Well past sunrise, Salah watched as Valdrell came into view. He'd been there before, a lot of times. A century ago.

Nature hadn't changed much. The meadows were still the same. Green and lush, befitting the name greenland. Civilization hadn't trampled this far yet. Maybe it wouldn't. If he recalled correctly few of those trees were sapient. No telling what Sinister reptile had migrated this far north.

The train came to a slow halt as it screeched on it's tracks inside the station. The boys stretched in their confined space and unlatched the door before jumping out.

Salah had gone over his next course of action several times in his head. He made an excuse about a running bladder and asked for directions for where he could take a piss. He pretended to listen before nodding thanks and took a completely different route once he was out of sight, out of the station.

Valdrell, with her fine rows of buildings and bustling streets. He could make out towers with stained glass windows far ahead. The whole place was organized chaos, so busy, so noisy, so-

He cut off as that itching feeling came again. He risked a peek over his shoulder. Strange coat was following and his guts told him he was not alone.

He contemplated, taking slow steps. A nice dark alley would do for this sort of engagement, he thought grimly.

As Virtue would have it, he stopped at the mouth of a dark and particularly abandoned one. Salah entered and slid into another bend in the alley. His foot kicked against a stray crowbar.

Picking it up, it felt right on his palm. Would do well for a cudgel. I will show them how sinister I can be.

Then he waited with a calm breath. He was always calm before a fight. He had to be.

He heard them. Boots on stone trying to be cautious but he'd done all this before and knew what to keep an ear out for.

Salah ducked a machete swinging for his head even as its wielder came around the bend. Catching the armed hand, he smashed Strange Coat's face with the crowbar, hard enough that it broke his nose with an audible crack.

Choking back a scream, Strange Coat's machete slipped from his fingers as the crowbar whipped him on the face again.

Salah released his hand and let him fall on his knees, just in time to duck and swing the bar. It connected against a second Strange Coat's kneecap. That might not have cracked the kneecap but it would definitely sore it. Strange two let out a cry of pain and fired his weapon wildly.

There must have been a ricochet for the hit Strange Coat, probably on the waist for he yelped and lied down clutching his waist, mouth twisted in agony.

Salah wasted no time, rising he stomped on the sore knee with every strength in his muscles. Strange Two shrieked and Salah's boot on his chin cut him off, getting a satisfactory throaty sob. His teeth must have closed against his tongue. Salah brought the steel bar on the jaw just above the neck and sent him to the world of unconsciousness.

Salah spared a moment for his coat. It was a nice long coat. He relieved him of it and wore it. Not bad, he remarked mentally as he wiped off dust from it with his free hand.

Amidst all that agony and brutality, Strange Two must have dropped his gun. One of the rules of street fighting; keep the pain constant, Hammad had said. Hit fast in quick successions. It helps disorient your opponent. His brain will be too busy processing pain instead of taking action.

Salah with crowbar in hand loomed over Strange Coat, who was whining with ruined lips-surely two hits hadn't done that to him- pitifully on the ground, still clutching that waist. It was wet with blood.

"Who are you? What do you want?" No answer.

He went down and searched Strange Coat's pockets. A drawing of him came out. Not one of him being all combed up and neatly dressed like a proper lord for a party or ball instead it was a drawing of him with his hair tousled and in his undershirt like a proper thug, which in all fairness had been his look most of the time. Only someone who knew him personally could have drawn/described this. And they all had to be dead unless they were a Sinister. But then again, who?

*********

Tellese decided that Joeden was a nice man. Apparently his father had been their acquaintance and when Balat had supposedly died, he buried him in their compound. The lords of Valdrell had untold things in mind for the body of a Sinister. Lord or not.

"I will admit we were shell shocked when we saw him crawling out of the tomb. My wife fainted a few times but knowing what he was or rather what he is, it's not really a surprise."

"It's not?" Joeden's wife frowned at him.

He reached out to pull her cheek. "Of course, my dear. They were rumoured to be immortal but most claimed you were all Vanity's making."

Balat brought out a stroke of something and lit it up with some lighter. It wasn't until he took it to his lips and puffed out smoke did Tellese know what he was doing.

"I thought you were going to quit?"

He stared at the stroke burning crimson at one end, as if he couldn't believe he was holding it. "I did. I mean I tried to but they won't let me be. I needed something to keep them away," he wiggled the stroke between two fingers, "this helps. Most of the time." The last part was a whisper.

She couldn't blame him. Of all their siblings, only she knew why Balat took up smoking. Some sort of rebellion he'd called it.

Joeden and his wife tried to mask their confusion on what Balat was saying.

Just then, Hope stepped into the living room, refreshed and pleased. "Finally, I look and smell like a proper lady."

Balat snorted.

"Don't start," she warned. Here we go.

Balat had the nerve to feign innocence. "What? I didn't even say anything."

"No. But your eyes did. They laughed."

"I thought life's whole idea was to be happy."

Hope surely had a retort that Tellese didn't want to hear. "Ugh! Both of you, seriously weren't you clinging to each other a few hours ago."

They both stared at her as if she'd seen spring water and called it dog piss. Not your faults. I don't blame y'all. She wanted to knock their heads.

"Anyway, I'd like to hear that idea you spoke of earlier, Tel. The one that involved taking back what's ours."

Balat stubbed the stroke on a tray and turned his attention to Tellese. "I for one am willing to do anything to take that back. Even if it involves drawing blood."

Hope nodded agreement. Weren't they fighting just now?

She frowned at Balat. "Drawing blood? Please, we aren't doing anything that extreme. And don't pretend that you can get dirty like Zan, Xena or Sal."

She can be so dense at times. It was a flaming expression. Besides you underestimate us, we can get dirty like them! Hope's thoughts and Balat's weren't far from being an echo of hers. His just had more grumbling and mumbling.

They can grumble all they want. "There's a better way to do this. We try to sneak in. As it is, we know by now that the house doesn't respond to calls. I tried it and I suspect the both of you have as well. There's no saying if it's still slumbering but we'll have to get in and find out."

"That might not be entirely hard. They are having a party there tomorrow night. We could sneak in then. I could impersonate a guard and get you both maid disguises." For some cynical reason Balat's smile grew wider with every word.

Hope shuffled in her seat. "Then we aren't moving the house tomorrow then?"

"I don't follow."

"I'm saying if Tel works her magic and the house awakens. We can't take it to where we want with all the party people in it. It has to be empty for that."

Tellese sighed thoughtfully. "We might just have Balat impersonate the Seur of the house and order everyone out. When we are sure they haven't seen him or believe he's out."

Balat narrowed his eyes and rubbed his clean chin, thoughtful. He must have seen Hope's quivering shoulders. For a beard sprouted on his chin. She burst out laughing then.

It was all Tellese could do to avoid joining her. Reining her laughter was no easy feat.

Tellese tried steering the conversation. "I believe there's a risk for you. You'll have to get close to him to see him well in order to get his features right. Hear him talk, watch him walk... you know the usual."

Balat regarded her, the trail of a fading glare on his face. "Yeah, I do. Then what?"

"We find the others, I guess?" Hope shot Tellese a look.

"Yes. Hopefully, they are fine. Wherever they are," her voice was doing its best to betray her certainty. "They can take care of themselves."

She noticed Balat shifting in his chair. Oh?

"Is there something you want to say, Balat?"

"Nothing much, Tel. It's just what Master Joeden told me."

Her eyes flashed towards Joeden. He understood what the look was for. "Two weeks ago. A lord was killed outside the city in some lavish pub. His type go there to get drunk, gamble and laugh with a kele, lass if you prefer or two on their knee.

"He was killed by what men said was an ice blade. A deep gradual widening cut on his thyroid they said. A Sinister I'm supposing. Nothing curious about it except that Lord Balat pointed that..." he hesitated, licking his lips.

Tellese was already tapping her foot impatiently. I could easily read his mind but it's his story. Let him finish it!

"He pointed out that a sibling of yours possesses ice powers."

Tellese looked at Balat. "I don't understand. You're implying it was Xena?"

Balat shook his head. "It's just that... I've seen her kill someone like that before. We all know why she did it."

"Yes but what could this lord have done to her?" Hope asked softly. A tad too soft for her. Tellese didn't like that.

"I don't know but what are the odds that...?"

----------Fun Fact----------

A Seur is the Valdren word for head of a house, mansion, estate or any establishment.