Darvus reached out to bat the rifle bore away and had his palm blown through for his trouble. He screamed at the spurt of blood.

Even after she and Karag were led to a private room in the back of what proved a pleasant little tavern—complete with dark wood booths and antique table lanterns—Lisette couldn't quite believe the dwarf's claim that he'd get her connected with the banker. Yet the dwarf wasn't one to offer reassurances, and she wasn't one to ask for them, so she simply fell to repairing the musket while he assaulted a large platter of ribs and downed mug after mug of frothy ale.

Lisette followed Karag into the bosom of Oregent's underworld, such as it was. The folk of Andoran were different from those of Cheliax, addled perhaps by their own slogans about liberty. Their enterprises were not especially well interwoven with that of the city government, and required more furtive activity. Or so she had deduced. As evening came on, Karag led her via a circuitous route to a tavern in the warehouse district, then through a small crowd of incurious drinkers to a large back storage room. Somewhere, more bells were signaling. All was dark but for a lantern near the door and another over a card table occupied by four thick-necked bruisers. Crates and barrels were stacked more or less neatly upon shelves, amid bits of discarded junk and rusted winches.

Lisette slowly brought her rifle to rest on a dirty shingle at the apex of the roof, checking a final time to ensure the weapon's barrel was still smudged. The afternoon sky might be overcast, but Lisette took no unnecessary chances. There were enough necessary ones already. A sunbeam might break through and glint off any undulled metal.