Your Restless Saker Falcon returns with a message. The paper is wrapped around a tiny phial. A number of souls rattle angrily inside - philosophers', by their glassy ring. And the paper - tiny transcriptions of infernal contracts. You note the names, in letters small enough to fit under your nail. And what's that in your falcon's other talon? Ah. A devil's brassy eyeball, still hot from its blood. That explains the bird's smug expression. The Brass Embassy may not be pleased about this.
I suppose events could have turned out much worse. I'm not sure how. But I'm sure they could have.















