Never trust an elf

Glasgian heard the warning in Urdli's tone and decided that he would be wise to heed it. This was not the time for a split, which, he suddenly realized, might be exactly what the Australian was trying to provoke. Urdli had needed Glasgian's resources to take the first steps, and even now profited from Glasgian's facilities to perform his researches into the crystal's secrets. Perhaps Urdli had already achieved even greater success than he was admitting and was considering sundering their partnership to claim the stone for himself. Until the secrets were pried from the stone and shared, Glasgian was at a disadvantage; Urdli's magical experience was vital to unraveling the mysteries of the crystal. If a rift occurred now and Urdli retained control of the stone, Glasgian would be cut oif forever from all that could be gained by using the crystal. That was something not to be contemplated. If their partnership must break up, it would happen only when it was to Glasgian's advantage; perhaps later, after they had shared the crystal's secrets.

"Ozidanit makkalos, telegitish t'imiri ti'teheron," he said, adding a bow to his apology and request for forbearance in the old formal way. "Forgive me, el der. I am overcome by the necessity of what we are about. I only wish success for our gambit."

"Then perhaps you will be willing to work for it."

"Yes, I will work for it."

"Then sit here in front of me." The spot Urdli indicated was spattered with the lizard's blood. Glasgian lowered himself and sat cross-legged. His suit would be ruined, but that was a small matter. Like many things, it could be replaced.

Urdli led him into trance and he followed. For hours they worked at the stone's mysteries, picking at the knots of power and slowly unraveling them. And through it all. Glasgian studied Urdli, learning.

Kham wandered the corridors of the subterranean district known as the Ork Underground. His tired eyes roved over the battered storefronts that had opened on the surface level in the nineteenth century, but which had been overtaken when Seattle rebuilt itself on top of them. During the previous century, the tunnels had been a tourist attraction for a time, and unfounded rumors of the extent of the underground had prompted Seattle's outcasts to seek refuge there in the bad times. Those frightened people had at first come only to hide, but many had stayed to live, digging more tunnels and making homes under the city, away from the light and the troubles. The enlarged Underground district was once again a tourist attraction-as long as the tourist was brave enough to enter a world populated almost exclusively by orks and trolls.

Turning down a broad tunnel, Kham left the old Underground and walked through the Mall, the broadest of the ways in the new Underground. The Mall was noisy all around him as orks hawked their crafts and wares. Because it was still daylight topside, some tourists still wandered in these corridors. Come see the odd orks and their subterranean city! Quaintness beyond belief!

He turned down a side way and the crowds grew less. Not many tourists along this route. Down here, away from the Mall, one rarely saw norms. The locals were a mix of metatypes, mostly orks and trolls, but also other metahumans who were too ugly to suit a norm's standards. Down here, the fittings were rustier, the dwellings more haphazard, but Kham felt more comfortable in these parts. He saw none of the garish murals or contorted statuary created for the gawking tourists. The shops catered to basic needs; they didn't bother with the trashy carvings, cheap trinkets, and brightly colored souvenirs that were the stock of the Mall's stores. It was just a neighborhood down here- always nightwise, dank, and smelly, but just a neighborhood. An ork neighborhood.

That was a small comfort. Rabo and The Weeze might be right that the Underground was a good place to hide, but Kham didn't like the idea. It was too full of old memories. The safety it offered outweighed that, however, and so he had agreed with the logic of bringing his family and the other survivors here, where there were more orks than anywhere else in the plex. Among thousands of orks they would be harder to find. Still, Kham wished that they didn't have to hide here. Some place-any place-else would have been better. So why couldn't he think of a safer place?

Until he did, this was where they would stay until the heat was off, until enough time had passed for whatever the elves were doing to be done. Normally, time was a disadvantage to a shadowrunner, always running out when you needed more. Now time was on Kham's side. As it passed, so too would pass the importance of silencing him and the others. Given enough time, the elves wouldn't care about them anymore.