The initial scuffle had ended almost as quickly as it had begun. It had taken little for Sirrah’s victim to dispatch the would-be muggers. He had but to draw his scimitar and brandish it with a flurry of motion that had spoken well of his more than considerable skill to send them fleeing into the night.<br/><br/>After such a display, it had been no wonder that the man had all but scoffed at Sirrah’s demand that he relinquish his valuables. If only Atrain had known what it was that had spoken to him from darkness and shadow… Now, alas, the<em>Great Warrior</em>was no more.<br/><br/>Why had the man possessed of so much gold been here? This was the city’s poor district with nothing to offer nor entertain one of such means. And why, though clearly he had possessed the skills necessary to fend off base ruffians, had the man chosen to traverse this foreboding alleyway? Why bother? Why risk the danger?<br/><br/>The scene smacked of mystery.<br/><br/>Beyond the alleyway, in the torch lit thoroughfare, sounds echoed off the crude mud walls of the crumbling dwelling places. It was late in the evening, well past the time that the local denizens should be packed into their hobbles and grousing over pitiable meals, yet Sirrah could plainly hear that quite a throng had gathered in the street just beyond his view, and from the sounds of it, the crowd was still yet growing.<br/><br/>Once again, the question begged to be asked, “Why?”<br/><br/>The raucous den of the stir was growing louder. It seemed no one had noticed the scuffle between the would-be muggers and warrior, the loud cry of terror and dismay as the shadow-vested demon had slain unfortunate Atrain, or the blood-slick gurgle that had been the once might warrior’s anguished death rattle.<br/><br/>Words and phrases being uttered by various members of the throng gathering just beyond his shadowy corridor, began to reach Sirrah's ears.<br/><br/>“Alms…”<br/><br/>Another word: “Rajkumari,” the word meaning princess.<br/><br/>A man’s name being called in a delicate, regally accented, feminine voice only to be swallowed up by the sea of sound.  “Atrain?  Atrain?”<br/><br/>Was Sirrah aware of the local customs?  Did he know that the Mahraja’s (King’s) betrothed, according to tradition, was this night visiting the poor district so that she might give alms to the poor and thus prove that she would make a benevolent and charitable queen?<br/><br/>Surely the man that Sirrah had just slain was one of the Rajkumari’s guardians. That would explain his presence in the alleyway as well as the considerable amount of gold that had been upon his personage.<br/><br/>The excitement in the torch lit thoroughfare was growing more and more raucous. Pleading voices cried out for charity, while desperate, begging hands thrusts forward. The princess was being mobbed! Already she had been separated from her bodyguards and now even her serving maids were lost to her. She was being washed away by the tidal wave of the encroaching throng, engulfed and drowning in the mass of nameless bodies...<br/><br/>The princess was lost.  Would she be found?