It took the Deev ten days to cross the swamplands. It had been a misery to all involved. Ten days of foul smells and hungry insects, ten days of soft mud sucking at feet and caking in their fur. Worse for the Deev was the loss of the bearers, the beaver and nutria they had enslaved to carry the Abitar.

Six days into the crossing and uncertain of their future, the bearers, at home in the fetid environs, had chewed through their bonds in the darkness of night and scattered in all directions, making pursuit pointless. The Deev were forced to carry the Abitar the remainder of the way unaided and from that point on, their progress slowed to a crawl.

When they finally reached the southernmost point of the swamp and open land, exhaustion had taken its toll and the Deev warriors collapsed and allowed themselves the opportunity to dry off and get the foul odors of the swamp off their bodies. They were within sight of the Scythian Desert and rested gratefully.

A fire was started and while his men filled their bellies, Vasheron spoke to Captain Kosuke about crossing the desert.
"When we reach the desert's edge, we will hire bearers and guides, we do not wish a repeat of this last disaster. The Scythian Desert is no place to be abandoned by unwilling slaves."

"I will see to organizing the caravan in the morning." Kosuke affirmed.

"We have no shortage of gold," Vasheron explained, "offer the guides and bearers a bonus if they can get us across in less than a week. While there is no great rush, we are already behind schedule because of that accursed swamp. Also, see to it none of our Deev draw any undue attention. Remove all uniforms, shirts and pantaloons only. We are traders from the north, nothing more. We do not wish to arouse any suspicion on the part of the humans. Make sure all my Deev are thus instructed."

"I will see to it Prince Vasheron," the captain responded.

Robbi and Vattus arrived at the southern seaside town of Rescovilla as dawn broke over a clear sky. The town was located at the southwestern point of Aolas, adjacent to the Scythian desert. Vattus arranged for a fast sloop to take them around the South Horn of Arishamal and into the harbor of Seth-e-Raman. By taking the seaward route, the desert could be avoided completely and the entire voyage made in one third of the time that a land route would entail. There was no time for sight-seeing and barely time for a meal. Before noon was upon them, the two wizards were once more underway on their journey.

At about the time Vasheron was hiring his porters and the wizards were boarding their boat, Gladiverserac Presapornaweev was gliding to a soft landing in Seth-E-Raman's harbor with her passenger safely on her back. She was tired and hungry, but excited at visiting this town, that until now, she had only heard about from rescued sailors or in song.

Chumley found himself excited, yet uneasy. He had been born in Seth-e-Raman and spent most of his youth there, living by the wharf and doing whatever was necessary to survive. He had been at various times, a pickpocket, a saloon keeper, and ultimately a smuggler and black marketeer. He was not proud of his youthful indiscretions, but his family had been poor and needed to eat more than he needed a clear conscience.

He was barely a adult when he left for the north and had never returned. His parents had died in an epidemic and he was their only child to survive to adulthood. He walked through the streets in a nostalgic stupor, good memories and bad colliding on every street corner. Smells and sounds triggered recollections of his youth.

As he guided Gladiverserac toward the town center and the King's palace, a sad smile continuously played across his lips. The albatross remained silent, sensing her friend's melancholy and not wanting to intrude on his thoughts.

When they reached the main gate of the palace grounds, a guard stepped forward and challenged him, nervously eyeing the enormous avian beside him. He explained who he was and though skeptical, the guard sent word to the palace of his arrival. It wasn't long before two officers dressed in full parade ground regalia were sent to escort him to meet King Sigus, ruler of the Lands of Man.

Chumley and Gladiverserac accompanied the soldiers to the entrance of the royal chamber. He was announced and the large inlaid doors were opened. The room was almost empty. A long intricate rug, fifty feet long and five feet wide led from the door to a raised platform which held the golden throne, commissioned by the first Doge and used by all the Doges and kings since.

King Sigus sat on the throne with his arms resting on his lap. He was old, but not ancient, more grandfatherly than kingly, with an ample belly and a long braided white beard, the end of which curled in his lap. A simple gold coronet rested over his proud brown face. He wore a loose silken gown, embroidered with swirls and sea-creatures in gold, green, and red. When the guard left the chamber, only the king and his guests remained. King Sigus stood and walked off the platform, approaching the rat and the albatross. He spread his arms.
"Welcome, Governor Bilgespike, I am glad you could join us."

"Mah pleasure, your 'ighness, if that's appropriate for the circumstances," Chumley motioned to Gladis, "allow me to present mah companion, Gladiverserac Presapornaweev."

Gladis performed a curtsy of sorts. The king smiled and helped the albatross regain her balance. He addressed her kindly.

"We have always honored and cherished your kind, Gladiverserac, albatrosses have long been allies of mariners, and we are a sea-going kingdom."

"For thy kind words, I thank thee, your highness," Gladis said shyly with her head lowered.

The king smiled broadly and directed his two guests to a small table laden with sweets and a variety of fruits. They seated themselves and the king poured tea for the trio. After taking a sip, Sigus addressed Chumley.

"I have received the dire news from Aolas. It is beyond comprehension that someone would slay wizards. What is going on?"

"Ah ain't got all the details, but we think the Deev are responsible," Chumley replied.

"The Deev!?" the king said in shock, "How?"

"As ah said, your highness, ah really don't know. When Vattus arrives, 'e should be able to tell ya more. As for me, the Magus asked me ta try an' find the Guild of Assassins and ah was hopin' ya could point me and mah mate in the right direction."

Sigus looked perplexed.
"There hasn't really been an Assassins guild in my memory. I think the last time anyone really heard of them was in my grandfather's time. Why are you looking for them? Are they somehow responsible for this?"

"Ah don't know, do ah? Just doin' what Vattus asked."

"Well...," Sigus fingered his beard, "the guild still exists, though I have no idea if there are any members."

"Pray, good king," Gladiverserac asked respectfully, "how is it, without members, that a guild doth exist?"

The king chuckled.
"One of the flaws of our charter I'm afraid. There are provisions for recognizing guilds, but none for removing them. We still list several guilds which are for all intents and purposes, extinct."

"Ah would just like to see where they lived, ah might be able ta find some documents Vattus could use."

The king went silent in thought for a moment.
"As I recall, they were always housed in one form or another in the old sugar mill at City Center. It's still there, but not as anything to do with the guild you seek as far as I know. I think it is a craft house or something of that sort."

"Yah, ah know the place. Near where ah was raised, it is. Thank yah, King Sigus, at least ah got a place ta start."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Chumley leaned forward.
"Did the messenger from Aolas mention that the Rubitar was taken?"

Shock crossed the King's features.
"No....no, he didn't."

"Well, we suspect that they mahght have brought it 'ere to Seth-e, to take it out by sea."

"I will see that the harbor is blockaded and every ship leaving port, searched. We will not allow villains to use our city as a focal point of their crime!"

"That's outstandin', your 'ighness. We'll show those murderers that we ain't tah be messed with, we will. Vattus'll be 'ere soon. Ah'm gonna check out that mill," he turned to the albatross, "Gladis, darlin', would ya mind stayin' 'ere at the palace till Vattus arrives and fill 'im in on what ah'm doin' and the situation in Xenoth and all?"

"Do what you ask, I shall, but it is the liege who must invite me to stay, Sir Chumley."

Sigus laughed.
"Lady Presapornaweev, it would be our honor if you would stay at my humble abode to await the arrival of the High Magus."

Gladis giggled.
"Stay with thee I shall with deep gratitude. Willst thou, Sir Chumley return after thine search?"

"Indeed ah shall, luv. Got a fondness for palaces, ah do. Ah'll see ya both later tonight and tell yah what ah found."

Taois and Mobus spent the day working their way through the city records in the archives in the hope of discovering the location of  the same Guild of Assassins which drew Chumley to Seth-e-Raman. Not fond of scholarship or research, the colonel's mood was dour. Adding to the Deev's frustration was the lack of usable information he had found. While the archives mentioned the Guild's last known official location, this had been the quarters they abandoned adjacent to the palace and was now a hedge-maze and fish pond.

The only reference to the Assassins after that was to say that they had returned to 'the mill'. Taois located five mills from the correct time period, four of which still stood. He had hoped for something more specific, but resigned himself to sending out four squads of three Minge, one to each possible location to search out the prophecies or Gadral Neure. The remaining Deev, including himself and Mobus, stayed on board the Wind Spirit, guarding the Rubitar and awaiting Prince Vasheron's arrival.

Prince Vasheron finally felt that things were going as hoped. The trek across the desert not only went smoothly and without difficulty, but the caravan had made excellent time, making up for many of the delays encountered while crossing the swamp.

To the delight of all the Deev, who had been expecting the desert to be unbearably hot and dry, the weather was unseasonably cool, with constant desert breezes and even one day when the rarest of desert events, a rainstorm moistened the arid air. With the desert traversed, Vasheron quickly hired bearers and the Deev were soon on the move across the central lowlands of The Lands of Man on their way to Seth-e-Raman.