Acknowledgement

"Check the clan, Herald." Micha said dryly, walking behind him. "I am a scholar, not a former whore like so many of the pretty faces. Had I gotten my way, I wold have matured another twenty years. What Family do you claim?"

"A family that doesn't tolerate such probing questions," he said to her flatly as he pushed the button calling the elevator up.

"But, as the Lord's will, not all of us are equal," he said turning to her, "don't you agree?"

The Lords will? Wonderful.

"I agree to a point. Some are clearly possessing of greater wit or intelligence than others."

"Or humility," he said as if he were correcting her when she finished speaking. He folded his hands behind his back as he stood.

"I find that most of us with our affliction lack a certain degree of humility," he said. "We have potential, but we lose sight of through the years we accumulate. I fully believe that, in the eyes of the Father, every one of us are the prodigal son. We just haven't found our way home yet, and never will. That is truly our curse. To never know the feeling of the restfulness of home, to only be plagued with the ever-fleeting thought of such tranquility."

The elevator opened and he motioned for her to enter before him.

"Some have great humility." Micha reflected. "It has been my great priveledge to only know a few of these humble Kindred. Prince Percieval Kent, who was just diplomat who ruled with firness and a tempered hand. My brother Alexander McCairn has also been known to be humble... for when he earned Regentship by defending a Torpid Prince; he turned it over immediately once Prince Kent awoke from Torpor

I would be very interested in hearing of Kindred of the same mettle here, if that is not so bold a question."

The Herald smiled at the girl.

"Well, I am glad to know that you have been so incredibly lucky to have had such privilege in your Requiem. And you're so quick to inform. Aren't you quite the publican," he said in a patronising tone while he walked into the elevator.

The woman obviously didn't want to go into the elevator first. She had ignored the Herald's attempts to satiate her covenant's requirements of propriety. He was offended.

The door began to close and he moved his arm out to block it and it automatically opened. "Are you coming? You are but a sheep among the many in the flock I must attend to tonight."

"I am."

Tiring of the verbal debate in which it seemed impossible to score any points, the Mekhet entered and stood silently, her face as expressionless as granite.

The elevator doors closed and the Herald looked at the Mekhet. "You'll find that you're not much farther from home than you first anticipated," he said gently. "Should you need any guidance, I would be more than happy to help you find the path towards home." He purposely kept his wording ambiguous.

"What an unexpected yet pleasant occurance." Micha states quietly. Her mind is a while of preparations and concerns, imagined pitfalls for this new move- and for impressing the Regent.

"Why is that madam?" The Herald asked quizzically as the elevator descended down the shaft.

"Every society has it's shortcomings. You'll find that here even the most powerful and aristocratic survive only on the support of others. Myself and my associates gladly provide such support."

[66]

"Such support would be accepted gladly, Herald. The evening has yielded many surprises, albiet born of my own haste to arrive. The old saying about fore sight..." Micha gave a tight smile. "- I have proven it true this evening. Yet new shores are always an exciting time for a scholar."

"That they are madam," he said, "that they are."

He looked at her one last time, as if taking her in.

"Well," he said, "contact your regent. Soon enough you'll learn how this city works and how we aid one another. Know this, nothing comes free here."

The elevator slowly descended and opened up. The Herald led her through the lobby where a car was waiting for Chappelle.

"Behold I send you out a sheep amidst the wolves."

Micha smiles. For all of his belief in a dead religion, he had been more helpful than she expected.
"I shall. May you fare well until we meet again, Herald..."

The woman disembarked, off to collect her possessions to prepare to move to her haven; then to contact the Regent.

The car sent is an anonymous looking hack cab, dark and battered. Your Sire is conspicuously absent. The driver's an aging Iraqi with a sullen expression and apparently no will to respond to anything you say. A few short minutes pass and you find yourself in front of the casino hotel close to your haven. The driver's radio crackles and he mumbles foreign words in retort.

"The Regent waits for you."

The driver's second language is less than fluent as he points at the casino, a broad blue skyscraper at odds with a large old church nearby, styled in florid faux-Venetian.

"Thank you." Micha speaks, making her way to the waiting car. She prepares herself mentally for the new interview. It would be best to avoid the complications of the House, she decided. It was a new area where the First Estate had allowed itself to get bowled over...