The Songbird first.

The fact of the matter was that I was running low on energy. If I could kill the Songbird and take his enthusiastic fan, then I would have more energy for the conflicts to come.

If I took care of the others first than there was no guarantee I'd have another change to recover.

Craimer had a lovely garden of the right side of his property, large and colorful and paved with stone. I entered the garden through a green arch interwoven with violet flora. The song was clearer now that I was closer, plain even to my normal senses. The man had a lovely voice, and quick, clever, fingers. He was playing some stringed thing, some kind of lute.

I paused behind a bush, just out of sight of the guard and his captive audience; she was one of the maids, a pretty girl with wavy black hair. She sat on the ground in front of him, he was on a stone bench, her hands in her lap. I readied myself to move as Songbird reached down and took one of her hands, kissing it and whispering some sweet nothing. He pulled her up, kissing her exposed arm and then the side of her neck. He said something else, and then took her mouth.

The bushes rustled and I shrank back as another maid, a busty blond, came rushing in with a vile denunciation.

Songbird pulled back and raised his hands, apologetic and nonthreatening. His words were drowned out in the new maid's ringing voice. "You fucking cad! What's this? Why are you with her?"

"Khadaas?"

"Bastard, you said you loved me!" Blondie stepped forwards and slapped Songbird, Khadaas, across the face. "How fucking dare you, liar. Liar!"

"Khadaas, what is she saying?"

"Please, ladies, I can explain." His speaking voice was as nice as his singing voice, though accented. He stood and set his lute aside; it looked different than most lute's I'd seen. "I do apologize that my indecision has hurt you. It was never my intention, but how could I choose between you. You, Marybelle, are as golden as sweet summer wine, and intoxicate me all the same. And you, my flower, are as dark as the wave back home and just as beautiful."

"Don't you try to talk your way out of this, you bastard." Blondie readied another slap, which Khadaas caught. He pulled her hand to his lips.

"Please, understand that I'm just a man. A simple sellsword. How can any mortal man choose between two goddess?" His voice was filled with earnestness and love, and was so genuine that I instantly distrusted it. He grabbed his Fan by the hand and put all four hands to his chest. "Marybelle, Rosie, can you forgive my weakness? I never meant to hurt either of you, but I know that the man who can spend his life with you isn't me. But I couldn't keep myself from the warmth of your fires, from the wonder of your lives; I'm a traveler, and it's been so long since someone made feel at home; to find two was more than I could take. I have been weak."

"You. . ." Blondie shook, but the edge of her rage was gone. "You. . ."

"Oh, Khadaas." Rosie looked close to tears. "I forgive you. Nobody can strong all the time."

I was impressed, to be honest. The man had a way with words, and even I had to admit his voice was sexy.

"Khadass. I don't know. . ." Blondie took a deep breath. "Can you give some time to think. For us to talk it through?"

"My love, my flower, I never thought I'd have any time with you." He lifted each hand in turn, equally tender. "Take all the time you need, but don't let me harm your friendship. I'm not worth it."

"Khadaas, that's not true." Rosie was openly crying now. "You're a good man. A moment of weakness doesn't make that a lie."

He dropped their hands and stepped away, favoring them with a smile. They parted a moment later, and Khadass returned to the bench and his instrument. He turned, and I got my first good look at the man. He had a foreign cast to him, with upturned green eyes and a wide mouth. His hair was brown and tied back into a bun, and he wore a neat beard with clean cheeks. He had a sword at his waist, a curved sword I recognized from my homeland.

I moved.