Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Mo Choineascar Briste: My Broken Twilight ❯ The Seanchai's Tale ( Prologue )

Disclaimer: I will own Gundam Wing (or anything else for that matter) the day my faery godmother pops out of my ass and shatters all reality.

 

*long pause; crickets chirping*

 

Hey, it could happen!

 

Notes: Ugh! Finally, after many months of frustrating storyboarding and just as many rough drafts, I have finally gotten off my lazy ass and written another fanfic! Really, this is like my crowning achievement here. I haven't posted a fanfic since 7th grade…and that one didn't even last two chapters!

So anyway, back to business. I have a tendency to write really long chapters, sometimes upwards of thirty to forty pages and a bare minimum of twenty-five, but unfortunately I also don't update very frequently (or consistently). Mainly because this terrible thing called “life” keeps getting in the way.

Second order of business: “r & r” means “Read and Review,” not “Read and Run!” I prefer somewhat constructive reviews, not just “OMG I LUVS YR STORY SO MUCH!” Come on, tell me what it is you like (or don't like) about it. Seriously, give me at least one thing you liked and one thing you didn't like. Questions of any sort are very welcome; don't worry if you think they sound stupid, because chances are they aren't. And remember, flames will be used to see if Duo's hair if flammable!

 

Warnings: Not much to worry about here, except that this is just a prologue chapter and none of the actual Gundam Wing characters really show up until the next chapter.

 

Itadakimasu!

 

=^_^=

 

MO CHOINEASCAR BRISTE:

MY BROKEN TWILIGHT

 

PROLOGUE: THE SEANCHAI'S TALE

 

By Yuukiko Ogawa

 

EARLY MARCH, A.C. 197

APPROXIMATE LOCATION: RURAL IRELAND, CONNACHT GAELTACHT

 

The earthen room was shrouded in darkness, half-concealing its lone occupant, a woman seated in what looked to be an earthen throne. At first glance, she might've appeared human…might have. Any mortal being caught wandering about the Burrows at night would've been too fairy-struck to make any such distinction.

 

The fairy woman seemed to blend into the shadows, or to be made of living shadows herself. Her floor-length ebony hair, instead of reflecting light, seemed to swallow it into some dark endless void. It was pin-straight, half covering a finely featured face that was any porcelain sculptor's dream. Her hair went on to mingle with the black silk that loosely draped an equally fine figure, far too tall and delicate to be human. It seemed that beneath her skin lay not true bones, but something as delicate as glass yet somehow infinitely stronger. Her skin contrasted sharply to her hair, reaching a shade of pure pearly white no human could dream of, reflecting the blue and silver highlights her hair was missing as the glassy surface of a mirror might.

 

The entire impression was of something alien to this world, something that passed the border of beauty and became something to be feared.

 

At that moment she appeared; her eyes were closed, her head hung down limply. The silk she wore appeared to be a makeshift nightgown or simply a bed sheet, covering most of her form but leaving an entire pale leg bare, and an arm up to and just past the shoulder. The perfect picture of a serene nightmare.

 

Before her lay a cloudy crystal ball on a wooden perch shaped like a raven's claw, itself resting on a three-legged stool whose supports were so haphazardly placed it had to flagrantly disobey the laws of physics to remain upright. At present its surface was dim and cloudy, having already presented the message it held to its mistress.

 

The fairy woman's dark solitude lasted a few more moments before it was rudely interrupted. A shaft of glaringly bright light fell across the room, nearly reaching the occupant before being swallowed by the living shadows that surrounded her protectively.

 

“Lady Morgaine?”

 

The timid inquiry came from a younger fairy woman huddling in the doorway. She stayed just outside the door (which had not even existed a moment ago), hiding in the glaring light, keeping her form hidden.

 

The Lady Morgaine's continued silence prompted her caller to repeat her question twice more before Morgaine decided the fluttering creature would not leave until presented with a suitable answer.

 

“What do you want, Rosemerta?” Her voice came out in a think contralto whisper which seemed deafening in the shadow-laced room.

 

Dame Rosemerta fought to make her voice work. “Th-the King wishes to see you.”

 

“I will be there shortly,” Morgaine answered curtly.

 

“He says it is imperative that you come at once. He…”

 

Morgaine flicked a dainty hand towards the doorway, willing the dirt walls to seal it off, rudely cutting off Dame Rosemerta. After a moment or two of silence she sighed deeply.

 

“It seems we must deliver our message to the King, my Dear One,” she addressed her crystal ball, “or risk being at the wrong end of another Royal Tantrum.”

 

Only then did she open her eyes. All the shadows in the room disappeared, rushing back to hide in her eyes. Like her hair, her eyes were twin voids of unrelieved shadow, with no white, no discernable shifts in color. They didn't even reflect the suddenly glaring light as a normal person's eyes would.

 

Blinking sleepily against the glare, she stood up in a languid, fluid motion, as if she had no bones to restrict her movement. The silk she wore further slipped off, now only draping one shoulder and leaving her entire right side completely bare. She held one hand palm up before her, beckoning the crystal orb to her. It spiraled down to the size of a large pearl, growing thin silver threads that weaved themselves together to form a necklace. Without anymore encouragement from her, the new pendent twined itself around her neck like a pet snake until it was comfortable.

 

“Shall we go then?”

 

~*~

 

The courtiers who had been loitering in the hallway lapsed into sudden silence when they saw her. Those who had been in the middle of the area quickly moved as close to the far wall as possible. They matched the bright golden light that seeped through the walls; all dressed in white, gold, silver, pastel tones, stiff and formal embroidery. Nearly all had gold, silver, or white hair and sun-kissed skin. The clothing styles ranged from medieval attire to Elizabethan court dress.

 

Silly fools, to be so swayed by human sensibilities, Morgaine thought snidely as she strode past them, listening to them as they whispered to each other in a mixture of fear and contempt.

 

“I still don't see why the King keeps her here…”

 

“She's Unseelie…”

 

“…unclean, I tell you! She doesn't belong here, seer or no…”

 

“She's so frightening, and she's so proud of it, just look at her…”

 

She openly smirked at that last comment, because in a way it was true. I only serve to remind you of the truth, my dears, she thought, the truth being that you're silly arrogance and insistence on conforming to the humans' notion of what constitutes “light” and “goodness” has made you forget who and what you are. Why don't you adopt the New Religion while you're at it, as well? Incompetent fools…

 

Despite her change of residence and allegiance, Morgaine dressed as she always had, contrasting sharply to her peers. She favored the styles of Ancient China over the Seelie predisposition to styles she considered too modern and too Anglicized. She wore a many-layered robe arrangement, secured with a wide sash and apron. The top-most layers were sleeveless and ended somewhere below her knees, revealing a longer bottom layer. And unlike the Seelie, her clothes were made out of pure raw magic and the elements, not plain human fabric and illusion.

 

The topmost layer was made from the same shadows that had formerly occupied her quarters; they protected her, always, no matter where she went. Her cloth slippers matched that layer. The second sleeveless layer was made out of twilight, the actual deep blue light that cloaked the world every evening, not just cloth that imitated the color of it. Likewise, her sash was the dusty gray light of dusk, slightly earlier than twilight, and her longer layer was made of those little pale blue-gray shadows that moonlight makes on fresh snow.

 

And crackling around her like a living thing was a heavenly cloak made out of silver cobwebs. Yes, cobwebs. There were even a few black spiders nesting in it.

 

Her black hair was piled atop her head in an intricate hairdo that would be the envy of any geisha who had ever lived. She secured it with a touch of magic and a few long silver hairpins that could double as thin knives should she ever need them.

 

She was as serene as ever, but she was not the wild vision of erotic terror she relaxed as in her bedroom.

 

Oh no, now she was a polished nightmare with a purpose.

 

~*~

 

“Your majesty, the Lady Morgaine is here, as you ordered,” Dame Rosemerta announced, trying her best to hide the quaver of her voice and her trembling as she curtsied before her monarch.

 

“Thank you, Rosemerta. You may leave now.”

 

Rosemerta thanked him and hurried away as politely as she could, tricolor golden eyes frantic. Like the rest of the court, she preferred to be as far away from Morgaine as possible.

 

Morgaine stepped in as the guards closed the doors behind her.

 

“You wished to see me, my lord?”

 

Taranis Thunderer, King of Light and Illusion, frowned behind his pretty mask, noting the sarcasm dripping from her voice. The King that Morgaine faced now was not the “true” king, just a mask he showed to his court. He was covered in own precious glamour. The only true thing that he allowed to show through were his clothes, which were made out of light the same way Morgaine's were made out of shadow. His traditional tunic was a mixture of green and gold, the color of sunlight through leaves. His shirt was simply dappled sunlight, his breeches a slightly dustier shade.

 

The only bit made out real material were his boots, because you can never go wrong with good leather, whether it comes from a real cow or a magical fairy one.

 

However, unlike his remarkable clothes which were real (the meaning of which is completely relative here), his hair and eyes were not. Like the court that he had fashioned in his own image, he had twisted his image to fit a skewed human ideal (contemptible, in Morgaine's opinion). Like nearly every other sidhe under his command, the mask he showed his guest had golden hair and blue eyes.

 

“I hear you have message for me, Lady Morgaine.”

 

“Yes, my lord. A message…for your ears only,” she answered, sparing a quick glance at the guards. Taranis took her meaning and quickly dismissed them, leaving him alone with Morgaine.

 

“Well?”

 

Morgaine sighed. “You can drop the act, Taranis, there is no one here to impress.”

 

Rage darkened the King's precious mask, but he quickly suppressed it. He could not afford to anger Morgaine, though he would never have tolerated her behavior in anyone else. If he disciplined her as he would his other courtiers, she would simply pack up and take her business elsewhere…probably to his enemies. He could not allow her to ever betray him, and so he let his pet seer wander without a proper leash.

 

Morgaine smirked inwardly as he dropped his glamour. Queen Andais would have sentenced me to eternal torture for such insolence, she recalled. She casually walked over to a hearth set in one of the walls, fiddling with the various objects displayed on the mantelpiece. “I really don't see why you insist on that glamour of yours. The real you is so much more impressive.”

 

Here, at least, she could admit to telling the unabridged truth. The real King was more impressive than what he normally showed the court. He grumbled bitterly as he stripped the glamour off. Golden hair gave way to hair the color of a bloody sunset, mixing strands of red-orange, neon blood-red, and the occasional bright gold. The blue color of his eyes swirled and shifted, eventually splitting up into many petals of different shades of green, some edged with white or black. Only his skin remained largely the same, the color of pale golden sunlight.

 

“Are you satisfied, Morgaine?” The King growled.

 

Morgaine turned around and simply studied Taranis for a moment, her expression showing the appreciation that was due to someone who looked as good as Taranis did. At long last she gave him a slight nod of satisfaction and returned to reorganizing the hearth.

 

“I was told you had some information for me.”

 

“Yes, sire,” Morgaine replied, “it concerns a certain…matter, you failed to clear up about…thirteen mortal years ago?”

 

“Fourteen, to be exact,” Taranis growled through clenched teeth.

 

Morgaine smirked. “Yes, of course. Well, it's not my place to question your judgment, sire, but it seems said judgment…”

 

“The problem proved harder to solve than I had anticipated.” Taranis knew it was a sorry excuse, but it was all he had. He fought the urge to shift nervously; he did not like where this was going.

 

Morgaine's reaction to Taranis's excuses was a peal of shrill, mocking laughter. “'Harder to solve'…really, Taranis, how hard can it be to kill one mortal toddler…”

 

“That is KING Taranis to you, Morgaine, and it was not any mere mortal child, it was a half-sidhe mortal…”

 

“Which should have made him easier to kill,” Morgaine replied, “considering how fragile our children are…not that we've had any lately…”

 

“SILENCE!!”

 

Taranis stood up with a shout. Morgaine had at least crossed the line. Noticing the tone of voice Taranis had used, Morgaine knew to stop and give Taranis the apology he was expecting.

 

She kept her eyes down as she apologized. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds, you majesty. I meant no insult.” She finished with a deep bow.

 

Taranis calmed down, taking her apology at face value. “Very well. Now, what information do you have for me?” He sat back down on his throne. He took a moment to compose himself before he continued. “And what do my…errant relatives have to do with it?”

 

Morgaine took a moment to compose herself before she delivered her message. “There are five great disturbances headed our way. Five great…bursts of power, power of the sort that can only come from a sidhe coming into his power.”

 

“But there are no renegades of an appropriate age for that to occur,” Taranis interrupted with complete confidence.

 

“No full sidhe, no. But then if it were true sidhe I spoke of, we would have little cause for concern.”

 

Taranis paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. “That's impossible. No one but a pure-blooded sidhe could muster the power you speak of.”

 

Morgaine sighed, growing exasperated with Taranis's casual arrogance. “Yes, that is what we have assumed for the past few millennia, because that is what our past observations have shown us. But there comes a time when there is a great shift in the balance of power, and the Gods see fit to bestow their gifts elsewhere.

 

“If we had paid more attention to Ironside, we would have noticed what the humans have known all along…”

 

“Which is…” Taranis inquired, impatience gnawing at him.

 

“Which is,” Morgaine snapped, “humanity is changing, growing more powerful. That new power, combined with even just the smallest amount of sidhe blood passed down through the generations, held together by a small contribution from some of the more powerful non-Sidhe races…”

 

“There are no races to rival our power.”

 

Not it was Morgaine's turn to laugh. “Oh, I can think of several. The Uratha, vampires, dragons, the sphinx tribes, elementals…all of them races that nearly defeated us in the past. What saved us was their lack of unity and organization, not their lack of power.

 

“What we are dealing with is a super powered hybrid with potentially limitless power.”

 

Morgaine watched as the cold arrogance slid off Taranis's face to reveal the shocked horror as he realized where their conversation was leading.

 

“But then, you already knew that, didn't you?”

 

Taranis's hands tightened on the armrests of his throne until his knuckles glowed white.

 

“Well, well, to think we have you to thank for two of these hybrids…”

 

“Two? There was only one child!”

 

“And how would you know? You split Ame off from the court after that incident, so how would you know if they'd had another child? You assumed your precious experiment was already ruined, so why should you care if your granddaughter bore any more children? You assumed said child would be the same half-breed mix as her brother. With her parentage, she couldn't possibly be sidhe enough to be of any concern to you, now could she?”

 

They faced off, the tension so thick one could cut it with a knife. Morgaine had severely overstepped her bounds; Taranis was not the sort of man who appreciated having his past mistakes thrown in his face in such a manner. It was the sort of insult that got people permanently exiled from the sidhe lands. Morgaine had always counted on her status as a precious “commodity” to protect her. After all, she held all his secrets; he couldn't afford to lose her to one of his enemies.

 

But would that protect her now?

 

Somehow, Taranis managed to control himself for the time being. “Just…how much of a threat is this…child?”

 

Morgaine summoned herself a chair to rest in, finding herself suddenly depleted. “She has all the power of the sidhe and precious few of our weaknesses, and a perfectly viable claim to the throne. And if that is not enough…all of the powers I spoke of are clustered around hers.”

 

“Isn't there a way of possibly harnessing this power for ourselves?”

 

Morgaine shook her head. “I'm afraid not. The Child is not at all like her mother; she is much more strong-willed, difficult to control. That barbarian grandfather of hers made sure to raise her in such a way that she would be prepared to stand against us. Her brother would rather commit ritual suicide than submit to you; he may actually make an active attempt on your life out of pure spite.

 

“Out of the remaining four, two are Unseelie, and therefore completely useless to us. The remaining two are too humanized to trust us long enough.”

 

Taranis paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

 

“So what do you suggest, Morgaine?”

 

Now Morgaine had to think. Regardless of Taranis's opinions on allowing Unseelie and half-sidhe into his court (her own case being a glaring exception), having any sort of access to this sort of power was a tantalizing prospect. Certainly allowing such power to fall into the hands of their enemies was out of the question; whichever Court managed to get control of Ame's Daughter and just one of the other five powers could easily bring themselves back into their Godhead and obliterate the other court. And while the Seelie Court was too arrogant to tallow a bunch of mongrels into their court, however powerful said mongrels may be, the Unseelie Court had no such inhibitions. They would jump at the chance to bring themselves back to full power.

 

Then there were the numerous Seelie exiles, both the ones who joined the Unseelie and the ones who hid among the humans. Surely if they found out there was another Seelie sidhe who had a valid claim to the throne, one who was probably much more sympathetic to their cause, none of them would pass up the chance to rally behind her and kill Taranis. The Unseelie may even support her in that venture.

 

Could we not simply leave them alone, or bind their powers somehow? No, no, of course not. The power would still have to go somewhere, and if it didn't get the chance to come out in this generation they would simply wait another generation of two and try again. Even if the Seelie tried to bind their powers and hide them, Queen Andais had mages at her disposal who were powerful enough to track them down and undo the bindings.

 

“Morgaine, if this is as urgent a situation as you have been trying to persuade me to believe, then we don't have all day for you to sit there and meditate.”

 

Morgaine straightened up her shoulders, preparing her answer. “Sire, I believe the only solution is to eliminate the threat all together.”

 

There was a brief moment of silence while Taranis contemplated this. “And how do you propose we accomplish this?”

 

Morgaine took another moment to think. “You have among your guard several who are skilled at quiet assassinations, but…I believe it may be better to use methods that would not be so obvious to the intended target.”

 

Taranis nodded his approval. “Can I trust you with this assignment?”

 

Morgaine stared for a moment, surprised. Was he really handing the reins of this operation to her?

 

She had to try a few times before she could speak.

 

“Yes, sire. If you would but grant me access to your guard and…”

 

“You have my leave to use whatever means necessary to track down this threat and destroy it. Completely.”

 

Morgaine didn't voice any reply; she simply got up, bowed to the King, and left. She had her orders, and she had best get moving quickly…

 

~*~

 

Morgaine began making plans as she walked back to her suite. From the information she had gathered, the power disturbances were coming rather sporadically, not in any given order. Two were coming out at roughly the same time, with the last three appearing at random intervals afterward. The Princess had come into her power a long time before, so Morgaine could take her time dealing with her.

 

She turned into a corridor where the light was distinctly dimmer. These weren't the same hallways she had taken on the way to the throne room; the sithen frequently changed itself according to its own strange whims. At least it is allowing me more time to think.

 

One of the shadows to her right grew and shifted, eventually revealing the form of another sidhe. He silently followed Morgaine with the casual air of someone who had all the time in the world. His clothes were made of the same shadows as hers, from the same culture and time, but a warrior's garb instead of an elite noblewoman's. Faolan had the same eyes as his sibling, bottomless pits of shadow, sitting in an equally pale face. Where his sister's hair was a similar shade of darkness to her eyes and clothes, Faolan's hair was a pale pearlescent white to mirror his skin.

 

“Good evening, sister,” Faolan whispered to her.

 

“Good evening, brother.” Morgaine kept her answer rather curt, her mind still working through the possibilities. Who could she afford to send? Who was best qualified?

 

“I have been keeping your cats for you,” Faolan continued, “they are most anxious to see you.”

 

“Of course they are.”

 

Faolan decided he wasn't going to get much more out of her and kept silent for the rest of the walk. He already knew of the mission she had been given, but he could have to wait until she was willing to reveal it herself.

 

They were walking down the last hallway when Morgaine began to finalize her plans.

 

The first two Powers are a Seelie-Urathan hybrid and an Unseelie-Sphinx hybrid, both of an unknown power level of an unknown element…though most sphinx magic is desert-based, so I can safely assume that hybrid is some form of air mage. The Urathan is still an unknown element, but at least he is currently on Earth so surveillance shouldn't be too difficult. I shall need to find someone who has at least a rudimentary knowledge of Urathan abilities, someone who can be trusted to trail the target until enough information has been gathered…

 

Of course!

 

“Faolan.”

 

“Yes, sister?”

 

“What do you know of the Uratha?”

 

“The Uratha? Hmm…” Faolan paused for a moment, “the humans refer to them as `werewolves.' They figure in many myths and folktales, few of which are very accurate. There are two breeds, the Pure and the Forsaken, with the split being mainly religious and cultural in nature. They are shape-shifters, shifting from human form to wolf, with various shades in-between. Much stronger, faster than normal humans, with keener senses. Able to access and infiltrate the Otherworld at will…”

 

“And how easy is it to kill a werewolf?”

 

Morgaine had stopped, and was now staring at her brother with keen interest.

 

“They have several notable weaknesses. If you know what to look for, they are easy to spot; they have a hard time fitting in with normal humans, and unlike the Fae, werewolves don't have glamour to conceal themselves. One of the few myths that are true is the one regarding silver, though the effectiveness differs between the Pure and the Forsaken. The Pure are much more sensitive, but any kind of silver weapon will work on the Forsaken. However, it is best to catch a werewolf before they have come into their power; they are as weak as any normal human then.”

 

“Hm…and what of this split between the breeds?”

 

“As I said, it is mostly religious in nature, with the Pure being the majority. I have little knowledge of what caused the split, but I do know that the Pure view it as their holy mission to exterminate or convert all of the Forsaken.”

 

Morgaine paused for a moment, letting this new information sift through her mind.

 

“I'm sure you are already aware of the mission we have been given?”

 

Faolan blinked, that being the only indication of his surprise. “Yes, the shadows told me.”

 

Morgaine nodded. I thought so. “Tell me then, who would you bring along with you to track down an Urathan-Sidhe hybrid through a large human city and eventually kill him?”

 

Faolan grinned wolfishly. “So I take it you are sending me?”

 

Morgaine smiled back. “Of course. Who else could I trust with such a mission?”

 

Faolan took on a more business-like demeanor again. “In that case, I would most likely take Briac along.”

 

“Briac? That womanizing hot-head?”

 

Faolan confirmed his recommendation. “The mission is simple enough, and he needs the experience. He has so little left after the last weirding that he is useless for anything else, and he has enough tolerance to metal.”

 

“Very well then. I would like you to leave as soon as possible. I will give you the rest of the information when we reach my quarters.”

 

“Aye, sister. Also, I left your cats to wait for you in your quarters.”

 

Morgaine rolled her eyes at that. “Thank you for the warning.”

 

Upon reaching her suite, Morgaine braced herself and flicked one dainty hand to the side to open the door. As expected, out bound a sleek black shape, shouting excitedly.

 

“MASTER!!!”

 

The “cat” Faolan has spoken of certainly did not appear to be a cat by any mortal stretch of the imagination. What had come bounding out of her master's room was a slender young woman with black hair kept short to control its wiry curls, and the deep mahogany skin that was common on the land mass the humans referred to as “Africa.” If it weren't for the giant black kite wings attached to her back, she might have passed for human at first glance.

 

Key emphasis being on the “might.”

 

Closer inspection revealed the slightly pointed ears and feline fangs, the black feathers at the nape of her neck, and the bright chartreuse eyes whose pupils narrowed to slits in the brighter light of the hallway. Clad in the attire of an Ancient Egyptian slave girl, she twined around her owner as any normal cat would, purring adoringly.

 

Andria was a very special sort of “cat.”

 

She was a “sphinx,” along with her elder twin brother, Alex. Part feline, part bird-of-prey, with a partially human form. Roughly the size of a petite human, but still able to fly because of their hollow bones. Normally they were very solitary creatures, not beholden to anyone, but every once in a while someone would raid a nest and sell the newborns on the black market. Which is exactly where Morgaine had found her two precious pets.

 

She bent down to return Andria's attentions, petting her and cooing to her like any besotted pet owner. Eventually Alex came out and nudged his near-identical twin sister out of the way so he could receive his share of love and attention.

 

“Why don't we take this inside, my dears. Faolan and I have work to do.” Morgaine steered them both towards the door. Alex needed no further persuasion, but his sister was so busy twining around Morgaine that Alex had to drag her into the room himself. Once inside, Morgaine flopped into her favorite chair rather unceremoniously and allowed Andria to curl up on her lap while Alex lounged on the back of the chair.

 

Faolan summoned his own chair to rest in. “You had mentioned there were fine Disturbances. How many are coming out now?”

 

“Two that we have to worry about now,” Morgaine answered, stroking Andria absentmindedly, “the other three are taking their time.”

 

“I assume the Urathan hybrid is the first of the two, but what of the second?”

 

“The second,” Morgaine said thoughtfully, “the second presents much more of a problem. He is inside one of those gods-awful spinning metal tombs the humans have floating about in space.”

 

Faolan had a few choice words to say on the subject of space colonies, few of which can safely be repeated here. “So in other words, all of our sidhe warriors will be completely useless up there.”

 

Morgaine agreed. “So we are forced to find a lesser fey of some sort who can do the job.”

 

“What sort of hybrid is this one?”

 

“Sphinx and Unseelie.”

 

“So we have an added time constraint on this one. The Unseelie will be after him as well, and they have plenty of half-sidhe under their command that can tolerate being surrounded by metal. If he is a sphinx, could we not hire one of their assassins for the job?”

 

Morgaine shook that idea away. “No, definitely not. They won't assassinate one of their own kind. It's some sort of twisted honor rule, one that allows them to kill someone of another race without a second thought but that limits killing their own to court-sanctioned duels.”

 

Faolan leaned back in his chair to thin a moment. “If we have to use a lesser fey for the job, we can't expect them to be able to kill him. Not if he's half sidhe at least.”

 

“If they can get him before he comes into his power, he'll still be mortal enough to die fairly easily. We just need to find a solution before our deadline has come and gone.”

 

Alex slinked down the side of the chair to rub his cheek against Morgaine's shoulder, bringing her attention back to him. Perhaps…I have sent them on smaller missions before, she thought, scratching Alex under the chin, and as sphinx themselves, they know the target intimately well. I know for a fact I can trust them to follow my orders to the letter. But are they skilled enough for this mission?

 

Morgaine gently gripped Alex under chin and turned his head just enough so his eyes met her own. “How would you like to run a wee little errand for me, my dears?”

 

It was nosy little Andria who answered her. “Oh, anything that would please you, Master!”

 

This newest development perked Faolan's interest. “What are you planning, Morgaine?”

 

“It's quite simple, Faolan. Here we have two lesser fey who can tolerate metal, have an intimate knowledge of sphinx strengths and weaknesses, and have completed similar missions before.”

 

“You plan on sending your pets after him?”

 

“Why not?”

 

Faolan thought for a moment, but it did seem to make sense, provided Morgaine could keep a tight rein on them. “I suppose…if you can still keep control of them…”

 

“I will place Alex in charge. He can be trusted to keep Andria in line. Now, about your mission…”

 

“Yes?”

 

Morgaine shifted about until she was in a more comfortable position. “You need to go to Tokyo, Japan. Your target's last known name was Ryukage…a name you should already know well enough.”

 

Faolan revealed the wolfish grin he was so well known for. “Oh yes, I do. And what a joy, to have the chance to track such high-profile prey…”

 

Morgaine flashed her own predatory grin in reply. “Oh yes, what an unparalleled delight!”

 

~*End of The Seanchai's Tale*~