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"So am I," Ivan said, the hardness in his eyes easing slightly as he looked fondly at Ailill. "You were most certainly worth
waiting for, my fine Marquis."
"Even if I am a Marquis?" Ailill asked, but the question was a light one. His worries were fading, not least of all because Ivan
and his men had insinuated themselves so quickly and easily into his life in Verde.
Ivan grinned. "Even when you wear all that white. I will confess that as good as you look, I like you better this way."
"Me too," Ailill said. "When we find Noire, I will have to thank him for giving me a good excuse to wear colors other than
white." Since the very last thing Ivan's men would need was for everyone to know the White Panther traveled with them. His
quiet compulsions would even come in handy, though he hated he had to use them in such a foul manner. The ability to
compel, to will the citizens of Verde to do or not do certain things, was the most powerful magic granted to the Beasts by
their Queen.
Meant to force calm when panic ensued, obedience when lives depended upon it& these were the reasons for which the
power to compel was bestowed. Far too easy to abuse& yet Ailill had never heard of a Beast who so abused his powers.
Even the most obnoxious of the Beasts would kill in an instant anyone who threatened the people under his protection. It
was& instinctive. Part of what made them Beasts. Ailill loathed and despised the frippery that came along with his position,
but he would do anything to protect the people of Verde.
That he would have to compel people to force their secrets from them left a foul taste in his mouth, but it was a darker
aspect of what his powers were meant to do.
Still, he would see if Ivan's methods worked first. Those were usually more amusing, in a grim sort of way. Especially since
Ivan had told his men to do whatever it took& yes, that would be interesting. More than a few arguments in Kundou and
Piedre had been settled by the gift Raz had bestowed upon the mercenaries. Luka especially had a talent for it.
They traveled in silence the rest of the way, and Ailill felt what little good mood he'd dredged up vanish as the Dancing Vine
came into view. As they reached it, four of Ivan's men were already there and the last two appeared on either side of them
as they stopped.
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"The only one who saw Noire was the innkeeper," Ivan said, eyes flicking to the window. "That's him now."
Ferapont took a glance of his own. "He transforms - shifts - into a raccoon. I saw him do it once to hide from a couple of
thugs that I'd want to hide from."
Ivan grunted. "Make him talk."
Without a word Ivan's men went inside, moving almost as one, meshing together perfectly rather than stumbling and
knocking into each other as so many groups would. Inside, they spread out around the lobby, blocking escape routes and
giving each other room to move around in the confined quarters. Ivan hovered by the main door, and Ailill stayed close but
not so close he would get in the way if Ivan needed to draw his sword.
The innkeeper looked at them.
"We need to have another discussion about last night," Ivan said. "I want to know every last little detail you can recall."
"I told you that I have nothing to say."
In a flash of movement, Luka reached over the counter and yanked the slightly-larger man over it. The man landed
awkwardly, so that his back rested on the floor but his legs were up in the air against the counter. "Wrong answer," Luka
replied. "Let's try again. A man came in here last night. Dark hair, dark clothes-"
"They all look like that," the innkeeper interrupted with a sneer.
Luka grabbed his hair and yanked hard, then slammed his head against the floor. "Don't speak until you've got something
useful to say. Fire and ash you smell. What do you do, bathe in rum?"
The man spat at him and started struggling.
Luka rolled his eyes and wiped his face. "Scorching idiots. They're all the same. Maksim." He let the man go and backed
away.
Immediately the man shifted.
"None of that," Luka said and held out one hand. His eyes flashed dark orange for a single instant - and suddenly the
fleeing raccoon was on fire, a scream filling the inn as he panicked.
A split-second later the innkeeper lay on the floor, scrambling in panic to put out flames that were no longer there, Luka's
hand balled into a fist as he put out the summoned flames. "Try it again," he said, "and I'll just let you burn. Understand?
Now - Maksim."
Maksim moved forward, seeming to fill half the room all on his own, and lifted the innkeeper up by his feet. The man
dangled with his arms a good three inches from the floor.
"Shall we try this again?" Luka asked, every inch Ivan's implacable, efficient right hand. "Boss wants to know what
happened last night. Tell us."
"Boss?" the innkeeper snorted. "All I see is a dirty little shadow who lets everyone else do all the work."
"Scorching idiot you. Fire and ash, I do not know how such stupid people live so long." Luka stepped forward and swung his
fist hard into the man's stomach. "A good boss observes and makes suggestions. Trusts his men, yeah? Now talk, because
I'm getting tired of you being stupid."
The innkeeper tried to glare, but with his face red from being held upside down, and in obvious pain from being punched in
the stomach, he finally gave up. "I was paid well to keep my mouth shut."
"Maksim."
Obeying the silent command, Maksim let go of the innkeeper, who hit the ground hard and fumbled for a minute before he
managed to get himself standing upright.
"Gleb, get the man a chair."
"Sure," Gleb said cheerfully, but his smile was full of teeth as he kicked a chair toward the center of the room.
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Luka shoved the innkeeper into it. "Tell us anyway and maybe we won't see you locked up for the rest of your life."
"For what!" The innkeeper bellowed, storming to his feet - oofing hard as Karp kicked at his knees and sent him crashing
back down so hard he nearly fell from the chair to the floor.
Luka yanked his head up. "We are the ones asking the questions, not you. I'm running out of patience. Tell us where he is
or you will have to learn what I do when I get impatient."
"You have your money," Isidor said from where he leaned with deceptive casualness against the wall next to the stairs. "I
doubt loyalty has ever been a trait of yours. So talk."
The man's expression shifted. "Money talks."
Suddenly his throat was yanked back, a cool blade pressed to it. "Living, I bet, talks a lot louder," Gleb said.
"Fine," the man said hoarsely.
Ailill wondered absently just what he put up with every day that he'd resisted so long. He'd seen Luka alone convince three
men talking would be a very good thing for them to do.
"I don't know who either of them were. The first was all wrapped up, couldn't make out nothing. Just that faint voice, more
money than I've ever seen anyone flash around here. She said she wanted a room and not to be disturbed no matter what I
might see or hear." He shook his head. "Didn't like them words none, but I liked the gold."
Gold. Few people were able to just hand over gold with the stipulation 'leave me alone'.
"She told me she'd have a friend coming, that he'd mention it, and that I should give him a key." He shrugged. "I said fine. A
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