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“Very well,” Ibai said, more quietly now. “What was that you said earlier about the mission being messed up? Is there already fighting going on somewhere nearby?”

“Ah,” said Reever, “itching to join, eh? Yeah, the guys out front revealed themselves to someone, and now they’re scrambling to kill the guy before he makes it back here.”

“You are not scrambling along with them?” Ibai asked.

“Orders from above,” said Caster. “Besides, if we did that, we would lose many strategic positions. Even while invisible, it is quite time-consuming to move around this place without alerting anyone. If someone sees a door opening on its own or hears footsteps where there should be none, it could become problematic. And naturally, cameras only serve to complicate the issue.”

Ibai tilted his head. “Who do you take your orders from? Any names I would recognize?”

“Certainly,” said Caster. “Our sect answers directly to the Salesman. He is back at camp, if you would like to meet him.”

By now, Ibai had more or less intuited that these people belonged to Abolish, but that name was more than enough confirmation. Ivan, the Salesman of Death. Widely regarded as one of Morgunov’s strongest followers. “Back at camp?” Ibai asked. “He’s not here at Dunehall?”

Reever shook his head. “Unfortunately, even aberrations wouldn’t be able to hide his presence. But I’m sure he had other stuff to take care of, anyway.”

“Hey, I heard the Monster was there, too,” said Ted from earlier, not quite so loud this time.

“What? Why would the Monster be there?”

Ted gave a heaving shrug. “Heard he was looking for someone.”

“Even if that is true, it is none of our concern,” said Caster. And that was enough to shut them up again.

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“Well, of course we are,” said someone else. “It’s kind of what we do. We’re dicks.”

“That’s D-I-C,” added Reever. “Deep Infiltration and Cover. That’s our sect. Everyone just calls us dicks, though.”

“As they should. We voted on the name.”

“Did we? I didn’t.”

“Yeah, because you’re new. Dumbass.”

“I just think we should have a name that’s more professional-sounding or something.”

“Like what, huh?”

“I dunno--like, well, the Vanguard has that watcher’s division, right? We’re basically like them, only cooler. So we should have a similar-but-cooler name, right? Like the Infilifilers.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Yeah, but it’s like a combination between infiltrators and defilers. Infilifilers. What do you guys think?”

“Y’know, I actually kinda like it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Sounds retarded.”

“Hey, fuck you, Ted.”

“Yeah, Ted, shut the fuck up.”

“Me shut the fuck up? No, you shut the fuck up!”

“You wanna dance, fat man?!”

“Bring it on, choads! I could kill you both with my left ass cheek!”

“Oh, I--!”

“Everyone,” interrupted a soft voice, “please be quiet. Remember that we are still in the middle of a mission.”

And they actually did. Perhaps they were more disciplined than they seemed, Ibai thought. Or perhaps they were simply afraid of that little voice. Ibai’s attention shifted to the similarly little man that it belonged to. If not for the full mustache, Ibai might have mistaken him for a child.

The small man addressed Ibai now. “Greetings. My name is Caster Egmond, and while it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I must ask you to keep your voice down while we remain here.” His smile was much fainter than everyone else’s as he adjusted his gray tie.

With wide eyes, Ibai’s curiosity had certainly been piqued by this person. By appearance alone, the man could have evoked a sense of harmlessness, but now that Ibai was observing more carefully, he could sense it. That vague pressure. The same thing he could feel from Uncle Mel.

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Reever shrugged. “Don’t be rude. He’s just curious. It’s in our nature. You can’t expect an aberration to join you if you don’t answer his questions first. That’s simple diplomacy.”

“Their reapers can still sense us,” said Arnold.

Reever waved his hand again. “And now they can’t.”

At first, Ibai didn’t realize that anything had changed, but then he noticed the faint glow around everything. And it became gradually more prominent, until the hallway around them was all but burning, as if an ethereal fire had descended upon the entire world, excepting only the four of them. Reever, Arnold, and the unnamed reaper all looked just as they did before.

However, when Ibai looked around another time, he saw that there were actually several more servants and reapers in the room than Reever had previously allowed him to see.

Ibai gave them all a wide grin. “Hello!”

The many new faces stared at him. But only briefly. Then they broke into smiles of their own.

“Heya, big man!”

“How the heck are ya, pal?!”

“You gotta tell us! How’d you end up here all by yourself?!”

“Didn’t you hear? He was born into one of the families.”

“What?! That can’t be right, can it?!”

“Dunno, let’s ask him.”

Reever stepped next to Ibai and put up his hands. “Alright, alright. Don’t smother the poor guy.” He turned to Ibai. “We have been wondering, though. If you wouldn’t mind answering. Were the Rainlords studying you?”

Ibai pursed his lips. “Pretty much, yeah. But speaking of burning questions. You never really answered me. What are you all doing here? Because--and correct me if I’m wrong--but it seems like you’re planning some kind of attack.” Reever’s brief mention of Hahl Saqqaf had not escaped his notice.