In the Blue Lounge, on top of the highest spire in the city, Ilza was getting restless.<br/><br/>It was a nice place by the fire, the fire of the city lights, of the night life, with windows flickering in and out and the wind of the streets carrying the burning sparks of the carriages.<br/><br/>I wonder if somebody ever put a brand to this hill.<br/><br/>The Lioness was having a talk, her charm and wit steady, be it an explosive party or like now, an evening chill-out, she never seemed to miss a beat, ever dispersing a lazy distraction for the bored vampires in a millennia-old game.<br/><br/>It was, Ilza thought, a kind of sweet dream, a paradize were good and fuzzy vampires gone.<br/><br/>She listened to the discussion with half an ear, letting it sink into her skin, but wondering instead what will the fire, that of the city below, bring.<br/><br/>Between the Coven errands she has been throwing a net, looking for the top information traders, for spiders sitting in the corners of the net, just to see what the hunt will bring. It was a different game, one she played out of sport, without any help from the Coven. Jet it was proving futile, filling her with a suppressed thrill.