34

"None of it's real!" Stralchus shouts. "The Icons serve me, and we've created a weapon that can shatter the gray mountain. Then we recapture whatever is left that hits the ground, and everything goes back to normal!" Armed and erratic, he tenses to strike. So does the Crowned Serpent.

Before the alley can explode into violence, a man wanders in, dressed in a black jacket and a tall wool hat with a silver badge on it. He carries a short black truncheon in one hand and appears to be some kind of constable or civic guardsman.

He asks a question in some northern language you don't recognize.

Stralchus smiles at the man and speaks in a rather more refined version of his own language. The man responds in a condescending tone, then, for reasons you don't quite understand, raps the mystic smartly on the head with his truncheon.

The mystic rubs his nose, smiles again in a conciliatory way, then shoots the man in the neck. People in the street immediately start to scream, their voices distorted by the fog. Stralchus looks at his pistol and frowns when he realizes the barrel has split.

The air hisses, stirring up a wind that pushes back the fog and scatters dirty papers. "Oh, bother," a voice crackles out of the sky. It's Dr. Sabbatine!