Excerpt from "Patron's War"

"Du Charte, you have grown ever so werrisome to us. It is quite unforgivably rude."

The Count Du Charte tried to pull his head up, shaking the hair from his face. He opened his mouth, but all he could manage in response was a dry, hacking hiss. The red plaster mask affixed to his face had no eye slots, but Du Charte could see Marquess Eros all the same. The Marquess seemed aware of this. He turned to face the chained Count with a sympathetic smile.

"Now, now," he soothed, "we're not going to parade you out for Indulgence or donate you to Hubris- that would be most unkind of us, wouldn't it?" Eros wore a black suit with a white tie and cravat. The tails of his jacket fluttered when he moved, like anxious tendrils, searching for prey.

Du Charte allowed a gasping chuckle, despite his blinding hatred. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"You understand, of course, the perils of High Society," Eros continued, authorally. "Though you have been a member of the Devils' Masque for but a brief while, you have managed to accomplish much, and earned very powerful friends." The Marquess managed to sound magnanamous, nodding at Du Charte respectfully.

"But," Eros concluded sadly, "There are no places for artisans in the New Order. The ancient corruption must be purged, and lackeys meet the gallows with their kings." Eros' smile was a savage one- made more savage by the wolf mask that his his face up to his mouth. The bone teeth of his mask glistened hungrily.

"Not literally, of course," the Devil Corelli added, striding into the cell, his voice echoing softly from within the metal sheath that covered his head like a joint-less helmet. The Marquess stiffened, but maintained his composure.

"My Lord, you are unexpected," Eros offered. "Please don't concern yourself with these prisoners. They'll be dealt with soon enough."

"I do not question your efficiency, Lord Eros," Corelli replied slyly. "I daresay you could rid our fine city of half its inhabitants without the other half realizing what was happening." Corelli's mood was unreadable behind the mesh-grating that covered his eyes and mouth. His gaze seemed to turn critical as he regarded Du Charte.

The Count flashed a winning, half-mad smile. "Lord Corelli," he gasped, "your timing could not be worse. I was just about to break free of my bonds and dispose of Eros here," he explained in a voice hoarse and thin with pain. "But I would not presume to damage your fine shackles in front of you, so I must play the helpless victim a while longer."

"And he even manages to maintain his humor!" Marquess Eros chuckled, putting a hand on one of the Count's shoulders, diggins his fingers into the Count's open wounds as he did so.

"I confess, I was listening in, earlier," Corelli addressed to Eros. "If Mr. Du Charte is not to be surrendered to the Sins, what is his shedualed execution?"

Eros' composure began to crack under the gaze of Corelli's steel mask, the featureless face of the Coup. "With due respect, my Lord, this man was specifically remanded to me, to do with as I pleased."

"And you may! And you may, my friend." The Devil Corelli patted Eros' back comfortingly. "Your rivalry with this Du Charte is well known all through the Nero District and I am not without ears," he said as he tapped the smooth steel of his mask where his ears would lie. "I only ask that you let me speak with the condemned alone. Briefly."

Eros stared daggers at Du Charte, as he felt his long-awaited revenge slipping from his grasp. He glanced at Corelli's implacable, faceless mask, then back to Du Charte's eye-less grin, etched on his face as much from satisfaction as from pain. Eros clipped a sharp turn, and strode from the room, his coat tails stretching, reaching vainly for the Count.

Alone, Corelli stared at Du Charte for a long moment. "Can you actually do what they say you can?"

Count Du Charte nodded.

Corelli considered this. "You would make a powerful assassin." He paused. "But you feel such a base employment is well below your position, am I not right?"

"Quite right," Du Charte responded, blood welling up at his lips.

Corelli nodded, as if making up his mind. "You'll have to do, I suppose," he shrugged. "You will be liberated momentarily by one of the Thorns, looking for disenfranchised members among the Devils' dungeons. Follow them out and lay low for a couple of years."

"Oh, and I'll need your help, eventually, Count Du Charte, so try to not get caught again," Corelli added, with what Du Charte assumed was supposed to be a conspiratorial wink from under his mask.