Rasps and hisses reached the ears of the city watch before the footsteps. A guard leaned out over the parapet, squinting into the darkness to see who or what was approaching at this late hour.

“Bring a bloody torch,” he roared to a hapless youth who went tripping over his own two feet to fetch what his sergeant required.

What emerged into the light of the torch was a daemon, oh wait--an old woman? He spat his disgust of feeing fear, even just for one moment.

“By the Lord of Darkness’ hairy toes, I will have your giblets for dinner. Didn’t your mother teach you not to spit on people?”

“What kind of person comes to the Eastern gate of Delmunÿa at two in the morning?” he shouted back.

“I am Mother Dahleya, dweller of a small village called Penblight. I am a Dras —like yourself. How else could I have crossed the swamps of our fair County?”

“Ha, perhaps you are, and perhaps you aren’t. If you are not who you claim, the Grand Flock will soon sniff you out. Their headquarters are not two miles from here.”

“Bordering the Great Square,” the old woman replied, fixing on him a glare from her eye.

“Knowledgeable are we? Well, you aren’t getting in until the morning.”

“What? You will leave a defenceless woman to face the terrors of the swamps while you cower behind your walls?”

“You just crossed the swamps.”

“And now I wish to visit my friend the Olde Widow.”

At that, the guard stiffened. He knew of the rumours of the Olde Widow ‘s ‘friends. He knew better than to keep the old witch outside.

“Very well, come in. But do anything to harm our great capital or its citizens, and I will personally drag you to the courthouse.”

Mother Dahleya walked sedately in. The guards shuddered as she passed them. “Quick,” said Darrmon, the most religious of the guards to the young boy. “Run to the Well outside the townhouse. Fetch us some water that we may wash away any evil she brought to our door.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Two bells later, Mother Dahleya was sat in front of a roaring fire, a jug of the Olde Widow’s best ale in her gnarly hands.

“Now Dahleya, I hope you didn’t frighten the lads too much,” the widow said.

“What is the point of reaching my age and enduring my aches if I can’t have a little fun?”

“Fair enough. Though if you lived here with me, then perhaps you would find life easier?”

Dahleya sighed, “Grand and famous as this place may be, it’s not right for me. My home is my hovel.”

“No one would think you the most illustrious of scholars at the Owl if they could see you now.”

“It is as I wish.”

“So, what is your purpose in coming here?” The Olde Widow said and gasped when the gleam of a pearlescent dagger caught her eye.

“Is that moonstone?”

“Yes, bathed in the dust of the sunstone.”

“But, but that’s many miles north of here. You traveled all that way?”

Dahleya whispered, “yes”.

“Why? I could have sent someone to fetch it for you.”

“To imbue it with power. Power from the sunstone and moonstone, versus my sweat, blood and tears. Sending a young messenger on horseback would have altered the balance and would be an affront to the two-fold Queen.”

“Who is it for?”

“For…Draigh.”

“Ahh,” said the widow.

Mother Dahleya walked out into the dead of night. Passing the hovels, she walked until she reached the Great Square, bordered by the Palace, the Owl Academy, the temple of the Black Tulip and the Rectory of the Grand Flock. In the direct centre rose the statue of Draigh, confidant of the King, and her former student. In the monument’s heart was the most precious stone of Al’Khezam. Priceless gems covered it. A cloth of gold cloak enfolded it.

And now, Dahleya brought out that dagger, the most precious item she possessed. Rolled up her pair of bracelets slicing her left palm, she cleaned the dagger and hid it in the hem of the cloak. She then took out a vial of the temple water, sluicing her wound, letting the bloody liquid drip onto the floor beneath, watching the mud form. Getting onto her knees, she grasped the mud and held in between her palms, repeating the chant of grief she and all Dras had been taught since they were children.