?I also thought you might find this good for a chuckle.? Badger said, concluding a recitation of the day?s investigations and current events. The gangly youth held up a poster with one hand and offered Alysia a copy of a press release with the other.

?Oh gods, what is this. . .? muttered the priestess, seated next to a large fireplace. She leaned forward to examine the poster, then glanced critically up at Badger. His cheeks and nose were red with cold, his boots were muddy, and his shoulders were damp with snowmelt. ?You?re a mess. You couldn?t take the time to clean up before reporting to your employer??

?You employ zombies, and you?re worried about what I look like?? His amber eyes glittered as he tried not to laugh.

Behind Alysia, a maid turned away and tittered, then returned to her task of brushing tangles out of the priestess? long hair. Badger grinned, adding, ?Read it. It looks like someone?s a tiny bit uneasy about Wolvinator coming out tops in the election .?

?Who cares?? Alysia rolled her eyes.?The position of governor grants no true authority. The real power in the City is held by other hands.?

?I care. I like politics,? Badger shrugged. ?And I?m supposed to learn as much about it as I can. Rhydin?s a good model. The consensus seems to be Wolvinator will take as much power as he can get and wield it like a weapon. He might even be effective - which is why you should be concerned.?

?Doubt it,? mused Alysia. ?But since you think it?s important. . .? She skimmed through the press release with a bored expression. ?Isn?t this the guy who said the bedamned zoo was laundering money? Pregnant angel. . . how sordid, wonder who the daddy was.?

?No idea.? The amber-eyed youth moved closer to the fireplace, trying to dry out.

?Anti-slaver. . . gods and demons, good luck stomping that out.? She looked up and sneered at Badger. ?Ignorance of the profession... Who does he think is going to teach those dainty little toys to actually work for wages instead of waiting upon their owners? I have yet to find a slave that truly deplored her chains. Most of them beg to end up back in their Master?s pen after a week of freedom. ?

The Witch of the Dark Lake, Alysia, and the young shaman named Badger walked along the manicured edges of the gardens surrounding Dark Lake Manor. The cut grass smelled sappy and green, bitter against the heady sweetness of spring-blooming flowers. Overhead, a pair of what looked like hummingbirds warbled and screeched out their territorial claims.

?Have you visited the Museum of Culture and Anthropology lately?? the shaman asked.

?What?? Alysia looked at the amber-eyed shaman, suspecting this was the introduction to a joke. Realizing he was serious, she raised a brow at him. ?No. . . I?ve never visited it at all. Never even heard of such a thing.?

?Several museums have opened around Rhydin. You should get out more. The city is changing.? Badger stooped, closely examining a green, leafy vine that glowed in the afternoon light.

?Perhaps you are right. But I have little time.?

?You are immortal. You should make time.? Still crouching, he gently pulled up the vine, carefully shaking soil from the roots. He crushed one of the leaves between his thumb and index finger before getting to his feet.

?Says the student who asked me to take an hour from my day to help him find soul vines,? Alysia scoffed. ?Is that it??

?It is,? affirmed Badger smugly. He dropped the root into a leather satchel slung over one shoulder. ?Somewhat less palatable than bloodspice, but much easier to procure.?

The silver-haired priestess looked amused and said nothing, allowing the youth to make his point in his own time. Heavy clouds with fluffy tops and rain-dark bases moved before the sun, and the warm light faded. Badger continued along the garden?s edge, eyes cast down toward the new growth. After a moment, he said, ?The museum recently received an unusual donation from an anonymous source. It?s called the Amulet of Kavagor.?

?That?s impossible.?

?You know what it is, then??

?Don?t be a fool, Badger. Any adept who ever spent any amount of time researching necromantic lore knows what it is, who Nakyan Kavagor was. It?s been lost for . . . well, a few lifetimes. Have you seen it??

?I have.? The shaman nodded. He carefully pinched off a stem bowed by the weight of several green-and-white striped roses, and he tucked the blooms away. ?It?s a malevolent little bauble, solid gold and amethyst. . . they wouldn?t let me handle it, of course. It?s been determined to be a genuine talisman of Bhaal, and indeed, it reeks of power and blood, but it?s nothing I could use.?

?No, you wouldn?t be able to,? Alysia murmured rather distantly. She looked toward the manor house.

?You?re tempted by it, aren?t you.? Badger?s eyes strayed to the black tattoos encircling Alysia?s wrists, and he added, ?You know, I noted more than a few similarities between Bhaal and the Dark Ancient. I wonder what the Scathachians- ?

??enough wondering,? Alysia interrupted. Her voice sounded cold and flat. ?Don?t investigate that. You don?t have the knowledge to avoid getting burned, and I don?t think I could drag you out of the fire. There?s a storm brewing. I have a feeling that I should spend time in Rhilshen until it blows over.?