84

As the exhibition begins, you find yourself in the midst of a who's-who of Ottawa's rich and powerful. There is a wider variety of Kindred at the gathering this time, with the notable exceptions of your sire, Henrik Lang, and Vivian Maier. Newcomers whom you'd only met once or twice before are younger—less powerful than their Primogen counterparts who took place in yesterday's council meeting—but no less influential in the world of mortal politics and business. Some of these younger vampires gawk in naked awe of their elders, while others put on an equally revealing front of indifference to the centuries of collective power separating them from their betters.

Soothing tones of inoffensively banal music ooze through the silver grilles of speakers at all four corners of the mezzanine as a small throng of men in suits haggle over a deal with a shrewd-looking businesswoman you recognize as a local Malkavian. Alisha herself is speaking casually with someone you only know from the pictures in Corliss's files—a white-haired rabbi named Michalis Basaras. He'd been here once before to speak with the Prince about the slow integration of younger generations from Clan Lasombra into Camarilla domains. A reconciliation between ancient enemies. Rumor has it that he presented both Arundel and Corliss with a magnificent gift upon his last arrival, further rumor suggesting that the gift was a sacrificial elder of his clan, staked, paralyzed, and at their mercy. Of course, unverified stories cannot be trusted in Kindred circles, but either way you know better than to cross paths with the Magisters.

You'll have to pick your moment if you want to complete your assassination for Bouchard successfully. Right now there are eyes everywhere, but once the show begins, you may have an opportunity to sneak away.

Jordan catches your eye from the other side of the room and waves in greeting. She's standing next to the glass, pointing something out to a disinterested-looking young woman dressed all in white.

Hey, Mekuztli," Jordan says. "Wasn't sure you were gonna make it." She picks a piece of lint off your suit. "These aren't even your clothes. Did you get into some kind of trouble on the way here?"

Holy crap, Mekuztli," Jordan says. "I'm starting to think Qui was right. Ward really does see something in you."

"I'm not sure what he could—"

"How can you not see it?" Jordan protests. "You need to be careful, because if Qui and I can see the connection there, a lot of others will too. And they'll use it against you if they can."

Jordan frowns. "Probably not the best way to find out. He might just want you destroyed."

"If he wanted me out of the way, he'd have finished me when he had me by the throat in the warehouse."

"That's a fair point," Jordan replies. "Hard to argue with that." She bites her lip.

A sudden laugh from over by the observation window startles both of you and draws your eyes. It's the rabbi you'd noticed earlier with Alisha.

"He's a weird old man," Jordan says quietly. "I've never seen him around, but he's sure getting chummy with everyone over there."

"His name's Michalis Basaras. I've seen him in Corliss's files before," you say. "He's from Chicago—clan Lasombra. Arundel and Corliss were speaking to him a while back about—"

"A Magister?" Jordan bursts out loud enough that a nearby man in an Armani suit glares at her rudely. Jordan gets herself under control quickly. "A Magister?" she whispers. "I thought that was only a rumor! They're really thinking of joining the Camarilla? And we're going to let them?"

"From what I gather, it's not so much 'letting them' as making them sacrifice their own elders to get a seat at the table."

Jordan shivers. "Doesn't sound like the kind of Kindred we'd want in the Camarilla. They've been butchering and torturing for centuries just because they can. Not that some of us are much better, honestly, but still. There has to be a limit or all we are are beasts."