Seriously, I know these take me too long. I've got such a lot of Uni work on right now!

It's a TRAAAAP

As she stepped out of the carriage before the door of Regin's fifty storey gold mansion, Sonea took a moment to spit repeatedly onto his doorstep. She remembered being tormented as a novice by Regin and his friends. Then she remembered how he'd risked certain death to defeat an Ichani. Then she remembered that she'd left the oven on, and hoped Rothen hadn't crawled inside it in hope of a warm place to spend the winter.

Despite promising to make it up to her and sending her a heartfelt 'I'm sorry for bullying you for being poor and thank you for saving us all from evil black magicians hell bent on destroying our society and way of life' card (made on ), Regin hadn't really made it up to her yet. Probably partially because he'd been forced to marry a woman called Winifred or Winona Ryder or something like that.

Down the end of the road, one street gang performed a brutal drive by on the other, killing several people.

I'm probably just imagining that there's organised crime around here, Sonea told herself, and knocked on Regin's door.

It was opened by a slim, sour faced servant with an unexpectedly deep voice who liked to play golf at the weekends and had an awful lot of description for a character we shall never see again.

"Black Magician Sonea," he boomed. "Do come in."

"Sonea!" yelled Regin's wife as she entered the room. "I'm so pleased to meet you!"

"Um," said Sonea.

"It's such an honour!" she enveloped Sonea in a massive hug.

"This is Wynina, my wife," said Regin sadly.

"Nice to meet you, Winnie," said Sonea, once she'd been released.

"Oh the pleasure is all mine!" insisted Wendy, beaming. "I'll leave you two to discuss important matters!"

"Wilhelmina is quite intimidated by you," said Regin, once she'd left.

"Really?" Sonea looked after Wanda. "She didn't seem it."

"That's because she's annoying and I hate her. Did you have something specific to discuss?"

"Um... yeah, something about Magicians and criminals and all that jazz..."

"They shouldn't associate?"

"Yeeeeah. Except sometimes. Sometimes they can."

"I agree."

"Good."

"Good."

"Yeah it is good."

"Yeah it is."

"Good."

"Good."

"This is a bit awkward."

"Yeah."

"Should I just go?"

"I think that would be best."

After Dannyl had left for some serious evening studying of Zipper, Lorkin returned to his rooms. Except that time when he got to go to Ashaki Itoki's house, Lorkin had spent all of the rest of his time in the Guild House. There wasn't much to do in his role and every time he tried to help Dannyl, the Ambassador screamed 'Leave me alone' and ran away. He was starting to think this position wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

He'd tried talking to the slaves, but for some reason they seemed somewhat submissive and timid. He hadn't quite worked out why yet. They must have loads of time for chatting in between the beatings.

He had a feeling Tyvara would be more receptive to his questioning. Or at least he could stare down her top. Either would work.

"Get some wine," he said. He found women liked to talk to him more when they were drunk.

She did, in a beautiful graceful dark mysterious way.

"Pour two glasses of wine."

She did, in a beautiful graceful dark mysterious way.

"One's for you. Drink it."

She did, in a beautiful graceful dark mysterious way, and then spat it out exotically darkly attractively.

"You don't like wine?"

She shrugged sexily, and beautifully gracefully darkly mysteriously struggled to swallow another mouthful.

"You don't have to drink it then. God, why do you guys always just do everything you're told? It's so annoying!"

She just stared at him.

"Anyway, I have some questions. How should I talk to the slaves?"

She shrugged.

"Should I be polite?"

She shrugged.

"Should I yell?"

She shrugged.

"Tell me something?"

"You don't need to say thank you," she said, in a husky melodic sexy beautiful dark amazing perfect voice.

Wow, if she wasn't a slave I'd fine her attractive. As it is, I'm lucky I'm so strong minded I'm immune to her charms, thought Lorkin, as he drooled over her.

"Anything else me and Dannyl need to do?"

She shrugged in a beautiful attractive mysterious lovely manner. "You should take the slaves to bed. Or at least buy them dinner."

If only she would look at me. To look at me with her beautiful sexy amazing dark beautiful eyes and go to bed with me would be...

He realised Tyvara was staring at him. "Oh, sorry. I wasn't listening. I was thinking about how much I wanted to sleep with you."

"I just said, you need sleep with a me to keep status."

"Oh. No! That would be horrible!"

"...thanks."

"Hey, I'm full of integrity and perfection. How about we chat instead?"

"Okay."

"Right. Where were you born?"

As she told him the horrific story of her birth in a slave breeding house, he felt the badness of her story mitigated by the fact that she was really really really really sexually attractive.

Cery slumped on the roof, from which he and Gol were watching the pawnshop.

"I'm bored... When is the Thief Hunter gonna come?... Do you have any snacks?"

Gol sighed. "I don't know Cery."

"Mmrrrrrrnnnnnn. The Thief Hunter might not even come!"

"Okay. Shh and stop fidgeting. All we can do is wait and hope he arrives."

"I wish Savara was here..."

"Why on earth would you feel the need to bring up that beautiful and mysterious Sachakan woman from that mysterious organisation who you met at the time of the Ichani invasion who couldn't possibly have anything to do with these events nor any other events that may be happening at the same time as these?"

Cery shrugged. "I'm just trying to make conversation. Oh look! Something's happening over there!"

Makkin the hilarious-pun-maker was coming up the stairs in the pawnshop with a foreign woman with a strange foreign skin tone.

"Is this it?" she asked in a strange foreign accent, gesturing to the book on magic.

"Yes, but it's locked, and someone else took the key..."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not! Argh oh god please don't kill me with your magical powers!"

Something about his manner was making Cery suspect that she might possibly be the rogue magician.

He watched as she opened the box with magic.

Yes, there is a definite chance she might be a magician.

She said something in a foreign language.

Wait a minute, she's foreign! That would explain her accent and skin tone and obvious foreigness. But it's not any language or race I recognise. Hm. Who else do I know in the whole world who is also very obviously foreign and from somewhere no one has ever heard of and involved in this Thief Hunter thing?

No matter how hard he thought, Cery couldn't think of anyone. Maybe he should tell incredibly trustworthy Skellin about this. Being foreign and from somewhere no one has ever heard of and involved in this Thief Hunter thing, Skellin would probably be able to find the key to this mystery. Cery couldn't quite put his finger on it.