Eloy and Gorfang sifted through the felled assassin’s equipment, bickering slightly about it. Lynien didn’t take part, and at one point the pair turned to look at her inquiringly, then Eloy laughed. “Anything Lynien wants is probably already gone,” he chuckled.
With the aid of Gorfang’s slow teleport ring, they retired to the safety of Gadûhvrás . This was Eloy’s first trip there for some time, and he was quite impressed by the progress the orcs had made. With several of the 
neighboring trolls recruited to provide muscle, they had extended, refurbished and fortified quite a large section of the higher reaches of the Cloven Spire. There were still, he noted, no signs of female orcs, meaning that the long-term future of the colony was still not secured. As they saw him, a couple of the orcs made infinitesimally small signs of recognition that warmed his weaselly heart; his foothold here still existed.
As the visitors walked through the colony, orcs they passed gathered around, initially to see if Gorfang’s arrival meant (as it usually did) more ale, but with a rapid transfer of interest to the naked, supple body of Principa dangling over Gorfang’s shoulder, which they seemed to regard as another form of supplies being delivered. After Gorfang thumped a couple of them and sent them back to work, he took her through to where he’d installed the torture engine looted from Vorsand and strapped her securely into its’ complex structure, leaving her gagged to prevent her from using Dimension Door again to escape.
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Looking at her pale body, now completely healed from the battering Gorfang had delivered (which was more than could be said for Gorfang himself), both Lynien and Eloy became convinced that she was not unconscious at all, but shamming. Gorfang cleared his throat. “Please wake up,” he requested, hefting a bucket of none-too-clean water in case it was needed. Principa was incapable of much in the way of movement, but she lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes. “Good,” said Gorfang approvingly. “Are you going to answer our questions?” Principa nodded without hesitation. “If I ungag you, will you attempt to Dimension Door again?” A shake this time, mixed with a glance around and shrug; an attempt to Dimension Door out of a cave in an unknown location was pretty close to suicide in any case. “If you try to escape,” concluded Gorfang, “I’ll kill you.” He removed the gag. “Any chance of a drink?” croaked Principa. “No,” grunted Gorfang, but Lynien unstoppered her water bottle and poured some into the prisoner’s mouth. She glanced at Gorfang. “Be a fairly dull interrogation if the prisoner can’t speak to answer,” she commented. Gorfang shrugged in agreement. Lynien as Nice Guard, might just help a bit I suppose, he thought.
Principa swallowed and looked over at Gorfang. “All right,” she said in a much more normal voice. “What do you want to know? It’s quite obvious that you’re able to make me answer anyway, and I’d rather avoid all that; I’m not stupid. None of what you probably want to know is secret so ask away.” Watching her and listening to her level, reasonable words, Eloy wondered if this were the same lethal, psychopathic woman he’d heard described in Guild gossip. Then he saw, deep in her pale grey eyes, a cold, burning rage and madness, and he realized that she was even more dangerous than he had heard; not only a cold, emotionless psycho, but one capable of complete self-control when it was needed to further her ends. He shivered slightly as Gorfang began his questioning.
Eloy and Gorfang spoke for a few moments in Shamlakh’s native language as Principa goggled at the growling and barking. “Can we trust her?” Gorfanfg asked Eloy. “Professionally, yes, I think so,” he said, “and I think we should try to make an ally out of her. Perhaps set her on her patron if we can.”
Lynien chipped in in the warg language. “If this patron is so powerful, why didn’t she … I assume she … come after us herself?” Eloy considered. “Perhaps she knows us well enough to realize that most people who do tend not to come back?” he suggested. Gorfang nodded, this seemed to make sense. "I think it's Skufruss," he commented. "I agree," said Eloy. "Why would he want to kill us?" asked Lynien. "Oh, no reason; just we gave his artifact to his mortal enemies and unleashed a horde of dragons on his city." Gorfang snorted. "Nothing he didn't bring on himself," he said.
He looked back at Principa. "I was looking forward to torturing you," he confessed, not to her any great surprise. "But I have to say, I no longer have any particular reason for doing so." He released her from the machine, not without regrets. "You're free to go," he said. Principa glanced around. "Hmn. How do I get home from here?" she asked, "I can't walk through your guards dressed like this!" Gorfang handed her her armour and clothing back. Eloy, wishing to show some sort of professional courtesy, shrugged and added her twinned scimitars. She hooked them onto the belt of her armour, and drew them, nodding at the return of their pale glow before sliding them away again. She didn't comment on the absence of the rest of her gear; set against her life, it was expendable.
"I will take you back to Lossal," said Gorfang, "we're going that way." She nodded in acknowledgement of his tacit refusal to give away their location. "Obviously, failing in such a manner is going to be bad for your reputation," commented the orc, "but if you don't try again, we don't need to tell anyone." For an instant, the lethal chaos of an unhinged mind flared in her gaze. "Is that a threat?" she asked quietly. "I had already said I would refund and recject the contract." Gorfang smiled broadly. "Just making sure," he said cheerfully. "But - shouldn't Artin have known you were contracted to hit us when we asked?" She smiled thinly. "I would guess you asked him if a guild member was involved," she said shrewdly, "and he told the truth. He didn't know what I was doing, though when you turned up shot he must have guessed. But you didn't ask the right question."
They dropped Principa in a quiet corner from where she could make herself quickly scarce, and headed back into town, continuing to discuss their enemies. It was a very long list.
"Could it be the elves?" asked Eloy. Lynien considered this. "You mean that girl you were pestering?" she asked sardonically. "No, not Miriel, of course," said Eloy hurriedly, "but they must be a bit fed up at us taking the Elf Hammer." Gorfang shook his head, this didn't feel like the sort of tactics elves would use. "What about the Fae Mhor?" he asked. Eloy blinked. "Didn't we kill most of them?" he asked. "That was just an expedition," said Gorfang, "there's a lot more of them than that - someone sent them. They live underground somewhere, I think." he added doubtfully.
Lynien piped up. "I feel like dinner," she said, "before we go back to the Tower; and I'm sick of rations. Let's find somewhere nice to eat. You need to practice for your date," she added for Gorfang's benefit.
Easily the best eating house in Lossal was Porisal's, on Lack Street. Its' elegant portal was flanked by two burly human doormen. One blinked in surprise, clearly recognizing Gorfang, but the other wasn't as familiar with local politics and frowned at the sight of an orc approaching the door. "We don't serve his kind in here," he rumbled.
His companion whirled in shock. "Shut the gonv up!" he hissed, "He's the ex-Governor!" The first bouncer wilted visibly. "I thought you'd be taller..." he said in a small voice. Gorfang eyed him. "What's your job here?" he asked levelly. The man squirmed. "I'm to keep unsuitable persons out." he answered. "What's unsuitable?" "People likely to cause disruption to other diners," summarized the man. Gorfang started to walk past him, and clapped him on the shoulder. "You were quite right, then." he said happily. The others filed past, and last was the warg Shamlakh, who paused and looked up at the bouncer. "I'm not sure I want to eat here if you admit the likes of him," he commented dryly, nodding after Gorfang, and reducing the unfortunate doorman to twitching incredulity.
The maitre'd, however, was made of sterner stuff. Unflappable, he glided up to the new-comers and inclined his head in greeting. "Good afternoon, sirs and madam. Would you care for a table for four, or will sir," he looked at Shamlakh, "prefer to sit beside or under one?" Shamlakh rumbled quietly. "I'll sit next," he said, "those little chairs aren't strong enough for me." They were guided to a table near one wall, and the maitre'd handed each a menu card. "Would you care for drinks?" he asked. "What have you got?" asked Eloy, and was handed a wine list. "Are we working?" asked Gorfang, his latent alcoholism rearing its' head. "No," said Lynien. A voice rumbled from beneath the table. "He won't learn much sophistication if you tell him that," commented Shamlakh. Gorfang handed the wine list back. "Alphabetical," he said. The waiter glanced at it for a moment. "I'm sorry?" he said politely. "Start with A," said the orc, "and work down." "Very well, sir," said the man, and wrote Ale on his pad to kick off with. Eloy asked for milk, at which Gorfang sneered, and Lynien carefully chose a very expensive wine. "I wonder," she asked as the waiter was noting it down, "have you seen someone we're looking for?" She described Larira carefully. The maitre'd considered for a moment, then shook his head as he took the orders.
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While Eloy went out to the privvy, partially to cast a surreptitious Detect Poison to check his fois gras when it came, Gorfang, now up to C on the wine list (cognac), glanced around at the other customers. Several senior executives of Guild Venter were present, some with their wives, and over in one corner at a table for one he caught sight of Méabh's past patron Erilas.
Lynien waved her fingers at him, and the mage raised a hand in acknowledgement, his face flat and unemotional. There had never been much love lost between the two. Quietly she said to Gorfang, "Should we take him back to Gadûhvrás and torture him?" The orc grinned, but at that moment Eloy returned from his mission and Lynien went in her turn. She, too, had an ulterior motive.
Slipping into the kitchens, she moved past and around the lumpen menials labouring on the provender until she reached a plate of fois gras staged on a shelf waiting for a waiter to deliver it. Unseen, she dripped a few drops of an amusing little poison into the damp meat, murmured "1651, a very good year," to herself, and returned to her table. Unseen behind her as she slipped away, a cook walked over to the shelf and placed an indentical plate of fois gras next to it.
Back at the table, she sat watching Eloy surreptitiously, waiting for him to find the poison and cause an amusing fuss. As he looked up at her intent face and was about to comment, Eloy's attention was drawn over her shoulder to the sight of a fellow diner who keeled slowly and gracelessly out of his chair to slump to the floor amid gasps and screams. Lynien managed to maintain a straight face as Eloy sprang sententiously forward to aid the casualty, casting a Delay Poison on him to keep him alive until help could be summoned. This worked up a thirst, and the Man in the Shadows called for a small cherry brandy on his return; Gorfang was up to J for Jura by this stage.
A few minutes later Erilas got up and left, not glancing in their direction. All three could feel the danger radiating off him like heat as he passed, evident in the extreme respect shown him by the staff. The maitre'd appeared with their own bill, and Gorfang merrily pushed it across to Eloy. Eloy muttered, though of course the amount was trifling by the standards of their personal wealth, and glanced at Lynien. "My purse contained a hundred and ten gold, seventy silver and around sixteen coppers," he said without even looking. She stacked the coins in front of him, and he paid the bewildered waiter with them. "Was everything to your pleasure?" he asked. "Almost perfect," said Lynien approvingly. The man's face fell. "Was it something we did?" he asked. "No, no, of course not," she assured him swiftly, and glanced at Eloy, almost in annoyance. The maitre'd, instantly forming completely the wrong idea, nodded in a worldly fashion and discreetly withdrew.
As they left, Eloy made sure to book a table for a subsequent night. He suspected his little witch would rather like the place....
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