When the Boyar's men broke in Calliope was kneeling before the bed in an attitude of pious prayer, hands clasped. She was arrayed neatly, dressed in black, the black bearskin drapped over her shoulders. In many cultures that would have been an ominous omen, but here the bear was a symbol of strength and right. If she had white silks to wear, Calliope would have worn them, appearing pure and virginal would have been her first choice, but dark and mysteious would have to do.

"Woman, you will come with us," one of the guards growled. Calliope stood gracefully and walked passed the guards, evading a half hearted attempt to grab her. She strode through the hallway, the guards falling into what might have been escort or might have been pursuit behind her. So long as she was moving in the direction they wanted, they wouldn't try to interfere. In the courtyard before the inn the Boyar himself stood, resplendent in silver mail and a white lion pelt around his shoulders. His steed, a great white charger, steamed and stamped in the snow. His guard, dressed in similar style, though less ostentatious, were astride thier mounts behind him. Short cavalry bows slung across pommels and pennoned spears snapping in the frosty air.

"You are the woman Dragoslava," the Boyar stated without question. Callipe bowed her head in aquiesence a moment before the two flusterd guards crunched onto the fresh fallen snow.

"There is a devil beyond the wall, calling for you. Why is this?" he demanded.

"I do not know, why any devil might want me," Calliope said, almost stumbling and using 'him' which might have given the game away. "I am a simple pilgrim, making my way through the world." The Boyar gave her a skeptical look but didn't contradict the statement.

"Do not trust her lord, she is an outlander and..." one of the guards cautioned but the Boyar held up his hand.

"Enough Ivan, get off your horse and help the lady mount," he sneered. The guard stiffend at the snickers of his fellows at such punishment for speaking out of turn. Reluctantly he swung down out of his saddle and made a stirrup of his hands. Calliope stepped into it and sprang up into the saddle before the red faced guard could make any mischief. All around them men were streaming to the walls, mostly half drunken laborers with billhooks, clubs and other improvised weapons. They cleared the main street for the Boyar and his party as they rode towards the gate where men were busily dragging wagons across the door to reinforce the vulnerable point. Torches were blazing all along the wall, filling the air with an ugly red illumination and the constant hissing of dissolving snowflakes. Calliope badly wished she could afford a little magic to keep herself warm, but she was going to need all she could muster for the next bit.

The Boyar dismounted and his men did also. Calliope followed their example without being told. They climbed the staircase to the wall. Calliope had to resist the urge to cheer with delight. Neil's illusion was so convincing that if she hadn't known otherwise she would have sworn it was real. It wasn't so much in what she could see as what was suggested. The rattle of bones, the faint witchlights in eyesockets, even the gentle moan of the damned souls.

"Send her too me or you will be destroyed!" a dread laden voice roared from the darkness.

"How do we know you will keep your word?" the Boyar called back. A malicious chuckle came from the hodded figure.

"The only assurance I offer is that my legion will slaughter you all if you don't," the NeilThing called. She almost felt sorry for the Boyar. He was at his core a nobel man, but he knew that he was holding the lives of his men against hers, an unknown stranger of uncertain allegiences. For a moment Calliope thought he was going to stand on priciple and refuse.

"The Goddess will not abandon me," she intoned loudly enough for all to hear. That seemed to make up the Boyar's mind.

"Let her down," he called, guesturing to a rope. Swords were drawn but Calliope didn't show any hesitation to climb down the rope to the snow infront of the wall.

"Good," the NeilThing crowed then faltered as Callipe drew the chalice from her pouch. She lifted it slowly above her head, the moonlight glinting off its exquisite craftsmanship.

"Kill them all!" Neil shouted, the slightest hint of panic coming to his voice. Calliope carefully scratched her hand with the shard of glass in her pouch. The undead horde was charging forward, gaining clarity as they came closer to the light. She drew in the tiniest bit of magic and channeled it into the challice. It began to glow with a golden light that spread infront of her in a wide golden arc.

"The Goddess Protect Me," she called, brandishing the glowing cup.

"The Goddess Strengthen me," she continued.

"The Goddess Preserve us all!"

Light exploded from every creature simultaneously, the merest flicker of magical illusion channeled through the mirror shards a thousand fold. Neil, in a feat of imagination so epic that even Calliope was impressed, rendered his skeletons stumbling and grasping forwards as their bones disarticulated. He even managed to make the bones burn away as he did so. Neil himself let out a shriek and then vanished in a burst of golden light that coloured for a moment with infernal red so bright that it blinded any eyes on the wall. Blinded them long enough for him to make his escape. Calliope injected the slightest hint of a heavenly chorous behind the roar of flames and it was nearly too much. She hardly had to feign falling to her knees, and her collapse into the snow was quite real.