HAPPINESS, n. An agreeable sensation arising from contemplating the misery of another. -- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

Kiroshnoy was wrong about several things. The most immediately obvious one was that she assumed no one would notice her absence. Within minutes of her departure a servant came with a tray of sweets.

Most of the royal family knew nothing about the shocking circumstances of the little princess's return. All they knew was that she had finally reappeared, alive and apparently uninjured, after weeks of them fearing the worst. Why the queen sent her to her room before any of them got a chance to hear what had happened was a mystery. Mysteries always spawned rumours. Within hours the entire palace was gossiping about it. Perhaps it had been an attempted elopement. Not even the princess's young age prevented some people from holding to this theory. Or perhaps she'd been sent away for her own safety. When no one knew anything they could invent whatever they liked.

By and large everyone was sympathetic to Kiroshnoy. It seemed awfully harsh to punish her when they didn't know if she deserved to be punished. So one of her aunts took pity on her and sent the sweets.

The servant knocked Kiroshnoy's door, balancing the tray in one hand. No answer.

Poor dear must be sulking, she thought.

It was strange but true that everyone had been very angry with Kiroshnoy while she was missing. Now that she was back they mostly forgot their anger in their relief. A day ago no one in the palace would have been at all sympathetic to the thought of Kiroshnoy, unharmed, having a sulking fit like a spoilt child. Today all the servant felt was pity.

"Your Highness? Your aunt has sent you some lovely sweets. Don't you want them?"

Still no answer. How very strange. Since when would any child -- for most of the court still thought of Kiroshnoy as little more than a very small child -- stay sulking when offered sweets?

The servant knocked the door again. Not only did she get no answer, she couldn't even hear any movement in the room. Alarm began to set in. She called the guards. The captain of the guard had a special key that could open any door in the palace, to be used only in case of emergencies. After ten minutes of failing to get any answer from the princess, a messenger was sent in search of the captain. This looked far too much like another disappearance for anyone's comfort.

When the door was opened everyone's worst fears were confirmed. The room was empty. No note, no sign of a struggle, no indication anything sinister had happened. It looked as if Kiroshnoy had simply walked out of a locked room.

~~~~

Qilnadiz had been given his mission over a week before the inexplicable end of the war. He waited and waited to be sent on it. For some reason he simply couldn't comprehend the Iquisaal refused to send him until after the war was over. When the order finally came it was in the early hours of the morning, mere minutes after the peace treaty was signed.

Governments. They never seemed to know what they were doing.

He grumbled to himself as he packed. For both speed and safety he only took the essentials. Food, water, a change of clothes, weapons to defend himself, a map of Carann, a map of the palace, and of course the poison. How he was going to get into the palace and how he would ever give the poison to the emperor were mysteries he had no idea yet of how to solve. In the past he had been faced with equally puzzling situations. From them he had learnt never to make plans in advance. He could decide what to do when he reached his destination.

One man alone travelled much faster and was much less noticeable than a large group of assassins. Qilnadiz was out of Malish and a good distance into Carann within a day.

~~~~

Death sensed what was happening even as she carried out her duties on another planet. She paused to make sure there was no immediate danger to Kilan. What she saw startled her so much she almost dropped her scythe. "Good grief, of all the ridiculous--"

She had always known Fate was an imbecile who made the most unreasonable decisions for the most arbitrary reasons. But this! Who in their right mind would ever have thought of foiling an assassination attempt with music?

However strange it was, it still paled in comparison to everything else Death faced on a daily basis. She shrugged and went back to her work. She would have to make sure she was finished by the time the luckless assassin reached the palace. This was something she simply had to see.

~~~~

By now Kiroshnoy should be used to her powers backfiring. She couldn't see how they had botched her wishes this time, though. She had made it clear that she wanted to go to Carann to see Hailanyu. True, she hadn't known where exactly Hailanyu was. Perhaps he was still on the train somewhere in northern Nirne. Even so her powers should have taken her to the train. Instead...

From the perspective of a tourist this was quite a pleasant place. It was a wide street lined with trees planted at regular intervals. On both sides of the street she could see large houses built in an unmistakably Carannish style, with upturned eaves, circular windows, and well-kept gardens. A cool breeze helped diminish how uncomfortably warm it was. In the distance she could hear the faint clatter of carriage wheels. They must be on a main road somewhere nearby; no carriages came along this street. In fact there was only one other person around at all.

And that was the problem. She had appeared out of nowhere right in front of some unlucky passerby. How was she going to explain this?

The man stared at her in amazement. Whoever he was, he certainly wasn't Hailanyu, and she was almost sure he wasn't any of the other assassins. Her powers had really landed her in the soup this time. Kiroshnoy smiled sheepishly.

"Er, excuse me," she said. "I think I'm in the wrong place."

The man gave her the same sort of look Hailanyu had worn when she made the boat row itself. For the first time a suspicion entered her mind. He did look a bit like Hailanyu. Their eyes were the same shape; slightly upturned at the outer corner, a trait none of the other assassins shared.

Before her trip to Malish Kiroshnoy had imagined all Carannish people looked alike and their eyes were the exact same shape. She had very quickly learnt how wrong she was. They did not all look alike, and their eyes were so many different shapes she couldn't count how many shapes there were. Still, she was sure this particular shape was fairly uncommon.

"Do you know Hailanyu?" she asked curiously, completely forgetting her initial plan of fleeing post-haste. Only too late she realised that Hailanyu might be a common name in Carann.

A half-relieved, half-alarmed look crossed the man's face. "What has he done?"

~~~~

Gialma had seen so many strange things that a girl appearing out of thin air right in front of him was barely worth a second glance. What amazed him was that she was obviously not a Reaper. When you spent any length of time around those dratted creatures you learnt how to recognise them even when they weren't in their uniforms. They made the air around them colder, and they seemed to leach the colour out of their surroundings. This girl was as alive as he was.

But what in the world was she doing here? How did she get here?

Then she mentioned his brother's name. A few pieces began to fall into place. The current generation of Caranilnavs was far too close for comfort to the supernatural. Varan was a Reaper, Tinuviel was married to Death, Gialma himself had enough Reapers visiting his house to fill a decent-sized city. It really wasn't that surprising to think Hailanyu might be associated with... whatever this girl was. Worrying, but not surprising.

The girl looked mildly alarmed at his response. "He isn't back yet?"

How can a foreigner speak Carannish without an accent? Gialma wondered absently. He had already spoken much more to this stranger than he liked to speak to anyone, so he began trying to find a way out of this conversation. Goodness only knew what sort of person he was dealing with. Was it safe to mention anything about Hailanyu's mission?

The girl herself seemed to realise some of the things that worried him. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Princess Kiroshnoy of Nirne, and I helped Hailanyu end the war."

If she'd announced she was a visitor from another planet she could hardly have amazed Gialma more.

~~~~

When Varan set out to search for something she usually found it. Provided of course that she knew what she was looking for and had a general idea of where it was. She had no trouble finding her scythe. The only problem was that she found it tangled up in a hedge where someone had obviously tossed it away. Riyome was nowhere to be seen. Her search turned up nothing. No sightings, no rumours, not even footprints. At last she gave up in dismay.

When she returned home she knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Death took the news with the grim silence and lack of expression that always warned of an impending explosion.

"You have no clues at all?" Her lips thinned when Varan shook her head. "I'll look for her myself."

Varan did not like to think she scurried anywhere. It was below her dignity as one of the gatherers of souls. She merely left quickly and unobtrusively. And if she didn't dare look behind her until she was safely out of the Land of the Dead, well... People who had had to give Death bad news in the past would understand.

Naturally she went straight to see Gialma. His mother was in his house, busy rearranging his furniture to suit her tastes. His servants were there, gossiping with the servants next door about some unpleasant noise that had disturbed them all. But to her surprise he himself was nowhere to be seen.

There was only one other possible place he might be. So she flew off to the palace. Within a few yards of his house she spotted him. How very odd. He had apparently stopped to talk to someone.

Varan rubbed her eyes. That couldn't possibly be Gialma.

She looked again. It was. And she recognised the girl he was talking to.

"Kiroshnoy?"

The two of them turned and stared up at her. Gialma looked devoutly thankful to have someone else present so he didn't have to talk to a stranger alone. Kiroshnoy peered at Varan for a minute before she recognised her.

"Oh, you're the spirit who got stuck in my room! I was just asking if this man knew where Hailanyu was." Kiroshnoy looked hopefully at Varan. "Do you know?

This got more and more confusing. How did Kiroshnoy know Hailanyu? Varan tried to search for him. She wasn't Death, and she couldn't distinguish living souls from each other unless they were about to die.

"Er, he's alive and well. I don't know where."

"Oh." Kiroshnoy's face fell. "I have to go home soon or my parents will be worried about me. Could you tell him I'm sorry I didn't let him apologise?" She paused and did a double take. "Wait a minute. Why are you here?"

A very good question. Varan was beginning to regret coming here at all. This was barely any less stressful than what she had left behind in the Land of the Dead. "I'm visiting my cousin." Kiroshnoy opened her mouth. The painful memory of her endless questions prompted Varan to continue very quickly, "Hadn't you better leave now?"

For one awful minute she was afraid Kiroshnoy would continue to stand there and ask questions. Then, just like that, she disappeared. Varan and Gialma stared at where she had been. Then they stared at each other.

Varan spoke first. "What in the world was all that about?"