No such luck.
As usual, the Conclave Meeting quickly devolved into a series of repetitive arguments between various members, held at bay by the barely-effectual abilities of the city's temporary commander.
“This seems to be going well,” Qul'tok remarked in a sour tone.
Nodding slowly, Pah'tch frowned as he looked about the room. “Where is Van Brecht?” he mused out loud.
“I beg your pardon, Ambassador?”
“Keiser Van Brecht,” he repeated, a little more slowly. “The Stormcast Commander? He is notably absent today. I know he dislikes these meetings as much as I do, but he always shows up, and usually steps in by this point to knock a few heads together and make this, this farce of diplomacy settle into something resembling proper democratic discourse.”
Blinking furiously, Qul'tok glanced around the room before returning his gaze to the Ambassador. “He is not here, Ambassador.”
“Yes, I already noted that. Tell me something I do not know.”
“He and most of the resident Stormcast are in the Eightpoints on some sort of urgent mission,” a new voice whispered into Pah'tch's other ear.
Glancing to his left, a wry smile ticked up one side of the skink's fanged muzzle. “Ah, Pyk'nur, I was wondering if you would show up.”
“What?” Qul'tok gave a start of surprise at the sight of the newcomer – a chameleon-skink that blended in disturbingly well with the pillar he was hiding behind. “You aren't supposed to be here,” he hissed as softly as he could.”
“I have urgent news for the Ambassador. It cannot wait.”
Glaring down at the mess on the Conclave floor, Pah'tch rolled his eyes and nodded. Getting quietly to his feet, he bowed to the members of the Conclave – none of whom seemed to have noticed – and left the chamber.
“Well, go ahead, Pyk'nur, what is so important that it cannot wait?” he asked of the chameleon. But instead of answering, the chameleon drew a knife from his belt.
“What... what are you doing?!?” Pah'tch found himself being shoved rudely aside by the spy. The sound of metal striking metal filled his ears a second later. Taking his bearings, he was shocked to find the chameleon-skink locked in melee with his aide! “What is the meaning of this?!?” he demanded of them both.
With a swift motion, Pyk'nur's tail lashed out and wrapped around Qul'tok's arm. Between tail and blade, the chameleon managed to disarm him, sending Qul'tok's blade to the floor with a clatter. “Ambassador, we need to get you out of here and back to the safety of our Embassy!”
“But why are you attacking my aide?!?”
“We have proof that he has been suborned by the Blackscale Coil!”
“Nonsense,” Pah'tch spat back. “What by the Realms could they possibly use to accomplish that?”
“I do not know, but I have discovered that he – and the aides of most of the other Ambassadors – have orders to eliminate you and the others tonight!”
Frowning, Pah'tch walked over to his aide and looked him in the eyes. “Is this true, Qul'tok?” His answer was a gibbet of spit on his muzzle. “I see.” Gripping his cane, the Ambassador ran a claw down one of the runes, then spun on his heel. Back to his aide, he regarded his spymaster and nodded. “Well then, I suppose we had better get going.” Before either spy or aide could react, Pah'tch stabbed the end of his cane behind him, under his arm, and into his aide's chest. Qul'tok had time to let out a gasp before there was a flash from the glyph he'd been fingering. A circle of gray ash, centered where the cane had struck him, suddenly flared bright before doubling in size. The aide let out a squeak of horror that turned into a choking sound as a cloud of ash spewed from his mouth. A moment later he fell to the floor, stone dead. The circle of ash continued to spread larger on the deceased aide's body, his remains collapsing to dust behind the edge of the spell effect.
“Part of me wants to ask about that,” Pyk'nur muttered, “but we haven't the time.”
“Indeed.” Pausing just long enough to grab one of his fallen aide's bracelets, the Ambassador led the way down the halls towards the exit. “What are we dealing with here?” he asked his spymaster.
“It is rather complex.”
“I figured as much. Summarize the current situation, please.”
Nodding, Pyk's bulging eyes swiveled about in all directions as they walked. Every now and then the spy would stick out a hand to stop the Ambassador or pull him into the shadow of one of the pillars. Sometimes nothing happened, but more than once the sound of armed soldiers were heard shortly afterwards. Pyk would keep them in the shadows until he thought it was safe, then lead the way towards the exit once more.
“Something has happened to the Stormcast regiments that should be guarding the city,” he explained softly. “Van Brecht and his command were pulled away to deal with some issue elsewhere, but they have not returned.”
“Why are armed soldiers running through the Conclave?” he demanded.
“Aelfs under the command of the Blackscale Coil, Ambassasor. Apparently they are no longer content with controlling half of the city from the shadows. They are mobilizing to take over and drive the non-aelfs out. I only just found out an hour ago. I do not know who gave the orders.”
As they ducked into another alcove, Pah'tch gritted his teeth and growled softly. “I know whose orders they are following. You do not get to be my age without learning something of the politics of the other powers within the Realms. If the Stormcast were pulled out of the city in force, then Sigmar, or someone else high up in the ranks of the Stormcast has to have given that order. If the aelfs are marching in this kind of numbers, and the Stormcast have pulled out, then the serpent must be pulling the strings.”
Hissing in shock, the spy rounded on Pah'tch. “No, you cannot be saying that Sotek did this?”
“Wrong serpent,” he snapped back. “The other serpent.”
“Oh, that one. Yessss, that would make the most sense.”
“She has long coveted power. According to the most ancient of records I have perused, she has been like this for longer than history records. This has to be her doing.”
Nodding, Pyk'nur peeked out from around the pillar and motioned for the Ambassador to follow. But Pah'tch stayed where he was. “Ambassador, we have to move. Now.”
“No, we will not be doing that.” Reaching out a taloned hand, Pah'tch examined the stone next to him. “We should be close enough to ground level now, and this should be an outside wall, yes?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“We will never make it out through the front door. They will be watching for that.” Patting the spy gently on one shoulder, he smiled at him. “You are an asset to your job, Pyk'nur, but the aelfs have their own spies that are just as good. I assure you, they already know we are here. Get ready to fend them off for a moment, please.”
Nodding, Pyk drew his dagger and slid a dart into his blowgun. Behind him, Pah'tch pulled a stylus made from some unusual, dark metal from somewhere on his person and began to scribe something onto the surface of the stone wall. Despite being hardened, solid blocks, the stylus etched into the surface like it was a hot needle carving into butter.
Eyes whirling, the chameleon waited for the other shoe to drop. He was not waiting long. A flash from out of the corner of one of his eyes alerted him to an attack. He battered aside the poorly-flung dagger with his own, his unusual eyes tracking two different sections of the room at once. It was very hard to sneak up on a chameleon-skink on alert. Even as he was parrying the thrown dagger, another aelf slipped out of hiding from across the hallway and moved swiftly towards them. Pyk'nur did not wait for confirmation. He brought the blowgun up and shot the dart out towards the second attacker, then cursed as it was batted aside.
They were on him. Pyk'nur parried desperately, trying to buy the time for the Ambassador to finish whatever he was doing. But he was outnumbered and outmatched, and he knew it. His only saving grace was the antivenom potion he'd consumed before entering the Conclave building. Stab and slice were getting through his guard, and he could feel himself slowing down from blood loss, but whatever toxins coated their blades was not affecting his body. He was beginning to suspect the aelfs were toying with him, prolonging the battle on purpose to watch his suffering.
He heard Pah'tch's voice behind him fall silent, and hope fled. There has to have been a third one, he thought. The Ambassador is dead, and I have failed. But something odd was happening. It was becoming easier to dodge his opponents' attacks! The aelfs he was fighting suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion! Pyk'nur had no idea how, he had no idea why, but he was not going to let his chance go to waste. Slipping under the first one's guard, he stabbed his dagger deep into the assassin's chest before side-stepping an attack from the second and carving a deep slice into that one's weapon arm.
Before he could finish that one off, Pah'tch stepped into his vision and hit the second assassin over the head with his cane. It seemed like a fairly standard attack, but the aelf reacted like he'd been struck by a forge hammer! His neck snapped like brittle wood, the cracking sound oddly slow and muffled as he fell to the floor!
Looking around as only one of his kind could, Pyk'nur noticed other aelfs in the area were moving oddly too. The ones further out looked like they were moving normally, but any aelf within a dagger's throw were slowed like the assassins had been!
“What... what magic is this?” he asked the Ambassador.
“Temporal magic, of course,” Pah'tch replied. “It takes a bit of effort to pull off, but I have created a bubble of distorted time surrounding us.” Tugging on Pyk'nur's arm, he led the stunned spy over to the wall where the chunk of stone he had been scribing glyphs into was crumbling into dust. “As an added bonus, in pulling time out of this stone to put it elsewhere, it has also gifted us a handy escape route!”
As they slipped out through the hole in the wall, Pyk'nur looked at the Ambassador with newfound respect. “Elder, how did you do that? I did not think it was possible!”
“I would prefer not to elaborate more. Suffice to say this is, in part, how I am still alive at my age. Now, where should we go from here? You know the city better than I do.”
Looking out over Anvilgard, Pyk'nur shuddered. From where they stood against the wall of Dauntless Hall, they could see fighting breaking out all over the city. “We need to get to the Embassy,” the spy finally said, “but it is not going to be easy.”
“I would not expect it to be.”
