A silk shirt torn

Lisa Dale had a problem.

She ground her teeth as nimble fingers ran needle and thread through the gash across her ribs, staring across the table at the hooded and cloaked figure of her Ghost as he laid out the events of the evening. K’irr was cold and emotionless in his observations, unapologetic in his criticisms of her readiness.

“Had you will laced your rooms with the same security Magic that you protect our vault with, the assassin would never have gotten as close as he did.”

Lisa glared, hissing slightly as her Shadow pulled the stitches taut and tied them off. She glanced down at the smaller woman, whose mismatched eyes were simmering with anger. Just as the Ghost would go about his killings with cold purpose, the emotions in Yuyami burned too hot. She was very overprotective of her adopted ‘family’.

“I do not sleep, K’irr. I assumed that would allow me some measure of warning. The would-be killer was sent with powerful Art to conceal him.”

She began running through her memory, the analytical mind that had brought her to her current status narrowing the list of enemies one by one with speed and surety.

“There are only four mages in the city capable of shielding a killer from my magic. If you are correct that he was hired here, then that leaves those four and two I know of who are visiting.”

She stared briefly at the ruin of her shirt, where the poisoned blade had tracked across her flesh. Luckily, her mastery of poisons had allowed her to identify the compound and even formulate an anti venom. But the blade itself had come too close to slipping under her ribs and piercing her heart.

Too close.

“Yuyami. My Shadow. Blackstaff tower. You snuck in once before. Do so again and see if she knows anything about this. K’irr. You have one day to turn someone at the Watchful Order. I want one of their leaders in our pocket so that we can get their intelligence.”

Lisa stood, towering over both her companions, smiling that cruel little smile as her mind put anger aside and warmed to this new game. Her fingers toyed with the frayed edges of her shirt, her magic slowly spinning the tear together and making it whole again.

“I will return for your reports in the morning. I have an appointment with a Necromancer. Too long we have sat and minded our webs in secret, keeping out of the affairs of the powers.”

Both the Shadow and the Ghost felt a little thrill run through them as Lisa Dale, the Shark-Witch of Mistshore , gathered her hat and cane from the bench beside her.

“We’ve been making our moves before our enemies even put their pieces on the board. Time to remind them that the blood is in the water. Let’s find our prey.”