A man is sleeping on the bed. The room is dark -- the one candle was blown out hours ago, and its smoke has long faded. The room is hot -- despite a need for security, one window is open a crack, and the noise and stench of the street filters in. But the man does not hear. A man is sleeping on the bed. His hair is black and perhaps curly, his eyes are black beneath their shut lids. He tosses and turns on the bed, the bed-sheet already tied into knots of knots and the pillow hurled to the floor. An ugly wound is in his arm, the dressing pulled away to reveal the edges are ragged and unclean. But at least the bleeding has stopped. A man is sleeping on the bed. He mutters to himself, to unseen watchers, to anyone who is here to listen. But there is no one here to listen. A man is sleeping on the bed. But the man dreams. ****** Eolo raises his crossbow, and fires. There is a click as the mechanism releases, the hiss of the bolt moving through the air, and then a quiet thunk as it embeds itself into the training dummy's right shoulder, at most an inch away from the previous bolt. "A disabling hit!" the instructor calls. "Reload!" ****** Young Eolo is running through the streets, covered in mud from the canal, waving a stick like he's conducting an orchestra. "Mamma! Look what I found!" His mother gathers him in with practiced ease. "Very nice, dear. Now go wash up for dinner. Your father will be working late at the furnace tonight, so he won't be home." ****** "Did I ever tell you about the school I went to in Eisen?" Eolo grins at the man sitting across from him at the table. The man shakes his head, warily. "It was a small school. The name was Eisenwein. I thought it was because they grew grapes nearby. But really, what kind of wine does iron drink?" The man watches Eolo through worried eyes. We see now that he is tied, bound hand and foot to the chair. Eolo draws a knife, and very gently carves a line all down the man's arm. When he raises it, something red sparkles at the tip. "Perhaps you'd better tell me where the girl is right now. My blade is thirsty." ****** Eolo is laughing in a tavern. He has a mug of ale in one hand and a bread stick in the other. He is drinking from the former, and attempting to balance the latter on his nose. His companions are amused, but not especially impressed. ****** A room upstairs in an inn. Perhaps the tavern of before, perhaps different. A man is coming upstairs to keep an appointment. He holds a note in his hand. Lacy handwriting and perfume suggest the message that the words make clear: "Take this key and meet me in the room at the end of the hall at eleven; ask nicely and I'll show you a little something I learned from a famous courtesan." The man pushes open the door, enters, locks it beneath him, and turns. He is somewhat surprised to see it uninhabited, then more surprised when a figure steps from behind the wardrobe. Eolo draws his sword as he emerges, and grins. "Veronica Ambrogia -- perhaps you've heard of her." ****** Young Eolo again, a little older but still a boy, running across the rooftops. Two older boys, almost grown men, chase him angrily. "You little whelp! We'll box your ears for that!" Eolo is across the walkway to the next building in two jumps, enough time to unhook the ties and cast it off into the space between. He sits there laughing across the empty space at his pursuers until he notices the grins on their faces. Eolo looks back, and sees the third boy advancing towards him, blocking the stairs. ****** This bolt whistles as it flies through the air, perhaps because of the oddly-shaped tip. That same tip, however, seems perfectly suited for slicing through the rope that holds the chandelier to the ceiling. It comes down with a crash, the lights go out, but the diamond is still safe when Eolo makes his escape. Safe in his pocket, of course. The hunk of cut glass is also perfectly safe in the jewel case, and Eolo makes it to his horse, stabled outside the city, without further incident. ****** It is a rainy night, and Eolo is looking for shelter as he walks down the street. Pity the horse went lame, just at this intersection. A brightly-lit window catches his eye and he makes a motion to go inside. Then, through a second window, he catches a glimpse of steel, and a motion in the shadows -- or is it just the pouring rain? Eolo grins to himself, a little painfully, and keeps walking. There are some things worse than getting drenched. ****** After hours, three shadowy forms creep across the lawn. They keep to the edges of the building and stay in the darkness, pausing whenever a watcher comes near. Eventually they make it to their target, where they hold a whispered conversation before beginning work. In the morning, the statue of the headmaster has been painted a bright blue, and the culprits are never caught. ****** "We are so proud of you, Eolo. You are a credit to your family. Theus watch over your journey -- and I expect a letter at least once a season." ****** A man is sleeping on the bed. Eventually the noise outside fades as shopkeepers and shoppers go home: to dinner, to loved ones, and to their dreams. The man wakes. He sits up and changes the bandage on his arm, wincing slightly as the old cloth comes off. He dresses, he picks up the crossbow from beneath the bed and he oils the mechanism. Eolo throws the crossbow across his back and goes out to work.