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As you wait for the eccentric Primogen to collect himself—prisoner or no, you can't parade him through the streets Blood-soaked and in the nude—you avert your eyes and notice Qui speaking quietly with the lone Sewer Rat. From what little you can make out without intentionally prying into their private conversation, it sounds like they have a long history together.

Lang clears his throat noisily. "Shall we go, then?" He runs his hands through his closely shorn blond hair and they come away streaked with Blood. He scrapes what he can into an empty vial as Qui photographs the teleportation circle.

Throughout the proceedings, Kashif has remained quiet for the most part. But every time you catch a glimpse of him standing in the doorway, his eyes are fixed on Lang with naked hatred. His self-control is admirable considering what you've all just been through—the desire for justice runs hot in the Blood of the Banu Haqim, and you're certain that all the vizier wants right now is to skewer Lang on the end of his obsidian blade.

"Hands behind your back," Qui says, producing a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs from a pouch at his waist.

"I assure you, that won't be necessary, Sheriff," Lang says, quirking an eyebrow in what you'd almost mark as amusement.

"It wasn't a request."

"As you wish." Hands forced behind his back awkwardly, Lang marches ahead of Qui back into the sewers.

To The Surface

Somewhere in Ottawa, a building is burning. You can smell it in the air the moment you emerge from the manhole into a cramped concrete niche east of Capitol Hill beside the Rideau Canal. Someone under Qui's influence in the police force must have called ahead, because the area surrounding your exit is cordoned off, with officers blocking foot traffic and a cruiser waiting to pick up the Sheriff and his prisoner. Qui's nostrils flare as he breathes in deeply, eyeing the skyline.

"Five, six blocks away at most," he mutters, face grim.

"I warned you," Lang says as one of the mercenaries helps him into the back seat of the police car. "You see, Sheriff?" he says. "I only have your best interests at heart."

"He's not going anywhere. He has too much to lose if he runs now," Qui mutters. You follow him up to street level, the canal at your back. You may not be able to see the source of the flames, but the twisting trail of billowing smoke lit by a nearly full moon tells the story clearly enough.

"Elysium is burning."

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