^^ Marissa Heaton ^^

— Zara —

A summons from my superior lay eerily calm in my palm, it's presence like a block of Ymirium, impossible to quantify beyond exaggeration.

Such a summons was never used in any but two situations,- 1: the most pressing of emergencies, such as the assassination of a king, or 2: the most damning of punishments.

As such, the little white cards had, after two centuries of use, become known amongst the Spiders,- my colleagues,- simply as 'Gravestones'.

I had received one only once before, when I was summoned to find and arrest the assassin who had killed the Pope, exactly seven years ago, on April 7th, 1842 AD.

The messenger saw the look on my face, and bowed once, rushing away with a terrified face nearly the color of the card and the look of my porcelain face, both cold, and carefully crafted.

I carefully opened it, and blinked at the three words, and an address.

'Spider, Scuttle Swiftly.
Pier 7, Dock 3, London.'

I carefully closed it, and then slipped into the back of the alleys that crisscrossed London in a near-perfect grid.

Dock 3 held only one boat, a pleasure yacht with one, thin mast, and only one bay of six oars, the hull painted a pleasant Navy Blue with Gold filigree.

A small figure waved from the shadows in the stairs that led into the boat's cabin, and I didn't hesitate any longer, stepping aboard with what may have seemed like a cursory glance, but was anything but.

With that single glance, my Sight had showed me every detail of the boat, from its paint, (freshly applied,) to its mast, (recently replaced,) and finally the small figure in the stairwell.

I recognized the leader of my guild, and relaxed reflexively. If Jon Dearborn, the scion of the legendary Silk Assassins of Walachia, wanted me dead, I would not survive this encounter, not with every advantage I owned, and all of my many years of experience, defending myself from the worlds best soldiers and assassins. So, best to relax, and enjoy myself while I could.

He noticed my relaxing, and nodded a greeting as my Sight faded, dropping me into darkness once more. He waved me into the cabin silently.

I followed, ducking the doorway, and froze as I got a look at the four people sitting in the candlelight.

An young blind woman, a man with no ears, and two mages, easily identifiable from the designs scrawled across their skin in softly glowing blue ink, which traveled over their skin freely.

Jon noticed my fear, sniffing once, and shook his head.

I sighed in relief, taking that to mean they weren't here to kill me.

I cleared my throat. "Guild Masters... and guests... I come as summoned."

The blind woman tapped her companion's hand swiftly, and he opened his eyes with a start. He perked up when he saw me. "OOH! IS THAT MS. ZARA?!? I MISSED HER COOKING!!! WILL YE MAKE ME SOME MORE OF THOSE APPLE TARTS I LIKE?!?!?" He bellowed, unable to hear himself.

I flinched, afraid we'd be heard, but Jon shook his head again, and I noticed small symbols on the walls, glowing blue.

"Sigh... I'd be glad to, if I survive the night." I said sarcastically.

He grinned, reading my lips. "HA!!! IF WE WANTED YOU DEAD, MY LOVELY FRIEND, YOU WOULD BE!!!"

The blind woman pressed a hand to his shoulder, and then motioned for silence calmly. "Victor, there's more important matters to discuss. Ms. Zara, please take a seat. Tea?" She asked calmly, and poured a small cup before I answered.

I sat at the offered chair, and sipped the tea. "Delicious, Madam Heaton." I said politely, if untruthfully. The tea was bitter, and I preferred honey in my tea, despite the cost, or just spirits.

One of the two crows in the rafters above us croaked, making me stiffen, and she smiled. "I see. You don't like bitter tea, Ms. Zara?"

"... no, Madam Heaton." The crows stayed silent.

"Ahh, I see. Well, I believe that's enough chit chat! We have a very important assignment for you, Ms. Zara." She said simply, and sipped her tea carefully, apparently done speaking.

Jon nodded to the elder of the two mages, who must've been the younger's grandfather.

He sighed, and then nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Dearborn... child, my name is Master Firogen. And recently, someone broke into my Tower."

I stiffened reflexively. Someone had stolen from a Mage? And a Master, at that?!?

He nodded gravely. "Indeed, I see you have an idea as to my shock. First, that someone would attempt such a thing, but to then succeed?!? Preposterous... or so I thought." He sighed deeply.

I nodded slowly. "Indeed... did a fellow Mage betray you?"

He blinked, surprised. "You're very sharp... though, I don't suppose your superiors would have recommended an amateur... yes, that is what happened. Four mages, in fact, the Seventh Sons of the Riley Line."

I nodded slowly. "Powerful mages... And?"

"And they now reside in my tower. I had left to India for a month, leaving my daughter and three of my grandchildren in the Tower, and when I returned, they refused me entry, somehow. I was reasonably agitated, and so I ignored their threats, proud and sure as I was in my own strength-..." He subsided suddenly, his face a mask of rage and grief.

Jon shook his head, and looked out the window.

"And something bad happened, I suppose. Why am I here?" I asked simply.

The grandson snapped his head up, from where he'd been comforting his grandfather. "Do you have no decency?!?"

"No. I'm a Spider. I don't need Decency to do my job, I need information. Now be quiet, boy, your elders are speaking." I snapped.

He blinked, shocked, and the old Mage shook his head, waving him down into his seat. "I apologize, my grandson is still very new to dealings with..."

"Spiders." I provided the word.

"... Yes. As you say, my grief will not help you..." He cleaned his glasses slowly, meticulously, and I saw it for the therapeutic practice it was. "Yes, something bad happened. The mages overpowered my daughter and granddaughters, and luckily Yafet wasn't in the Tower at the time, and escaped their... end." He squeezed the boy's shoulder slowly.

"Overpowered?"

He grimaced, cleaning his glasses rougher in his lap.

"Ah." I made a grimace of my own, understanding. Rape was such an ugly thing, and not even my cold emotions were so desensitized as to be rude about such a thing, and to his family... I wasn't sure I'd have the strength of character to leave a single stone of that tower standing, in his shoes.

He breathed deeply, and nodded. "Their bodies were tossed from the top, afterwards... their screams... no, I will speak no more. As you said, information... information. There are four of them, all seventh sons, and very powerful. They have little talent, however, and a reasonably seasoned First Order Mage would set them to rights quickly enough."

"And you want me to take said Mage into the Tower, and then get the Mage to the other mages, and let them duke themselves about, while I open the front door for you to return and avenge your family." I said calmly.

He blinked slowly. "You are... no, I will not repeat myself. I find myself surprised by you. Almost, I think. I want you to capture them, so they may face the King's justice."

I frowned, my first obvious facial expression. "You mean the Queen." I spoke with almost a growl, patriotism demanding I speak.

He raised an eyebrow, questioning my tone, and spoke slowly, his own tone confused. "No... The King. Of Spain."