Adwon's eyes widened in the surprise Thelon had anticipated.

"There's very little of that," the old man said. "And precious in cost."

"You know I'm good for it. What can you tell me?"

The old man sighed. "Not a lot, really, until after my investigations. It will take some time, though how much I can't say."

"Any guesses?"

"Around three days."

Thelon nodded, rubbing his chin while he thought. "Three days. Well, I suppose that'll have to do it. Is there anything you can tell me now?"

Adwon took a moment to think, rubbing his hand over his chin. "Hmmm. Let's see, now..."

"Yes, some four hundred years past, nearly lost in antiquity, by our standards, a man came here, asking about the temple. He was an elderly man, with definite wizard characteristics. As I recall, the monk at the time had recorded him as somewhat evil. Perhaps deranged."

"What information did he find?"

"You know that's confidential, Thelon."

"You're right. I knew that."

"What knowledge exists in the more common books, legends and the like, is that the temple holds an army of golems. Not one or two of them but well over a thousand."

Thelon leaned back farther in his chair. "Do you know more about these golems?"

Adwon shook his head. "All I know is that they are supposed to be there and that whomever controls the temple is supposed to have control of the golems as well."

"Anything more?"

"Well, yes, there is one thing, very recent. I can't tell you what was asked or what was found, but...a dustman came here three days ago, claiming to be the personal servant of Skall. It appears that the dear factol of the Dead also believes the temple has returned to us."

With great trepidation, Monesa slipped the latch on the door to her house and pulled the portal open. Behind the great oak door was chaos. Tears, banished earlier by the call of duty to her mistress, stung her eyes all over again. She hurried inside before anyone might see her.

The inner regions of the house, normally opened to the outside and kept breezy and clear, were dark and cluttered. Debris, the remains of her belongings, was strewn everywhere. There was hardly a path for her to pick her way from one side of a room to another without stepping on something.

"Sadis," she murmured, staring at the mess. She had been meaning to clean it up but had procrastinated for over a day now. Her heart wouldn't still long enough for her to work.

In through the living room she passed, making her way towards the recessed back bedroom, the one room he hadn't touched, the one room that was clear. Despite his lack of destruction in the small guest bedroom, she found that even it, with the musty sheets on the small bed and the layers of dust on the floor beneath the bed, reminded her of him. This was to have been their child's bedroom.

And now he was gone.

"Sadis," she cried, louder this time. Wind, somewhat rare in Sigil but for the higher towers, stirred her shutters but she ignored them, curling up on the tiny bed, little more than a cot, easing her hands between her thighs and clasping them around her ankles. Her hair seemed to fling itself of its own accord, spreading across the sheets with little of the breezy motion it normally possessed. She absently willed it to life, letting the feel of the air around her tremble and shift, lifting the narrow curls of her long hair only slightly.

Even with her sensitivity to air, Monesa didn't notice the disturbance right away. Her eyes filled with her tears until they streamed sideways across her face, pooling above the bridge of her nose and sliding down the side of her head from the lower eye, wetting the blanket and her hair. Her nostrils clamped tighlty, the drainage making her feel stuffy. She hated crying.

There was a pounding at her door. It was a loud pounding that failed, at first, to attract her attention. Her thoughts were on Sadis and their child, the child that would never be. Now it would be a different child, one without Sadis. It would be a different person altogether.

The pounding sounded again and she rose, abently, not bothering to will her hair to life. It hung down over her face, blocking her view, making her look down at the floor just in front of her feet. She passed over the side-table, with the shattered vases that her mother had given her. She crept under the section of vine, imported from Bytopia, that framed the door to the living room from the dining room. The vine, now dying, lay with its roots exposed while part of it was still attached to the wall overhead.

She glanced down again, looking through the obscuring veil of her hair into the dim shadows of her living room, the last room before the door. She turned left, following the wall, hoping to avoid seeing the long white gown, also a gift from her mother, that Sadis had shredded with a knife. She knew that she'd break down completely if she dwelled on that vision too long. The dress had been her mother's at her own wedding, and her mother's before that. It was a thing of history, in their family at least, an heirloom she had yet to summon the courage to explain to her mother. Thankfully, another volley of pounding at the door distracted her.

Around the large pile of debris in the center that had been her couch, walking with one hand out for balance, she stepped on something soft that rolled beneath her foot. Her balance fled and she dropped to her knees to keep from falling. Her gaze went down, towards her knees, where the guilty object lay. Beneath the cushions of the couch, her hair ragged with sweat and dried blood, was a woman.

"Taril," Monesa shrieked, jumping back. Her chest tightened in fear and loathing. The face was staring at her, eyes wide and unmoving. It was the stare of death.

"No!" she screamed. "Taril, no!" Her tears, receding until then, returned full force. Her back crawled with goosebumps, her spine tingling with fear. Her hands were cold and clammy with the loss. Taril, Sadis, her child inside her. They were all fading away.

Not even the splintering of the massive oak door brought her attention back to the person pounding. The door crashed inward with impossible force and a dark shadow passed through the entrance. The shadow, looming tall, dwarfed her before she even really registered his presence. A glimmer of long white hair hung around his face. Smooth, blue-black skin, like one massive bruise but darker, covered the hands that reached for her. She jerked away but the hands were faster, clutching her shoulders and pulling her close. She struggled in his grip, hating her weakness, that he should see her this way. Her crying filled her nostrils with mucous, the foully ochre smell of his garments fighting its way through to her senses.

"She's gone," she said, her voice thick with tears, the words strung together like some sticky, slime-covered webbing. "She's gone. She's gone, and I'll never see her laugh again."

The hands clutched her tightly, alternately pulling her close and relaxing, giving her a comforting motion. Then the earth fell away from her and she pulled herself closer, screaming her saddness into his cloak while his hands smoothed her hair. There was a dim thought in the back of her mind that even fiends have compassion.

The climbing spires of the Temple of the Abyss rose over the outer walls of Bloodgem Park in the hazy smog and muted glow of what passed for noon in the Cage. A stand of tall shrubs surrounded Thelon and his companions, keeping the meeting mostly out of sight and the birds shrieking overhead at least partially concealing the sounds of their words. It was the location, however, that suited his needs. There were no walls nearby and no places for eavesdroppers to hide. It wasn't perfect, that was certain, but it was better by far than many places in Sigil.

"Tell me what you've got," Thelon said. Monesa stood directly opposite him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You know why I've sought you in particular, Thelon, but not why I've sought anyone." Monesa seemed softer, more fragile than then he had first met her. Her hair did not sway so much in the winds that surrounded only her. Her voice was more dull and earthen, like a normal human's, than her usual, breathy words. Something had happened, he knew, something bad.

"I've been commissioned by...a superior...to find the temple and get inside, or, rather, to open it up for her."

A warm, damp breeze blew in and Thelon watched her adjust her tunic. She was much more modestly dressed than the previous day, with most of her arms concealed and all of her legs hidden. Sweat drenched her forehead, plastering her hair against her scalp. Moisture darkened the neck of her tunic, making it look as if she had been laboring. For a genasi of the air variety, she looked a bit peculiar. However, her companion looked even more peculiar. To her left and back a few paces stood a cambion Tanar'ri, a human-looking fellow with above average height, longish white hair and black but smooth skin. He dressed in loose black garments, a long but tight cloak and loose trousers, high, black boots and high, black gloves, all of polished leather. The cambion watched the girl and everything around her, including Thelon and the two men who had agreed to work for him, and managed to look as though he were bored, sleepy, and definitely not paying attention. Thelon was impressed.

"May I ask why?"

Monesa's lips tightened. "I'm sorry. No. She wants secrecy, as if anyone wouldn't. I'm only telling you because I'm trying to hire you."

Thelon grinned suddenly, making himself appear offhand. "And it could get messy if I decide to leave you hanging?"

The cambion looked at him sharply. Monesa lowered her head. "Please, don't do that. At least help us with the research part. No one we know or can find really has that sort of experience."

"Then lucky for me I wasn't going to turn you away."

That, at least, brought something of a smile. However, her faint grin almost looked more as though she was trying to be nice, rather than enjoying his humor.

"So you will help us?" Her voice was soft, almost plaintive.

Thelon smiled warmly, not with the humor of before but with kindness. "Tell me what you have."

"You said that already," she murmured, looking away. Sighing, she sat on the grass, flicking an ant away. He did notice that her hair was beginning to sway again, more as it should. "We don't really have much. The jist of it is this: The Temple of Swords has always been there; just, most people don't see it and no one could ever get to it. No matter how many streets one follows, trying to stumble over its entrance, you can never find it. You end up passing it by without being aware. Everyone knows it's magical, but no one, not even the greatest wizards, have ever been able to break into it. What sort of magic could do that, you think? Could a god have somehow gotten his hands in Sigil?"

"No Power can get in," the cambion told her. "You know that."

"True," she answered. "But that doesn't mean the power can't manipulate things from a discreet, planar vantage point."

"It could have been the work of many wizards," Thelon told her. "Many are almost always more powerful than one."

She nodded. "That could be it. Well, anyway, there're all sorts of rumors, if you know where to look, that tell of the temple returning, of it reappearing in all its blazing glory. Me, I'm not too sure about all that, but, well, my mistress thinks it's back and she wants me to get it open."

Thelon watched as a band of Mercykillers walked past, eyeing them ostentatiously. He ignored them without appearing to ignore them, which seemed to appease them. They moved on and he looked back to Monesa.

"A time schedule?"

"None. What can we do if it disappears tonight? We don't know what's going to happen, so we have to try to act fast. And, besides, someone else could beat us to it, if we're slow."

Thelon grinned at that. "Not to worry on that one. What sort of funds do we have?"

"Shumeska said she'd pay for whatever you need."

At the mention of that name his thoughts stopped. "Shumeska?"

"She's my mistress. Is that a problem?"

The cambion was eyeing him closely again. There was a certain weight in his eyes, as if he were deciding to hold his hand or attack.

"No, not problem. Just a surprise, of sorts. No problem at all. Did she offer a range at all?"

Monesa looked up at him, her eyes blinking slowly once. "She said she'd pay for whatever you need."

"I see." He kneeled on the grass near her. "Tell me what happened that she thinks the temple has returned."

"You'll have to ask her that, I'm afraid. I don't know. She told me that it had reappeared and then ordered me to find it. She mentioned the possiblity of help and then I remembered hearing of you and your...interests."

Thelon dropped to one knee to speak to her more directly. "I will have information in two days that may help us, but I cannot promise on that. What is your plan?"

She smiled, partially snorting. "I was sort of hoping you had one. I'm a warrior, not a leader."

At that point, one of Thelon's companions stepped closer. "You know, I don't know anything at all about this temple, but I have access to a pretty sophisticated hierarchy of information brokers. Perhaps I could learn some things, and a little faster."

Thelon nodded. "Good. We appear to have whatever funding you think you'll need. See to it. It's the Temple of Swords."

Grinning, Rademon turned away, heading away from the park. Thelon glanced at the other fellow, a shorter man, more his height, who dressed in simple robes and watched everything with a serenity that reminded him of his old teacher's ways.