Lian was sharpening her blade as she heard the commotion start. She told her guards to stay where they were, and snuck behind a couple of ogre guards to get to a hole she knew of in the wall around Brackenwall Village.

Corporal Agrok and his squad had been ambushed as they entered the village to pick up the most recent shipment. Furthermore, from where she could see, it looked as if one of the crates had been rifled through. Lian watched a moment or two, to size up what she was dealing with. An orc woman, leather armor, knows what she's doing. A sindorei dandy with a rapier, holding his own. Ogres with axes. Confused Kor'kron guards, not knowing which side to kill first. A female goblin noncombatant, shrieking.

Great. Just great. It had taken her months to find a collaborator in the Horde. Fortunately, she had a couple of other names, but she'd have to ship now to the Crossroads, which meant a delay--

Her goblin box bleeped squelchily, making her gasp and jump. She silenced it as quickly as she could. Fortunately, the guards were taking part in or observing the ambush and hadn't heard her.

"Yes?" she hissed into the box.

"Trouble on dis end," said a loud goblin voice. She turned a knob, lowering the volume. "How quick can ya get back 'ere?"

No reason to hang around here. "I'm climbing on my strider now."

* * *

Back in Mudsprocket, the news was pretty bad. The Client was Upset. This was a woman you did NOT Upset, if you had strong feelings about things like, oh, dragons razing your village to a pile of ash. A telegram had been sent to the office of the law firm handling the legal end of things -- apparently, the goblin woman Lian had seen in Brackenwall was an auditor hired by the Horde, and the very first thing she had honed in on was Lian's pipeline to Northrend.

With heat that hot, even once she takes the auditor out of the equation it would be quite some time before she could rebuild her pipeline, through the Crossroads or anywhere. It would be months before anyone would even talk to her -- not the smugglers in Ratchet or even the Southsea Freebooters. She'd have to buy a ship or two and move the stuff herself.

Or leave Azeroth. For a moment she entertained the notion of living out the rest of her days in Outland.

She appraised a sindorei girl who'd inquired at the shack about a job. Ascendant Company had put out word that they were looking for guards, and this one -- young, tough, wiry -- would do. But after today's development there was no need to hire any guards for a while. Sailors, sure. Lian told her this, to her obvious disappointment.

But, wait a minute. Wait just a minute. A second plan formed in her mind. Perhaps this girl... yes, she looked like she'd done this sort of work... but, hmm. The orc woman Lian had seen in Brackenwall was probably the auditor's bodyguard and might be a bit more than a match for this one. She needed to send someone she knew would do the job.

The first person who came to mind could eat that orc woman for lunch, and would certainly make short work of that auditor. That someone still owed her a job just like this.

Just as the sindorei girl was walking out of the shack, Lian called to her, "How good are you at finding someone who doesn't want to be found?"

The girl shrugged. "I've done that once or twice."

Mm hmm. "I need you to find someone named Deren'eth Moonwhisper. Ever heard of him?"

There are names everyone knows. Kael'thas Sunstrider. King Varian Wrynn. One's reaction to the names can be based on one's political or racial affiliation.

There are names many people know. Sig Nicious of the Elite Tauren Chieftans. Popular writers, playwrights, artists. Only hicks from the back woods don't know these names.

Then there are names that only people in certain circles know. The name of a brilliant alchemist may only be know by other alchemists. A mage who does ground-breaking work might not be known outside of Dalaran.

Some names are only whispered in the dark. Nervously, with a glance over the shoulder, as if their mere mention might cause them to appear.

And this woman wanted her to...

Baby clenched her fists in her pockets to avoid wiping the sweat off, controlled her breathing. In an almost normal sounding voice, with a carefully controlled lack of tension in her shoulders, she replied. "I think I've heard the name. Yeah." A long pause. "Kaldorei."

Lian suppressed a smile. Good. She knew who Moonwhisper was. That told her a lot about this girl too, including, for starters, that she may have underestimated her.

"Yes, he's Kaldorei. I need you to find him quickly. You have a week. If you haven't found him by then, I don't want to see your face again." (This place will be a pile of ash by then anyway, she thought, but didn't say.) "And when you find him, give him this and tell him Lian needs to speak with him as soon as possible." Lian reached in her pocket and pulled out a large gold coin, which she tossed to the girl. "And this is for you." She reached into a drawer on her desk and pulled out a small money pouch, which she tossed. It was too small a sum of money to pay someone who may be rushing off to her death, but Lian's budget just became a lot tighter.

A week. She had a momentary impulse to toss the coin and the money back to this woman, tell her she wanted no part of this. But something told her if she did so, she'd likely not leave this room alive.

"Alright," she said with a casualness she didn't feel. "A week, then." The purse felt heavy enough to Baby. She wandered out in her typical, slouching, I-don't-care manner. Meandered slowly over to the wind riders, her brain racing a mile a minute. Whatever would she DO?

Well there were a few people she knew to talk to, for starters. No time to waste.

She flew off toward Orgrimmar.

Lian watched the girl walk away, pretending to be nonchalant.

Two minutes later, Lian began cramming papers into crates, with no regard to organization. They could be sorted later; right now, time was of the essence.

A shadow passed into her field of vision, causing her to look up. Standing before her was the Dread Lawyer himself, bemused, twirling the end of his moustache.

"Oh good, you got my summons?" she said, not pausing at all.

"I did not receive any summons, and would not answer to a summons to appear in your office, Lian, even if you had actually sent one. It works the other way around. Or rather, it works when you actually come when I call. Did you receive my summons?" He watched her for a moment, as she continued packing crates, not answering. "I presume you had every intention of notifying my office you were planning to relocate."

"Business conditions can change at a moment's notice, sir. I'm simply moving to keep up with them." She stopped, then, to look at him. "I highly recommend you consider a hasty relocation yourself."

Llewellyn Floyd spread his hands wide. "I'm a bit too... deeply involved for that at this point, I fear."

Lian could see that he did, indeed, fear.

"It turns out that our contractors were unreliable, sir, but to ensure there is no disruption in the Client's business I will handle the shipping myself. Of necessity, I am moving my office to where the ships are."

"And that would be..."

"Notifying you of that by memo will be my top priority, sir."

Floyd folded his hands together. "I hope you appreciate the position this leaves me in. You could alleviate my concerns, and I'm sure my Client's, if you would accompany me and explain all this to her directly."

The blood drained out of Lian's face. "I'd be happy to," she whispered.

The Black Dragonflight and the Goblins had a relationship that stretched back ten thousand years. Well... not a "relationship" perhaps so much as a long history of enslavement and oppression.

It was not so easy, now, to enslave and oppress Goblins by force alone. They were clever enough to pick locks and organize rebellions and escapes. And trying to round up a bunch of Goblins to labor in your mine was harder now that they have squawkboxes and "intarwebs" and other ways of warning others from far away.

Compounding this problem was the need for discretion. The last thing the Dragonflight wanted at this crucial stage was the world becoming aware of their plans. It had been dangerous enough when Dalaran had exposed the operation in Grim Batol. Fortunately, some of the eggs had been recovered and were now being warded in the unreachable Obsidian Sanctum.

But that was neither here nor now. The question facing Scoria right now: how to accomplish the task she had been given.

Scoria had listened to the reports her sister Onyxia had passed on of life among the humans in Stormwind, and learned new ideas. Sequester your laborers in a cave, give them a pick, attach chains of iron to their legs, and flog them, and the world calls you a terrible oppressor. Sequester your laborers in a cave, give them a pick, but use chains of wage and the whips of debt, and the world calls you a pioneering entrepreneur. Furthermore... with the promise of a little something in it for them, Goblins -- and humans, and kobolds, and more -- will flock to your cave. No need to round them up. No need to whip them.

Scoria had let herself be swayed by the new ways of mortals, contracts and wages and lenience. She had wanted to conduct her operation discreetly, and it was no problem at all to come up with the shiny metal the goblins prized. The biggest problem with doing this this way was that you couldn't simply incinerate and eat an underling for failure any more.

Scoria was trembling with rage, and facing this sindorei woman now, could think of nothing that would be more satisfying than doing just that. Perhaps she would, just this once. Yes, the elf would be crunchy and delicious. It had been *Lian*'s brilliant idea to ship the totems to Northrend within the Horde itself, under their very noses. "The Orcs are brutes who will never notice, and even if they do, they'll shrug and consider the extra 'axes' a windfall."

Yes, it would be so satisfying. But no. Scoria would have to content herself with the total, abject fear she saw on the elf's face.

While savoring the thought of elf bones crunching between her teeth, she smiled and brushed back her long, onyx-hued hair. Scoria's human form so resembled that of her late sister Onyxia that she had found it convenient to take on the persona her sister had used: Lady Katrana Prestor. Let those who encounter Scoria be confused and awed by this. They do not need to know her true identity.

"You intend to salvage the situation by shipping them yourself. Why didn't you do this in the first place?"

"It's cheaper. The Horde has already set up supply lines to Northrend. Horde ships are safe from pirates. Orc peons don't ask about strange things they find in cargo. I've used the Horde before this way."

The same things she'd said before. Scoria growled, allowing a little of her real voice to come through for special emphasis. "For the sake of saving some gold! Only they *did* notice, they *did* ask questions! You are a fool. Now the Horde will investigate."

"Please, milady," Lian said, pleading. "I've already made arrangements to hinder the investigation."

"What arrangements?"

Lian spoke a name. An ancient name. A mortal name, but one she'd heard before. Perhaps restraining from devouring her had proven prudent after all. "He will do this for us?"

"He owes me."

Scoria glowered, but the situation was perhaps not as disastrous as she had feared. Still... Lian's failure could not go unpunished. Furthermore, she had been caught preparing to flee, and that had to be addressed. She would be handled the same way the Dragonflight had dealt with some of the bumbling Cultists of the Damned who had dared to defile the Obsidian Dragonshrine. She motioned to her lieutenant. "Tachylis -- I want this woman soul-branded."

Hearing this, the elf screamed, and even the Dread Lawyer hemmed and hawwed a bit nervously. Scoria looked the Lawyer square in the eyes. "Do you have an objection?"

"...No, milady."

Tachylis and his guards led Lian away, into the depths of the lair, and Scoria returned to her private ruminations.

No one to reach.

No friend in Orgrimmar, no one to trust. The sister-house? She barely knew them, and the tricksy orc woman was "away". No way was she going to mention the name of a Kaldorei assassin to her troll mentors. She'd been smacked around by them enough.

Voice box? Only the pretty boy answered, let her know where Veli could be found. But she wasn't there. He said to wait a while. Waiting too long was out of the question.

He knew the name she mentioned. She knew for certain then he'd been - like her. In several ways. Back away, back away.

Slip into Silvermoon, to the old hiding place. Lift the rock, drop her most precious possession inside. Stop. Breathe through the pain, focus.

Have to trust her. Have to trust that she would hang on to it, all unknowing, if this was the end. Just - in case.

She told pretty boy to tell Veli, if anything happens, look in the old hiding spot, under the rock. At least then she will have it. Ignore his uncomfortable kindness (what's his game?) Don't involve Veli, don't involve him. They had people. If she was taken out it was a null equation. There was no one.

Then why bother hiding it.

Shut up.

Back to the translocation orb and Undercity. She fingered the sack of money in her pocket. Goblins knew everything. Goblins would talk. The ones on Kalimdor clearly knew nothing but...

Booty Bay. Only a short trip from here.

On the zeppelin tower, she peered up at the sun. Same place now as when she'd left Mudsprocket yesterday. Clock was ticking.

Six days.

Baby sat quietly in the Booty Bay tavern, not drinking. She scanned the room as each new person walked in. After a time she became aware of a tall Kaldorei sitting near her. She tensed ever so slightly, looking over her shoulder at him. He didn't seem to notice, or care, that she was there.

She eyed him quietly for a moment, then sighed softly, looking away, fidgeting slightly. Then he spoke in some dialect close to Thalassian, sounding slightly amused - not looking at her, just sorting through a stack of his possessions on the table. "Cherry grog may alleviate your nervousness".

She looked at the Kaldorei again, more closely. Was it...? Sat back, slouching. "I'm not nervous."

He laughed at her softly. "Have it your way, Highborne."

She shrugged, trying to look bored. "I'm just waiting for someone."

"They're late."

"Are they now." She stared back at him. Was he playing with her? Was he just some random drunken Kaldorei stranger? She couldn't very well ask, could she? But then she had an idea. She mumbled, "Just have a message for - someone," and slowly, non-threateningly, slipped a hand into her pocket, taking out the large, distinctive-looking gold coin and toying with it, glancing at him to see his reaction.

He sat up straight, very quickly. She tensed, a hand slipping to her daggers. In a tightly controlled voice, no amusement now, he asked, "Where did you get that?"

She didn't take her eyes from him. "It was given me - to give someone - with a message." He mumbled a curse. After a moment she asked, although she was fairly sure now, " ...would you be that one?"

"Unfortunately." He sighed heavily. "I thought she was dead."

Baby handed over the coin with only slightly shaking hands. "She wants to see you. Soon."

"Where."

"Dustwallow - I - should probably - go with you I - I didn't ask if she wanted me to come back personally but..."

He looked at her seriously. "If you do go with me, do exactly as I tell you. That woman is more poisoned than your weapon."

She nodded slowly, eying him up and down, then forced herself to speak. "It's just - it may be my life if I don't - see you there with her, she..." Words failed her. She looked him over, remembering everything she'd ever heard, her eyes unknowingly taking on an almost worshipful look. "So you really are Moonwhisper." He looked around, then nodded slightly. She was unable to stop herself from asking, with just the slightest squeak to her voice, "Are you going to kill me?"

With no trace of emotion, he answered. "Not today." He stood up impatiently. "Let's go now, I want to get this out of the way quickly." She followed silently, watching him with huge eyes (how could someone so big move so quietly!?)

They made the trip by boat and air to Dustwallow in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. At the wind rider outside of town, Baby shoved her hands in her pockets, tilted her head toward the gate. "She's there still, I guess. In town."

He looked in the direction she indicated. Before walking off he told her, "Stay here. If you hear commotion, fly out fast."

She slipped into the shadows outside the gates. Listening. Waiting.

Corporal Agrok knew nothing. He didn't know what was in the crates, who put them there, or why, or who did what with them when they got wherever they wind up. All he knew was, his squad came here once a month or so, picked up the crates, took out a money pouch nailed to the inside of one, and hefted them by kodo to the Crossroads.

In the meantime, Stephanie had been reading up on Llewellyn Floyd. This was difficult because two-thirds or more of any material written about him was legal disclaimers.

"This is costing me a FORTUNE in intarwebs fees!" Stephanie screeched. "You may have to protect me from General Throkk when I turn in my expense report!"

"Tell me about Floyd."

It was a long tale. He was born 396 years ago on the Llŷncaerdyddgwaelod Peninsula, which at the time of Floyd's birth was in open rebellion against the King of Stormwind. A war orphan (never seems to be a shortage of those, Sobralia thought), he was adopted by a duke, who recognized the youth's intelligence and saw to it he was educated in letters. With the settlement he received after suing the King for the death of his parents he opened a law firm. After that, he lived just about everywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms at one time or another. It was in a Wildhammer court that Floyd famously sued Death.

"Hmm, this is interesting. Says he vanished for ten years (nothing herein is to be construed, blah blah blah) while traveling through the western Wetlands. He was found by a dwarven patrol looking unkempt but otherwise okay, teaching law to a pack of gnolls."

"That's fascinating," muttered Sobralia. "Anything on how he came to be here?"

Stephanie flipped through page after page, mumbling something about each one. "Aha! Here it is. He lived in Dalaran at the time of the Third War and was an associate of Jaina Proudmoore. He lent his legimantic powers in the war against the Scourge, received several medals from the King of Lordaeron, but left Lordaeron when Ms. Proudmoore did. They had a falling out, but the disclaimers are too thick for me to make out what it might have been regarding. Oh, wait, here it is! She accused him of treason. The slander case is still in court. ANNnnnyway. He left, befriended a group of goblins who were making a new settlement south of here, and they formed a law firm--"

"Back up. She accused him of treason?"

"Says here, 'the most ancient foul crime of consorting and conspiring with dragons.'"

Dragons. Mudsprocket was in the heart of the Dragonmurk. Sobralia licked her lips. "Stephanie. Do you know anything about how the Steamwheedle Cartel came to make a settlement in the south of Dustwallow anyway? In, you know, an area full of dragonkin?"

"Beats me! That IS kinda strange, now you mention it. But, wherever you find dragons, you usually find gold and gems, so maybe it's not all that strange after all. Hehehe *snort* hehehe *snort*"

The squawk box screeched then, causing Stephanie to jump, interrupting her horrible laugh. She turned it up, then winced and held it away as it let off a loud squelchy scream. "Cronkmeister! Cronkie baby! Are ya dere! Come back."

"Heh heh, calm down, Little Diddle. What is it?" After the embarrassment of last time, she put on the cone of silence so she could hear her friend speak discreetly. "Afraid I don't," she said, in response to a question. "Never heard of him. Should I care?" She listened for a moment more, and then there was a flirtatious exchange Sobralia did her best to ignore, and then Stephanie took off the cone.

"Well, that was the oddest thing. He saw some big kahuna kaldorei in Mudsprocket and --hey! that hurts!"

Sobralia took her hand away from the goblin's shoulder with great effort. "We're leaving now." She was already walking towards the wyverns.

"But what about staying here, investigating the big mystery?"

Sobralia turned, and with a distant, haunted look, said, "If we get to Orgrimmar before nightfall, we might live."

"What about me?" called out Borogrove.

Sobralia hadn't been tasked with keeping him alive. She shrugged. "Up to you."

Stephanie ran, trying to fold her intarwebs device as she went. Sobralia slapped it out of her hand. "No time."

"But--!"

"Put it in your expense report."

Something permeated the air within the shack that made Deren'eth hesitate. Something unnameable, but wrong, blasphemous.

It wasn't enough to make him shrink back, though.

"There you are, you moonlit felbeast," said a familiar voice.

Deren'eth would have chuckled at the insult, if he hadn't heard something... No, there wasn't a word for what it was that he heard in her voice. His instincts were close to panic, it was by training and willpower alone that he tamped them down and remained calm. He would be more than happy when this discussion was over and he could leave.

"She found you more quickly than I thought. I underestimated her twice. Did you kill her?"

In all of his ten thousand years' career as an assassin, Deren'eth Moonwhisper had broken his contract exactly twice. In each case, Moonwhisper felt the obligation terminated with the death of his employers.

It annoyed him to realize the young Ranger hadn't quite finished the job with the second one. He would, once more, have to clean up the mess himself. He was Pest Control, after all.

When he dismounted the gryphon in Mudsprocket, he fully intended to kill Lian. He knew he could get away with it. He didn't want the little quel--no, no no sin'dorei urchin to get involved. She'd done a good job so far of following his orders and not shitting all over herself despite her obvious fear of him. She could live.

But when he finally stalked to Lian's shack and beheld his employer for the first time in two years, he put his hands off his daggers.

"Yes," he lied. "Then I ate her spleen."

The voice was all wrong. When did he hear anything like it before?

Lian frowned at Deren'eth. "You used to find me amusing."

He managed out what he hoped was a suitably dazzling smile, white elven fangs flashing against indigo lips. "Long trip."

"Why didn't you kill that boy like you were paid to?"

"You were dead. I don't work for the dead."

Lian half-shrugged, half waved it away. "At this point I'd rather claim the pleasure of ending his life myself. I have something more pressing right now." She faced Deren'eth straight on... part of her hoping that he would See, somehow, what had been done to her, and take it as a warning.

please kill me now it's only been a few hours but the agony

"You fled when the Blood Knights stormed my sanctuary, when I needed you. For all I know you actually led them to me. I don't trust you, and I spent a lot of time thinking about having you killed. But I will set all that aside because you owe me the fulfillment of a contract. Do this for me, and I will consider us square -- and I will see to it that you receive significant compensation by my Client."

She turned, facing her back to him, and walked back to her desk.

The other person in the room, a human, twirled the end of his waxed moustache thoughtfully. He was watching Lian very, very closely.

Human guy isn't The Client. Lian's not particularly afraid of him. She's trying to keep it together. She...moon above...

Not yet.

"We will be square." Moonwhisper unconsciously drew his serape closer around his shoulders despite the heat.

The human stood, did a little step and bow. His voice was deep and fluid, and he seemed ageless. "Llewellyn Floyd, Esquire, at your service. Ah..." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "The, ah, goblin to whom you will deliver your message is one...", he squinted, "Stephanie Crunkwroggle, CPA, MBA, MBD, presently of Brackenwall Village, just north of here. All employees of Amalgamated Enterprises Diversified, LLC, and its subsidiary Ascendant Company, will disavow any knowledge of this conversation."

As Floyd was speaking, Lian sat at her desk, staring at something a thousand yards behind Deren'eth. When he was quiet, she looked up at Floyd. "The Client didn't happen to tell me what he will receive for delivering the message. Did she tell you?"

Floyd shot her a glance then, part scared, part furious. "This matter does not involve our Client. She did indicate, however, that as a gesture of kindness to you as her business associate she was willing to consider making available whatever funds that might expedite clearing up the disruption in your service to her."

Lian looked up at Deren'eth. "That's lawyer talk for 'name your price.'"