought so, but now…I don't know." They were standing outside a large door now, one marked with golden star. The Primadonna produced a key and started unlocking it. "She is getting stranger by the day, and…" Flora fell silent as she pulled the door open and her face turned very pale, almost as pale as that of the odd Mistress of Costumes. The room within was an elegant one, with a large embroidered dressing screen, a beautiful makeup table and a lovely large mirror. And on the mirror, there was writing. Large letters scrawled all over it, in a bright red substance that almost seemed to glow.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED the writing said. OBEY OR SUFFER

"The Opera Ghost…" Flora whispered. "He's been here…"

Dekaras motioned for the other two to stay back and then cautiously entered the room. Once satisfied that no intruder remained inside, he turned his attention to the writing on the mirror. "Fascinating…" he said. He methodically investigated the shiny surface as well as the frame, and almost seemed to be sniffing at the writing, like a tracking wolf picking up a trail.

"Is it blood?" Edwin asked.

"Don't be ridiculous", the assassin said. "It is much too thick." He carefully scraped some of the red substance off the mirror and deposited it in an empty envelope. "I shall have to examine it further of course, but it seems to be makeup."

"Makeup?" Flora asked. "You don't suppose…"

"I prefer not to 'suppose'. I find out. And I will. But in the meantime, I suggest you lend me all the letters you have received so far so that I may take a closer look at them. Another thing. Is this the room where you sleep?"

"Yes…"

"You shouldn't. The person who did this obviously was able to access it easily without even leaving marks on the lock. I advice you to change your quarters, preferably to take lodgings outside the Opera House."

"I second that", a strange voice said. Edwin turned to see a large man standing behind himself and the Primadonna. He wasn't exactly a young man, but he still looked extremely strong. His brown and close-cropped hair was flecked with specks of silver, but his body was hard and heavily muscled, and his face might as well have been chopped out of a slab of granite. He was wearing nondescript brown clothes and a heavy leather vest. "This has gone on long enough", he said, and there was the hint of suppressed fury to his voice. "If you will not take my advice, then what good am I? I say leave now, let the culprit be caught and return once it is safe to do so."

Flora's mouth set in a stubborn line. "I won't", she said. "I am the Primadonna, Bjeric. Not some easily frightened slip of a girl like Ciri. I will not leave until they carry me out feet first."

The man growled deep in his throat and grasped the Primadonna's arm. "And that may well be the case if you refuse to listen!" he growled. Then he seemed to become aware of the strangers once again and checked himself. "My Lady", he belatedly added and gave a stiff bow.

"My personal bodyguard, Bjeric Stardoss", Flora explained. "He takes his job very seriously." She then introduced her guests to the bodyguard who gave them both suspicious looks. "I fear that singing lesson has to wait somewhat", she apologized. "I feel a little unwell at the moment and I think I need to lie down."

"Perfectly understandable", Dekaras said in a smooth voice. "I'm sure young Edwin will understand as well, despite his disappointment. Won't you, boy?"

"Huh?" Edwin said. "Oh! Yes. Of course."

Flora smiled at him. "I'll make it up to you", she said. "Tomorrow I will be too busy with practicing myself, but I think I'll make sure to send over some tickets for the premiere. I think you'll like that." She exchanged a look with the assassin. "And besides, if anything should go wrong, I would appreciate your presence all the more. That is if you don't mind."

"Not at all", Dekaras said with a perfectly straight face. "There is, after all, nothing like a night at the Opera. I should like to take a further look at this room before we leave though. There is still the matter of determining how exactly this so called 'ghost' gained access to it. Does anybody but yourself keep a key?"

"Only the manager. He carries keys to all the rooms at the Opera House, but he always keeps them on his person."

"And that is hardly reassuring", Bjeric Stardoss said in a dark voice.

"Oh?" Dekaras asked and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Do you have a reason to suspect him of wanting to sabotage his own primadonna then?"

"Of course not", Flora cut in. She sounded more than a little irritated. "Bjeric is just being overprotective as usual."

The bodyguard gave her a stubborn look. "My Lady, you know as well as I that he…"

"Enough!" Flora snapped. "You forget yourself. We will discuss this no further; the whole idea is ridiculous."

Dekaras was watching this exchange with what might easily have been interpreted as polite disinterest. Edwin could tell that he was listening very intently though. "I see", he said in a neutral voice. "Still, keys may be stolen, given a clever enough thief. Of course, the lock may also have been picked. There are no obvious traces, but that proves nothing." He drifted over to the tall windows, outside which the rain was still falling heavily. "The windows, I think, were not breached. The dust on the windowsills has not been disturbed for some time. You may want to have a word with your maid about that." He turned around, taking in the walls. "Or there could be a secret entrance, I suppose. If there is, I could probably find it, but it would take some time."

"Really?" Stardoss said in a somewhat hostile voice. "Not as clever as you'd like to pretend then, Mr Amateur Investigator? I have been in this business for years, you know. I know my work, and I know this place. I have no use for outsiders."

The assassin gave him a cool look. "I assure you", he said, "that I have no intention of intruding on your turf, neither professionally nor otherwise. I am sure you are quite competent as such things go. However, sometimes a more specialized brand of knowledge is called for, and that is what I have been asked to provide. Now, I do not know how familiar you are with secret entrances, but unfortunately, they are seldom accommodating enough to glow bright purple and make a pinging noise in order to attract your attention. These things take time." He turned to the primadonna. "My lady, I leave this decision up to you. If you prefer it, I may return later to continue with this line of inquiry."

Flora rubbed her temple. "Yes", she said. "Yes, I think that might be for the better. Come back tomorrow, before the premiere. As for the tickets, I will arrange to have them sent over."

"Very good, my lady", the assassin said and gave her a brief bow. "Until then."

It was still raining when Edwin followed his teacher out of the Opera House. "Flora is really nice", he said. "Why would anybody want to hurt her?"

Dekaras sighed. "There are plenty of reasons why people want other people out of the way", he said. "Money, ambition, hate, even love. Others as well." He lifted Edwin into the waiting carriage and then jumped into it after him. "In Flora's case, I can easily imagine reasons for each of the people we met today to harbor such ill wishes. So far, they are pure conjecture, however. And stop kicking the seats."

"Wow", Edwin said and guiltily pulled his feet in. "I wish I could think of…of what you said."

The assassin's black eyes turned strangely wistful for a second and he pulled his cloak closer as if he were feeling cold. "No, you don't", he said. "You are still a child, and you have no idea how fortunate you are that you are allowed to be one. Which is as it should be."

Edwin didn't quite grasp all of this, so he seized upon the most important part of the sentence. "But I'm big!" he protested. "I'm almost seven now, remember?"

"Oh yes", his teacher said in a completely serious voice. "I think you've mentioned it once or twice before in fact."

"See? Then I'll be almost a grownup, right? Seven is big! And then you'll teach me how to summon demons, right?"

The assassin didn't even blink. "Ah", he said. "Demons. My apologies, boy, but I think that is going to have to wait just a little while longer."

"How long?"

"Let's just say that before I even consider letting you near a scroll with a demon summoning spell I want to see you beat me at chess."

Edwin's face fell. "Oh."

"Three times in a row."

"Oh." Edwin gave a deep sigh. He strongly suspected he'd have a long white beard before that happened. "I suppose I'll have to start practicing then."

"You do that." The assassin leaned back in the carriage seat, indicating that the conversation was at an end. "That might keep you out of some trouble at least", he muttered. "Always assuming you don't manage to animate the chess pieces or something."