Vashya’s youngest brother, Reksikov, was getting married, and the whole family knew that The Guarded Inn was the only place for a bachelor party. Vashya and his kinfolk had several rounds of drinks, eyed several comely wenches, and played several games of cards with a lovely little blonde girl. Vashya lost a great deal of money to her, but was far too happy and drunk to care. Reksikov had lost a ferret, and their odd cousin Foka had been betted out of a bizarre porcelain dowel (at least, Vashya thought it was a dowel) that he had purchased on a trip to Steer Island. The dowel said THE BAWDY BENT across the side and came with a set of finely tooled detachable leather belts that hooked on in strange ways. It was always a good conversation starter and Foka loved to bring it to parties. Yessir, Vashya thought, they’d all had some interesting experiences with Foka and that dowel belt.
After the pretty blonde excused herself to bed, Vashya’s party moved onto the porch for further carousing. Vashya stumbled out into the rain to relieve himself in the bushes.
Someone grabbed him by the collar and sank a dart into his neck.

“Ready to roll again?”
“All I’ve got left is my skivs!”
“Yes, and your bra is very fetching on me… did you hear that?”
“What?”
“It sounded like somebody being bludgeoned.”
“You’re insane.”

Irina tucked both keys into her bra after locking the door when she left.

“I swear, Eva. And that other noise, the shatter…”
“It was probably just Rus upstairs breaking a lamp.”
“He doesn’t usually sulk this long when he’s made a mistake. Six and two.”
“One and three. You win.”
“Nooo. Come on. Off with them.”
“You dirty thief.”
“If they look half as good on me as they do on you, I’ll be doing well for myself.”
“Fine.”
“I feel so pretty.”
“Shut up and roll.”
“You don’t have anything left to roll for.”
“We’ll think of something.”
“Five and three.”
“One and one.”
“Told you we’d think of something…”
Part of the ceiling gave way, nearly hitting Pasha and Eva. Misha yoweled from under the bed. Rus ran to the edge of the hole in his floor.
“Anyone hurt? I’m a hero, I can help!” He yelled.
“It’s just me!” Pasha called up, shoving Eva out of Rus’s line of vision.
“Are you hurt?” Rus asked hopefully.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
The building shook again, sending bits of plaster and splinters of wood raining into the room. Muffled screams came from the lower floors.
“Maybe you should respond to that, Rus! I’ll go check on… the rest of us!” Pasha offered.
“Good thinking. We’ll regroup in the center of… of the market?” Rus offered. Pasha nodded.
“Yes, excellent, just go.” He said. Rus took off.
“He didn’t notice me?” Eva asked from her corner by the door.
“Too busy playing Savior. We’d better check on Matvei, I think he’s napping.” Pasha exited into the hallway, which was littered with bits of the ceiling. Misha went tearing past him and Eva snatched the cat up before he could get very far. He knocked politely on Matvei’s door to no response.
“Matvei.” He called.
“MATVEI!” Eva yelled.
Eva and Pasha stood waiting for a minute.
“Do your thing, Witchy Woman.” Pasha offered, stepping aside. Eva muttered a little and her fingers turned purple. She cursed under her breath.
“The doors are protected. It’ll take my hands weeks to get back to normal!”
“I guess I’ll try to pick it. Duck back in the room, grab my knapsack and for god’s sake get a blanket or something.” Pasha ordered, getting down on his knees and examining the lock.
The building shook again, more wildly than before, and crumbling sounds came from Pasha and Eva’s room. Misha gave a long growl. Eva poked her head inside.
“Ceiling fell in. And part of the wall.” She said.
“Can you see my bag?” Pasha asked. Eva poked her head back in.
“Yes.”
“Get it for me.”
Eva returned with his bag, dusted white with bits of plaster.
“Beds are covered with ceiling chunks. My stuff’s pinned under a piece of the wall. It’s still raining outside.” She gave a status report. More shrieks and a terrified howl came from downstairs. Pasha pushed aside wrapped food and various stolen objects before uncovering his lockpick kit.
“Go find something to put on.” Pasha suggested.
“How about you just give me my-”
“No.”

Eleven