“Sheena, come in please,” High Lady Jenwise motioned to Sheena who had already entered the office. She stood there, her expression grim and her face pale as she once again stood before the picture windows that framed the city of Auglire in their own regal fashion. Her footsteps made the smallest of padding sounds as she passed the rows of bookshelves to either side of her and stood before the High Lady’s desk. Jenwise observed her from the other side, seated in her high-backed green chair, hands folded before her on the mahogany surface.

“My lady,” Sheena said. “We must find her!”

“That is not in question,” The High Lady said. “I have allocated the necessary resources to the search, but we must speak of what happens after.”

“After, High Lady?” Sheena frowned. “I…I must apologize, Auglire is such a large city and the chances of finding her are low as it is. I am…doing my best to focus on what’s in front of me, High Lady.”

“As should be expected,” The High Lady’s voice was controlled, her tone even as she studied Sheena. “Have you spoken with your father?”

“I sent word,” Sheena shifted in her chair, eager to leave the office and search for her sister. “He seems…preoccupied as of late.”

“Indeed,” The High Lady nodded. “The city watch has been deployed. Everything south of the Maussen District is being placed on lockdown as we speak. Sheena, let me be…blunt for a moment.”

“Yes, High Lady?” Sheena frowned and folded her hands, barely resisting the urge to tell the High Lady to ‘hurry it along’.

“I recognize that Lyra is not Micah Lavoric, though admittedly it was hard for me to accept at first, but my question to you, Sheena, is why? We could have simply determined Lyra’s identity and stuffed her in some menial position, far away where she would be of no consequence. Instead, you gave her your family name without your family’s blessing and created all manner of internal strife, or so I am led to understand. Sheena, why would you do that? What gives Lyra such importance?”

“Is it a straight answer that you wish, High Lady?” Sheena said with an almost imperceptible sigh. The High Lady raised an eyebrow and then gave a slight nod. “I gave way to panic, High Lady. I knew…that there was something special about Lyra, and had you been able to execute your plan, well, what are the odds she would have lived?”

“Slim,” The High Lady admitted. “But anything is possible.”

“Giving her the Rossi name was a way to keep her alive.”

“It did give me pause,” The High Lady nodded. “It would be easier to kill a commoner than a Rossi.”

“By definition, the Rossi’s are still commoners,” Sheena pointed out. “We do not belong to the ruling class.”

“You know very well there is a divide between commoners and families like yours,” The High Lady said sternly. “Please do not insult me by pretending your awareness does not extend so far.”

“I meant no offense, High Lady,” Sheena said apologetically.

“Of course. Now, on to the subject of Lyra. When she is found, I’m afraid there will be some…stipulations.”

“Stipulations?”

“Sheena, Lyra may be Lyra but she still inhabits the body of Micah Lavoric, regardless of how we have altered it. She still has his memories, no matter how fragmented. Tensions between Klocby and Axock have never been greater and it doesn’t help that we have the body of Micah Lavoric walking around. Sheena, when we get her back, she will not speak of her past, and she will not leave your sight. When I say your sight, I do mean the sight of your family. She is to be escorted or she is to be kept indoors. Do I make myself clear?”

“High Lady, she already has so little freedom,” Sheena protested. “I don’t think-”

“I won’t hear your objections, Sheena Rossi!” The High Lady snapped, raising her voice a few octaves. Sheena recoiled in her chair, her hands tightening around one another. “If you cannot place these restrictions on her freedom then her freedom will be even more restricted. I will not have her causing a political incident! Am I understood?”

“Yes, High Lady,” Sheena said, her expression hardening; she resisted the urge to curl her lip with practiced precision. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, I believe that will be all, Sheena,” The High Lady nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, High Lady,” Sheena said as she rose and gave a shallow curtsey.

She stepped away and walked slowly, finally stepping past the blue-uniformed guards and into the entryway where a wooden desk was occupied by a single servant, not under Sheena’s command.

Right, Sheena remembered, The ‘Cup Bearer’. It was an old position that probably needed to be renamed; it was less about bearing cups and more about appointments, paperwork, and the occasional food order. When Lyra had first arrived, that had been her request and as Micah Lavoric, it wasn’t that far fetched, because presumably, she would have had the necessary credentials. As Lyra, the real Lyra that had come from another world with foreign customs and ideas, she was severely lacking in that regard. Sheena smirked slightly at the memory and then moved forward, past the six rectangular windows and through the set of double doors leading to the Vice passage which would eventually lead to the Octagon. She paused at the end of the corridor and regarded Calliope, standing there with her hands folded in front of her long gray gown; she quickly noticed Sheena standing at the entryway and tensed.

“Did you do as I asked?” Sheena demanded, walking toward her.

“Yes,” Calliope fell in step beside her, doing her best to keep up with the long gown easily restricting her movement. “Sheena can I ask-”

“My friends and family call me Sheena,” She snapped back. “You may refer to me as Ms. Rossi, and no, you may not.”

The rest of the walk passed in silence until they reached Sheena’s office where she made her way directly to the clothing rack on the far left side. Calliope watched in confusion as Sheena changed into a pair of leather breeches, a white button-up shirt, and a tight brown leather jacket that tied with a sash at the waist. She bound back her hair and opened a footlocker just below the rack and lifted out a pair of brass goggles affixed to a leather strap, which wiggled over hear head, allowing them to hang about her neck. Finally, she laid a newsboy cap on her head and tilted it into position.

“I’m…sorry, Ms. Rossi,” Calliope shook her head and frowned. “What…exactly are you doing?”

“You lost my sister,” Sheene explained as she strapped a knife sheath to her leg and tested the heft of the blade before sliding it in. “I aim to get her back. Simple enough for you?”

“But…Sh—Ms. Rossi, the City Watch is already out there, surely they can-”

“You ought get changed,” Sheena gestured to another pile of clothes next to the rack. “We’ve work to do.”

As Calliope discarded her dress and shrugged into a pair of brown pants and white button-down top, Sheena retrieved a nickel-plated revolver from the foot locker and carefully inserted six brass shells. Snapping it shut, she gave it a spin and slid it into the holster beneath her coat. Calliope gawked at her partially in horror but also with some measure of amazement. After throwing a leather pack to Calliope, Sheena began to walk toward the side entrance and gestured for the girl to follow. The girl trudged along behind her, clearly awkward in the attire that Sheena had chosen for her. She had become accustomed to long, unwieldy gowns and clunky heels; the sudden freedom of trowsers saw her stumbling and lurching as she tried to keep up with Sheena’s quickening pace.

“Ms. Rossi, this pack is heavy,” Calliope said as she struggled to keep up.

“Put it on your back,” Sheena snapped; easily moving ahead of Calliope as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They passed through a riveted iron door and into a tunnel made from laminated brick and lined with brass pipes from beginning to end. Calliope glanced around nervously and made comments regarding her perception of the tunnel’s safety, which Sheena duly ignored. Moments later, Sheena and Calliope passed through another door which opened into an old aqueduct that by all rights should have been guarded, but ahead of them was nothing but the slanted concrete walls, cracked and overgrown with weeds.

“Ms. Rossi we shouldn’t be here,” Calliope stammered as she followed Sheena. She hefted the weight of the pack on her shoulders, inwardly groaning as the straps began to dig into her shoulders. She staggered under the weight and wondered just what the hell was in there. The walk, while taking only about twenty minutes, seemed to take hours for Calliope as she stumbled over rocks and felt the strain on her ankles as Sheena continued to walk, never slowing her pace once.

“What is the issue, Calliope?” Sheena demanded as they came to a set of stone stairs set into the side of the aqueduct. “You take my sister to a seedy hotel in the slums yet you have trouble with a simple walk? Have you never used your legs?”

Sheena cast a glare back to Calliope as she ascended the steps and watched briefly as the girls struggled with each step, sweat falling off of her brow nearly in waterfalls. The stairs took them to a brief landing which led to another stone stair set alongside an even taller perpendicular wall. By the time they reached the top, Calliope was gasping for air and upon reaching the landing, she fell forward and sprawled out across the cracked sidewalk overlooking the entrance to the slums, or, as it was formally called, the Lapis District. Before them, a city street that had seen far better days. Men, woman and children with soot-soiled faces and threadbare clothing passed by without giving Sheena or Calliope a second glance as they traversed the street, entering buildings or vanishing into side-passages. The buildings on either side of the street were made from brick, most of them two or more floors in height with darkened glass windows and large signs indicating their purpose. A small grocer, an even smaller timepiece repair shop. A leather worker’s shop with a detailed picture of a boot hanging in the front window. Several shops on either side which may have been the best the slums had to offer, but stunted by the presence of the cracked red and brick street that ran between them. Balled up news papers and food wrappers accentuated the stretch of pavers beneath the shadow of the rickety causeway connecting the Lapis District to the even more decrepit Tanis district.

“Get up,” Sheena snapped to Calliope who had barely managed to make it up to her knees. “How pathetic can one girl be?”

“Ms. Rossi, I…where could we possibly be going?”

Sheena declined to answer what she perceived to be an incredibly stupid question as they walked to the other side of the street and crossed through several back alleyways until they came to a nondescript door set into a gray brick wall.

“Fellow,” Sheena said shortly as she gripped the metal handle and pulled the door outward. The moment they stepped through, they were greeted by the unmistakable sound of pistol hammer cocking back and Sheena smiled slightly as she saw the revolver barrel leveled at her. Calliope shrieked as she was seized roughly from behind, a nickel-plated barrel pressed against her temple while another hand gripped her arm and held her in place.

“Sheena Rossie? That be you then?” A gruff voice asked in the darkness.

“It is, Cestus,” Sheena said with a near laugh on her tone. “You need no weapons with me.”

“And the girl?” A woman’s voice came from behind, loud enough to be heard over Calliope’s whimpering.

“Hilda, then?” Sheena turned and smiled as Cestus lowered his weapon. Hilda smiled to Sheena and gave Calliope a shove, holstering her pistol and wiping a tuft of black hair from her eyes.

“Aye, tis,” Hilda said, stepping forward. “I was surprised to recieve your message, ‘aven’t seen you in near ten years!”

“I had the girl send the message,” She gestured to Calliope.

“That’d explain the grammar,” Cestus laughed. He was a large man with graying hair and a leathery face, but if Sheena’s memory served her, age never seemed to affect his abilities.

“We were suspicious,” Hilda added. “Ought teach the girl to spell if she’s to speak for you.”

“That bad?” Sheena glanced at Calliope who was now cowering against the wall.

“Bad enough,” Cestus shrugged. “What’s the occasion, Sheena?”

“Not that we aren’t glad to see you,” Hilda added. “But if you’re callin’ us, there must be a purpose?”

“Aye, there is,” Sheena took Calliope by the arm and dragged her to her feet. “Lead on.”

Sheena filled them in with rough details on the way, Cestus nodding occasionally with Hilda deep in thought. They crested the top of the stairs and stood for a moment. The room was bare wood with broken furniture scatted throughout; their footsteps echoed quietly around them as they made their way up a set of stairs to a second floor that may once have been separated into rooms, but was now a large open space. Sheena’s eyes surveyed the are and noted the torn flooring, indicating where walls had indeed once stood, and then looked to the ornate table that sat in the midst of the space. The legs were intricately carved but they had been scuffed and splintered with age as with the oval surface. It had likely been an expensive handcrafted table once belonging to a wealthy family, eventually tossed out only to be discovered in one of the many second hand shops throughout the districts - or perhaps in a trash heap. With a panting Calliope in tow, the group made their way to the table situated in front of a set of dirty rectangular windows with a few broken panes; the intact panes streamed a dull reddish-yellow light across a large paper map unfolded across the table.

“We have everything south of Maussen here,” Cestus pointed to the map. “To my know, that trash heap of a hotel would be here, where you see my finger, and your sister could have been taken in this alley behind. How far they could have taken her? Given how much a’ care those people give, it would depend if she were out cold or if they had to drag her.”

“Calliope?” Sheena gave the girl a glance. Calliope pursed her lips and paled as all attention turned to her.

“I didn’t see…everything,” Calliope said timidly.

“Was she wakeful or not, girl?” Hilda demanded. “Is she your friend? Her life depends on your know!”

“I don’t know!” Calliope said tearfully. “It…it happened so…”

“Useless,” Hilda snapped in disgust.

“Aye, but she’s good at carrying things,” Sheena stepped around behind Calliope and pulled the pack from her shoulders; the girl immediately staggered backward and came to rest against the wall where she slid down until her backside rested on the floor and her head in her open palms. Sheena set the pack on the table and immediately unzipped it. From inside, she lifted a small cloth drawstring bag.“This should do it. I’ve also got plenty of ammunition for the job. One hundred rounds for each of us should do the trick, aye?”

“You take to rely too much on guns, Sheena,” Hilda shook her head and waved her ebony cane in the air. “At least this won’t run short of bullets.”

“Won’t kill them from a distance either,” Sheena said, distracted as she studied the map. “Besides, when have guns ever not been the solution?”

“Aye,” Cestus nodded in agreement. “Our guns saved your father at Silverhall, and he didn’t do so bad himself, so I might add.”

“And his teachings have brought me to this point,” Sheena said with a slight smirk. “to help me in my time of need.”

“And the girl, she’s truly so important?” Hilda asked. “So important that you’d call in hired help from day’s past?”

“If you’re up to the task,” Sheena nodded. “I am willed to pay half up from, half when the job is done, if the job is done.”

“The job will be done,” Cestus insisted. “You can lay your worries at the feet of another.”

“On the subject of money,” Hilda said. “we ought be prepare to grease the palms of those we press.”

“And for this I come prepared,” Sheena reached into the pack and pulled out two more drawstring bags. She opened them and deposited the contents on the table. Stacks of bills, each one with various denominations from high to low. “Suggestions?”

“You start here in Coral,” Hilda tapped her cane at a section of the map. “Cestus, go over here, and I…will take the district just south of Maussen.”

“There is a chance, of course, that the city watch will reach her before we do,” Cestus warned her. “They do seem overzealous in this task.”

“Our aim is to reach her alive,” Sheena said firmly. “And in this, I am even more zealous than they.”

“You speak fair,” Hilda agreed. “We meet here in four hours.”

“Also,” Sheena said, reaching into the pack again. She pulled out a small wooden box, which she laid on the table. Cestus whistled as she pulled open the lid to reveal six glass vials filled with a transparent liquid, each plugged with a wooden cork.

“That’s what I think it is?” Hilde leaned into inspect the vials.

“Aye,” Sheena confirmed. “Two for each of us.”

“You seem serious,” Hilda studied her carefully. “Are you quite sure you’re prepared for this?”

“I am a Rossi,” Sheena said with clear resolution. “My father saw to it that I would be prepared for situations such as this.”

“Your…father prepared you for espionage and armed combat?” Cestus raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound much like the Martin I knew.”

“He insisted that we be prepared for all scenarios we might encounter,” Sheena smirked. “Perhaps he didn’t plan for some of them to come to fruition.”

“Perhaps not,” Cestus shook his head. “Mind you keep yourself alive, girl; your father’d have my head if he knew I’d let you lose yours.”

“No heads will be lost today Cestus, save for theirs,” Sheena promised. Moments later, she and Calliope left the building, emerging into the back alley. They walked for a time, Calliope looking about nervously each time they turned a corner a crossed a side street. Overhead, the Brokenshire bridge loomed, casting a shadow over both the slums and their mood.

“That thing is so…tall,” Calliope said uselessly, prompting an eye roll from Sheena.

“The Brokenshire bridge normally is tall,” Sheena said with a condescending tone as she quickened her pace.

“It’s such an eyesore from down here! How do they stand seeing it all day?”

“This is what concerns you?” Sheena glanced back at her. “Your ‘friend’ could be facing certain death and you make to fret over the architecture of the Coral district?”

“I’m sorry Ms. Rossi, I didn’t mean-”

“If you must know, the placement of the Brokenshire bridge is an inconvenience to all who live down here,” Sheena said hurriedly as she turned another corner. “Those above benefit from the convenience it provides, those below are convinced as it provides no function to them. There is a disparity between the classes that you may be unaware of. Now, follow me.”

They crossed another busy intersection and entered a pub nearly bursting with people.

“Ms. Rossi, I think perhaps I’m too young to be here,” Calliope’s voice was barely audible over the roar of the patrons as they sang, shouted, and slammed wood and tin mugs against tables, but Sheena was able to pick it out anyway.

“You’re old enough to get my sister killed,” Sheena reminded her. “mind you hold your tongue if you’ve nothing of use to say.”

Sheena surveyed the room, finally setting her eyes on a darkened corner of the pub where six people sat around a table. She motioned to Calliope to follow and expertly made her way through the crowd, occasionally dodging the swinging arm of a drunk and making sure to interact as little as possible. Finally, she stood at the table and snatched an empty chair, pulling it out and sitting down amongst a group of dirty yet startled looking group of men, one of whom glared at her.

“Believe you’re at the wrong table, missy,” An older man said as he studied her and slowly reached below the table.

“I believe I can decide that for myself,” Sheena said sharply. She surveyed the table silently and observed the less than colorful array of seated individuals beneath the shade of the corner, tucked away from the other patrons and nearly immune to the wall of sound that had overpowered her moments ago. There were three older men, one who appeared to be middle age, and a platinum-blonde woman with a vertical scar running from the middle of her forehead to the bottom of her right eye. Lively bunch for sure. “I need information, and I suspect you can give it to me.”

“Now, little miss,” The middle aged man said with a stony expression. “You ought be careful coming in here making demands. You’ll just as soon find yourself carried yonder in a box.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sheena smiled and rested her chin on her palms, giving the man an almost girlish grin. “From the looks of you, your palms are a bit dry.”

The middle-aged man paused and looked to Sheena before glancing over to the woman beside him, then one of the men nodded.

“Girl, I doubt it quite much that you’ve enough grease for these palms,” The middle-aged man said. “still, say what you have to say and be off with you.”

“Might I know who I’m speaking with first?” Sheena smiled. “if we’re to do business then I would know your names.”

The man looked to his companions and shrugged. “I go by Byron, this is Charlotte, the others aren’t important.”

“‘Tis true,” One of the older men nodded. “Would rather he take all the credit anyhows, less chance of getting killed.”

Charlotte chuckled a little and then looked to Sheena expectantly. Sheena reached beneath the table, causing a moment’s tension all round, but reached into her jacket picket, removing a thick stack of bills, which she set on the table and laid her hand over, allowing the denominations to show just slightly. Byron eyed the stack and then show a look to Charlotte who shrugged.

“And just what is it you think we can help you with, little lady?’ Byron asked, his tone now far more serious.

“I’m looking for a girl,” Sheena said.

“Lots of girls around here,” Byron gestured to the room. Sheena resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“A girl taken,” She said. “By undesirables.”

“Ought be careful, girl,” Charlotte warned. “We’re all undesirables by your know.”

“She’s probably speaking of Old Jaf,” Byron said. “The old man takes girls, and boys, sells em’ off to the work houses. Ain’t seen to many come out o’ those places. Chain em’ to a line, make em’ work their fingers raw. Most of em’ die from the lash, or infection. Best they die quick, heard of some losing their legs, they just take a hot iron to the cut so’s infection don’t take em and have em’ keep workin’. If Old Jaf has your girl, she’s prolly chained up to a table as we speak. She ain’t got long, they don’t last more than a few months, year if they’re lucky.”

“And where can I find such a work house?” Sheena’s expression grew grim.

“That’ll cost you,” Charlotte warned. “Byron’s given too much for free as it is.”

Sheena looked from Byron to Charlotte, then nodded and slid the stack across the table. Byron reached out with a leathery hand and took the stack, flipping through it was if he were about to deal a deck of cards. He studied the denominations, a hint of disbelief in his eyes as he handed it to Charlotte.

“Old Jaf sells them to the Coral workhouse,” Byron said. “I haven’t the know what you’re about to do about it. Place is buttoned up tight, y’see. Unless you’ve got an army, you’ll not get near the doors.”

“Is there another entrance?” Sheena asked, her question more of a suggestion.

“Aye, always another entrance,” Charlotte said. “Down by the Coral tenements, green quarter. Anyone worth their salt’d know that.”

“Could you perhaps arrange a meeting with Old Jaf?” Sheena suggests.

“A meeting?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Sheena declined to answer the question and instead reached into her pocket, pulling out another stack of bills and resting them against the surface of the table.

“Where’s a girl like you get that kind of silver in any case?” Byron demanded. Sheena cocked an eyebrow.

“My finances are my business, and you ought mind your own,” Sheena suggested. Charlotte laughed.

“Aye, just give the girl what she wants,” Byron said, resigned. Charlotte laid a scrap of paper on the table, scribbling a few lines and then handed it to Sheena who took it and gave it a brief glance before folding it and sliding it into her jacket pocket.

“Be there, five o’clock, if you want to meet Old Jaf,” Byron said.

The conversation dragged out for another ten minutes, and when she and Calliope left the pub, they had learned almost everything they needed to know; save for the location of the work house entrance.

The trouble we go to for this girl, Sheena thought as she walked down the street with Calliope. No, she mustn’t think that. Lyra was more than worth the trouble; she was her sister.

“Where are we going?” Calliope asked as she tried her best to keep up. Sheena glanced back at her and then returned her attention to the street ahead.

“Back to the hideout,” Sheena said dismissively. “We need to meet with the others.”

“What about that Old Jaf person? Isn’t that who you need to see?”

“You’re a sharp one,” Sheena muttered. She gripped Calliope’s upper arm, weathering an array of protests as she quickened her pace and ducked into an alley that ultimately led to the hideout. Once inside they found it empty.

“Where is everyone?” Calliope wondered aloud.

“Well you see, Calliope,” Sheena rolled her eyes as she deposited Calliope in a chair. “When people leave a building they’re no longer in it, so…”

“Must you treat me as a child?” Calliope demanded, crossing her arms.

“Calliope,” Sheena glared down at her. “You are most certainly not at or above the age of majority, and you are not in any position to make demands. What did you hope to gain from my sister?”

“Gain?” Calliope demanded. “Gain? Why would I gain anything?”

“I know who you are Calliope Hedgwin, your family isn’t nearly as well off as mine. Were you after money?”

“No!” Calliope spat. “I enjoyed her company!”

“Did you, then?” Sheena rolled her eyes. “So much so that you decided her life was worth less than yours? Tell me, what did you do to save her?”

“I gave way to panic!” Calliope said angrily. “Tell you would not do the same!”

“Where it comes to my sister? No. And where it came to your friend, you should have practiced diligence, if not for the love of your friendship, then for your fear of me. What will you do to save her now?”

“What would you have me do?” Calliope rose, coming face to face with Sheena who regarded her with a stone-like expression. The room, once an echo-chamber for their angered shouts was now deathly silent as they stood before the waning light of dusk shining in muted yet beautiful reddish-brown tones through the filthy casement window.

“I would have you swear,” Sheena said.

“Swear?”

“Swear,” Sheena repeated. She reached to her hip and pulled the dagger from the leather sheath; it came forth with a hiss as the tempered blade drug against the sheath’s metal lining. She hefted it in her palm for a moment, her eyes drilling into Calliope’s soul before she finally opened her hand and twisted the handle in Calliope’s direction, holding it out to her, expectantly. The girl stared, wide eyed at the dagger and Sheene pushed it toward her, her eyes widening as she nodded toward it. “Swear.”

“Surely we can…think of another way,” Calliope stammered, shrinking back. Sheena stepped forward, following her until she bumped into the wall with a ‘thud’. Calliope started and looked from left to right, her eyes searching for an escape that didn’t exist. Sheena once again held the knife out to her, and rather nervously, Calliope took it between two fingers and held it out in front of her as Sheena took a half step back. She reached out and took Calliope’s hand, correcting her hold on the knife, and then took her other trembling hand and laid it against the sharp of the blade.

“Swear it,” Sheena said again, her voice firm, yet somehow just above a whisper. “Say the words. You know them.”

“I…” Calliope choked as Sheena pressed the blade into her palm. She winced, her lower lip trembling, accompanied by the gentle drip of blood against the wood floor. Warmth sprang forward from the cut, blood trickling across the blade and across the top of Sheena’s hand as she stared into Calliope’s eyes. “I…uh-”

“Say it.”

“I swear…I swear by…” Calliope stammered again and took a quick glance toward the window before looking back to Sheena. “by fen and fern, by the black of sound and sea, twixt the gaze of sky and ground, I give to you my oath. My life to hers, should fate call, my life to yours, should it save hers.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Sheena whispered as she pulled the blade clear of Calliope’s hand, searing through the flesh and allowing Calliope to slide down the wall, her tiny body trembling as Sheena smirked and stepped away. She wiped the blade on her pants and slid it back into the sheath. The sound of Cestus clearing his throat came from the door, prompting Sheena to turn and behold both he and Hilda standing beneath the frame. Hilda placed a hand on her hip and shook her head while Byron simply walked back into the room, leather satchel in hand. He dropped it onto the table with a thud and then turned, laying his palms against the table as he leaned back.

“Are you quite done scaring the girl, then?” He asked in at one that did not betray either sincerity or sarcasm.

“Not nearly,” Sheena shook her head. “What did you learn?”

“Several things,” Hilda said, stepping out of the door and walking to join Cestus by the table. She spread the map out again and dropped her revolver at the corner to weight it. “The Maussen district is most definitely being blocked off, and some investigation has revealed that your father is rather angry.”

“Angry, you say?” Sheena grinned.

“Indeed,” Hilda nodded. “It would seem that he wishes to know the whereabouts of his youngest daughter, he believes that she is off on some foolhardy adventure.”

“Were it that he paid attention,” Sheena said. “he would know that his youngest daughter has been abducted.”

“Be that was a it may,” There was a warning in Hilda’s voice. “He has hired a sizeable force to bring you in, though, we both know it may not be enough, given that he gave you his skills.”

“Let us hope he chose his help poorly,” Sheena smirked again. “What else?”

“A trader in flesh, namely children, by the name of Old Jaf is searching the slums in desperation,” Cestus informed her. “it seems his employees lost their latest acquisition, and she may be running free with forbidden knowledge. Perhaps knowledge of a substantial stockpile of goods.”

“Goods pilfered from the people, perhaps?” Hilda smiled.

“Your powers of deduction are sharp, as always,” Cestus nodded.

“The girl,” Sheena nodded. “Lyra?”

“Known to those in the know by the name of Allie,” Cestus said. “Matches the description you gave, in any case. Old Jaf searches for her in the Jovial district.”

“Jovial?” Sheena raised an eyebrow. “I was to meet Old Jaf just south of Maussen. That is…minutes from here. Jovial hours away, by and by.”

“Then it seems you have been laid a trap,” Hilda smiled. “Whatever shall we do about that?”

“We spring, the trap, of course,” Sheena smiled.