Page One

The Cross'd Roads region is notorious for its inconvenient weather. Right at the moment, it was failing to snow. This did not hamper proceedings inside the Promenade Hall, though, where the floor had been enchanted by a handy spellcaster to resemble a layer of the white stuff. Though white and crystalline it looked and crunchy underfoot it seemed, it was really still the same old floorboards - so at least nobody should slip, cannon into the rest and bring the whole party down.

Not until they'd had a few ladlefuls of mulled wine, anyway.

Aside from the floor, the Hall had been hung with evergreen branches, giving the impression almost of an indoor forest. The staff had gone light on the glitter this year, the understated decorations consisting of silver bells, thick metallic boas of tinsel and copious red ribbons. Illumination was provided this time by myriad point sources of light up in the rafters, artificial stars that lit the Hall as brightly as day.

Servants were ready to spring into action with trays of the hot spiced drink. The long dining table, done up in green velvet, currently held platters of nuts and crystallised fruits. It would be cleared later on during the dancing in preparation for what the staff referred to among themselves as "the calendar feast".

A polished black grand piano, in pride of place by the full-length windows on the opposite end of the room from the dining table, bore a big floppy wreath of ribbons and a card reading "For the Hall and all its visitors. With love from Perry and Iceyheart. xxx"

Iceheart - who had not seen that card yet and might possibly not be best pleased about it when he did - found himself standing outside the Hall a quarter of an hour early, feeding the wild birds on crushed walnut kernels and crumbs of cheese fat. He was dressed mainly in black, with forest green and gold detail. (He hadn't been sure about the green, but some fashion consultant had insisted ice blue was boring, so...)

His dog Baskerville was at his feet, wearing artificial reindeer horns. Before you all shout about cruelty to animals, it was entirely the dog's own idea.

So the next two visitors found him.

Sylvie and Nico were carrying a box between them.

When she noticed the small flock of birds, Nico had them slow down, her eyes wandering from them to Suitov and back. Compared to her all-out grin, Sylvie's smile seemed shy, but probably it was just due to the competition.

Nico had opted for black tights and a long sleeved tricot under a sleveless, knee-lenght, very dark red dress, with a banada around her neck, a scarf worn as belt and new sneakers in a lighter shade of red as accents.

What Sylvie was wearing under a rather shapeless coat was hard to tell, but it seemed to involve a long skirt and the colours blue and gold. She was wearing her hair in a french braid.

Eventually they did get too close for the birds' liking. Nico gave an apologetic shrug before saying, "Hello Suitov! Sorry we scared off your sweet friends there. Always nice to meet someone who likes small birds."

"Nico. Sylvie. A pleasure to see you both." He smiled, brushing off his hands.

"Ladiiiieeees!" Baskerville declared, wagging/sidling up to them. He used the opportunity to have a sniff at the box in case it contained nice things for dogs.

"Good evening," Sylvie responded.

Nico was not surprised hearing the dog talk, since she had heard of him, so she greeted him, too.

They set down the box because it was getting heavy, and so that he could have a better look at it.

As Baskerville nosed the cloth cover away, the contents could be seen. Most of it was a collection of decorative bottles, but there were a round and a rectangular package, two identical, not wrapped books, a black bag, and a jar of peanut butter. The last item had a black label supposed to look like a dog's head, with "for Baskerville" written on it. They'd both not been sure if he could read.

Nico had something on her mind, and, well, maybe Suitov knew... "Say, are we going to have a proper bescherung, or are we supposed to hand any physical present over whenever?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. The invitations were very unspecific, weren't they? It could be that there's somewhere to lay them out inside."

Baskerville had his head in the box and his tail wagging, sniffing everything.

"I hope there is." Sylvie did not like the idea of lugging around that box for the rest of the evening. She had crossed her arms tightly against the cold.

Her partner was rubbing her hands and shifted her weight to her toes and back so she was nearly hopping on the spot, but partly that was just excess energy and cheerfulness; over all she minded cold way less than the dark-skinned mage.

"In a pinch, I bet we could make up a spot," Nico reassured her, before addressing Suitov again. "Anyway, would you mind getting one right now? We got it literally in the last minute and had no time to put a nametag on it."

"We made presents for everyone, hopefully, but for a few people we have something additional, if we thought they might be interested in it," Sylvie added quickly, not wanting him to think they had nearly forgotten him.

"Not at all," the mage declared when Nico asked if he'd mind. "How exciting. But, I say, if you're cold we could go indoors first."

"My presents're in the en'rance hall," the dog said, skipping from feet to feet. Nico's excitement seemed to be contagious.

"Yes, please." Sylvie sighed and reached for her end of the box. Nico shot her an apologetic look and helped her, scratching Baskerville's neck with her free hand on the way. She was very curious what he'd come up with.

Suitov opened the door and held it for them. Baskerville slipped inside impatiently. There was a snuffling and then he reappeared in the middle of the short entrance passage, gripping the handle of a basket in his mouth. The contents were concealed, unusually but quite festively, by a red cloth of what looked like velvet. "I ade deef. Er kiffy elk gr bik," he said. Would his tail never stop?

As they walked past Suitov, Nico nodded thanks, and Sylvie also said "Thank you".

The little live wire considered just going into the main hall, but, well... she did not want to go on the nerves of the staff here. Not more than neccessary.

So instead she took the box from Sylvie to set it down next to the wall, just when Baskerville spoke.

"Kissy moose? Your meese are small around here if they fit in there." Nico pointed at the basket. She had not paid enough attention before, but now concentrated - she should be able to pick the meaning of what he'd say next from his thoughts, even if he kept his mouth full.

Sylvie meanwhile asked Suitov, "Are we much too early?"

Baskerville put the basket down again and smacked his tongue to get rid of the wicker texture. "I said, I made these, Weft helped a bit," he amended.

Weft should have come with them, in the dog's opinion. The place that sold him the reindeer prongs had also stocked cat ears in all sorts of wacky colours. (Baskerville was certain he could have convinced Weft that animal accessories were an obligatory Yule rule for everyone who hadn't propped burning timbers earlier in the day.)

Suitov shook his head. "No, only a few minutes." He contemplated just walking in. Similarly to Nico, Iceheart didn't want to annoy the staff (any further, considering the sooty way he and his accomplice had obstructed their preparations this morning). He could always offer to help set up, just for the looks on their mugs as they ever-so-politely refused.

Still, as he'd already noticed, the servants here were an efficient bunch. "Yes, all right, we know you're out there," said someone from indoors and a servant threw the doors open. "Welcome, ladies, gent and dog."

Suitov took in the decorations with a chuckle while he waited for the others to go ahead. Baskerville had the basket back in his mouth and slunk in, wagging at everyone in that pretending-to-be-guilty manner completely shameless dogs have.

Seeing the layer of white, Sylvie breathed, "Oh no". She'd thought the practical jokes were reserved for the autumn festivities, and having the ball take place in an icehouse certainly was one.

"Good evening!" Nico greeted the servant. She took a quick look at the hall and noticed nothing terribly obvious, so she asked, "Did you have any particular spot for the presents in mind?"

"In front of the piano seems suitable."

"Thank you!" She picked up the box alone again and followed Baskerville. The snow made crunching noises under her feet, but did not feel quite right. It was far warmer than it should have been if the snow were real, and Baskerville left no footprints.

Meanwhile the servant approached Sylvie. "May I take your coat, madam?"

Hearing the "umm" from her partner, Nico called back over her shoulder, "You can leave it there; it's not cold."

Sylvie blinked at her, wondering if she was joking, but noticed that her breath was not visible. Oh well. She let the servant help her out of the coat and thanked him.

Nico turned around and walked a few steps backwards to see Suitov's reaction. Sylvie's dress had been her present, and it had taken quite a bit of insisting that she'd take it. The dress itself was made from blue brocade with a subtle floral pattern, the cut quite simple apart from a fanned out section decorated with golden piping. Over that Sylvie was wearing a long-sleeved bolero jacket. The cloth was the same colour and pattern, but the leaf pattern was golden.

Nico thought she looked wonderful, but Sylvie herself felt a bit awkward.

His reaction was a simple smile and a spoken "I like the dress." It suited her. This was about the limit of Suitov's sartorial expertise.

Baskerville put down his basket of goodies in the space around the piano, made it halfway back over to them and then began chasing his tail.

Once he'd spotted them, Suitov gave the ribbons on the piano a surprised look. He hadn't noticed the card from this distance.

Nico was satisfied. See, not laughing about you.

Sylvie thanked Suitov with a shy smile and followed her.

The black bag on the piano, the box turned over and the palette with bottles put on it, the to packages and the peanut butter next to it. Looked about right. Nico made sure the labels were all correct ("Jaina Jade" on the round package, "Suitov" on the other, "Surprise Bottles; one for each guest; DO NOT DRINK; Open and watch" and "for the Promenade Hall staff" on the bag), grabbed the two identical books and looked around for Suitov.

Meanwhile Sylvie stopped to watch Baskerville.

The dog continued until he became dizzy, started whirling round in the other direction for a few turns, then stopped, sat, aimed to scratch his neck with a hindleg and missed. He seemed content with this.

Suitov, not outwardly paying him much attention, had meandered along behind the women. He glanced over the piano (uninjured and polished to a gleam), read the gift tag attached to it and narrowed his eyes slightly before shrugging it off.

Nico held out one of the books to Suitov. It was a slightly battered medium format paperback with plain cover.

"I talked to a friend, who knew someone who... you know how it is, I guess."

The title read How To Psychopomp - The Essential Guide To Ushering Souls To The Next World, in whatever language Suitov was most comfortable with.

Suitov laughed, caught completely by surprise. "Wonderful! Thank you." He flipped the book open briefly and glanced at the jaguar-man in the frontispiece before forcing his attention back to the non-book. "And do you know, that reminds me. I did find a copy of that mythology book for you. Don't let me forget to fetch it."

"Oooh! Me next!" Baskerville said, walking only barely unsteadily over to twitch the cloth away from his basket. The contents, individually wrapped in greaseproof paper, were being kept hot by means of a spell - but Skerv wasn't the most patient of demonically-originated housepets.

"I won't," the non-book answered beaming, glad she'd found something he was interested in. "Do you know if Weft will be along, too? I've got a copy for him as well."

Meanwhile Sylvie asked the hellhound, "And what exactly are those?"

"He said he might have to work but may show up later 'if that vampire-hunting hussy isn't around' - his words, not mine."

"They're food," Baskerville said, "but don't worry, I didn't drool or get hair on them or chew them. I made someone with hands wrap them."

Each wrapped package contained a hot pastry, flaky, buttery and ever-so-slightly nutty. The fillings were either savoury winter vegetables - sweet potato, butternut squash, swede, onion, some dark green leafy vegetable and a clever mix of herbs - or spiced winter fruits - quince, mandarin and what was probably apple and rhubarb, with hints of nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon. The two different kinds were clearly labelled.

Baskerville added, "Be a bit careful when you chew. There's a silver charm hidden in each." (These were shaped like random things such as rocking horses or postcards; just a hunch, but there was a chance that each might turn out to be something meaningful or amusing to the eater.)

"You're sure we shouldn't wait for more guests to show up?"


You could see the cogs turning in Nico's head. Of all personal questions about the people involved, she asked the one she could justify being interested in best.

"Soo... Is Weft a vampire, then?" Maybe he was, maybe not; the thought certainly didn't drag down her good mood.

It did draw an odd look from Sylvie, though.