It turned out that getting Bertrand the Blade to talk was not difficult. The challenge was getting him to shut the hell up. Kayden had brought the assassin into the town house as sword point. Sir Otto was spluttering with rage, furious that his precautions to guard his mistress had proven so ineffective. Calliope, having donned a silk dressing gown to make herself more or less decent, joined them in the kitchen which had been chosen due to its lack of windows and ready access to knives and fire. Not that such motivation was necessary.

“...and zen zey made me zeir chief,” Bertrand said, continuing a long and completely tangential anecdote about how he had risen to command of the band of cut throat which Kayden and Morek had just dispatched. He certainly didn’t seem cut up about it, if anything he seemed to be in a fine mood. Rather a better one than he would be if he didn’t get to the point shortly Calliope thought blackly. Bertrand was a rather handsome man in early middle age with a thin and obviously well cared for pencil mustache. His Brettonian heritage would have been obvious from his prominent nose even if he wasn’t doing actual violence to Riekspiel with each word he spoke.


“Yes, quite,” Calliope interjected, eyes flashing with irritation.

“Perhaps, if you were to skip to the part where you tell me who hired you to kill me,” she suggested icily.

“Oy oui, le wizarrd, van Wrulf, 'é 'iaiyairéd mé to keehl you zis vairy nigh,” Bertrand explained, “'é paid me a 'undred tilean ducats. Bon!”
Otto arched an eyebrow in disgust at this confession, his face dark as he crossed his muscular arms. If it was intimidating Bertrand it did not show.

“That is it, you roll over on your employer just like that,” the Knight demanded.


“Oh oui monsieur of curse! Should ai be all stoic and zén maibe le préttay lady starts peeleng mon skin off, ai tell haire zen ai assure you, and all zat blood and effairt to get to zé same plaz!” Bertrand explained as though speaking to a simpleton.


“No honor among thieves ey?” Otto sneered.


“Ai am non thief ai am 'ow do you sai a throat cooter!” Bertrand objected, clearly offended by the insinuation. Calliope set the knife down and massaged her temples with her fingers. Bertrand’s eyes flicked between Calliope and Kayden a hopeful smile on his lips.


“As you can see eet eez nothéng pairsonal! You seem lik love-lee peopl!”


“So Van Wrulf hired you to kill me. Seems extreme, we didn’t part on good terms but..”

“Oh non madmosielle 'e eez afraid of you 'e thinks you come to steahl 'is tréasur!” Bertrand blurted. Calliope turned to regard the assassin, an eyebrow arched. What kind of treasure could Van Wrulf have that he thought she had come for.


“And ai weehl tell you all abut eet if you promizé not to keehl me,” Bertrand added quickly. Otto back handed the bound man, rocking him back on the rickety chair. For a miracle it didn’t break.

“We could just start cutting off fingers till you tell us,” Otto snapped.
“Oui but all ze effairt, all le mez,” Bertrand pointed out reasonably, shrinking away from the Knight.

“Enough Otto, leave us,” Calliope ordered sternly. 

“But my lady your safety…”

“Is apparently in good hands as I have escaped one assassination attempt tonight already,” she replied tartly, "perhaps your time would better be spent securing the house. “ The jibe went in like a knife. Otto’s face blackened with rage and he stood very still for a few seconds, a slight tick in his left eye, then he turned and stalked from the room without another word.

“Very well,” Calliope acquiesced, “tell me of this treasure and I will let you live. You have my word on it.”

Bertrand’s eyes flicked between Kayden and Calliope again but he obviously realized that this was his best hope. He nodded his head.

“'e didn't tell me what eet was but ai saw eet, eet was a crystal key, 'e 'ad eet around 'is nek and 'e kept clutcheng at, zat is all I know.”

Calliope was uncharacteristically silent, a look of shock on her face. She made a curt gesture and a ghostly image of a crystal key floated above her palm. It twisted slowly in the air, showing off it’s many facets.

“Is this what you saw?” she demanded. Bertrand nodded his head trying to edge back away from the display of magic.

“The Keys of Al’Kazi,” Calliope said, shaking her head. How had Van Wrulf managed to get it. The artefact had been kept secured in the amethyst college and there was no way they would have let it go unless…

“That was his price for turning on me,” Calliope said in a moment of revelation, “the worm betrayed me to get his hands on it and now he has left Altdorf before the College demands it back…”


“You weehl let me go now oui?” Betrand asked hopefully. Calliope leaned towards the assassin and spread the palm of her right hand. Purple energy arched from finger tip to fingertip as she chanted. The temperature dropped sharply and a glyph began to form in her palm.

“Oh I didn’t say anything about letting you go, I just said I wasn’t going to kill you,” Calliope said with a wicked smile curving her lips. There was a sudden snapping sound and an abbreviated scream. A raven stood on the chair where Betrand had sat. It flapped its wings and took to the air, wavering unsteadily as if unsure how to to fly. It hit the wall and flopped onto the ground then looked up at Calliope with red, confused eyes. She extended her hand it it leaped into the air, unsteadily landing on her night gown and clawing it’s way up onto her shoulder.


“This changes things, we will need to plan,” Calliope declared. The raven tilted it’s head and cawed loudly in emphasis.