Vambran peered in that direction, trying to see who was lying there as the guard completed his search of the lieutenant's body. From that distance, with the light so bad and with the soldiers screening his view, he could make out very little, but it was clear that a man and a woman were both back there, dressed in fairly simple clothing.

Once the guard was finished searching Vambran, he stepped back into the line. Vambran lowered his hands to his sides.

The sergeant noticed Vambran trying to get a better look at the two corpses and moved closer, blocking his view.

"Keep your eyes on me, and stop getting your nose into business that doesn't concern you!" the fellow barked.

Vambran's eyes narrowed. He was not fond of that one. In most cases, when the watch encountered a man dressed in the markings of a mercenary of the temple of Waukeen's private army, he could expect a certain amount of deference. Even when that was not the case, however, city guardsmen rarely displayed such a brazen lack of manners.

"It seems awfully odd that the Arrabar city watch is in the business of slaying people in dark alleyways," Vambran said, his voice cold, "especially as I don't see any weapons on those two."

The man in front of him cocked his head to one side, his jaw beginning to jut out in what Vambran could only believe was belligerent insult.

"Oh, a thinker, eh? Well, not that it's any concern of yours, pretty boy, but them two back there were running from us after we tried to question them about three dots on their foreheads." He stepped closer still, putting his face right up next to Vambran's, though the guard came up only to the lieutenant's nose. "The same three dots that mark your head!"

Vambran blinked, taken aback a little bit.

"What?" the mercenary asked. "They were wizards?"

"No," the sergeant replied smugly, smiling for the first time and showing a mouth full of yellowed and blackened teeth. "That's the whole point. They weren't wizards, but they were pretending to be. And you know what the penalty for pretending at sorcery is, right?"

Vambran nodded, not liking where the discussion was going at all.

"I can assure you, my own markings are completely legitimate, and I'll be happy to-"

"Hey!" one of the other soldiers cried out, turning and scampering across the alley toward the exit. "Someone's spying on us!"

The guard sprinted across the cobblestones to a pile of wooden-slatted crates stacked haphazardly near the back door of one of the buildings.

Vambran groaned as almost all the other soldiers either turned to peer at what their companion was chasing or wisely tightened their grips on their weapons as they surrounded him. He turned to look at what the guard was pursuing, too, already knowing what was about to happen.

As the guard got closer to the stack of crates, there was a shrill squeak, and a figure flashed up and away, running awkwardly back in the direction of the end of the alley. But the mysterious spy was not fast enough and the guard quickly grabbed her, yanking her to a stop.

"Ow! Let me go, you big orc!" the figure cried out.

It was Emriana, just as Vambran feared. The guard twisted her around and held her at arm's length for a moment, eyeing her critically. Then he reached out and pulled something free of her sash and proceeded to haul her back by her wrist toward the gathering in the courtyard.

"Stop yanking on my arm!" Emriana continued to complain as she was dragged against her will, digging in her heels.

Her slippers skidded fruitlessly across the damp cobblestones, unable to keep the man from making progress. Vambran saw that the guard had confiscated a dagger from his sister, and indeed, he then recognized it as the very same one he had given to her for her birthday a year previous.

The leader of the surly band of watchmen hissed in vexation as his underling towed Emriana into the lanternlight, still thrashing and yanking her arm, trying to pull free of her captor.

"Who the blazes is this?" the sergeant demanded, jerking his gaze back and forth between the girl and Vambran.

"My name is Emriana Matrell, of House Matrell, and you will let go of me immediately! My uncle-"

"Em! Enough," Vambran growled, staring hard at her. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the carriage?" he asked, his voice hard-edged with anger.

"You know her?" the leader asked, forcing Vambran to turn his attention back to the guard.

The lieutenant nodded and said, "Yes, she's my sister. We were on our way home when we heard the screams and I came running. She's out past her bedtime," he added, raising his voice and directing this last bit at Emriana, hoping to drive his point home, "and should not be here."

The girl glared at him but said nothing.

"And why shouldn't I assume that you two are actually friends of my two deaders-" the sergeant jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the pair of bodies lying in the courtyard behind him-"sneaking in here to help them?"

At that, Vambran nearly laughed. The word of a lieutenant of the Sapphire Crescent should have been good enough for the soldier, but everything about the man just seemed wrong.

Shaking his head and with disdain clear in his voice, Vambran said, "Well, of course you should suspect us. You wouldn't be doing your duty if you didn't insist that I demonstrate my ability right here and now." The lieutenant was just baiting the man, then, seeing how well the sergeant knew procedures. "So, what do you say? Shall I prove to you that I have the right to mark myself thrice with the chalk?"

He turned his palms up, waiting to see whether he should proceed or not.

After a moment of eyeing him warily, the sergeant gave a nod to the soldier who was holding Emriana, and said, "Keep her close, and slip her own blade into her ribs if this one tries anything."

Emriana squeaked again, and Vambran opened his mouth in anger, ready to argue with the sergeant, but the man held up his hand to indicate he would hear nothing from his prisoners.

"If you are who you say you are," the sergeant said, "then you've got nothing to hide, and if you aren't, then I'm not giving you a chance to charm us all with your stinking magic. Now make a show, and no tricks."

Vambran sighed, equally angry at both the sergeant and Emriana, and considered what he might show them that wouldn't be construed as an attack or threat of any kind. Then, he got an idea. He only hoped Prandles would understand. Outwardly, he nodded.

"I use this little trick to rally troops on the battlefield, to signal for reinforcements to move out, or to indicate any of another few special instructions. It's just a simple magical flare, so don't get excited when it goes off, all right?"

The sergeant squinted at the lieutenant suspiciously but then nodded, indicating for Vambran to proceed.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Vambran uttered a single magical syllable, and about twenty feet directly over his head a dazzling burst of bright white light went off, hanging there for several momenta, illuminating the entirety of the courtyard. All of the city watchmen murmured in mild surprise, and the sergeant cocked his head, then finally nodded in reluctant approval. But Vambran wasn't watching. He had taken the opportunity to get a good, long look at the two victims lying on the ground behind the row of soldiers.

The male of the two was turned face down and away from Vambran, and the mercenary couldn't get a clear view of the man's face. But the woman was on her back, her simple white dress stained with her own blood, her eyes staring sightlessly up into the night, as though she, too, were watching the flare overhead. On her forehead Vambran could see three fuzzy marks, apparently dots made with a bit of blue chalk, though they were not the neat, orderly marks he would have expected to see on someone vain enough to paint herself as reader, writer, and wizard. They seemed to have been applied hastily.